Mushy Alert

8 years together.

7 jobs.

6 years of school.

5 cars.

4 places of residence.

3 children.

2 people.

1 happy family.

Well, besides Ava in this picture.



Do you ever find yourself thinking, "I did not sign up for this."

Like when you're scrubbing poop off the wall or using 7 towels to sop up the standing water in the bathroom that your two year old flooded?

I do.

And I did.

Sometimes I wonder if, when Dan walks in the door from work and finds me scuffling around the house in my pajamas, hair askew, smelling like sour milk, looking wholly unattractive (and holy unattractive!), sometimes raving, and sometimes crying, while the kids run around willy nilly through an obstacle course of clothes, toys, and laundry, and thinks, "I did not sign up for this."

Though he'd never admit it, I am sure he has and for that I feel very sorry. I wish I was the beautiful, skinny, slightly more sane girl I was 8 years ago. At times I feel like I tricked him into marrying me.

In an agreement like marriage, where expectations play such a large role, I have been so lucky, to be a satisfied customer. Dan more than meets my expectations. I got what I signed up for and more. Dan delivers!

I signed up for him. I do not know a better man . He is a gentleman and a gentle man. He is exactly what I didn't know I needed, what I now know I need, and exactly what I want. Eight years later he is even better than I imagined.

And the discrepancy between our respective eight year metamorphosis makes me feel sorry sometimes but mostly inspired to try my best to be what he hoped for.

It is safe to say that I love Dan more each day. But for some reason, each time I have a child, it seems that my love for him jumps exponentially.

I really couldn't live without him.



Happy Anniversary, Dan! I love you!

The Run Down

Over the last ten days:

We decorated the Christmas Tree,











It looks like it was decorated by a couple of kids cause it was. I had intentions of going back and redoing it, but realized I would be fighting a losing battle and really, who cares if the ornaments are not equally spaced?

And what tree can claim to be fully decorated without a collection of hairbows?


It snowed. Real snow. In Houston. It was very cool (literally) and very bizarre.


The kids loved it.



Well, Luke started out loving it, but refused to wear anything to keep himself comfortable, like a hat or mittens.


Then he wasn't loving it so much any more.


Ava loved it from start to finish.



Max had an upper GI test done where it was confirmed that he does not have pyloric stenosis but does have reflux.



Dan, Max, and I played Joseph, Baby Jesus, and Mary at a church nativity.


Luke got sick with the croup but still managed to look cute.


Dan's car died. Then it came back to life. Then it died again. The mechanic couldn't figure it out because when we dropped it off, it started right up.

But then it didn't start. Then it did. Didn't. Did.

We think we're gonna get a new car.

Between the latter two I nearly had a nervous breakdown. I really needed to be an octopus to hold my sick one and my six week old at the same time, but not close enough to spread germs, as their neediness nearly always overlapped. But thanks to the thoughtfulness of a couple of friends and the debut of Max's smile, we made it through!

My parent's came down for the weekend. We built lots of lego towers, made cupcakes, took a trip to Ikea, and Ava saw her very first movie in the theater (Princess and the Frog). Her favorite part of the whole experience was the candy and popcorn. It was a great visit and a nice relief to have a few extra hands with the sickness stuff.

Ava got the croup.

But she has really hit her stride lately. She has taken on so much more independence and has been very pleasant. She wants so badly to be a big girl and do what big girls do. This month has been such a roller coaster, gladly we are at a peak!

And many evenings on the couch, after the bigger ones are in bed, I snuggle with my sleeping pile of love. And it is pure bliss. Always a highlight of my day.

Smile

Between Luke being very sick and Dan's car dying again, this week has been pretty rough.

I want to blog about our snow day. Real snow! In Houston!

I want to blog about my calling, or actually more like how much I miss my old calling.

I want to blog about decorating the Christmas tree.

I have a little line-up of posts in my head along with a big line-up of tasks I really need to complete at home. Like take a shower.

But we have relegated ourselves to the most basic elements of living this week, like keeping people alive. (showers are even a luxury, I guess!)

But there was no way I couldn't not blog about this today.

Max woke up smiling.



I have been talking to him and singing to him for weeks in an effort to stimulate his little mind and hopefully make up for the fact that he recieves less attention than either Ava or Luke did as newborns.

He has been sweet and lovable, yet oh so vacant, as newborns tend to be.

But this morning when I picked him up and cooed at him he smiled.


And he looked at me. And I'm pretty sure he was thinking, "Oh, there you are!"

He is a little piece of heaven. His snuggles are warm and soft. And his cheeks are the perfect landing pad for my lips. His little head is a velvety peach.

And today his smiles are very reassuring that maybe I can pull this thing off after all.

Hello...

