LOST A SOCK

Goodbye, little house.

August 2000

Our first puppy, Daniel, September 2000

Annual Fourth of July parade, 2004

Of paint fumes, November 2006

Kevin's attic craftsmenship (cat inside new wall) 2007

Babies in their favorite hiding place, summer 2007

More babies hiding, August 2010

Two thirds of these babies will argue that they are no longer babies.

At it again, August 2010

We're gonna fight, we're gonna win.  

For sale again, September 2010

December 10, 2010

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right.  I hope you had the time of your life.

What with the sneaking and the uninvited visits

Someone's been playing in my bed, I believe he said.  

The little culprit travels with a myriad of her favorite things: a sippy, a soft pink blankie, a hairbrush, a cup of tea and The Napping House.  

We have no idea who could be sneaking into big brother's room and playing on his bed.

Could the clues left behind belong to a little princess?  A blond haired blue eyed twenty-two pound stream of constant motion, who is always requesting her 'beauful dress?'  

(Of course they can.)  

I love her presence in our house.  

But her brothers, in their room, on their beds after wiping out the fifty perfectly placed plastic army men and dismantling intricate lego structures?  

Not always as much.

She has mastered the mechanism that is a doorknob.  And we are ALL in big trouble.

And then she was two

Happy Second Birthday to our sweet, sweet girl.  You are so loved. 

There are a million wonderful things I can write about you and to you, about your sugar sweet personality and your tough-as-nails will power.  Where to even begin with you? 

I have never had a child so willing and determined to care for and help everyone in our family- to kiss boo-boos for big brothers, wipe up spills, set the table and hand out clothing in the morning.  You are unbelievably on the ball, and you get into everything.  You love Sesame Street and Dora, and reading The Napping House and Donna O'Neeshuck Was Chased By Some Cows.  You love amphibians, especially frogs, and dessert.  (Me and you, sister.)  Almost overnight, it seemed, you went from speaking little words and phrases to full blown sentences.  It is not uncommon for you to greet me in the morning with a, "Good morning mom!  I so cited to see you!"  You can also recite most of your nursery rhymes from start to finish, including personalized favorites such as Little Miss Moppett who makes all people sad, and Auntie Mary had a little lamb. 

In a lot of ways, you are the first third child in our family.  You are our first little girl, our first run with baby dolls and decisions about clothing and hair-do's.  You and I are so bonded to each other, and you want to be with me all of the time.  I am aware that you pay attention to everything I say and do, and for that reason I try to be a good example for you.  Umpteen times a day you take my face in your little hands and give me eskimo kisses and butterfly kisses and kisses kisses, and you always say, "I love you too, mom," even when you are the first to say it.  I am so lucky to have you.  I didn't know I would ever have you and in some ways every day and every milestone with you, my daughter, seems fresh and brand new.  You and I are going far together, my girl.         

So now that you have been singing happy birthday to your cousin Jonathan practically every night since his birthday party back in June, today I am so happy to finally sing it to you. 

Happy Birthday, Marin Pie.  We love you baby girl. 

Writing the next chapter

Once there was a little old house.

(Yep, the next chapter of this story.)

Once there was a little old house that was purchased by a young couple with no very specific dreams at all, more than hopes for happiness and a dog and a little black cat and babies someday.

The house was charming with its shiny hardwood floors and chunky white baseboards, and it suited the young couple just fine.

 

Before long the young couple brought their newborn baby home to the house, and he began to grow there. The mama walked the shiny hardwood floors with him day and night, and he learned to crawl and walk and run.

Family and friends gathered again and again for celebrations, and toys and puzzles and baby items of all kinds filled the little old house. A whole set of lives grew there, just as had been happening for more than one hundred years in that very place.

When they planned for their second baby, the couple worried about the space that was offered by the little old house. They placed the little old house for sale and let it ride for many months, but to no avail. Then they adapted their plans and decided to keep the little old house for a while longer, and they gave it a facelift.

Soon a second baby, a fourth family member, joined the house. This time there was work to be done. There was reorganizing and simplifying in order to make space for the again growing family to fit this house.

The family began changing in so many ways- their beliefs, their goals and their entire lives were becoming more purpose-filled. There were even more toys and puzzles and family and friends. They were ready for the next step, now, and decided again that it was time to move on.

(Like, for real this time.  We were moving, for real.)

The house was listed for sale and the family hoped and prayed that new owners were just around the corner.

A deal came, and a deal fell through. Another deal came, and another deal fell through.  A new real estate agent, another round of interested buyers changing their minds. The family did the best they could with the circumstances and after months and months of touring big, beautiful houses with brand new chunky white baseboards and brand new shiny hardwood floors, they decided to move forward at any cost.

 

The family again adapted their plan to fit the situation. They downgraded their new house budget by half, and they carried the two houses, the new and the old, for almost another year. They prayed for patience and guidance and wisdom, because something had to happen. They adapted their plan again, and they brought in a new family.

Renters.

The renters came as a family of three and soon grew into a family of four, just as the one before them had. They took good care of the house and stayed for more than two years until suddenly…

…well, yes. Until suddenly I received the call last night that our renters have taken a job offer on the other side of the state, and it is time for them to move out of our little old house, next week.

I have imagined a thousand times what this moment would feel like- the moment when the house became all ours again. For anyone who was reading me back in 2007 and 2008 when our house was on the market and deal after deal fell through, you know the way we struggled with it. We weren’t doing anything crazy, really. We were a growing family who was simply ready to spread out into a bigger place. We had outgrown our starter home, though unfortunately at the same time that our country spiraled into a real estate disaster and stock market crash.

I prayed for patience so much at that time. It sounds simple to look back and say we carried the two houses for nine months, but the truth of it was that carrying two houses for Kevin and I meant heavy weights on our shoulders every single day, and worries of what outcome we might face. We paid double mortgages and double heating bills each month, and we shoveled snow and cut grass at two houses. I didn’t want to do it, and honestly I sometimes felt it would break me. I tried, as hard as it was, to trust God that all of it was for a reason.

