"Nine Years Older and Wiser Too . . ."

Happy Birthday, Abraham, my first ever little baby.

NEWBORN ABE

ONE

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TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

H

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

A "Best Day Ever"

Once, in Israel, my roommates and I had a "best day ever." I don't actually recall what was so great about it other than every single one of us got letters and/or packages, and it just seemed like every corner we turned had some new happy surprise -- even silly things -- like returning to our room and discovering our curtains had been replaced with new ones. I have a picture of us all standing there in front of our new curtains -- joyfully holding up our letters and packages.

Today seemed like a "best day ever." So far every single thing about today has just been happy. I feel so happy.

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1. It has been snowing -- ALL day. I know that running errands, etc. in snow is no fun, but my mom loves nothing more than a storm -- any storm -- wind storm, rain storm, snow storm; so we were raised to feel excitement at the slightest inkling of a "storm." Storms meant happiness, and fires in the fireplace, and stories to be read. Living close to the mouth of the canyon also meant most nights were quite windy. I was surprised when I married Mike and found that to him a wind storm meant something very different than being cozied up in bed with blankets -- happy as a Lark. It meant shingles blowing off of roofs, or tarps coming off our hay, or other stressful things. So, we would lie in bed listening to the same blustery wind -- one of us tense, the other smiling peacefully as if being sung to sleep.

I admit I don't love old slushy dirty snow, but I always feel a little sad when someone says, "I hate snow." You can say, "I hate driving in snow," or "I hate shoveling snow," or "I hate walking with snow on the sidewalks," but "I hate snow" seems a very rash declaration. When it is falling and covering everything with white. When there is nowhere specific you have to go, and especially if you have Christmas music playing; well, there is not much more lovely than all that white snow.

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2. Christmas music has been playing all day.

3. My Mike is home with us, and with no other agenda than just being with us. Mike works such long hours, that he isn't just home all that often and when he is home, there is generally something that needs doing -- house projects, errands, etc. But, today is Abe's birthday, so our whole plan was just to be home celebrating that. I feel so much more content when I have my husband home with me.

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4. It's Abe's birthday -- and a happy one at that. He told me he woke up at 6:15 and couldn't sleep because he was so excited and couldn't believe he was nine. That is one of the best things about having kids -- you get to re experience things that you've long since outgrown -- like being so excited for Christmas or a birthday that you can't even sleep.

We don't generally have friend birthday parties for our kids. When Abe and Daisy were very small, I would do a big party for them in the day with cousins, etc. By the time Mike got home, it seemed they were all celebrated out. We decided then to make birthdays more of a thing to celebrate with our family. I do try hard to make the whole day special and about them -- the kids secretly make signs to hang the night before. We let them choose their favorite sugar cereal to have for breakfast and do games, etc. with our family.

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With that said, I'm not so rooted in our ways that they can't alternate every now and again. This year Abe asked if he could have a few friends over, and we were happy to oblige. Planning it wasn't easy because Abe questioned my judgement of "cool" at every turn, but in the end, we agreed on making candy trains and playing several games that passed his "cool" test. It went great, and Abe seemed well satisfied with the outcome. He has contentedly been playing with his toys ever since. Mike is sweetly making dinner (after all my party work), and we will finish the night with cake and presents and the birthday boy getting to stay up late.

5. I know this probably seems silly, but I was already thinking how wonderfully happy this day seemed -- with the snow and Mike here and Abe so happy and the party festivities having gone so well (and having been cleaned up), but then, much later than I thought UPS drivers would still be out making their deliveries, THIS came to the door:

I was so giddy with excitement that I could hardly contain myself. Clear back in May, I downloaded the blurb.com Booksmart program to turn my blog into a book. It was fun to work on for about three days, but then I started having dreams. All night long (for several nights in a row) I would dream out an event or happening; then that event would turn into an image that I had to format correctly into a book. It was maddening.

The program "slurps" your blog right up in order, etc. If you have a post that is just words, or just one main picture, or even words with pictures that don't have to be in any order, it works great. It is just that the Booksmart program doesn't work like blogger where you can just drag your pictures anywhere in your post. You have to choose a format -- and the formats don't always jive with your exact post and how it was laid out on your blog. You can just put it in one of their formats, or you can even create your own formats, but it can drive you a little crazy (hence my dreams).

