40+2

For once I didn't mind a long medical appointment.

I've dreaded monthly and weekly visits this go-round because they take forever...like 2 hours...in a small room...often with kids in tow.

But today,

Doug watched the boys (at home) and I sat in the air conditioning, restitching binding and enjoying the silence.  Ahhh!

Remembering Mamaw

October 24, 1920 - May 30, 2011

40+1

Having been around the block a time or two, I can state with certainty that the only real advantage to passing your due date is the extra time you have in which to complete projects.

Today Doug made use of various power tools thus boosting his testerone levels; I piddled with big and little tasks - cleaning the front door, planting flowers, working on two quilts - making me feel ready.

As we put the kids to bed, somebody asked what we are doing tomorrow.

Stephen:  Maybe our baby will be born.  (Pause)  Have you finished the quilts?

He had previously told me that the baby couldn't be born until I finished the quilts for their bunk beds, a project I had thought about for months but only started last week.  Thankfully these have been the easiest by far, most of the work being done by machine.

After 2 frustrating hours tonight, though, I have decided that some things like binding are better done by hand.  Whether or not they count as being done, I don't know; I'm contemplating ripping out stitches and redoing; on the other hand, I can live with the wonkiness that matches the rest of our life.

We'll just and wait and see what the baby thinks.

The EDD

There's just nothin' like marking 40 weeks with a 40...

(except for the look on the cashier's face when you're buying it).

Doug wanted me to clarify that this was solely for cooking purposes.

1 Day to Go



The bun is almost done.

2 Days to Go

I did it all by myself -

and just in time for a date night!

3 Days to Go

My case history highlights the "Estimated" in "Estimated Due Dates"...

so why not start up a new project?

4 Days to Go

It's easy to get dressed

when there's just three shirts left in the rotation.

5 Days to Go

Blame it on the heat, blame it on the weight/wait, but the closer I get to delivery, the more anxious I am to give away my other children!!!  Thank goodness they can play outside.

6 Days to Go

This would have greater meaning in context of a starting number.

Suffice it to say, it was not Scarlet O'Hara's 17" waist.

7 Days to Go

Shhh, don't tell:

I'm planning ahead for Christmas.

8 Days to Go

We let our wild animals out today

to enjoy the caged ones at our local zoo.

We also took advantage of our free carousel passes, much to the delight of Matthew



but surprisingly distressed another boisterous boy.

Eventually he was coaxed onto a stationary frog and distracted himself

with the flywheels and other gears that made the machine go.

9 Days to Go

I'm so grateful to my friend Lisa for watching the kiddos while I cleaned the house.

And don't these two look alike?  Exactly 364 days apart.

10 Days to Go

...give or take.



Baby Talk

A friend sent me a link to this company that specializes in "handcrafted birthing and breastfeeding dolls."  It's worth checking out the various available dolls.

*     *     *     *     *

A childhood friend relayed a story on her blog regarding the Birds and tthe Bees and her Boys.  It's definitely worth a read.

*     *     *     *     *

Yesterday as I cooked breakfast, Andrew was reading one of the many cans of paint sitting on the counter and informed me of the dangers.

     Andrew:  Paint can cause birth defects.
     Stephen:  Yeah, like a baby might be born without a head.

There are differing camps of thought; I'm not one to worry too much about that kind of thing.

     Andrew:  And paint can also cause other pregancy related problems.  It can cause the baby not to be born for another one or two months.

That, on the other hand, strikes fear in my heart.

*     *     *     *     * 

From NPR:  In an interview for British TV, store founder Matt O'Connor says, "It's pure, it's natural, it's organic, and it's free range — and if it's good enough for our kids, it's good enough to use in our ice cream."

Too bad I had to dump a stash after the recent power outage.

Priorities

When Mike was 2, he wanted a sandbox, and his father said: "There goes the yard. We'll have kids over here day and night, and they'll throw sand into the flower beds, and cats will make a mess in it, and it'll kill the grass for sure."And Mike's mother said, "It'll come back."

When Mike was 5, he wanted a jungle gym set with swings that would take his
breath away and bars to take him to the summit, and his father said: "Good grief, I've seen those things in back yards, and do you know what they look like? Mud
holes in a pasture. Kids digging their gym shoes in the ground. It'll kill the grass." And Mike's mother said, "It'll come back."

Between breaths, when Daddy was blowing up the plastic swimming pool, he warned: "You know what they're going to do to this place? They're going to condemn it and use it for a missile site. I hope you know what you're doing. They'll track water everywhere and have a million water fights, and you won't be able to take out the garbage without stepping in mud up to your neck. When we take this down, we'll have the only brown lawn on the block." "It'll come back," Mike's mother said.

When Mike was 12, he volunteered his yard for a campout. As they hoisted the tents and drove in the spikes, his father stood at the window and observed, "Why don't I just put the grass seed out in cereal bowls for the birds and save myself the trouble of spreading it around? You know for a fact that those tents and all those big feet are
going to trample down every single blade of grass, don't you. Don't bother to answer. I know what you're going to say. 'It'll come back.'"