I also had no idea that I would become pregnant with Marin just three months after we moved out of our little old house. In the middle of shoveling snow and begrudgingly signing that mortgage check month after month I was carrying a baby with a then mysterious kidney condition that would require multiple hospital stays, and surgery. We had no plans for a third child back then, but suddenly we were having one.

I also had no idea that we would decide to adopt our fourth child from Africa before Marin was even a year old.

Most importantly, we could not have known back in 2007 when I was crying tears of sheer frustration and hopelessness night after night, that if we had sold our little old house and bought the big, new house with the chunky baseboards and hardwood floors for double the price, that we could not have afforded to adopt our baby.

The house we live in now- the one we settled on because we just needed to go already, is what is currently making our then unrealized dreams for our family come true.

I had imagined that once it came time to relist our little old house on the market that I would feel panic again, like I once had during those long, emotional selling months. No time is a good time to go through something like this, financially and otherwise.

I am not panicked, though. Isn’t that crazy? I don’t know if this will be easy or difficult, and I have no idea how this story will end.  Something has to happen, and it will.

But first I have to paint walls and polish wood floors again.  Ready?

+++

And, for the sake of fond memories I give you this gem.  I laughed my fool head off when I read this, remembering my Aunt Kathy leaping from her chair to help move the troops, Joyce with the bottle of windex and Mary and Sant hurling bags of freshly opened birthday presents into KJ's room.  And Jakie with the binoculars in the Dairy Queen parking lot.  Good gravy those were some ridiculously funny times, weren't they?)

Eighteen (by a thread)

Dear Marin Pie,

I had this idea, well over a month ago, since I have been ever the stellar parent in documenting your babyhood both online (not so well) and in your baby book (not at all) that I should write you a letter, here, to commemorate your turning one and a half.

And in true form, you will turn nineteen months old in just a handful of days and I am making a first attempt.

 

Thankfully, I have been mindful enough to snap pictures of so many of your firsts that have been taking place.  Here, your first time joining us at the actual dinner table.  We packed up your high chair last week and traded it in for your booster seat at the table.  It really changed our dinner dynamic to have you in one of the chairs-- so neat to see the three of you seated all together, screeching and laughing and talking to each other over our favorite Chicago pizza.

Here you are well past your bedtime one night, allowing your big brothers to read to you.

You love books.  LOVE books.  We read a handful before nap, a handful before bed, and ten handfuls more throughout the day.  Your favorites include Three Little Kittens, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, Raffi's Baby Beluga and the Big Animal Board Book.  If any grown-up sits down on the floor within your vicinity, you immediately grab a book and plop yourself in his or her lap, instructing, "Books."  "Ead?" 

You have your own ideas about everything, of course, including some of your books.

This one in particular, Noah's Ark, reminds you strongly of Santa Claus.  Each time I say Noah, you correct me, pointing to the red-robed, white beard-wearing man, exclaiming, "Santa!"  This went on for many days, each time we read this story, until eventually I began telling it to your liking:  Santa built a boat and loaded up the animals two by two.  Santa fed the animals.  Santa washed the animals.  Santa sent out a dove to find dry land, and Santa saw a rainbow in the sky.  Ho Ho Ho, merry Old Testament.

Right from the beginning, you have been a girl on the go.  Here you are playing with friends at LegoLand (a brand of toys you'll never be able to escape, surrounded by brothers.)  Partly due to homeschool, and partly just because we simply like to have all kinds of fun, we find ourselves all over the place all week long.  Sometimes I feel great about this for you, that you have such a unique chance to learn about the world in a very direct way, and socialize, and sometimes I feel guilty because I know you could benefit from longer naps and possibly less time strapped to my chest or riding in your stroller.  You don't seem to mind, honestly, but it is my job to worry.

Everybody stick a toy in your mouth, quick!

I want to say that it is so much fun to raise you-- my daughter, because indeed there are traits I notice in you that I hadn't seen with your brothers (like the way you are so quick to run for shoes and socks and even attempt to put them on yourself when it is time to go places, or how you pack your random little cloth bags to wear on your arm, or echo my discipline for your big brothers, shouting "Guys!" or "Bees!") but specifically I just have to say that it is so wonderful to raise you.  Somehow even after watching KJ and Jack grow, two kids that couldn't be any more different from each other, here you are, our third child with a personality completely your own.  You add so much to our family that I could never imagine my life without, now knowing who you are growing into.  I think often about what we will be to each other in the future, shopping for prom dresses and doing all of the special things that mothers and daughters do together.  But for now we rock, rock, rock together in the chair beside your crib multiple times each day, and at four o'clock every morning not only hoping for just a few more hours of rest, but also savoring the time we have to chat in the dark together, about the dog who keeps coming back in, the night light on your wall, and naming all of our facial features over and over, before sealing our night-time visit with a "tiss."  We are close, you and I, and though I know it is probably not your conscious decision at this time that has made us this way, I thank you anyway for the abundance of joy that you give to me every day, being the mom of an amazing daughter.

You recently had a tug-of-war with Jack, over a squishy ball.  

You lost.

Thankfully you weren't sad for too long. 

You get him back for it all the time, by leveling his delicate wood-block towers.  Today you popped him in the eye with one of said blocks.  You hold your own.

It is likely that there will be a brother following behind you soon, and though it makes sense that this would be something I should stress about, even a little, I honestly have no worries about your near future.  You are the most adaptable child ever, and so secure with your place in this family.  You have no qualms with speaking your little mind, or throwing a temper tantrum if you feel the situation calls for it.  You are happy in our growing family, and nothing leads me to believe that having someone smaller than you to make plastic meals for and dress from the living room basket of winter gear would bother you.  When I think of a brother, a third brother for you, I wonder first if you will ever manage a date in high school.  And I wonder if there will be a sister, then, to follow for you, because I would love to give that to you (and to her) just like Auntie and I, if that is in the cards for us.  I am excited to see where we go next, and what it will mean for you.

