Monthly Archives: August 2011

As a final hurrah we went to the Dinosaur Museum one last time. It was, as always, tons of fun. Afterward we got ice cream played in a kid water feature that I never knew existed until Emmett showed it to us. Lovely end to summer.

7:00 a.m. came bright and early Monday morning. Baby Sunshine got up and ate a healthy breakfast, got dressed in her new school outfit, patiently sat while I braided her hair, checked and rechecked her backpack for the important things, and then, was ready for her first day of Kindergarten.

Olivia rides the bus to school. This has been, perhaps, the most exciting part for her. All summer long she has anticipated the day she would get to climb the steps onto that giant orange beast, and sit, with her friends on the black vinyl bench seat and wave goodbye to her mamma – heading out on her own adventure, on her own.

We joined our street of parents and kids, and walked down to the bus stop, where we visited with other neighbors and children, waiting, so excited, for the bus to come.

I’d like to say (for my own gratification) that when the bus finally came, Olivia was overwhelmed, and clung to her mamma for comfort and reassurance. But she didn’t. She was full of confidence and excitement. She barely even looked back as she climbed those steps.

We waved goodbye, and then raced home to jump into our own minivan to race up to the school to greet her when she climbed off the bus, and was ready to go to class.

We met the other children her age, and took pictures as she waited for her time to go into the classroom. The teachers put name tags on each child. When each kid was duly labeled, they were instructed to wave goodbye to their parents, and off they marched, into the school that will instruct her little brain in all things academic and otherwise for the next seven years of her life.

That afternoon we met her at the bus stop. “How was your first day of Kindergarten?!” I was so excited to hear. But she didn’t actually have much to say about it. I asked what her favorite part was, who her friends were. She seemed to like her teachers and her classmates. But now she wanted to play.

I can understand that.

This year Olivia will start kindergarten. I’ve already spent my tears on this reality.

Not only that, but my buddy, SuperCal will start pre-school. I will miss him so much.

So it has been a busy two weeks trying to get them both ready for their new adventures while taking time to enjoy my little Roo and also their last few days of freedom.

I started a tradition last year of a back to school dinner. It was a lot of fun to do last year, and so I planned another one this year. But, are you surprised, it was even BIGGER this year!

The theme for our 2011-2012 school year is “Seek Learning” from the D&C – because the first step in education is wanting to be educated. I know Olivia and Calvin both have a thirst for knowledge and a pride in their progress, so I think this will be a great focus for our year.

This year’s dinner featured:

Lime Chicken Tacos
Spanish Rice
Summer Salsa
Corn on the Cob
Watermelon
Raspberry Lemonade (real raspberry lemonade)
& Summer Peach Pie a’la mode.

YUM.

Our theme is "Seek Learning"

I decorated the table with all things kids - and I laughed at this vignette.

Our beautiful flowers were provided by my dad.

Our table with Olivia & Cal's back to school gifts - friendship balls. (I made the gift boxes myself!)

Olivia and Cal opening their gifts.

Kids in their back to school crowns.

Something was funny . . .

In preparation for school to start, I told Olivia she would be doing her kindergarten testing. I meant for it to be exciting – something to look forward to. I’m not sure it had that effect. All week she prayed to Heavenly Father in her nightly prayers – “Please help me to do well on my test so I can go to kindergarten.” I explained to her that it wasn’t that type of a test, and that she would get to go to school for sure. But still, every night she prayed.

So today I took her to her test. My mom watched the boys and just Olivia and I drove up to the school. She got to meet her teacher, and then took the test, which took all of fifteen minutes.

Afterwards we went to Old McDonalds because there was a new playground and Olivia has been asking to go to it for weeks. I think she was pretty happy with the whole event. And it was fun to spend some special time with my girl before school starts.

I have been on cloud nine for the past eight days.

It couldn’t have been better – the labor, the delivery, the recovery, the baby.

Everything went just as it should. And he is perfect.

Perfect.

And I am in love.

As if my heart grew three sizes that day.

But now it’s like the day after Christmas – you wait and wait and wait.