There are advantages though. You can click a different background for each page. You can have pictures that take up entire pages or are part of a collage, etc.

I got sick of messing with it in about June and laid it aside til last week when I decided that I'd done enough to at least print one book. I've only done my blog from Feb. 2008 (when I started) to Oct. 2008, but I have so many posts and pictures that it was already a 180 page book.

Anyway, here are a few sample pages.

It just seems so fun to have it as a real concrete journal rather than just something floating out there in cyberspace. And I LOVE that I now have a journal that actually has pictures of what I am writing about right along with it. My kids were looking through it tonight reading out loud things I'd typed about them, etc. It really is one of the most satisfying things I've ever held in my hands. I wish I could order copies for all of my kids since it is a record of so much of the goings on of their own lives. Maybe I will sometime, but for now that would be a little pricey.

It is some work, but you can make it much easier if you aren't too picky about having everything placed just right. I highly recommend doing this for any of you out there who have a blog. It is such a perfect journal. I am in love with it and can't wait to get my more recent posts put into one!!

Lastly, and totally unrelated, I love to see my kids creative little minds at work. Daisy just whipped up this little hot air balloon for her toys tonight . . . and look, now this picture is here on my blog . . . which means it will eventually end up in a family journal book right in our own home!

Jesse flick

I was going to post this video with my earlier post about the birthday boy, but it wasn't loading well. Now it seems to have loaded just fine.

Here is a video of Jesse a month ago -- when he still tolerated the occasional toy (before giving them up altogether in order to more fully pursue his dreams of household destruction). Please ignore the talk in the background. Had I not been trying to film I'm sure I would have put an immediate stop to such a disturbing discussion.

One Year Ago Today

It is always so crazy to look back on what was happening a year ago. A year ago I was in the hospital just about to push Jesse into this world -- not yet knowing his name would be Jesse; not yet even knowing he was a boy at all.

I'd woken up at 4:00am that morning -- just for a minute -- just long enough to stare at the red digital numbers on our bedside clock that told me another morning would soon be dawning with NO baby. I was officially on day four of being overdue.

Every night for the past two weeks I'd gone to bed thinking, "maybe tonight . . ." and every morning I'd woken up disappointed, thinking, "I'm still here." But that disappointment had begun to turn into MAJOR frustration as the mornings past my due date kept dawning.

That morning was a particularly frustrating one because I had actually gone to bed feeling some irregular but pretty uncomfortable contractions -- contractions I was hopeful might lead to the real deal, but after sleeping peacefully til 4:00am, I realized that they must have been simply another round of false labor. I made a small sad little moan to myself -- a pity moan, then drifted back to sleep.

Fifteen minutes later I was up again in a state of excited disbelief. There were no contractions, but was that my imagination, or were the sheets all around me wet? I had never, in four pregnancies, had my water break at the onset of labor. That's how it always starts in the movies, and that's how I wanted to have it start. This had to be it. I giddily hopped up and ran to the bathroom -- only to fill a toilet with blood.

My mind was unable to make sense of this. I knew what blood meant early on. I'd experienced it twice, and both times it meant a miscarriage. But blood now? Four days past due? Babies don't "miscarry" at that point. They are babies. Do they die? Does blood mean they die? Would you bleed? But I shouldn't be bleeding -- my water had broken . . . right? I went back to the bed to look at the sheets. Somehow convinced this was all a mistake and I would see clear amniotic fluid, but no. Bright red blood.

Clearly I should have been flying to the hospital, but I really think my mind was in a strange shockish sort of state. I gently woke Mike and confusedly said how I didn't know what to do. "I'm not in labor," I said, "but I'm bleeding everywhere. I don't know what that means."

Luckily "bleeding everywhere" got someone to action. Mike flew out of bed and had me out the door and rushing to the hospital with in about two minutes. Very nice that we happened to be living at my parents still so we could just wake my mom and tell her we were leaving. Still slightly in shock I began apologizing -- embarrassed -- about the blood all over my sheets I was leaving behind. She, of course, simply pushed me out the door with promises of serious prayers.