At eighteen months old you are definitely so special to each of us.  Mommy's girl, Daddy's princess girl, KJ's "honey" as he calls you, and Jack's buddy.  You are fluent in your speaking skills, now beginning to string two and three words together.  You sing Twinkle, Twinkle and a few of the ABC's.  I was shocked to learn, this morning, that you can count to ten.  You still love to eat, blueberries and strawberries at the top of your list, followed closely by cheeses of all sorts and crackers.  Every liquid in a cup to you is Juice or "juju" and if there is a snack to be had, you want a bag, a bowl, a plate of your very own, by dammit.  (None of this sharing crap.)   

You feed baby dolls and your Elmo doll with sippy cups and toy bottles, you love play cooking, especially with Jack, and you correctly make distinctions between Bakugan toys and Transformers, though any action figure from Lego to Star Wars is simply, "Man!"  You have no interest in television, barring the occasional moment or two of Sesame Street, but you somehow correctly identify the image of SpongeBob, the least favorite of all children's characters I know.  There will be plenty of time to try and kill me in your teenage years, if you could just hold off for a while longer, thank you.

Now that you're nineteen eighteen months old, I am painfully aware that your babyhood is passing in a flash and will be gone in no time.  I loved the surprise of you, and the sweetness of you when you were first born.  I loved having another chance to snuggle with an infant, you in particular, and to buy soft pink blankets and pink pants with ruffles and little hair bows.  It was being welcomed into a whole other dimension of life I had not previously known, and it exceeded my expectations a thousand times over.  There is something about the youngest, a baby to a mama that makes her all her own for a little while-- so connected.  I know this connection well with you, my baby and my little girl.  I hope I never lose this with you.

Love,

Mama

In which I am positive spring has not come early

As I watched the snow melt last week at a blistering thirty-five degrees, and Groundhog Day skeetered on through, I thought for sure that Spring might present its pretty little self early.  Tulips and green grass and and tree buds, oh my!  Just what I needed!  A quick winter!

 

What the hell was I on?

We live in the Midwest.  And we are less than ten days into the month of February.

 

If you're going to marry anybody, it should definitely be your best friend.  The brides at their wedding site.  Seven months to our their big day, if you're keeping track.

Two weeks ago we chose the agency which will conduct the Homestudy for our adoption (our actual adoption agency is based out of another state, and your homestudy agency needs to be within your own state) and it has been a paperchase of an extreme kind ever since.  Before our meeting downstate next week, Kevin and I must assemble financial documents of all sorts, write essays and provide family histories three generations back, provide documentation of child and pet immunizations alike and make it through seventeen kinds of background checks.  (Fine. Five. But it feeeeels like seventeen, finding that fine line between smashing the prints OFF of my fingers, and sharing my fingerprints with the FBI, and all.) 

I must admit that the OCD part of me really enjoys assembling all of the necessary documents into neat piles and giant envelopes and plastic drawers-- and knowing that each little page brings us closer to our baby is quite exciting.  The copier we bought at the beginning of the homeschool year?  Han-dee!  Unfortunately the wintertime trips involving coats, mittens, car seat buckles and snow with three small children, again and again to retrieve this page or that, are a bit less fun than the organizing part.  Though, eh, the boys have come to love sauntering through the metal detector at the county court house by now.  Ha!

I've decided to keep a timeline for our adoption over in my sidebar, to mark the larger steps of the process.  Its something I've found so interesting as I read other bloggers who have brought their children home.

In the wee hours of tomorrow morning Marin and I will embark on a mission of a different kind: the one to figure out what has been causing hydronephrosis of her good kidney, and exactly the severity of it.  She will be given IV sedation and then radiologists will inject nuclear medicine into one of her arteries to watch it travel through her kidneys.  Up until now Marin's urologist has been watching the kidney through renal scans every few months, but at this point he felt it was time to be a bit more invasive.

I am nervous about the test tomorrow- about her being under general anesthesia for a few hours, and about the IV's and the process of going under.  It was awful when we did this last year.  But more than that, I am worried for the outcome (though, obviously, completely beyond my control.)  We made it through last year's surgery with an end in sight-- believing that she would be okay, and that it was a pretty easy fix.  One point five kidneys was totally doable in my mind, and once the surgery was over it would be smooth sailing.

I am not as easy with investigating the whole kidney we have left.  I am even less okay with the possibility of another surgery, and have a million questions to what losing another part of these important organs might mean to her future.  Not knowing is always difficult, right?  I look forward to a bucketful of answers, at least, and possibly a barrell of good news.  And sunshine and beams of rainbow colors.  Or something.

Tonight after seeing KJ and Jack off to their aunt and uncle's house for the night, in preparation for tomorrow's procedure, I enjoyed the quiet of our house for approximately twelve whole minutes.  Marin and I looked at each other, puzzled with what we should do for the next six lonely hours, and I promptly bundled her up and took her out into our latest blizzard, in a very large, far too empty vehicle.  I embraced the fact that I will always be a mother who misses her children when we are apart, no matter how badly I long for the occasional ten minutes of quiet, and I have easily come to the conclusion that a quiet house to me is everything that child-induced chaos is to the quiet-lover.  We were meant to be a large family.  I've always known it, even in moments I forgot it, and I love every time I know it more.

Please do send positive vibes in our direction, for little Sissie Pie, if you get a moment.  While I do not anticipate a hospital stay, we did end up with one last year, so who's to say what will come of tomorrow?  Sunshine and rainbows after all is said and done, I hope.

During which I prove to you that Excitement is my middle name

When I thought about posting an entry today, I thought to myself, Hmm, loss for words.  (Still.) (You know, because you totally couldn't figure that out from my last entry on a toddler tearing flower petals to smithereens, oh the dramz.)  So I quickly popped through my most recent picture uploads, and, eh, homeschool, homeschool, homeschool, painted bathroom, growing toddler, toddler drinking water, toddler spilling water, toddler standing unsupervised on kitchen chair.  And proof that I should keep the markers out of reach.  Fourth child is doomed. 