Luke might just be the cutest two year old boy this side of the Mississippi. Really. He is cute!

I have mentioned before, his affinity for ceiling fans. Maybe it's more like an obsession. He points them out ecstatically wherever and whenever he sees one. "Pan! Pan! Pan!"

And a reply is absolutely required. "Yes! Oh my gosh! A fan! Luke, that is so cool!"

If you think for a moment that your reply is not necessary, it doesn't take long before the escalation starts, "Pan! Pan! Pan! PAN! PAN! MOMMY! PAAAAN!!!!"

Sometimes he does this while his older sister is asking me a very serious question which also must be answered without hesitation (or else!) and while his little brother is screaming.

So occasionally I find myself walking around the house, whether he's talking about them or not, saying, "Wow, look at that fan!" or "Cool fan" just in anticipation. I'm usually not that far off.

And since we went to Utah and he saw Grandma Linda and Grandpa Don's grandfather clock, which he both loved and feared, his obsession has expanded to include both fans and clocks. Similar squeals of "Clock! Clock! Mommy, a clock!" are a constant.

In fact, his most loved "toys" for the past few weeks have been these:


That would be an old clock I found cleaning out a closet and the Lowes 2009 fan catalog, which is now in tatters from too much love.

Luke's first request when he wakes up, is "Clock! Pan!". He snuggles up on my bed with his blanket, hippo, and clock, and turns through the pages of his Fan Book pointing to each one saying, "Pan!" and waiting for my sleepy reply, "Fan!"

He insists on bringing his clock with him in the car. And when he carried it into Walmart the other day, the employee at the door stopped us asking if it was a return so she could put a sticker on it. And I explained that no, it wasn't a return, he just likes clocks.


Until a month or two, he was not very interested in TV or movies, which was alright with me. Then he saw the movie Wall-E. And he was hooked. He wanted to watch that movie all day, every day for weeks. And then he saw Spirit and that became the new Wall-E. And from there he has moved on to Cars and Up!

And if you have seen Up, you know that it boasts a flying house, lifted by tons of helium filled balloons. Now whenever he watches it, he must retrieve and sit with Ava's dollhouse. Whenever the house is shown he points back and forth between the TV and the dollhouse saying, "House! House!"


Since he was pretty little, I have teased him by hugging him up and saying, "You're mine!" He thinks it's pretty funny. The other day he came up to me, laid his chubby little finger on my shoulder and said, "You mine!" And I couldn't help but think, "If you only knew how right you are!"



He melts my heart with his generosity of hugs and kisses. He has finally stopped kissing with his tongue out, which is kind of nice. And I would love to record his little voice. For a while there, he either talked in a syrupy sweet voice or a gruff and rough old man voice.

And I hope I can always remember the way he says fruit snacks: "hoot nacks!" The "hoot" said with the diaphragmatic gusto of a karate chopper.

He is just plain sweet. And he is mine! And I am his!

Livin' on a prayer

Having three has been quite an adjustment for us. And now nearly 4 weeks out, we are beginning to see some semblance of normalcy around here.

While the kids haven't had any negative reactions to Max specifically, the upset in our routine and life has certainly made an impact. And again, as I should begin to expect, it was in ways that I did not predict.

I worried that Luke would feel very displaced and possibly aggressive. While I can tell that he is feeling a little displaced, he is like a gentle giant with Max. He barely grazes Max with his big paws to give him the softest pats. He calls him, "Baby Macks". He has needed a little extra love but he makes it easy by coming to snuggle up with me on the couch, especially when I am feeding the Baby. He still whines an incredible amount and has taken to emptying the entire toy house over and over. But overall, I could not love my quirky big boy any more.


It has been Ava who has taken me for a ride. Again, I don't know why I was surprised. I guess I just assumed that because she was older she would more easily make the adjustment. But I guessed wrong. She was very thrown off by Dan and I being gone in the beginning and having my parents stay at the house. It was clear that she was very stressed. And when Ava is stressed, it makes it self evident in some very unpleasant ways. I have only seen the likes of these tantrums once before and it involved the Katy rodeo and throw up.



She was so contrary, so ornery, so mean. It had me feeling really down and discouraged. Our time at home was so miserable and I couldn't help but worry that this was our new life and it stunk. And it would stink forever.

It was kind of like not feeling comfortable in your own skin. Because really my family is my skin.

People had warned me about how having more kids really gets easier because your older kids get older, but here I was feeling so bad, not because I was struggling with a newborn or my toddler. I was staying up at night consumed with worry over my oldest.

She is something. I don't know what it is, but she is something. She is the hardest thing I have ever done. I have had personal revelation on at least three separate occasions that explained to me that she and I were meant to be together. That it was no accident that she came to me. There is reason behind our relationship. Now I believe that the make up of all families is no accident, but I have been taught again and again that Ava and I are meant to be together. Maybe because that is information I need to remember when I am really struggling with her.