I still remember that cold dark car ride. I called my CNM, Guy. He tried to reassure me that some women bleed as they dilate, etc. But I never had before and I knew this was more bleeding than could be so simply explained. Mike and I didn't talk much on the car ride. He asked me once if I'd felt any kicking. I told him I didn't know. Then began anxiously focusing on feeling some movement -- any movement -- and not feeling it.

Mike drove me right to the ER door and sent me in as he went to park. I still, oddly, felt unsure of what I was doing there and began mumbling to the security guard on duty how I didn't know if I should be here or not, how I wasn't in labor but was bleeding. He looked a little uncomfortable as he had someone come put me in a wheelchair and wheel me up to the maternity floor.

During the elevator ride I had a pretty serious contraction or two, but I was so bewildered, I honestly didn't recognize them for what they were.

It was only when I got to the nurses station on the maternity floor and explained for the fifth time how I was past due, not in labor but bleeding that things became less surreal and I finally began to cry.

The nurses were very calm and very nice as they took me in to "take a look" at what was going on. As I changed into the dressing gown I had another contraction or two. I climbed onto the table as Mike arrived. I was very tense, but with out any big to do she found the little heartbeat -- as if she'd never doubted she would. She also commented, "Well, if you weren't in labor, you certainly seem to be now!" as the contraction monitor she'd hooked to me registered a contraction. She didn't have to tell me. I knew now. They were slow, long, and very real contractions. I was only dilated to a four (only one centimeter more than I'd been at my previous appt.) so I knew all that blood probably wasn't from one centimeter of dilation, and the triage nurse didn't speculate -- though she did keep trying to reposition me each time my baby's heart would dip down low.

Not having started contractions until I was in the hospital was actually quite nice because it was only a matter of minutes before I was able to have my epidural. Probably the least amount of pain I'd ever had to have with a labor.

My nurse in labor was very good as well. She guessed that maybe part of my placenta had pulled away and caused the bleeding, but assured me that as long as we could keep the heartbeat doing well there was no reason to worry and that if there was any doubt I'd just get in immediately for a c-section. And, she was very discreet about the fact that she kept having to change padding and wipe up more blood. Knowing my little baby was going to be OK was such a relief. I was able to finally relax and get excited about what was about to happen.

The little heart occasionally dipped low, but it seemed we could fix it by repositioning me. Guy guessed that the contractions were maybe pressing on the cord a little since my baby was still up so high. Ha! And fat chance of me ever really having my water break. My sister once informed me that we have steel amniotic sacs, and I am starting to believe it. Even with my natural labor with Goldie my water didn't break until I was pushing her out, and with this one, I was fully dilated with no water breaking.

Guy had me stay at a ten for about an hour before breaking my water and having me push. I always test positive for Strep B, but am never at the hospital long enough for the full four hours to pass after a penicillin dose to ensure my baby won't catch it traveling down the birth canal. Guy was determined to make me wait out my four hours this round. It made me laugh to know I was sitting there fully dilated and not pushing. With no epidural that would have been impossible. How well I recall crying, "I NEED TO PUSH SOMETHING!" when I was at that point with Goldie. Guy hadn't been there and I could sense a vague panic among the nurses, but I couldn't wait. And yet, here I was, patiently waiting. Ahhhhh epidurals . . . how I love you.

At 9:00 am it was time to push and find out who this baby was. Guy didn't tell me. He simply held my baby right up for me to exclaim, "Oh! It's a boy!" and then begin to laugh and cry as if a boy was of course the only thing it ever could have been.

And that is how my little Jesse Frank made his way into the world -- one year ago today.