And you’re sooooo excited.

And then it comes.

And it’s everything it was supposed to be. And more. It was perfect. Perfect.

But then the day after – you realize: you’re now at the very furthest point you’ll ever be from that happening again. 364 more days so to speak.

I just sit and look at him. He’s so hansome. He’s so mellow. All he does is eat and sleep. He doesn’t cry. Not really. And his brothers and sisters love him so.

They kiss him. And then they play. And then they come back to kiss him again. Everett is especially enamored. He kisses him at every chance. And Olivia sings “I am a Child of God” and tells him stories – “One Uponce a Time” and Calvin is so proud to be his big brother and teach him things like how to shoot a (dart) gun.

Life, what is it, but a dream?

All of these pictures were taken by FotoFly –

My camera broke in June, and I have yet to get it repaired (thus the less than normal flood of pictures). Then when I heard of FotoFly’s gig (cost mainly), and checked their online portfolio out, I thought it could be the best thing ever. I really like the images they were able to get with only an hour of my time. But I will say I did come home and re-edit them. Roo, as you can see, was a perfect model.

On Saturday night I thought my water broke.

It hadn’t. They watched me at the hospital for a couple hours, and then sent me home.

And I cried.

A lot.

I was (am) so embarrassed. I never wanted to be that girl – the false alarm, cry wolf lady. And so far I’ve been OK. But Saturday night . . .

And the worst part is Wyatt announced it on Facebook before we left. So my embarrassment was spread across – well, everybody. Wyatt is an extrovert. He tells everyone everything. I love this about him – except when it comes to having babies.

Anyhow . . . I told myself – “no more false alarms. I have to be screaming in pain or gushing in fluid before I’ll go in again.”

And now it’s 5:05 a.m. I’ve been up for about three and a half hours, having pretty painful contractions. But not screaming in pain contractions.

I have a doctors appointment at 8:30, and I’m determined to hold out for that. Then the Dr. can tell me if I’m in labor or not (wait for contraction)

and then there is no false alarm.

But after I determined this, I also realized if I did that, there would be no “we gotta go to the hospital NOW!” which is the point of not being induced and waiting past my due date.

So about an hour ago I woke Wyatt up and told him I was pretty sure I’m in labor. I just wanted him to know, to have that excitement and anticipation. But now he’s awake, wanting to go to the hospital. But I refuse (see explanation above). I’m holding out.

*******

It is now 3:50 in the afternoon. I went in to Dr. Larsen at 8:30 this morning. Lois came up to watch the kids, and we took everything we needed for the hospital (just in case).

When he came in I told him I was *pretty sure* I was in labor. He checked me, and laughed. “You’re dialated to a six!” he told me, and commented that I was still smiling and just thought I might be in labor?!!

And he sent us straight downstairs to get checked in (his office is at the hospital).

Well, I continued to contract and it took a while to get going on some things (medications for Strep B) and by the time they were ready to give me an epidural I had dialated to an 8, which surprised me because I still wasn’t in agonizing pain yet. But they gave me the epidural at around 11:00 and said I would have all my meds and be ready to push by 2:30 – if I could please wait that long.

But when 2:30 rolled around they checked me again, and the epidural had completely stopped my progression. I was still at an 8.

So they’ve given me some pitocin, and haven’t checked me since. I guess I’ll have this baby at some point. Wyatt and I have both been sleeping most of the afternoon – we’re both tired from being up all night.

We’re still trying to decide on a name. It’s a conversation that just seems to go in circles.

****************************

It’s now 10:45 pm. Andrew James was born at 7:34 this evening. He weighed in at 8 lb 12 oz, and measured 20.5 inches.

At 6:30 I was measuring 9 plus cm. Dr. Larsen decided that was close enough (I think he was ready to go home for the day ). Baby was also at a station 0. They’re supposed to drop to station +3, so I had a lot of pushing to do.

I started pushing and really got pretty worn out. But finally at 7:34 out he came, all slippery and sweet. He was a really clean baby – wet but not waxy or gooey. He did really well, and I held  him for an hour before I handed him over to the nurses to be measured and tested and poked and prodded.