The basketball hoop on the side of the garage attracted more crowds than the Olympics. And a small patch of lawn that started out with a barren spot the size of a garbage can lid soon drew to encompass the entire side yard.Just when it looked as if the new seed might take root, the winter came and the sled runners beat it into ridges. Mike's father shook his head and said, "I never asked for much in this life - only a patch of grass."And his wife smiled and said, "It'll come back."

The lawn this fall was beautiful. It was green and alive and rolled out like a sponge carpet along the drive where gym shoes had trod ... along the garage where bicycles used to fall ... and around the flowerbeds where little boys used to dig with iced-tea spoons.But Mike's father never saw it. He anxiously looked beyond the yard and asked with a catch in his voice, "He will come back, won't he?"

Before the Birth of One of Her Children

All things within this fading world hath end,
Adversity doth still our joys attend;
No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet,
But with death's parting blow is sure to meet.
The sentence past is most irrevocable,
A common thing, yet oh, inevitable.
How soon, my Dear, death may my steps attend,
How soon't may be thy lot to lose thy friend,
We both are ignorant, yet love bids me
These farewell lines to recommend to thee,
That when that knot's untied that made us one,
I may seem thine, who in effect am none.
And if I see not half my days that's due,
What nature would, God grant to yours and you,
The many faults that well you know I have
Let be interred in my oblivious grave;
If any worth or virtue were in me,
Let that live freshly in thy memory
And when thou feel'st no grief, as I no harms,
Yet love thy dead, who long lay in thine arms,
And when thy loss shall be repaid with gains
Look to my little babes, my dear remains.
And if thou love thyself, or loved'st me,
These O protect from stepdame's injury.
And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse,
With some sad sighs honor my absent hearse;
And kiss this paper for thy love's dear sake,
Who with salt tears this last farewell did take.

                                    Anne Bradstreet

Musical Chairs

For nearly 9 months, I've been struggling with how to arrange everyone in our van.  Though we have an 8 passenger jitny, it's not always possible or realistic just to put a particular child next to another much less the seat in which they are supposed to ride.  I have notebooks of sketches and diagrams, have researched seats and deliberated regulations, tried to imagine the long-term needs of the family.

Then The Car Seat Lady entered my life.

A friend sent me to her website in reference to a particular booster seat.  I contacted her with the details of my situation, and after a couple of weeks of phone tag, she called me up and told me exactly what to buy and who to put where.  Seats were purchased and then the really agonizing part: installation.

We're both well-educated and fairly mechanically adept, but car seat installation is not for the faint of heart. It is usually a process laden with four-letter words, none of which are "easy," "fine," or "good."



Boy, were we in for a surprise. 

The cleaning up of UFOs (Unidentified Food Objects) took more time than putting in the seats...correctly.

If you haven't heard, the AAP recently updated their car seat recommendations to advise parents to keep their toddlers in rear-facing car seats until age 2, or until they reach the maximum height and weight for their seat.  The Car Seat Lady has more particulars, including helpful videos explaining why kids are safer rear-facing.

Everyone is happy and safe, and now we're just waiting to fill seat #5.

Conversations

The boys received a package in the mail last week and as Stephen and Matthew attempted to open it, I heard Andrew mutter, "I hope it isn't shoes."

Stephen and Matthew were supposed to be sharing a bag of pretzels but Matthew seemed to be taking more than his share.  Stephen declared, "You are being selfish!" to which Matthew matter-of-factly replied, "Yes, I am."

For some reason, Stephen announced that he was no longer going to talk to me; he was only going to talk to Andrew.  "Is that a promise?" I asked.  He was silent for a moment and then said, "Um, probably not."

I always have to cruise through the dead-and-dying plants at Lowe's to see what I can find, and as I perused the boys were asking about the names of various plants.  "That's 'spirea'," I told them.  Surprised, Matthew exclaims in his loudest voice, "Diarrhea?  There's a plant named 'Diarrhea'!  Diarrhea plant!  Diarrhea plant!"

Cleanup by the Numbers

The immediate aftermath of the storm required a stop by one of the many tree services that trolled our neighbor (think flies on honey, attorneys to sirens), and it didn't fail to entertain the members of our household.

We were able to take care of two trees ourselves (okay, a couple of neighbors stopped by with their chainsaws and completed in ten minutes what we had struggled with for two hours).  A few days later dear friends from church descended upon our yard to tackle the rest of the mess.

8 men and 2 pregnant women

5 chainsaws and 1 pole saw

2 daredevils

9 children

6 pizzas and 2 boxes of popsicles

1 messy little girl

1 ER visit requiring 1 tetnus shot and 5 stitches

immeasurably grateful

We are still humbled by the power of the hands and feet of Christ at work in our lives.