And here he is today. Very much a "boy" indeed. It is so funny to me to see how he already seems to feel that he should attack Abe (leaving his sister's out of it) when Abe is trying to sit and do something. His favorite favorite thing in the world is to try and break all our doors and cupboards. He opens them and then begins slamming them repeatedly the way they don't go -- trying to pop their hinges right off. He seriously begins laughing to himself every time he gets a chance to do it. His other favorite thing is to find an open bathroom door. He can unroll an entire toilet paper roll in seconds. All around, he is pure trouble. There is no toy in the world that can hold his attention. He ONLY likes mischief. I know all of my kids have gone through the stage of emptying drawers and cupboards, but I think he might be the most proficient at it. There is not any waking moment that he isn't doing something he shouldn't be. I just don't think it occurred to my other kids to wreak quite as much havoc. The other day we were at my sister-in-laws. She has a kid's dream playroom with every kind of fun toy, slides, etc. Jesse did not get distracted from the task at hand (of causing mischief) for even one second. No toy weakened his resolve or sullied his hands. He simply spent his time finding cups of water and plates of food to overturn -- no matter that we tried to make sure there were none he could get -- he found them and only allowed himself to be fooled by an empty cup for a short while.

We love our little kid who mostly only cries when you hold a cupboard shut so he can't open it or when he sees a bathtub filling with water and him not in it. I love that Penny calls him, "Jessy boy." What a funny and cute little boy. Thank goodness he is part of our family!! Happy birthday Jessy Boy!!!

Nancy Tag

I know I am boring you all to death with my lack of posts. Abe gave a valiant try in resurrecting my blog yesterday (well . . . "valiant"? maybe . . . more . . . "feeble"?), either way, despite his attempts to give my blog life, it just lay there (or probably lie there), motionless.

I am here today -- topicless -- simply trying to break my dry spell. I'm trying to squeeze the tiniest bit of blogging rain out of the dry dry clouds floating through my head. Here is why: contrary to what you would think, the longer I don't blog, the less there seems to be to blog about. You'd think a few quiet weeks and I'd be brimming with tales to tell. You know, tales of Thanksgiving and snow, of Christmas decorating and treats. But no. The quieter I am, the quieter I get. My blog is in real danger of drifting into a very long and peaceful sleep. A hibernation even maybe.

And now you are all thinking of how it has only been about two weeks.

Well, what do you know.

What about last year at this time when, despite all the holiday goings on, I was blogging my little heart out? Of course, I had to post all my angryness over never ever going into labor with Jesse, and then, after Jesse finally showed, I had ever so many hours to blog one-handed as I nursed.

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So, I suppose we can't fairly compare this year to last.

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Anywho, I am going to pretend I was "tagged" -- you know, with one of those silly little questionnaires that you fill out? Only I haven't been tagged, so I am just going to tag myself with whatever questions I make up. I know what you are all thinking now, "Oh, the vanity! To think you can make up your own list of tagging questions!" But someone somewhere must. Right? So, why not me? Soon you will be seeing Nancy tag alllll over cyberspace (because of course you are all now "tagged" yourselves simply for reading this).

Anyway, let's see what I've got.Thinking . . . thinking . . . waiting for the flood gates to open . . .OK, I've got one . . . oooh, I'm so excited! Let's see if there is a domino affect and more keep coming!

1. Have you ever been compared to a movie star?

Well, I know everyone is now thinking how I made up this question just so I could brag, and maybe I did, but it isn't really a movie star so much as a day time TV character. Besides, I am excited because it happened only today and it is the first time I have been compared to a star. See, I was wearing this hand-me-down sweater from my sister Megan, and I was actually thinking how particularly cute I must be looking, and then it happened. Goldie said to me, "Hey Mom! You look just like that guy from Blue's Clues! What's his name?"

Me: "Steve?"

Goldie: "Yah! Steve! You look just like him."And then I looked down at myself in my cute hand-me-down sweater and knew it was true. I looked just like Steve. I looked just like a STAR!!

2. Where do you get all your cute clothes?
Alright, fine, I'm not above admitting that the half of my wardrobe that doesn't come from Target comes from my younger sister Megan's cast offs. It's worked out well for me -- even if it does mean that I am a step down in coolness from her (obviously she passes to me only when she has updated her own wardrobe with something more hip). As far as I know it has only backfired once. (See answer to question 1). P.S. Megan, I think it's time you went through your closets again -- the season of giving and all that.