Out of curiosity I jumped back to late last winter to see what the excitement was all about, and whaddya know, I was at a loss for words then, too.  And trying to figure out how to feed the baby (who never stops eating nowadays) and what to do about our school situation (hooooomeschool!)  Also, I had just painted something else, because that is apparently what I do with my Januaries. 

The year before, in the early part of 2008, I was eating my way through winter and spring and summer because I was newly pregnant, and also I was falling apart.  Side note: would someone please grant me permission to Explore All Caloric Possibilities this year as well?  Addition to the family and all?  Yes?  I didn't paint anything in the winter of 2008, just having spent all of the fall previous doing so.  Whew.  (Holy crap, some of those rooms have already been painted twice since then.)

In the winter of 2007, I painted...the old house!  Also, I had a toddler back then and was trying to lose weight.  Surprise, surprise, sur-freaking-prise.

In 2006 I was a different girl altogether, just getting my blogging flippers wet.  I didn't paint anything.  I wasn't losing weight (yet.)  I did have a teeny tiny baby.

February 2010:

OMG, I are so predictable.  I painted mah bathroomz.

 

Finally has pretty tilez.

And in the interest of a nice rhythm to life, I am not pregnant and do not have a brand new baby this winter, though we are waiting for one.  I am forever dieting and oh so tired of writing about it, and we solved the Great Public School Debacle in the most fun way possible:

Figure out what makes you come alive, and do that. 

In this case, painting solar system murals as often as possible.

 
I've recently torn closets apart because it is very much the quiet February thing to do, and I have a new little buddy to pack those little boy hand-me-downs away for. (Pink containers yet to be purchased.  We are equal opportunity adopters and hand-me-downers.)

 
Hi, I am growing up at break-neck speed.

And one year ago we were talking, lots, about surgery.  And next week, another MAG-3 on another kidney, hoping that the procedural outcome can be different this time.

 
Another day, another story.  Another room to paint, twelve more calories to count.  Waiting for babies.  Waiting for warm, sunny walk-the-trails weather.

 
Doing what we must to get through the long, grey winter.  

(Don't judge a sister.)

Twenty Oh-Nine

First, our Christmas celebrations were good and I hope yours were, too.  We completed all but one item on my list of holiday fun (damn popcorn garland) plus took an unplanned trip to Florida this month.  The day after Christmas KJ came down with the stomach flu, and it then shot through every member of our house like a speeding rocket through some home-made pumpkin pie.  Or is that just what my laundry room looked like in its aftermath?  (Yes.)

I can hardly believe we're already a handful of days into the year 2010 (remember how crazy it was to reach Y2K with the projection of computers spontaneously combusting and scribbling out the 19 on every last page of your checkbook?  That was really ten years ago already?)  Last year, at the end of 2008, I wrote a review post, and going back to read it this morning I was surprised to remember what a difficult road we tread that year.  I had high hopes for 2009 at the time, and shared some of my goals here.  And now on the other side, I am so thankful to call 2009 one of the good ones.

With health a fair worry at the beginning of 2009, I am relieved to say that we made it through pretty smoothly.  Marin had surgery on one of her kidneys, and the other continues to be watched by our trusted specialist.  I was given the thumbs up by my own new doctor as well, to leave all return-tumor worries at her office door.  And while I didn't hit my final weight loss goal this year, I came forty-ish pounds closer, which is nothing to scoff at.  There's always the year ahead for celebrating the finish line, right? 

I gave running a try this year, and made frenemies with Jillian Michaels and her Eighteen Thirty Day Shred.  I also participated in two 5K walks for charity and pushed both a lawn mower and a double stroller a whole lot this year.  I loosened up my former strict relationship with the Weight Watchers points program for a balance with plain old healthy, natural eating, and wonder of wonders, found that consuming fruits and vegetables, and exercising, can help one shed pounds, also.  I accidentally dyed my hair black, and brown and had it short and long(ish.)  I lived in jeans and solid color t-shirts, and oversized hooded sweatshirts.   

This year we kept our noses clean financially, steering clear of credit card debt and paying off the lesser of our vehicles.  We were very honest with what we had to save, spend and give away each month, and though I know where I could have done better in certain situations, I am quite pleased in the end.  I learned a good deal about the stock market this year (as opposed to the Absolute Zero that I comprehended in years previous) and managed good returns as the market made its rebound.  I am forever thankful that we came away from the year with Kevin's job in-tact, unlike so many with different stories of 2009.

 
I fell head over heels in love with my simple laundry line this year, and spent more time than ever outdoors with the kids.  We visited our zoo through all seasons, discovered the walking trail near our home, and took full advantage of many free days for our local Chicago museums.  We also had a blast with Little League and basketball, took swim lessons and gave karate the old college try (read: fail!)  We practically lived at the library this year, heh, when we weren't at the zoo.  Many of those outings were done in the name of our new way of life as a homeschooling family, which I am both proud of myself for taking on this year, and proud of my children for embracing so readily.

 
This year was particularly difficult as we carried my Aunt Kathy to the end of her life, which is still hard to believe, and we participated in the Susan G. Komen walk in her name, to find a cure for a terrible disease.  I have remained overly-critical of myself through the year, still deeply longing to conquer my own fears and awkwardness to say the right thing a given moment instead of blurting out a jumbled mess of not quite what I meant to say as I back out of the room, sheepishly.  And still around and around with a sugar addiction, and eating in the name of comfort and celebration and worry, except for the moments when I managed to overcome it this year.  And there were a few. 