And then we started the name debate . . . again. It came down to Andrew Joshua, Andrew James, or Nathaniel Jack. We finally agreed on Andrew James. He looks like an Andrew.

And he looks like his brother, Everett. He’s a cutie.

He’s done really well. He nursed really well, and he’s been wide awake with this shocked look on his face. He hasn’t been very fussy. Just dazed and confused.

It was my longest labor – 17.5 hours if I figure I started at 2 am. It’s been a long day, and I’m pretty tired.

A couple weeks ago Wyatt asked me if I was going to do any maternity pictures.

I love maternity pictures of other people. But me . . . not so much my style. So I gave him an assured “no.”

And then the other night I realized that this was probably my last baby! And what if I regretted not having such images later?

So on Wednesday I asked my neighbor/personal photographer if he would take some for me – that night.

Here’s the result.

I think this is my favorite one in terms of a portrait - my face doesn't look too fat.

I love this one - it's just so fun!

Last night Leslee came over and painted my toes. I’ve always made her give me a pedicure before each baby. I think this time she was sick of it because she bought me a gift certificate for a mani/pedi. But alas, I was too late to make my appointment, so she came and gave me one anyway. We’ll go for the salon treatment after the baby comes.

************

After she left, I was in tears. I was so sore, and I just wanted this baby to come, and my doctors appointment earlier that day had been so discouraging. I finally asked Wyatt for a blessing.

In the blessing he told me to be patient while I wait for this baby to come (and lots of other comforting things). I tried to imagine baby Boy, his last moments in Heaven, receiving his final instruction. I don’t know if that’s how it goes down or not, but I was sure I didn’t want to be the cause of a sooner-than-planned send off from Heaven.

So I decided I could be patient.

And all night while I slept, I thought about how I really wanted to go into labor, to have this baby. But then I kept remembering that I was supposed to be patient. And the conflicting realities made my sleep rather restless.

Finally I got up at six am, no longer willing to have this mental battle while trying to sleep. I came and sat on the couch and watched the grey morning light and listened to absolute silence and tried to figure out just how one goes about being patient for something one has NO patience for.

And I decided that gratitude is the key.

Gratitude that even though I’m not going into labor, I’m not one who is in labor for a month before the baby comes (that sounds really uncomfortable and annoying. I’ve always been able to be active all they way up to the very very end).

Gratitude that my sunflowers are blooming, because all winter long when I was sick, I imagined what it would be like to bring my baby home to a backyard of sunflowers.

And gratitude that I do have more time to finish more projects. Because certainly, the projects never end.

And gratitude that Wyatt is getting so much done. Good grief, the list goes on and on with what he’s done around here the past two weeks. (As I type this he is assembling three new dressers, one for each boy).

Gratitude that there is still a constant flow of help and service by those around me – friends who take my kids while I nap, or are available on a moments notice for fun maternity pictures, and sisters who paint my toe nails, even though they didn’t want to.

And especially gratitude that I have three healthy, happy, rambunctious children, who have been drilled all week to not make a mess, and still are happy as can be.

****************

After I determined all this, I decided I would fill my time with work – the surest way to distraction and satisfaction. So today I set about again to accomplish things:

-Really put the baby room together, cleaned out the closet, set up the baby monitor, hung new mobile, washed chair cover and newborn clothes.

-Cleaned the house to a respectable level, including this mess . . .

-Got three new dressers for boys rooms. YEAH!

So all in all it was a good day. Hurray for babies – coming in their own due time.

That not only did I not show any indication of going into labor,

but I actually showed signs that my body was no where near ready to go into labor.

I’ve been on the verge of tears ever since.

Today we stayed home. I cleaned while the kids played (and cleaned the basement, dear little lovelies). After they cleaned the basement, and I started feeling like I was actually getting somewhere with my house and projects, we took a break to make cookies.

See, I’m grumpy, but I’m still trying to be a non-evil-mom (I would say ‘good mom,’ but that might be overestimating it).

