Almost a Decade

Dear Son,

I have to apologize for telling you to act you age. You do and you do it very well. You are very good at pointing out when I mix up words or when my grammar isn't spot on. As all nine year old boys do, as I am told, you are excellent on taking things literally. I might tell you to wait a second so you count to one and then insist that you have waited the allotted time and are ready to be served. Yet in all that nineness I am glad you can now be home for a short while. I will restrain from smothering you in kisses when you make an airplane out of an upside down picnic table for your sister. Sometimes you might forget to use the volume switch on your voice, I know it is hard to do when Indiana Jones is about to discover the secret treasure. No matter what dirt, grime, and grease is on your skin and clothes it is you that I am thrilled to see. So, go on and be nine for, in a few years I'll wish you back where you are now. It is twelve I really fear.

I'm back

So I am back. It might of seem that some how my new adventure in gestating has torn me from my blog. In truth, it did. I was sick. I was tired. As soon as I saw the end of the nausea roller coaster, I got a cold. Yes, my nausea gave a welcome wave goodbye, and in marched a sore, raw throat and a sinus infection. Luckily I was on the mend when we headed off to California last week. So, feeling a surge of energy returning I felt ready to spend two days in the car, and two more days at Disneyland. So some of you know, this is not the first time that maternal bliss has graced me when at the Magic Kingdom. Three years ago the little girl I waited an hour and half to see princesses with, was in my womb. It is fate. If my family, my extended family, plans a trek to Anaheim include a little fetus tagging along in my belly who must be apart of the action. Knowing how much Anna loved all the sights, sounds, and friends at the Park, all seemed to make sense to me. If you are born into my family, have my parents as grandparents, and my mom's parents as great-grandparents, you must love Disneyland. It is a true and verified equation.

Whenever I go to California I think of them, my grandparents, and our many trips to see them. The long hot car rides, broken down air conditioning, Billy Joel and the Beach Boy tapes all swarm to my memory. We would swim in their pool and drink orange juice from the carton. The orange juice being significant because when you come from a family of ten, orange juice is only served on special occasions and in concentrate form. Yet to me, it was just a California thing. I think of them re-living our trips to Disneyland with us the day after our visit. They lived few miles from the park but, our experiences seemed to refresh their excitement for the magic that Disney holds. So, as we sat eating cupcakes, we really did this, for my nephew's birthday near their grave sites, my mom phrased it right, you could see Grandpa sitting in a chair just watching the action with his clear eyes and big smile. I couldn't help but place them in the same spot in heaven watching us that week, so proud of their progeny. Proud as they always told us they were. Sometimes I wish that David Harris and Anna Katherine could have known the lines where their names originated. Yet, as I watched the joy that they held, I knew that part of them knew what it all meant.

So if you care to divulge further after my personal mutterings, here is a bit of a photo journal of our trip.

"Be-bo," Anna, and Harris. She wouldn't move from that spot.

Harris's traditional Sword and the Stone Picture, with the addition of a sister that had to be part of the action.

Go figure, Anna gives Mr. Incredible a big hug and then is hesitant about hold his black glove.

Handy Mandy, we didn't know until we went to CA. Yet, now he graces all conversations. This one's for you Anna.

So we are a bit backward, my blogger skills aren't up to par. This is on the Mark Twain on the evening of the first day. Both kids fell asleep, before we left the Disneyland Parking Complex.

Our one family photo. Also, the first picture where baby 3 is trying to get in the action. So Soon. Really?

So Anna decided that these rocks were worth visiting. Also, dancing in the way of foot traffic was essential.

Belle, after a rousing conversation about Tinkerbell with our own little princess.

On the Jungle Cruise with Peter and Uncle Brady. Note: the Jungle cruise was the best capture attraction. Aaron was a bit picture happy.

Anna rode the carousel three times and probably could have many more.

Another long wait to capture this lasting Memory. Tinkerbell, Anna, and another Fairy whose name slips my memory.

Oh Minnie, this hug is worth the half hour wait. Really!

Anna and Cousin Levi. I think they might be thinking about the hefalumps too. A bit daunting for the toddler set.
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.

So a little explanation

If I haven't lost my full three people fan base, I will give you a little excuse for my absence.

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.

Sometimes it Hurts

As a mother, I have always wanted my daughter to be my carbon copy with style. For the past two years and four months I have relished in the discoveries that yes she feels right at home in my world. We both love Chocolate Chex and have a unquench desire for milk. She got my brown eye despite my eight moth worry that I would only have blue-eyed children.
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.

Spring Break Part 2

Day Four- Day four was not at all as planned. Anna continued to fever and spent a good deal of the day slumbering-two hours of which was spent on my torso. The rain made us all itch with cabin fever and want to go somewhere, anywhere. Aaron and I dosed ourselves with runs during the break of the storm. Around five, with a Motrin dosed girl we ran to the grocery store for essentials and grabbed some dinner. That quick trip even seemed to cure our ailments.

Day Five-Antelope Island. So we have lived a mere seven miles, give or take, from the causeway of Antelope Island for the past two years and have never gone out there. So we decided to go explore this natural wonder in an urban environment, as the brochure pointed out. Favorites: roping wooden cattle, spotting actual antelope, and the mirrored snow topped mountains.

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.)

Showing of their bunny loot and Sunday best

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.

Lania and Anna,

Spring Break So Far

Monday- We found out that Anna is only required to resume her pirate duties for two hours a day. Also she is scared, Frances Bread and Jam scared, of the bug puppets at the Natural History Museum. On the other Hand, she feels quite like a kindred spirit to the alive glow in the dark scorpion on display. Go figure. Also, Harris needs constant nourishment for his lanky body and watch out, if you don't eat you lunch fast enough he will help himself to the remains. Unless it is a green salad. I can have the entire thing to myself.

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.

Dads and Donuts

Yesterday I thumbed through the school newsletter that came to me along with a jumble of kid enticing ads for community events and programs. As I skimmed the calendar of events I noticed, yes, tomorrow, is donuts with dad, the paper indicating this was a change to the regular set date. So as all good wives I dialed Aaron's cell and realized that if we had any emergency that should pull him out of a patient's room this was it.

"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.