 
In response to 2008's Year of No Travel, we made our way from coast to coast in 09.  Kevin and I took a spring trip to California, just the two of us, and left a little piece of our heart at Big Sur.  We made a 3600 mile road trip as a family early this fall, visiting Mount Rushmore and the Colorado Rocky Mountains, the Texas panhandle and many of the plains states.  I will love and remember that trip forever.  Late in the year we took the kids on their first flight, down to Florida where we spent time with Kevin's Granny on the news of her late-stage cancer.  Marin paid her very first visit to Mickey Mouse, also.

 
KJ learned to ride a bike this year!  Kevin and my dad constructed our backyard swing set!  Sant and Leslie bought a house!  And got engaged!  My major purchase was my Canon Rebel and its lenses, which I love with my whole heart, and we landscaped the front of our house, and carpeted our family room.  We successfully rented out our old house for a second year, and our baby daughter learned to crawl, walk, talk and climb. 

 
This year a new baby began making his/her way into our family, growing in our hearts, rather than in my womb.

This year I learned that personal growth, and change, often do not happen overnight.  Or even in short months or years, sometimes.  I learned the value of solid friends willing to accept you for who you are, forgive you for who you were not but should have been, hold you up when you could barely stand and sincerely pat your back as you giddily make your way down the fast track to happiness.  I learned that making yourself vulnerable has its down-side, but is full of lessons when ridden out to a situation's end.  I saw that there is perfection in life's good and bad, and that opening oneself up to truest sincerity and God's abundance can bring nothing but joy, and even a few surprises. 

2009 was good.

One

I've been thinking all day today about what should be said in this post, and now on the eve of Marin Pie's first birthday I still haven't completely organized my thoughts.  (Cue creative title.)  I want to somehow convey the marvel that is my daughter, truly the happiest baby I've ever known, right along with the profound changes that have come to our lives with her presence.  This baby girl, and the doors she has opened, continually humble me as her mother and as a human being.  She is sweet, and so loving, and smart as can be.  I always love being her mother (even in the middle of the night, still) and without making the moments pass too quickly, cannot wait to see what the future holds for she and I together. 

At one year old, Marin has been taking steps for a bit more than a month now, and has a deep-rooted interest in climbing.  (Gahhh.)  She has a vocabulary of about seventeen words and makes the sounds for puppy, kitty, lion and cow.  She loves dogs, the delectable contents our cardboard recycling can, and babies of all ages.  Her favorite toys include her stuffed Winnie the Pooh, her play kitchen with the million opening and closing doors, and any lego contraband she can get her chubby little hands on.  She loves her Elmo board books, as well as the Touch and Feel animal series, and the time of her life is had while chasing people.  She is happiest singing and dancing with me around the kitchen, and crawling all over Jackson on the living room floor.  She eats a killer variety of the healthiest foods I could possibly ask for, and is particularly crazy about cheese, broccoli and pear slices.  She's a great two-a-day napper, and is happy as a clam to be carted all over the midwest in her car seat, wide variety of strollers (heh) and baby bjorn. 

About six months ago, Marin had surgery to remove the top half of her right kidney, due to a problem she was born with.  It was amazing to see what a trooper she was, and how quickly she came through the surgery and recovery.  We were so relieved after all was said and done.  And now, just last week at a regular follow-up visit we learned that there is swelling on her left kidney as well, and though we're not exactly sure what that will mean for the future, we are crossing our fingers for the best outcome again.  We will begin all of the testing again after Christmas, in hopes of giving her a last chance to outgrow whatever the problem may be.

I feel like I'm running through nuts and bolts here, listing information in a concise way that is not leaving quite enough room to say...God we love this baby.   I never could have imagined everything falling into place so perfectly the way it has, or having a child- a daughter, so amazing as she is.  I can hardly believe that just one year ago we were just officially meeting for the first time. 

Of course, I may have been forced to stamp FAIL across her very blank baby book, but it wouldn't be a birthday around here without a video montage, eh?

Happy Birthday, sweet girl.  Your mama loves you so.

Ode to The New Baby

My new camera arrived last week, just before we left for the hospital.  I opened the box, kissed and hugged it and charged the battery, and then returned it to its temporary cardboard home while I was away for the week.  I finally got around to tinkering with it over the last couple days, and I love it.  I quickly learned, unfortunately, that ordering a better lens was an immediate foregone conclusion, so hi-ho hi-ho, it was back to Amazon I go went. 

So while I wait to receive more fun in the mail (three cheers for fun in the mail!) I played around with natural light and black & white. 

Little Miss, on the road to recovery.

 

Just one week post-op and already back to toe-grabbing.

I am incredibly happy to report that she finally finished up her antibiotic today, and is therefore (hopefully) nearing the end of constant baby explosions and diaper rash.  Unfortunately, I'm not sure whether to blame the teething or the hospital for throwing threw her already shoddy sleep schedule for a loop ten loops twenty-seven loops out the damn window, even ruining what we once had going with hours-long daytime swing naps.  (Goodbyyyyyye naps, come back soon!  Mama does loooove her some sanity!) 

And last, or is this simply adding to the sticky mess?  Marin's darling older brother gifted her with Baby's First Sinus Infection upon her arrival home.  Oh mucus.  Oh oh oh mucus.

The gifter himself.  I believe entire books have been written on how to photograph a six year old boy.  And should you stumble upon one of those helpful books, do send it my way.  Because the motion and the silly just doesn't end.

He's got the cold, too.  You can thank me for editing out the snot.

Peace.

(Which is code for, I've been trying to write this entry on and off throughout the entire day, and now at nearly 10pm a child is having a temper tantrum one floor above me while his baby sister fiiiiiinally sleeps.  And with my husband just now on his way home from work?  That's my cue.)

(Calgon whaaa?)

Remember when I rattled on endlessly about paint colors and real estate? Boy howdy, those were the days.

Sooooo, we're close enough now.

I promised myself I wasn't going to talk about it much, blog about it too early, think too much, obsess over, weep over, freak out over - pardon me I'm getting away from the point. 

Yes.

We are down to a week away from Marin's surgery.