I already feel that I have learned so much and grown so much from being her mother. But these past few weeks have had me feeling so overwhelmed and anxious. Add to that the last few months of the pregnancy had me feeling so down, I was beginning to feel a little forgotten by Heavenly Father. I wondered how long He was gonna make me wallow. (Not really a good practice, I know.)

I have done some serious praying. Possibly the most serious I've ever been. Maybe even borderline begging.

And as I should have known, He delivered. Not that everything turned into Coltontopia, but rather three key pieces of information brought improvement. Three pieces of information that probably do not interest anyone else but our little family, yet I am writing them down for the sake of memory and therapy for myself.

Ava was having some serious trouble getting to sleep and at the end of a long day (and night with a newborn), this was enough to send all of us over the edge. Enter info number one: no more nap, instead she watches a movie on the portable dvd player in her room. This did shorten my personal alone time (to about 1 hour 20 minutes) but instead of her taking an hour and a half to fall asleep, and calling me into her room about 100 times, she knows rest time is over when the movie is done and she doesn't usually call me. So instead of 2+ hours of fractured time, I get 1.5 hours of uninterrupted time, which is just the break I need. And it also translates to a very sleepy girl at bedtime who puts up much less of a fight, due in part also to info number 2: Read a book together before bed.

Since the fight for bedtime is a fairly recent phenomenon, and she has always gone to bed so well with the "magic words" I have told her since she was a baby, we never saw need to mess with the routine. But after a little inspiration, we've introduced a story. Sitting on her bed, snuggling just her and I, provides some of the things she desperately needs right now; physical affection, attention, entertainment, love.

And the bedtime and naptime fights are basically old news now.

The third bit of information is fairly personal, yet I feel compelled to include it. And there is the great possibility that no one is even still reading this!

After a very rough morning at home, I sat in the doctors office waiting room for Max's check up with my mom. I was feeling so bad and I don't even remember what we were talking about, although I know it was about Ava. I had a light bulb moment. And with lots of tears it also brought a new perspective. I thought of my labor with Max. I thought of how each contraction hurt real real bad, but brought with it the progress that was necessary. And I remembered having the phrase "don't kick against the pricks" go through my head the entire labor-that tensing up only slowed the process, just breathe, accept it, and move on. And I remembered that when Max was actually born, the relief was so wonderful, that the moment was one of pure joy and elation, and I had realized then that the pain had been a required ingredient for that end result of utter happiness I was feeling.

And in a second's time, that whole situation was juxtaposed in my mind with the situation I was in with Ava.

It is in my nature to worry, to be tense, to be immobilized by my own anxiety and fear, to kick against the pricks. And I began to see that I must accept the pain for the sake of progress. That we are both here to grow. And that my anxiety not only did no good, it slowed us down. That I need to breathe, accept it, move forward. And then as I moved in my mind through the process to the end, I truly felt that together we might have a positive outcome. That maybe our time would not be eternally miserable as I had been imagining. I can't know when, but there will be a climax of joy, relief, contentment, happiness. I am sure of that now.

Certainly our lives are ups and downs; contraction and release. I can now see these phases of difficulties as contractions. And they will not last forever. There will be a release. Followed, most likely, by another contraction.


The job of Mother is labor. Not just the birthing process, but the living process. I will catch my breath on the release and I will accept the contractions. I will do my best to love and teach my children. And when I do not feel the love, I know if I pray for it sincerely, Heavenly Father will give it to me, consecrating my work as a labor of love.

Halloween and Reward or Punishment

Max and I came home from the hospital on the afternoon of Halloween.




The holiday didn't get nearly the attention it has in the past, but we managed to trick or treat.



We pretty much had to wrestle Luke into his lion suit and bribe him with candy, but once he was in, he was in!


Grandma and Dad did the escorting through the neighborhood while Grandpa and I handed out the candy and Max slept in his bouncy seat.


The kids had a great time and got tons of candy. And the night was deemed a success.


Later that week we decided to cash in on the promise to Ava for ice skating. The proposition had been involved in everything from pooping to sleeping over the past few weeks. And we figured it was high time to pay up. And we knew that having Mom here to help watch Luke would let me take pictures while Dan and Ava skated.

Unfortunately, the lighting was not so great for pictures and Ava was not so great for skating.


