Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Monday, November 30, 2009
1. As the doctor said, "this is one big kid." Oh, Dr., I wanted to say, you don't know the half of it....ten years ago I pushed out a 9 lb. 7 oz. 23 inch boy. Just look at that almost five foot boy now, so much to love.
2. Anna will be very glad when my belly goes in. It has become in the way the last few days, apparently. I commiserate with you my dear.
3. I am still humbled daily that I have been chosen to be his mother. Being uncomfortable is an endurable blessing when birthing is pending.
So, I will update soon with all the stats and stories. Wish me luck.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Today is Aaron's birthday. In the midst of the gratitude season, I am indeed grateful for him. Like today when he loaded Anna in the car for me when I took Harris to school or how Saturday he did all the dishes and cleaned the kitchen while I went to get a hair cut. Also, he will always get the good ice from Smith's for me. I know, as most of us who have been in my present state, that this last bit is just as hard on the Daddy to be as the Mom to be. I am not always the best sport. Yet, Aaron has been, sweet, kind, observant, and helpful. I am so lucky to have grown with him in love.
Now a request: We are now narrowed down to three names for this baby boy, I think. If you would be so kind as to give us your vote it would be helpful. It seems to change day to day what one is my favorite but, with d-day approaching we need to give this boy some identity. So here are your three choices:
Sunday, November 1, 2009
I decided it was about time a brought my blog back from hibernation. I think my state as an incubator has been an excuse long enough. I mean, it seems in my efforts to hurry this along, I have stopped even considering posting anything. Not our autumn jaunts or our Halloween haunts, not even that I have a son who is now in double digits. Scary thought. If you haven't hit this stage, this is all I have to say, frightening. It is probably his entering a new decade in his life that has made me realize how time doesn't wait. As much as I want it too, it doesn't pay mind to my heeds. So as all these thoughts have been floating through my pregnancy foggy brain, I decided November was as good as time as any to resuscitate my record keeping. So, to start this off in seasonal fashion, gratitude is on the menu. Which reminds me, I do have a recipe blog that I might actually have to use the paddles to get its heart humming again. So don't click on the link quite yet, but soon, because I have a few yummy things I've wanted to share.
Browsing through the photos we have taken this past month, I realized that at no other time am I more grateful for the change of season. Fall, even in the third trimester of pregnancy, is blissful. Maybe I should say fall makes all the heat and dizziness vanish and leaves a pregnant woman feeling refreshed. So, walk along side us as we frolicked in the crisp fall air. Excuse the order, apparently I have forgotten all my blogging skills.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
"You need to hold some one's hand in the street."
Without her immediate compliance I grasp her arm. I look to realize that she is holding someones hand. She is holding her own.
I guess I need to specify that the hand holdee should be at least nine years old and separate from your own self.
I must go now because she is now throwing me my fifth birthday party today. My birthday is four months away, so you all know.
Monday, July 27, 2009
This little girl will keep her title as princess of the house as we found out that The baby that resides in my middle is a boy. We are all excited to see him in December. He seems quite content in his current accomidations and is even grinning at the fact.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Anna's one wish, other than seeing Minnie Mouse, was to ride Dumbo, here is me, my mom and Anna.
Anna with one of her maps, in their ingenious shirts Aunt Ishuan designed.
Look at the joy on Harris face that he is posing with Goofy. Pure joy. Despite her turned head, Anna was in heaven.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
I have been gestating and to save me from ruining my own surprise, my typing fingers have been hibernating. This hibernation also might have something to do with needing a daily nap as much as Anna and being moderately nauseous. As my first trimester is winding down, I am committed to document my life in the way that I do.
I look at this picture daily in amazement remembering the pulsating heart chambers. The hope I found in a similar pulsation more than three years ago, that I could reproduce again. Anna was sick last week and is I felt that pulse that I thought of her moment, I thought of Harris when his sonar heart echoed in a room, and I thought of the determined healthy embryo I hold. I cry a lot these days. More than with the other two. Not full out sobs and not angry tantrums about not being able to make it all the way through the grocery store without my stomach rising to my throat, but I tear up. Water pools in my eye ducts. I see Anna peddle her bike down the sidewalk, I tear up. I hear Harris practice his lines for his play, I tear up. I hear the occasional giggles as they spend a lazy Saturday morning together, and I am a goner. I probably would have cried more before if I would have known at the starting line about how full my life was to be . How Aaron, I and God's infinite grace would create three heart beats to give rhythm to our lives. I am truly blessed.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Yet, yesterday I discovered a minor difference between us, a slight disconnect between our brain synapses. When I was a little girl I loved band aids. I would create invisible injures, demand at every knee bump and scratch, and even was presented with my own box of band aids to fix my cravings. So as a mother I figured that my mini me pick up my love affair for these medically necessary stickers. So, I stocked our first aid drawer with Hello Kitty band aids waiting to soothe her two year old cuts, scrapes and invisible wounds. Yesterday Anna cut her toe. It spotted the living room rug during Family Home Evening and when we finally discovered the source of the blood, we quickly grabbed a girly pink band aid for her toe.