If you've not been reading me for long you may be in the dark, which means I've done a pretty good job of non-obsessing over the last several months.  Marin was discovered, while in utero, to have extreme hydronephrosis of one of her kidneys.  She went through a myriad of tests and a few doctors very early on, until she was finally diagnosed by a wonderful pediatric urologist during a hospital stay.  On Tuesday she will undergo surgery to have the upper half of her bad kidney removed, as well as the ureter connected to that portion of the kidney.  She has been on a daily antibiotic since birth, which has caused innumerable cases of thrush (though thankfully held us down to only one nasty infection) in order to keep her urinary tract and blood healthy, and crossing my fingers for All Things Complete Success on Tuesday, we will finally be finished with the antibiotic, the thrush, the worries, the bad kidney and the dark looming surgery date. 

Just. Have to. Get. Through. Tuesday.

I know that people, even babies, have surgery all the time.  I know that my daughter can live on one and a half kidneys.  I know that we have a world class doctor and a fabulous hospital and friends and family thinking good thoughts for us.  But the closer the day comes, the more my stomach does flip-flops.  I'm just afraid of the anesthesia, the operating room, the possibilities, the surgery.

My girl belongs in my arms, not in an operating room.

I think back to those days when I was so nervous about what it would be like to have a third child-  I worried about ever leaving the house again, and sleep, and ever leaving the house again.  And ever leaving the house again.  Ever.  And just like that, mission accomplished.  I leave the house at will with all three kids, even in mid-winter, and have infinitely bigger plans for once we are no longer getting pounded by twelvefreakinginchesofsnowdaily.  And I can almost be sane, and sometimes even reasonable, on Sleep Interrupted. 

Who knew?

At days shy of five months old I am head over heels, to the moon and back crazy about this baby.  Every thing she does is somehow brand new and amazing, even though I've witnessed it twice before.  She has an infectious smile and such soft, pretty skin.  She converses with her brothers and me all day long, giggles and even laughs her baby buns off, and she is the most patient little girl I could ask for. 

 

(I might ask that our local photography place not watermark her entire face, but whatever.)  (Also, hot damn, do I have a knack for producing children who look absolutely nothing like me, or what?)

I really, really love my baby.  And I want her to be completely well.

I've done my best to keep my mind in the right place about this for all these months, knowing that worries run rampant will not change her situation.  I am thankful that we have a solution instead of a long-term problem.  We have to get through this for whatever reason there is, and we have to learn something, and appreciate more.  I'm just nervous, is all, because we're getting close.

And I wish I could find that damn Parenting Manual that promises Everything Is Going To Be Just Fine.

Ohhhhh Eight

With having Jack's birthday right there as we ring in each new year, I noticed that I've not ever written a Year In Review post or a Herrrrrre's What's To Come entry on this website -- even though I am actually a mite bit obsessed with a huge fan of reflecting on the past and planning for the future.  So if you'll allow me to drag the new year celebration on for just a bit longer (sure you can drink champagne while you read) we can take a quick look at my year past, and later the one to come.

When I think about 2008, now that we are all of six days into 09, I need a good cry.  Every time.  First I want to weep big crocodile tears of sobby sadness for the hard road that was last year, then some tears of joy and gratitude, and then back for a good long cry of relief.  We made it through 2008.  And frigging hell it was TOUGH.

I think 2007 was one of those years that makes the surrounding ones pale in comparison.  I felt most myself in 2007.  I had a ton of energy and on paper we really accomplished a lot.  We went lots of places and moved to a new house, Kevin took on a new job and I painted and redecorated and just felt healthy in so many ways.  I assumed that 2008 would be a continuation of the year previous and I could spend the rest of my life gleefully hopping around with two kids Enjoying Every Damn Thing (once we sold that pesky house, of course). 

Why hello Morning Sickness, where did you come from?

As can be imagined, I learned a lot this year.  I learned a lot about patience, and grace, and flexibility.  We chucked our plans for selling our old house and rented it out.  We chucked our plans for being a two-child family and opened our hearts to our new baby.  I chucked my plans for finishing my weight loss and for happily vacationing, and we put off every major purchase possible.  Some things really fell to shit, and some of them were rebuilt.  Some things I will never be able to discuss here, but, well, they played a large factor in The Crazy that this year was also.  I'm glad to see the year come to an end.  I'm grateful for all of the opportunities for learning that I was presented with, and I hope I came away understanding everything I needed to.  And my word, I am thankful for my happy sweet-smelling baby that came from this year. 

So here we go - 2008 In Review - In Numbers.

In 2008...