3. Your son Abe guest posted for you yesterday. Would any of your other children make interesting guest bloggers? (You tagged people can shorten this question to "Would any of your children make interesting guest bloggers?").

Oh yes, if Penny could talk the things she could say. Oh wait, she can talk, and she does say those things. I was just thinking of the old "if these walls could talk, the things they'd say" because it is kind of like that. So, if Penny could type, the things she could blog. I always get a good glimpse into all the "dirt" in nursery because Penny loves to tell me things days later like about who ate whose snacks or who cried when someone took the baby stroller they were using. Who knows what light she might shed on our own family dramas.

4. What were two high lights of your day today?
Well, I'm just going to tell you that I ran 10 miles so fast this morning. When I got home I excitedly went to the computer to plug my distance and time into my little pace calculator. I was going to be so bummed if pushing as hard as I'd tried had only gotten me a medium good pace, but it was a better pace than I run my usual much shorter runs. I was quite happy. Plus, I got home just before it started snowing which was much better than the last time that it started snowing and blowing all crazy at the end of one of my runs. I still had about two miles to go and the wind was blowing snow so gustily into my face that I had to glue my chin practically to my neck and stare straight down to run. I decided it was a good time to try out the cosmic connection that assuredly must exist between Mike and I by thinking (as loudly as my brain could think), "Mike, come get your wife! Mike come save me!" and I sent my message on to him with all my mental strength . . . only to discover that the better connection between Mike and I would have been a cell phone connection (as I had considered taking one with me running but had opted not to).

Anyway, that lovely connection was proven a better option for us again just today -- as high light #2 was hanging out with Abe while my little kids slept and Daisy and Goldie made gingerbread houses at my sister's house, and Mike called me from his cell phone to say some clever and funny things. So . . . I guess we can still be soul mates cosmically connected by our cell phones even if we don't have telepathy or ESP or whatever it is where you can read your loved one's mind no matter the distance.

Oh for crying out loud. This little tag thing has spiralled out of control. There are only FOUR measly questions (and we all know a good tag has no less than 50 questions), and yet it has managed to be one million sentences long.

Maybe tomorrow I'll continue this little game with loads of short answer questions. I'll end tonight with a practice one.

5. Do you think it is pleasant to change crib sheets?

No, I think it is a hideous chore. Even more hideous when bumper pads are in the way. Putting on a crib sheet = no fun.

My mom can't think of anything to blog

This is Abraham NOT Nancy, is that clear? Mom asked me to ''guest type'' for her. She can't think of anything to write. So here I am, but I can't think of anything either so I hired an alien to write for me.
btyuihwjbn uiwhybu urhgu uwg huhugugt uhgwuergyiotggyu uhgrhjgh jfhjtrheuihoiey uihuruu ruoy ruieghyuh iueuhg jhguuuuufjfhghhng fghirhedjdlkjfhughbj lhyiojrtudkhy f jhkhuiouoeyp9poi oiuejrhutihy  uiehkeihjioeepp.
There you are. You are very interested. The end.

Mike Snopes

Now that we have all come to trust and love snopes so well, it is horrifying HORRIFYING to think what will become of us when deceivers begin telling us that something is true because they verified it on snopes . . . when in reality . . . they did not. Soon people will have to look up on snopes whether or not it is true that something was looked up on snopes! Bedlam!

What is most terrifying is that just such deception has already begun . . . and it has begun in my very own home. And, it has begun with the least likely of suspects -- my own HUSBAND! Why is he an unlikely suspect? Because, as those of you who know him well already know, he is an honest honest man. He is also quite a clever fellow though, and apparently, on occasion, his cleverness wins out over strict truthfulness.

I've mentioned before that I love the Lark Rise to Candleford BBC series. I have only seen season one -- which was played (and then replayed) on our local public broadcasting station. I sent an email to several of my Lark Rise loving sister-in-laws the other day telling them that we were doomed to never ever see season two.

Then, to my joy, both my sister-in-law (Marnie) and I got replies to emails we'd sent to our local station telling us that they would be playing season two this January.

