Because, well, you know.

Sweet boy . . .

I have this panicked desire to record who you are at age one/two. I want to remember how your legs are so chubby, and your hands are always sticky. I want to remember how you giggle – giggle at everything, and you are most content with a soft blankie and two fingers in your mouth, lounging on your mamma or daddy’s lap. And how you greet people by running at them, full speed, to envelope them with an Ejo hug.

Last week Calvin was sent to time out – and I came around the corner, and there you were, sitting next to your brother, doing his time with him. You didn’t care if you sat at the end of the hallway, bored without toys or treats – you just wanted to be by your brother!

And Olivia, how you love your Olivia. You are always calling and checking for her. Your favorite thing these days is to walk with Olivia to the bus and go to pick her up.

You are so soft and careful with your baby Roo. You kiss him softly and help him with his binkie.

I love it when we say prayers at night – you list each member of your family –

Say daddy – Dadda
Say Mommy – Mommy
Say Olivia – Ah-Ya
Say Calvin – point to Calvin or say where he is because you can’t say Calvin yet
Say Andrew – Baby
Say Daisy – Daisy

You love your family, and we love you – more than I’m afraid you will ever know! Goodness, but you are the shining sparkle that we need for our happiness!

Love, your Mamma

For Everett’s birthday we went to South Towne Mall and rode the carousel, and then to BK for ice cream cones and the playground.

We also sang Happy Birthday to Ejo until he was grumpy. I don’t think he really understood the what the whole fuss was about. But he did like the part where we all gave him presents. We gave him a set of matchbox cars and several little balls (couple foot balls, couple soccor balls, etc – just the mini type. I figured they’d be good for the backyard.) He LOVED the matchbox cars best of all. He gathered them into his arms – there were so many they were falling out! And then he refused to share with Calvin, which was very hard for Cal, and he just played with them non stop for the next two days.

We also invited a bunch of peeps over for some cake and ice cream in celebration of our dear little Everett. We will do another family party later.

Calvin: Mommy, it takes a long time for you tummy to get small. As long as it takes for a new baby to get here.

Me: You’re right. But my tummy is already a little smaller right? (I mean, didn’t he notice?!)

Calvin: Yeah, (then, pointing directly at my chest) but those aren’t smaller!

Conversation between Olivia and an older couple admiring baby Andrew and baby Mason:

Old man: Those are sure cute babies. Where can my wife get one of those?

Olivia, matter-of-factly and nonchalantly: At the tummy store.

Calvin and Alexa after primary:

Calvin: Alexa, we learned about sharing in primary today. It’s important to share.

Alexa: Really? (Alexa’s mom is Cal’s teacher, and she knew that the lesson was on friends, not sharing.)

Calvin: Yeah. So you should share your candy bar with me. It’s good to share.

(All I can say to this story is: Is that Wyatt’s kid or what?!)

Calvin seems to have (FINALLY) moved out of the stage where he needs constant supervision. He seems to know the rules, and doesn’t destroy everything in his path (very often). But just as he’s moved out of that stage, Everett is moving right on in.

Last week I was upstairs feeding the baby, while everyone else was downstairs. When I came out, I heard water on. I went into my bathroom to find the water on, the sink clogged and water spilling over the sides, down the cabinet and onto the floor.

I went downstairs to find Wyatt and found that it was raining in my downstair bathroom (directly below the upstairs one).

Last Saturday night Wyatt and I went downstairs after the kids were “in bed.” When we came upstairs we found a trail of Fruit Loops down the hall, culminating in an entire spilled box in front of my bedroom door.

The next morning I was half asleep, but heard Calvin and Everett get up. Remembering what happened the night before, I got up, and went and tied up the cupboards and fridge, before returning to bed to sleep in.

Later Wyatt got up and got the kids breakfast – cereal and milk. But he forgot to tie up the fridge when he was done.

Later he found Everett, covered head to toe in sour cream, an entire block of cheese in his room, and an entire box of margarine (that I had just bought the night before for Dutch Oven Brownies that we were supposed to have later that day) in various clumps around the house.

Well, lovely Wyatt cleaned the boy and mess up, but he forgot, again to tie up the fridge. Later, just as it was time to get ready for church, I came around the corner to find eJo happily cracking the last of a dozen eggs on my kitchen floor.

Good times.

Olivia and Cal with baby Everett the day after he was born.