• I mowed zero lawns, dragged garbage cans to the curb only once, and shoveled snow only twice.  Ahh pregnancy, alas I find your perks. 
• We had 2 baby showers, 15 ultrasounds, 1 surgery, 1 tumor removed and 1 reproductive organ lost.  This year my body happily grew 1 beautiful six pound baby and I continued my long-standing career sabbatical to stay home, care for and educate 2 equally wonderful and energetic little boys (and then 1 adorable baby girl).
• In 2008 I consumed 467 pounds of cookie dough followed by a close second, 462.5 pounds of every variety of fresh fruit, canned fruit, fruit flavoring and fruity smelling non-fruit fruit.  I drank only 1/3 as much coffee as I would have, hosted 6 parties in our home, consumed 2 alcoholic beverages and gained 50 pounds (the calories in the alcohol, I tell you!)
• I changed approximately 4000 diapers in 2008, washed at least 1500 loads of laundry, had 2 houses flood, 1 roof leak, and 2 vacuums died.  I painted only 1 room in 2008, hid from 1 tornado, stepped on 984 legos, pinched 1 nerve in my upper back and fell down the stairs once in the middle of the night (and tore the thermostat out of the wall in the process, way to go on doing nothing half-assed.)  I blew my nose 14,982,227 times through the course of 17 colds. 
• In 2008 I ran the dishwasher at least 365 times and washed approximately 4 dishes by hand.
• Major purchases were limited to 1 larger vehicle, 1 winter coat, 1 television and innumerable pink baby sleepers.  This year we purchased 3 DVD's, no CD's, our first video game system as a married couple, and 1 video game.  I purchased 1 pair of shoes this year and no purse.  This year we went to no concerts, no movies, 1 musical, and paid 18 mortgage payments out of our savings veins pocket. 
• Holding strong, we managed to fully fund 1 IRA, rebuild our savings and close out the year without 1 dollar of credit card debt. 
• I read 2 books that influenced me in a major way, meditated at least 100 times and attended church only twice in the middle of an incredible spiritual journey.  I learned 2 very important lessons in 2008, watched my favorite documentary at least 20 times and claimed my personal stake as 1 huge History Channel Dork.
• I learned to love, appreciate and accept this 1 body that serves me whether it is baby-filled, overweight, well cared for or otherwise.  I quietly celebrated my 11th anniversary with Kevin, proud of its fruits, proud of what it took to arrive there.
• In 2008 we took no vacations but made our way into 4 neighboring states, attended no weddings, 1 wake, no funerals, 1 baptism, countless birthday parties.  I helped coordinate 2 classroom parties and rode a school bus 3 times.
• We scheduled 1 vasectomy and cancelled 1 vasectomy, no longer convinced that two 3 is our magic stopping number.  (Possibly I don't mind changing 4000 diapers a year as much as I think?)  I underwent 1 tumor regrowth check to find myself still tumor free and cancer free, hopefully forevermore, at least until February. 
• I kept up with 67 blog feeds, wrote 144 blog entries of my own and took more than 8200 pictures.  I read more than 1000 children's books, (mostly) potty trained 1 little boy, and taught my 2 boys about charity, hands-on, in 3 ways this year.  I made two sets of curtains, six pillows and my first quilt on my gramma's sewing machine.
• I mailed out 72 Christmas cards this year, and excitedly received 46. I was awful about responding to emails.
• In 2008 I sang hundreds of songs, cried more tears than I care to count, smiled thousands of genuine smiles and thanked God hundreds of times for all that we are blessed with.  Even when those blessings are wrapped up in an easy-to-exit year like 2008.

Three?! Could it be? (Oh yes it could.)

Guess who turns three months old today?

 

Three! months!

It has occurred to me that this child?  Is going to grow up on me, just like her brothers.

 

And she's so excited about it, too.

 

At three months old, Marin Ann weighs 13 pounds, 6 ounces, and is 23 inches long.  She smiles like crazy, and coos, goos and gahs through most of her waking hours.  She has recently learned to put her hands together and happily stuffs them in her mouth at every opportunity, and is beginning to grab hold of the toys that dangle from her baby gym. 

 

She really likes to watch her brothers as they breeze past her in the most noisy, speedy, entertaining ways,

 

and I believe she is learning to take advantage of her place in the family as The Youngest Daughter.

  

Whoopsie! Sorry Jack! Did I just KICK YOU SQUARE IN THE FACE?   

 

Though on the flip side of that, she's learning to tolerate pretend karate chops to the forehead and such (what Jack refers to as WHACK-E-CHAAAAS. I don't get it either.)  

 

Yes, Marin is a happy baby.  Happy happy happy all day long. 

And all night too.  

Because do you know what she does at night?  Still at three months of age?  She wakes up!  And stays up!  For hours on end!  Beeeeeing haaaaaappy.  (When her mother?  Not so much with the happy.)  

Through three children now, I have waited to bear The Sleeper Child.  KJ never slept at night.  Never, ever ever ever ever, oh my God how awful it was.  Jack?  Not so much with the sleep, either.  Neither of those children ever slept through the night, not even once, until well past their first birthdays.  Now, I will give all three of them credit for being good nappers (both Jackson and Marin willing to nap only in their respective baby swings, but sleeping nonetheless,) but as for sleep during the night?  So very sketchy, still.  Sometimes she will surprise me with a solid three hour block at night, but in exchange will play for an hour and a half to follow. 

She continues to take two or three feedings during the course of what I would consider her night, usually staying awake through that middle time-slot.  And hot damn, she wants nothing more than to smile and coo and watch recorded Oprah shows with me at three a.m. every stinking night.

 

Mockery.

 

Beyond the Sleep Issue, the other thing that made me nervous about having an actual crew of children, as opposed to just a pair, was all of the germ sharing that inevitably takes place. 

With my first two, I became accustomed to passing colds back and forth, so much so that runny noses, in my mind, aren't even notable anymore.  I worry more about things like respiratory infections, ear infections, chills and fevers, pink eye, the cold flu, and thrush.  

And do you know what we've experienced this week?  

Am not kidding - we have all of the above. 

From start to finish, all three kids and I have some version of sinusy-respiratory-sore throat-fever-chills-body aches.  Then in addition, KJ went the ear infection route while Jack opted for pink eye (a new one for our family! Go Jack! And also, I assume I can thank the McDonald's playland gahhhh if there was somewhere else to get exercise in the winter), and just before Thanksgiving Marin took on oral thrush as her plague of choice, and is just now finally getting over it with her second medication.

Walgreens is bleeding my bank account and dancing on my debit card, I promise you.

(Also, good thing we got our flu shots this year, right?  Oh, wait...)

 

On a positive note, doll-baby Marin will never miss a day of school in her entire life, having been exposed to every damn childhood virus available in her first three months of life. 

And though it may seem otherwise when I discuss our Fun with Exhaustion and Various Diseases, I can't begin to say how happy I am to have three children.  I feel like I really have the hang of it in just three months' time, and what a dynamic our newest little pumpkin has added to our family.  It took some re-defining of who we are and where we are headed as a group and as individuals, concessions as to how long it should and does actually take a mother and three young children to prepare for exiting the house during the winter, and most certainly we are all learning more patience and turn-taking.  But at this point, with children ages six, almost three, and three months old, I am blown away by how blissfully happy I am with my life. 