In any case, the house is pretty tidy right now, I made no less than three batches of chocolate chip cookies, AND I made dinner (not macaroni and cheese, and not a pizza).

I’m feeling a little more like myself today.

Projects continue in flurry around here. Yesterday Wyatt painted and trimmed the shed. Tonight he put the shingles on it. He also put the washer/dryer up on their pedestals (that have been sitting in the basement for three years). In the mean time, I ran errands like a crazy bird, getting everything ready for Olivia to register for kindergarten in two days, and taking Calvin to choose his birthday present, as per the gift card he received in the mail yesterday from Grandma and Grandpa Brock (THANK YOU!) and other things that just need to get done.

And we went to the Dinosaur Museum.

And as I came home, I decided I am done. I am . . . s0 . . . tired . . .

So I’m going to stay home until baby comes. The little ones are going to have to play at home for the rest of the summer, which when I say it out loud, doesn’t sound so bad. I mean, do kids really need to be carted somewhere for some activity every other day? (I don’t even post about half of the activities we do – trips to Wheeler Farm or the pool or the park . . .) Can’t they just enjoy the reality of boredom. It will be good for them I think.

Last Friday I started cleaning the bathrooms. A typical job for a Friday. Even though I have the bathrooms down to a routine, for some reason last Friday it took . . . forever.

As in, two and a half hours for just the upstairs ones! They weren’t unusually messy. I wasn’t doing anything unordinary. It just took . . . forever.

By the time I was done, I was grumpy.

Of course, Olivia and Calvin had a great time while I was no where to be found. They systematically undid everything I had done the day before – spilled all over my newly mopped floor (destiny), pulled off all the cushions on the couch downstairs for a fort, etc. etc.

And that is life with three littles. Right? I was seriously annoyed.

But I REALLY REALLY tried to put my bad mood aside as I went out to run yet more errands with Wyatt. We topped it off with ice cream cones at Maceys. I was determined to ignore the mess at least for the weekend.

But my bad mood wasn’t really gone. It was just delayed.

I decided I was going to wait until Monday – today, to sucumb to the reality of what I am feeling . . . my own nesting is kicking in with over whelming force.

Even last night as I slept, I kept thinking about how I’m grumpy and ready to fight.

And so today I’ve banished the kids to their rooms or outside while I clean . . . mopping, windows, dusting, blinds, the real cleaning that has been avoided for two months in fear of this reality – the annoyance of doing it, only to have it undone by little lovelies (and the big dude who lives here too).

But I figure we are down to less than two weeks before this baby is here. I’m willing to put up with the lovelies messes for years to come, they can put up with my grumpy military regimen for the next two weeks . . . right?

When I found out baby #4 was a boy, there was a lot of emotion. But one thing that has pricked my heart consistently in those months since that day, was the realization that Olivia would probably never have a sister.

The tragedy of that reality was ginormous. Like swallow the universe whole type of thing.

This has been a trouble to my heart all this time.

But then, these past few months have taught me another thing:

Sisters are to be found everywhere.

Because this year I have found many more women to call my sisters.

I have been on the receiving end of so much service this year, I can hardly contemplate it all.

There was Beth, who drove 40 miles one way with her brand new husband, when they were poor and newly wed, to clean my house on Saturdays . . . almost every Saturday the entire semester.

There was Jena, who came over with enough food to last us a week, and spent the afternoon giving me encouragement with her company.

There was Carrie, never more than a phone call away to come babysit on a moments notice, just so I could take a nap.

There was Nicole, who sent me constant words of encouragement through email and blog comments, who brought dinners when it was too much, and visited me when I was too sick to leave my own sad house.

There was Kellie, who cleaned my house, who entertained my kids, and who was always ready to make me laugh.

There was Jill, who spent an entire afternoon weeding my yard and transplanting my sunflowers, while I sat lazily in the grass and watched.

There was Lois, who has managed my lawn care, not just this year, but every year since we moved here.