Mike saw these emails going back and forth and decided to send a reply out to us of his own devising.

Here it is:

I looked this issue up on snopes.com and unfortunately it is only a myth.  I'm sorry to be the one to break the bad news.  This is what it said:
 
"Snopes is dedicated to finding the truth on the internet and beyond.  Recently we checked into the potential airing of season two of the period piece 'Larkrise to Candleford.'  This rumor has been circulating the internet for several weeks.  We contacted KUED to see if and when the second season would air.  KUED told us that they were about to issue a press release on this same subject.  According to their spokesperson, a young woman, known around the workplace for her distinctive dresses, romantic notions, and afternoon teas, caused thousands of emails to be sent to KUED executives praising the show and calling for more episodes.  The woman allegedly sent the emails from multiple international computer networks making the emails appear to come from thousands of purported Larkrise fans all with distinct IP addresses.  Luckily, KUED's IT department was able to catch on to the scheme before the season aired.  Interestingly enough, the IT department was able to determine that there are in fact only 17 fans of the show, so the upcoming season was quickly cancelled.  According to police, when the woman was captured she faintly sighed and then proceeded to faint."

Only 17 fans?? Oh, honey. How you mock. I do love that this "young woman" he invented was "known around the workplace for her distinctive dresses, romantic notions, and afternoon teas."

My Little Photographer

I was quite surprised when so many of you asked who on earth snapped that picture of me asleep on the couch awhile back. I was surprised because in our house, it is not only not surprising, but expected that roughly one million random photos will end up on your photo card -- photos you never took. Daisy took that particular picture (the one of me sleeping), but it is our Goldie who is a picture taking fanatic. Seriously. Soon we may have to send her to group therapy where she will have to stand and say, "My name is Goldie . . . and I . . . am a camera addict." Every single thing, happening, or time is an occasion for pictures to be taken. The other day I was walking in behind her (after picking her up from school), when I noticed she had left her backpack sitting right on the porch. I was just about to call her to come get it when she bounced back out the door -- camera in hand -- apparently she had left it there on purpose -- seeing a perfect photo op. Silly girl. Here is a SMALL sampling of some of the photos I have found on our camera in the past week or so. You can play a little game if you like -- trying to find things like: our Yahtzee game, Goldie's self photos, Abe running away from Goldie and the camera, etc.

Household Chatter

The other night Mike was telling me that I was a good wife -- that I do so much around here, etc. "Then you even write nice posts about me," he added.

"All those nice posts should be about you," he said, "I'm going to change them all to you. . . . How you had so much fun on the pheasant hunt, how you have such a lovely hair color, how you used to spit up so much and now you are getting better, how you wore so many cute costumes for Halloween."

I haven't actually posted about all those things, but I like that he wasn't necessarily going to go so far as to compose a whole new post about me -- he was just going to give me a little more glory by putting me in place of every person my posts have ever been about.

Also, sometimes when I hear things in my house, it feels kind of like I am waking up from a fuzzy dream. Like on Sunday morning when Abe asked me if he could have some of the chocolate chips in the cupboard. I told him he could, but that they were the kind he didn't like (semi-sweet). Next thing I hear is Mike in the kitchen telling Abe something about how he is going to plant the chocolate chips, and Abe is playing along by asking if they will grow into a chocolate tree, and Mike is telling him that they will grow into pineapples, which are even tastier than chocolate chips. Which is actually kind of funny if you'd been there the night before when Mike was insisting Abe eat the pineapple on his ham and pineapple pizza, and Abe was refusing.

Lastly, two cute things from Penny:

1. Goldie was crying about something the other day and Penny seemed concerned. "Don't worry, Goldie," she soothed, "We can go to Christmas."

2. Today, she said to me, "Mom, could you turn the sun off now? 'Cause I'm burning!" It is nice that she sees me as the all powerful center of the Universe. Sadly, this was probably only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to all the inadequacies she will eventually discover in me. How well I remember once telling my two year old Abe, "I don't know," to a question, only to get his frustrated moan of, "but you and dad know EVERYTHING!" If only they didn't have to discover just how human we parents are.