I had hoped they would have those walker-style contraptions for beginners but they had nothing of the sort. And Ava was not catching on very quickly. She couldn't even skate holding on to the side. Eventually, a nice skater lady took pity on them and held Ava's other hand while she and Dan pulled Ava around the rink. But after Skater Lady left them, Ava was stranded on the far side, clinging to the wall, Dan unable to bring her back by himself. The lady took pity again and helped her get back to the door. And before she left, she gave Dan a little tip. She suggested that he skate behind Ava and hold onto her under her armpits.

And that seemed to do the trick. Not that Ava skated at all; she turned to a rag doll while Dan heaved her around the ice. But she was having fun! Because there is something less than satisfying for everyone when the promised reward turns out to be torture. She had been so looking forward to ice skating, so even though she was killing Dan's back and not even skating, it was good to see a smile.

But all good things must come to an end. And a bit of advice, if you ever find yourself saying, "just one more time", you should probably quit while you're ahead.

As they went around "one last time" Dan did the splits and Ava did a face plant. I didn't know at first because they were on the far side of the ring and I didn't see the actual fall. I looked up when I heard her scream, but she is quite dramatic so I wasn't overly concerned. It was when the screaming didn't stop and I saw them being helped off the ice that I got worried.

Max and I made our way over while I called my mom who was at the play place with Luke. All I said was, "Can you hurry back?! We've got blood!"

Dan's white shirt was covered in blood. Ava had a huge scrape on her chin, a big mark on her forehead, a bloody mouth, swollen nose, and a fat lip. And Ava's skate cut into Dan's knee in two places.

Not quite the reward we had hoped for.

That week one of Ava's teachers came to the car as she was getting in and said, "So we heard about ice skating. And your husband did the splits, huh?" I explained that Dan was hoping Ava would leave that part out of the story, but she assured me, "No way! Ava's dad doing the splits is all over this school!"

So we won't be using ice skating as an incentive anymore. But maybe we could use it is a threat.

"If you don't......then you're going ice skating!"

From the beginning

I cannot believe this is the third time I am actually sitting at my computer in 2 and a half weeks. I have a small window of time so I better type fast!

I am so far behind in all forms of correspondence so if you haven't heard back from me, just know I have been very busy getting my booty kicked by three kids and I hope to make out of here alive very soon.

And because I am realizing that we never really announced it: Our baby's name is Maxwell Joseph. He was 6 lbs. 15 oz. and 19 1/2 inches long.

And his birthday was definitely not how I envisioned it.

I went in to be induced on Thursday morning after "sleeping" the previous night sitting up on the couch with my hands on my belly, hoping to force/will that child to stay head down.

We showed up to the hospital at 8 am. The doctor broke my water and started the pitocin. I expected things to move faster but it felt like we were off to a slow start, though looking back things didn't take too long. As I chatted with the nurses I mentioned that I did have a back condition called Spina Bifida Occulta and that it should be mentioned to the anesthesiologist but that it had never been a problem in the past. In fact, I had never even known I had it until a few years ago it made itself present on an x-ray for something else.

So the real excitement of the day was when the anesthesiologist herself came in to tell me that neither she nor any of her colleagues in the hospital would give me an epidural.

I had a few moments of panic as I realized what exactly this meant. And in an uncharacteristic fashion, I decided that I could either freak out and scream and cry or I could buck up and do this thing!

Our good friends Jill and Lee were at home with Ava and Luke. From their reports, Ava got off to school fine and Luke was doing great. All of this news eased my mind so much. We asked Lee to come help Dan give me a blessing.

And as I look back on that day I cannot help but feel that Heavenly Father's hands were on the whole thing. Everything went so well when they could have been so wrong!

The next thing I did was call another friend, Melissa, a hypnobirthing guru, to come help me. And just like everything else, she was magically available and willing to come to the hospital.

She helped me breathe and relax my way through the entire labor and she quietly slipped out the door shortly after Max was born.

She was truly heaven sent because I know I could not have done it without her! Dan was a champ and never left my side. He was always calm and helped me to stay the same. He tickled my arms during each contraction, while Melissa read aloud from her scripts.

I tried really hard to embrace each contraction, not shy away or tense up.

Looking back I think that natural labor is doable (obviously!) and that it was really only the last ten minutes that had me questioning my sanity and ability. And with practice, even that could be tolerable. Not that I want to do it that way again, though in the back of my mind, I can't help but wonder if it was no accident that I didn't receive an epidural that day.

Right at the end, Dan said I was making "animal noises" and that was right before I was screaming for drugs. But I made it! Max was born at 2:44 pm. And oh the relief! The relief! The relief was the most wonderful part!

I was shocked to see his little tufts of blond hair. I never would have imagined I could have made a blond baby.

My parents made it into town late that night. And for all the logistics of that week, I really felt that was amazing.

I have so much more to write for memory and therapy's sake but since this post alone has taken 2 days, I will pace myself. Sleep time is more precious than gold these days.