There was my mother, who has come from St. George on a moments notice to keep me company on days when I was bored.

There was Brenda and Natalie, both with their own illnesses to contend with, who dropped off and picked up Olivia from pre-school all spring so I didn’t have to get out of bed.

There were the words of friends, who lived near and far . . . words of encouragement, empathy, and surety that things would get better.

A few weeks ago I had a humbling experience of receiving yet more service. At first I felt the pangs of embarrassment as a friend did for me something I could surely do for myself. But the thought that came to me was: As Sisters in Zion we all work together.

And I realized in that moment that Heavenly Father wants me to allow others into my life. By loving each other and serving each other, and by receiving service from each other, we can find the fullfillment of joy that we are meant to have.

And it is a relief to know that Olivia can have sisters of her own too, as she embraces the good women who will invariably be a part of her life.

On Tuesday we went to the farm at Thanksgiving Point with Lois, Jena & Kids. It was so much fun! Everett loved riding the horse the most. He watched the other kids stand in line (we didn’t actually have a ticket for him), and when they went to get on the horses, you better bet he was going too! We got a ticket for him, and he rode in true cowboy bliss.

When we got home that afternoon, Wyatt had continued in his nesting-ness and with Jared, had:

1. Installed all the trim in the downstairs bathroom.
2. Installed the mirror in the downstairs bathroom.
3. Fixed the cabinetry in the downstairs bathroom (it had to be rearranged around some plumbing).
4. Installed all the handles on the downstairs closets (that haven’t had handles in the two years since we finished the basement).
5. Installed a closet pole in Olivia’s room.
6. Put on plate switches and outlet covers all over the basement.
7. Finished the trim and work in the kitchenette and laundry-room cabinets.
8. Built the foundation, flooring joist system and three walls to a shed (he built the fourth wall and roof trusses and decking to all of the above the next day).

Told you he was nesting

He so inspired me that I rearranged the laundry room (needed to be done since we moved all my art stuff out of Olivia’s room (my old art room) – it had been stacked in the laundry room for a few weeks).

Yeah for projects getting done!!

Now that July is over (sigh of both sadness and relief at the same time), I suppose it’s time to start getting ready for Boy. Remember last December I wrote myself a letter about not going crazy this year with OCD nesting-ness. Well, I’ve taken that very VERY seriously. So seriously in fact, that I’ve avoided even my normal standard of “get it done-edness” in order to keep myself on the lazy side of life.

But Wyatt’s nesting instincts have kicked in at high speed. Yesterday he decided we needed to go through the storage closet to dejunk. Let me be clear, he was helpful and respectful, so I appreciate his motivation. It helped me to start on my own projects (FINALLY) today, starting with cleaning out the nursery.

The toys have all been moved/rearranged, shelves and baseboards cleaned, and crib wiped down. I even did some shopping today and got Boy’s ‘coming home’ outfit and a few other little things. And when I was at the grocery store, I bought a few decadent chocolates for myself for the hospital. (And then I came home and researched what other gifts I could send myself during my stay Hey, this is likely my last time having a baby, I better live it up!)

And so we are starting. I plan to spend all of August (except for Tuesdays) in lazy, non-crazy, exciting preparation for Baby Boy.

This morning I woke up. The first thought to come into my head, before I even opened my eyes — was ‘I made it through July.’

Because July is my favorite month of the year. Oh glory, what’s not to love? Fireworks, and lanterns, and warm nights on the porch, and crickets at the window; camping, and barbecues, and projects, and swimming pools and skin that smells like coconut cream; parades and pancakes and parties galore . . . there is something happening every third day it seems, with just enough time in between to get ready for the next thing.

And this July was no exception.

It was everything a summer should be.

And it took every ounce of energy – all the way up to the very end – to endure the magic. Because being eight plus months pregnant with three other little lovelies to play with/entertain/enjoy made for – well, some exhausting days. I’ll even admit, on the hottest mornings, when the air conditioning couldn’t even cool my swollen body, I dreamed of October mornings to come.

Adieu July, in love and memory, until we meet again.