It was all very well sitting there on her verandah thinking about the problems of others, but it was getting late in the afternoon and there were things to do. In the kitchen at the back of the house there was a packet of green beans that needed to be washed and chopped. There was a pumpkin that was not going to cook itself. There were onions to be put in a pan of boiling water and cooked until soft. That was part of being a woman, she thought; one never reached the end. Even if one could sit down and drink a cup of bush tea, or even two cups, one always knew that at the end of the tea somebody was waiting for something. Children or men were waiting to be fed; a dirty floor cried out to be washed; a crumpled skirt called for the iron. And so it would continue. Tea was just a temporary solution to the cares of the world, although it certainly helped...Most problems could be diminished by the drinking of tea and the thinking through of things that could be done while tea was being drunk. And even if that did not solve problems, at least it could put them off for a little while, which we sometimes needed to do, we really did.

Alexander McCall Smith, Blue Shoes and Happiness

Tornado - Take: Two

So I learned my lesson from last time:  Better Safe than Sorry.

My sister and I had just been having a discussion about how life is so much easier at the beach: simple meals, fewer clothes, less stuff.  It really hits home, however, when you have just a few moments to grab the essentials.  What do I need if I lose the roof over my head?  In our case, the kids had shoes, sippy cups and snacks; I had my purse, weather radio, and flashlight. 

We hunkered in a sheltered spot in the basement, able to catch a glimpse of the blowing wind and white sheets of rain.  I can't say that I heard anything other than the voices of my children, a couple excited at the change of scenery, a couple leary of the events.  I was anxious for the mother robin tending to her three little ones; Andrew was worried that his large toy NASCARs would be blown away.

The wind died down, the skies cleared, and I headed to look out the door.

Really, it never occurred to me that anything would happen to us; surely the storms would bypass our home.

Then I looked outside.

One of the large cedars, completely uprooted.

(We saved an 18' section of the trunk, dad).

A mysterious tree whose roots are so enormous I thought they were the branches crashed across our ditch and onto the neighbor's driveway.

The four Bradford pears had outlived their lifespan and ended up in an imposing twisted heap.

This was a favorite shady spot next to the driveway, a place to hide Easter eggs, set little boys, and use as a construction site for eager builders.

Our dear maple tree: picnic spot, bluebird housesite, baseball backstop, kite-catcher.

The clubhouse lost some roof pieces, but come the next storm, they should blow out of the trees.

Momma Robin and babies were fine though the little ones seemed to leave the nest sooner than usual, maybe due to the increased activity in the backyard and noise of the generator.

One neighbor whose had a huge poplar crash through the front of her house and then over the back said she mourned most of all the loss of her trees.  Roofs and siding can be fixed quickly, but stately trees who have guarded one's home aren't so easily replaced.

Still we consider ourselved fortunate.  The tallest of trees that could have landed on our roof didn't, and everything fell away from the house.  We lost one piece of siding.  And most importantly, we still have each other.  That's a lot more than many can say of the events last week.

It reminds me of Remington Steele's story in the episode "Galvanized Steele": 

"Marcos Androkos." He smiled gently. "Little man. Neck so short he said it wasn't worth washing. Black mustache, thick like wire. And a big smile with a gold tooth in it, right here."

"We all went down to the pier to watch it [a tanker] arrive." He paused, lost in the memory.

 "She wasn't out there more than two miles when an explosion in the engine room ripped through the side of the hull. Before I could believe what was happening, it sank like a stone." 

"Since he was twelve, he wanted nothing else, and like that, it was gone. Bingo."

"The pier became so quiet we could hear each other breathe.  And then Marcos...he starts to laugh--and I don't mean a nervous titter, but a full-bellied, spit-in-the-sky laugh.  I couldn't bloody believe my ears; I was furious! 

"Why are you laughing?" I screamed at him.  

"Because, Xenos, because from now on, everything is new again, eh? Eh? Just think of the possibilities. THINK of the possibilities."

We now have a blank slate for half of the yard...crape myrtles, perhaps?

Backtracking - Easter 2011

 So, I'm a little slow on the upload; it's been kind of busy around here.

We enjoyed a very relaxing Easter weekend, complete with a visit from the grands.  After a consultation call regarding the proper way to hard-boil an egg (I've only done this one other time), the boys enjoyed the annual dyeing of eggs and several hunts.  Can you tell who was a bit disgruntled?

We moved our kitchen table to the shady back porch for an evening dinner: traditional ham with an assortment of sides scrounged for the occasion.  I was not about to spend an afternoon slaving away in the hot kitchen.  No sirree, a nap was in order followed by more egg hunting among the trees in the front yard, and a baseball game under the maple.

Judging from the cleaned plates and happy faces, no one minded in the least.

There was a lot of talk about trees at that meal. 

I commented that I would really miss the Bradford pears when their time was up;

they are weak, short-lived things but their shade was wonderful. 

My dad remarked on the grand cedars that towered over the boy's play area. 

"That would make really nice lumber one day."

Little did we know how quickly things would change.

Let There Be Light

After exactly eight-and-a-half days without electricity, our power has been restored, and we couldn't be more thrilled.  Pictures will follow, but there's a mountain of laundry to be washed and floors to be vacuumed first.