In my anticipation of her being over-joyed at the girly pink delight I was perplexed by her refusal to put it on. It was a band aid, the one sure fire remedy for bumps, bruises, headaches, coughs, imaginary or real. The real feel good tool. Well, since the blood was trickling down her baby toe our personal physician deemed it necessary that the cut be bandaged up. She ranted, she fought, but finally we securely wrapped her pinky toe. Then came the calming we sang, we cuddled, we even patted the kitty on the band aid. All the while she tried to wiggle off Hello Kitty. Finally we laid our tormented daughter, with a disgust of band aids, down, her foot dangling up in the air trying to get rid of that evil thing somehow.
Luckily, she kept it on and there were no blood splatters on her quilts or walls. Yet, as I came take her from her slumber this morning her first mumblings were, "take my band aid off now."
Anna, just remember that I can give you dislike of band aids but, much dissension past that will be scrutinized. Just so you know.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Day Six and Seven: (excuse my lack of words, I never know how to narrate the normalcy in our lives. Then again, that is kind of what the higher purpose of this blog, right? Nevertheless, the pictures tell the story.)
Anna's participation in the egg breaking game that I slaughter everytime I say its proper name and would spell even worse. See the guy my cute sis-in-law married? Anna spent half the evening on his lap. Watch out Steph.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Tuesday-Anna can peddle her tricycle all the way down to the corner of our street but struggles to make it all the way back. Our street must have an incline invisible to the naked eye. I find me being a spinning instructor for toddlers, "push, pull, keep your cadence up, Anna." Late nights are disappointing when they end at eight-thirty. What's the use of that? I have now liked Adam Lambert, American Idol, three weeks in a row, go figure.
Wednesday- To much tricycling makes a tired girl whose tummy has seen better days. Doesn't stop her for wanting her daily dosage of milk. One nine year old boy can consume half a box of Honey Nut Cheerios if eaten by the handful for breakfast.
Stay tuned for the conclusion of our week including Aaron takes two days off, in a row, yes it is hard to believe.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
"Aaron, it's tomorrow." I said.
"What?" he said.
"Donuts with dad. Can you go?" I said, thinking can you bend over backwards and make your self the target of eye rolls and impatient patients for your nine year old son and a sub par donut.
A side note: Other than alliteration how do dads get to consume donuts and moms are paired with muffins? Now if they were of the poppy seed or cream cheese variety we could talk. In this one instance dad's get the better end of the deal.
So I left Aaron to solve that puzzle and went to solve how to get red punch out of the carpet. Both consuming tasks.
So did he go? Well, yes but they had their own private breakfast dining on donuts and hot chocolate from our corner donut store. Doesn't everyone have one? We do. OF course that was after he got a ticket for a rolling stop and he debated and stressed over the psychological effects missing one Donuts with Dad would have on Harris.
I don't know what they talked about. I only know that I married a man that caters to his children's need for donuts and who's number one son is a good reason to endure traffic tickets, eye rolls, and grumpy patients.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
My Daughter and I love your store. It is well organized and has the best cream cheese muffins on the planet. The neon lights and neatly waxed floors sooth my seasonal depression. You are so kind to give my daughter a cookie, which she makes me ask your baker for every trip even if we are just picking up milk and bendy straws. So I was quite surprised with myself when I began to curse, of course silently, as I entered your lovely store with my girl. You see, she was in one of those carts. You know, the one that looks like a truck and is supposed to entertain a tot and de-stress the mom? I have to admit,it is hard for a two year old to want the old standby when such options are presented: a pimped out red and yellow car, two steering wheels, with beeping horns, and access to anything on the two lower shelves inside the store. I have indulged my children on several occasions and allowed them to be in the driver's seat. In fact, even my nine year old still enjoys pretending to hall our family food around in this miniature semi even if his knees are hugging his ears. I should be praising you, entertaining my kids so my shopping can get done without having them trumpeting off that nerd ropes and Cheetos should end up as part of our weekly cuisine. If only a two year old and nine year old collaberated on the first food pyramid. Solace in the store would be a lovely surprise.