The anesthesiologist

When the nurse finally said I could start pushing, I asked Wyatt to hand me my camera. I had already been instructing him on some pictures I wanted – you know, where to stand, how to zoom etc. He got a kinda confused look on his face -

My nurse, Codi. She wasn't the intense nursery nurse that took Ev away.

“Wait, why do you want the camera?”

Wyatt, waiting to become a new daddy.

“Because I want to take pictures.”

Dr. Larsen and my nurse laughing at me.

“But you have to push.”

Dr. Larsen catching baby Everett.

“I know.”

Everett

And so I pushed while holding the camera up and taking pictures (it actually took more concentration than I thought).

Sucking out Everett's mouth and nose.

Dr. Larsen laughed. He said in all the births he’s ever delivered- over his 30+ year career, that it was the first time he’d ever seen a mom take pictures while delivering the baby.

Baby toe

As soon as little Everett was born they gave him to me for all of 30 seconds, then took him over to the bassinet to start the whole new-baby-test stuff. They decided he wasn’t pinking up fast enough and took him to the nursery.

Everett in the bassinet. (Wyatt has the camera for these ones).

This is where I got really annoyed. They took him, and wouldn’t bring him back! I had to go down to the nursery to see him for the first day. Other than that first 30 seconds I didn’t get to see him again for another couple hours until they had me all ready to move around. I think the nurses were being a little over-zealous. But it’s always better safe than sorry.

Everett receiving oxegyn in his bassinet

They also decided to keep him one extra day. So I had to check out of the hospital and leave while he stayed. I drove back and forth every two hours to nurse and cuddle him. All I wanted was my sweet baby boy in my arms, but everyone (nurses) was being all bossy about it.

Everett was 8 lb. 14 oz.

In the end though we brought home a healthy baby boy. He was my biggest, at 8 lbs 14 oz.

Me holding Everett in the nursery.

Everett was due October 1st, 2009. I was greatly anticipating his arrival, and was – perhaps – the most antsy I’ve ever been with the anticipation of a birth. Olivia had come right on her due date. Cal came a few days early with a scheduled induction. I decided I wanted Everett to come on his own, but also didn’t want to push my luck in the health risks (plus, let’s be honest, I just wanted him here!), so I decided I would wait one extra week. If he didn’t come, then I would schedule an induction for one week past his due date.

On the 7th I went to the Dr’s, and with no signs of going into labor, I scheduled an induction for the following morning. It wasn’t ideal, but it didn’t look like I had any other choice.

That night we were all ready to go. Olivia and Calvin were going to Kellie’s in the morning just until Lois could come get them. I was to call the hospital at 7 am to see if they had room for me (inductions always take second priority to natural labor, go figure). Bags were in the car. At 11:00 I ate my last bowl of cereal (you can’t eat after midnight), kissed Wyatt and went to bed.

At about five thirty or six, after having tossed and turned in bed for a couple hours, I decided to get up and take a hot bath. I just couldn’t get comfortable, but then – I was over 9 months pregnant, so I didn’t think too much about it. I also figured the excitement (like Christmas times 10!) of what was coming was keeping me from sleep. A nice hot bath helped me relax. Then I got up and helped the kids get ready to go to Kellie’s. I called the hospital and they told me to come on in. I remember shuffling the kids down the hall, and I turned to Wyatt and finally admitted – ‘I think I might be in labor anyway. I really hurt.’

Still, there was no sense of urgency, so when we stopped at Kellie’s, Wyatt took the kids and their supplies in, and stopped to chat while I waited in the car. That’s when I really started to hurt. It finally dawned on me that it wasn’t constant pain – it was pain every few minutes. Not sharp, not overwhelming, just achy exhausting sort of pain. I waited for Wyatt . . . and waited, and waited, and waited. He seemed to take an aweful long time. Finally I called him on the phone and told him he needed to come NOW.

I was more curious if this was what labor was like (see, even though this was my third baby, I had never really felt labor pain. With Olivia, my water broke, but I didn’t start contractions until they gave me pitocin – and then I got an epidural; and with Calvin, I was induced, so again, I didn’t have contractions until after I already had an epidural). When we got to the hospital, they checked me in, and came in to start my induction, but first they checked me. I remember Dr. Larsen laughing and saying – ‘No need for an induction, you are well into labor.’ (Ok, I was at a 5, which is only half way, but still . . .)