(Oh don't deny it - you know you love when I end a blog entry all trippy and euphoric.  Mmmm babies, I love me some babies...  Consider me so the advocate of embiggening your family, now.)

Peaks and Valleys

One year ago,

 

I had just completed painting our new house.  

   

And was still doing whatever I could to sell our old house.

 

One year ago we were learning how to swing two houses and their respective payments and upkeeps, while attempting to still have a Christmas.

 

One year ago we were shoveling the snow at our new house, and then at our old house.

 

Six months ago my shock was turning to complete excitement.  

But we were pulling out our hair wondering how we would swing it all, with two houses and a new baby.

 

Five months ago we concocted a new plan. 

It was pretty much our only option, and our hope to climb out of the hole we had been digging.  We were so nervous about whether it would work out, whether it was the right decision, whether we had what would be required of us to try moving forward, second house still in tow.

 

Today we have a happy, chubby-cheeked almost three month old baby who is a dead ringer for her Daddy.  We have spent the last five months re-gaining our footing and taking a breather from the stresses of day-to-day caring for two homes. 

Today we have no doubts that we made the best decision for what has happened with the economy, to hang on to the old house until its value returns. 

Today I shoveled snow at only one house, and I did not give a second thought to how we would afford a nice Christmas this year. 

Today is the first of the month, and when our renter came by to drop off his rent payment in our mailbox, he called from the end of our driveway to ask if I'd like him to run it to the front door so that I wouldn't have to trudge through the snow later, to retrieve the check from the mailbox. 

Several weeks ago they brought home their new baby to our old house-- their current home, and several weeks from now they will celebrate their first Christmas there as a family of four.  Today I realized again, as I have many times over the last five months, that we have been blessed with the absolute best case scenario. 

We really are finally okay.

Ten, or something like it.

Sure sign that I am a parent of multiple children?  I attempt to title a blog entry with the number of weeks old my baby daughter is and have no idea how many weeks old my daughter is.  Score!

Somewhere in our second month, I am sure. 

Hee.

I think it is finally safe to say at nine? ten? eleven? weeks postpardum, that everything around here is back to normal after baby carrying, delivering and recovery. 

I am mildly obsessed with a comfortably clean house again, cooking healthy meals, bathing children regularly, even reading from time to time, grocery shopping and getting out of the house for sport, always with three yahoos in tow, not losing my mind so much anymore.  I've also gotten my first week of WW under my belt, which means I can stand on my own two feet enough to not look to good old Chips Ahoy for comfort, and I've been thinking about painting rooms again.  Hot damn it feels good.

And I hate to admit this, but after three kids, I think I really suck at pregnancy.

Feeling my usual spunk and energy return, it has become abundantly clear that pregnancy makes me so tired, so whiny, ultra moody and mildly depressed.  Now don't get me wrong - I am unbelievably grateful that my body has carried my three beautiful babies, and without that I would neither be who I am nor so damn happy.  It's just that I spent nine months this year trying to not crash and burn, and then two months crashing and burning, and now?  I realize that it wasn't me just being whiny and awful (well, it was...)  It had to have been my hormones going bonkers.

(And this is where the world wide web sighs in utter disbelief of my universe altering discovery: Pregnancy Makes Women Moody! Tired! Emotional! And at times Down Right Miserable!  Holy Shit!  Somebody call Ted Koppel, I think she's on to something!)

I think one of the biggest positive changes has been our reintroduction to routine.  Don't you feel like you function best when your daily life is fairly predictable?  As of the last week Marin is down to taking two feedings during the night and, knock on wood, going back to sleep when she finishes.  Usually she's finishing up her second feeding around 4am, when Kevin gets up for work.  We say hi and head back to bed until six or seven, when the boys get up.  Then I kick it into high gear as I feed and dress the three kids, give the baby her meds, add a bra and crocs to whatever I slept in the night before and load everyone up to drive KJ to school.  If Marin decides to not scream the entire way there, I sometimes drive around town for ten minutes just to BE OUT.  Then we return home in time to plop Marin in her swing for a morning nap, for Jack to veg out with his gal-pal Dora, and for me to handle laundry, dishes, banking, picking up and sometimes blawwwwgs.  In there I get one-on-one time with Jack, breakfast and the occasional shower.  KJ comes home on the bus around noon, wakes the baby if Jack hasn't by now, we do some form of mildly chaotic lunch preparation while feeding the starving baby and prying children off each other depending on exactly how many Lego creations Jack managed to disassemble while KJ was at school.  By two Jack goes down for a nap, I do more house crap and spend one-on-one time with KJ, get Marin back to happy dreamland in her swing, and occasionally sneak in thirty minutes of couch time to read, nap or catch part of a previously recorded Oprah while KJ has some computer or Wii time.  Make dinner, clean up from dinner, homework, baths, pajamas, read stories, tell stories, prayers.  Fifty-three drinks of water with and without ice, both crushed and cubed, back rubs, back scratches, excuses, whining, lights out.  Eventually get the baby to sleep, clean up, dishes, bottles, internet, crash on couch, Kevin home at 10:30, say hi, bed around 11.  Sporadically insert fifteen hundred infant and toddler diaper changes, baby feedings, baby spit-ups, kid snacks, nose wipes, loads of laundry and long periods of high pitched uber-happy speaking, singing, bouncing and rocking.

I'm sorry.  I got on a roll and couldn't stop.

My point?  Predictable.  I like predictable.

 

I love watching him watch Dora, 

and witnessing his excitement when Thomas began talking in all of his computer-animated glory.

I love watching her grow, now stretching to the length of this surface that practically swallowed her whole just a couple months ago.

I love seeing her facial features change, her responses to people and toys change, and her personality begin to surface. 

And in no time flat KJ will be home from school, bringing with him a plethora of fresh energy, ready to tell me bits and pieces from his day at school, ready to know what's on the agenda for the afternoon - today an afternoon playdate if I ever stop typing and get in the shower. 

It's so good to be back to normal.