Yet, that is not what I have found. In eight years using these carts, with a four year ban somewhere in the middle, they have been the cause of many breakdowns, miffed old ladies who can't squeeze their slender silver carts past our aisle hogging semi, criminal acts, and chaos added to my regular jaunt to the grocery store. If you have spoken to my husband, he probably would tell you that I need to me sent back to Grocery Cart Ed (Etiquette), but I could be a smart and efficient store patron the right vehicle was provided. So why even use them if I detest them so much? It is their eye-catching parking spot, directly in front of the store. I have to give you a little credit, this was to my advantage during the colder months. I could just simply say, "Oh these are too cold," and my obedient tot wouldn't even think of protesting. As the earth is warming I now don't have an excuse and being the reasonable mom I am, permit my daughter to enter her monster truck, the one kind of monster she isn't afraid of. So I do take some blame in my demise, I do not throw the old parenting prerogative at her and allow her pleasure as I grin, bear, and silently curse it.
Dearest Smith's this is what I am asking. Hide them. Put them in a the far dark corner of the cart corral. Leave them in the far corner where you put your day old breads and pastries. Put them by the broccoli and cauliflower. Better yet, put them in the woman's restroom where my daughter won't go even with bribery of a free cookie from your bakery which she fond she gets whether she disposes of her waste or not. The bakers are much nicer than mommies.
If you would cooperate in this matter I promise we will no longer set off your ant-theft system with ten packs of batteries that sit lay on the floor in the cab being kicked by size six feet.
Thank you for allowing us the pleasure to sniff your pineapples, look at your fancy cakes, and gander at your crab legs.
Monday, March 16, 2009
At that moment I thought our Sunday evening habit was missing someone, our two someones. Banging on the stairs announced their arrival. Anna- my sea urchin with her after nap foamy curls and dinner crusted face. Harris-who has captured Aaron's pondering profile at moments, his world becoming more complex and more engrossing by the second. Then we danced. Anna took Aaron out of his trance and scooped him up in her softness, leaving me observing. Harris quickly put me to action and informing me that yes, He can lead now. So he led me and Anna led Aaron, we became followers. I don't think we waltzed around our living room on a regular basis until Harris came. Anna made it even more frequent.
Later, after we smoothed Anna's curly head and made sure Harris's favorite blanket still covered his toes, I took Aaron's hand in the sudden quiet and realized it was seven more days until Sunday came again.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Ready? Now scroll down and ask if they know who this is?
Anna does. She pointed him out among the other popular titled books that Smith's carries. I wasn't there and had to prove the theory. I pulled out the only copy a good moderate-republican home would have(unless we are living in Idaho then we are democrats, just to give the state some sort of balance) a copy of Reader's Digest with only his profile showing and the other half being of his old enemy. Did I say old, well nothing is meant by that Senator McCain, I promise. So, she then in her toddler dialect recited his name: "Baraka Obama." Then she held it to her little hear and said, "My Baraka Obama." Her new found liberalism confused the older one who we were worried about breaking down the day after the election when he discovered the outcome. Luckily, he held back his tears of rage. So Jake, my outwardly liberal brother, who Anna loves because he owns Copper, a dog who will actually let Anna pat him, must somehow fit into this equation. Maybe it is just the way my two year old is trying to find herself, which I'm O.K. with. Now, if she starts tucking a portrait of Nancy Pelosi under the arm opposite her one selected for her "Baraka Obama" mag, that might be a different story.
Editor's Note: This is the second time I have posted a picture of our Commander in Chief. I do try to reach across the aisle, sometimes.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Roses are red, Violets are blue.
This is from me, whose back is askew.
Grapes are sour and honey is sweet,
I just stepped on your shoe with my bare feet.
Since it is yours I will forgive
because it is a part of where we live.
You put up with how much time I jog,
and when I put mushy stuff all over my blog.
I ask you to be mine and I’m not being trite,
even if sometimes I confuse my left with my right.
Yet you still work hard to bring home the dough,
as I rush around town with two kids in tow.
Our children we cherish from dawn until dusk,
Yet it is our evening solace that I lust.
I might be the only one who has seen you do yoga
or for that matter, dancing, shower sing, or wear a toga.
These are the things that I daily look forward,
knowing the goals we are together moving toward.
If my rhymes are a little bit slanted,
just remember our tree we have planted.
All my love I give on this crazy holiday,
with much more than I really need to say.
For the one thing that makes me feel grand
is when we are alone and you still hold my hand.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
More tales of our swash-buckling princess to come.