So instead of inducing labor, they actually had to try and slow it down. I was Strep B positive and needed at least 4 hours of antibiotics before he was born. Once that 4 hour mark hit, they said I could start pushing, and Everett was born about five minutes later.

So – basically, it came down to a game of Chicken – Everett wasn’t going to be born unless we made him. But once we tried, he wasn’t going to let us have the satisfaction. He was going to do it on his own. Silly, sweet, lovely boy.

Anyhow, he did great – blowing bubbles, floating on his back, smiling for his mamma when she wanted a picture. Mmm . . . sunshine and babies. Is there anything better?

Wyatt came home early, ready to play! We rode 4 wheelers up and down the street and around the neighborhood looking for people to play. We found Jill and Alan, who came over and had home made ice cream in the shade of the tree, and the kids ran around playing freeze tag in the sweltering heat.

Later we decided a small fishing trip was in order. We packed Calvin’s new pole, and the other gear, and decided to try our luck at the Discover Park pond – which is about a mile down the street from grandma’s house.

As it turned out we had great luck. We caught no less than four fish (maybe more, there was part where I left and took Olivia and eJo to the playground, leaving Wyatt and Cal to do their thing).

Each fish was admired for what it was: TINY.

The kids enjoying torturing each fish with pokes, and prods before throwing it victoriously back into the pond.

Wyatt enjoyed being stuck by flying fishing hooks a couple times, and mamma enjoyed keeping the kids from falling in the lake (Cal did fall in up to his knees, thus the under-roo pictures later).

Afterward we went to grandma’s house for a jump on the trampoline and Moose Tracks ice cream cones. I have a theory that the amount of crud on your face at the end of the day is in direct correlation with the awesomeness of the day. As you can see, it was an awesome day for these kiddos.

On Tuesday, when it hails and snows,
The feeling on me grows and grows
That hardly anybody knows
If those are these or these are those.

On Wednesday, when the sky is blue,
And I have nothing else to do,
I sometimes wonder if it’s true
That who is what and what is who.

On Thursday, when it starts to freeze
And hoar-frost twinkles on the trees,
How very readily one sees
That these are whose — but whose are these?

On Friday—–

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” said Kanga, not waiting to hear what happened on Friday.

This is boy, Everett.

He is: well, he’s a lot of things. He can kill you with his withering scowls. He can warm you with his mischievious grin. He has the most frustrating sense of independence. He is my most cuddly baby ever.

So, for the past little while – few months, eJo has been very uninterested in his mamma. He is all lovey dovey for his dadda, he swoons over his dog, Daisy, and he can’t resist tagging along with Olivia and Calvin everywhere. But when it comes to his mamma, he seemed to care less.

First, I have to say, I’m used to this reality. All of my children prefer their dad to me. I chalk it up to the novelty factor. Second, I understand that the other kids (and even the dog) are more entertaining than me – all I ever do is clean and cook and cook and clean. So it doesn’t surprise me that I’m trumped by pretty much every one else. But that’s not to say it doesn’t hurt.

Now I know, you’re thinking what I thought: “Get over it, self, you can’t go around having your feelings hurt by an 18 month old baby!”

Still, when we had a Girls Night + Everett, and Olivia, Ejo & I cuddled under the blankies for an evening of “How to Train Your Dragon” and Everett kept climbing away from me to cuddle up to Olivia, I couldn’t help but tear up . . . just a little. When Wyatt asked about it later, (as I was still tearing up at the thought of it) I lied. I made up a lame excuse of something or other.

Because what mother wants to admit her baby doesn’t want her. And what mother wants to add to the humiliation by admitting it makes her insecure.

So that’s why when one Sunday three weeks ago, when the nursery leader brought a hysterical eJo to Sunday School, and that truley distraught boy refused even to go to his daddy, instead clawing his way over to my arms, I felt a little redeemed. I felt a little happy. Not at his unhappiness. No, I cuddled and cooed and patted him to comfort. But I felt happy in my own mother-ness again. It was a good reminder of what motherhood is: the last one your child wants to turn to, but the first one they do turn to when things really go wrong.

And I guess that’s kinda the goal anyway: to raise children who are strong, capable, and independent, who no longer need their mothers to stroke their backs or their egos, but instead to cheer them on as adults, ready for their own flight in this world. But I’ll always be there for you, Everett, when things really do go wrong. I will always be cooing and cuddling you in my heart.