Rocket Launch

Rocket launch
A few hours from where we live, there is a launch pad where real rockets really go into actual outer space.  Really!  As we are a proud family of science geeks, we all think that this is super cool.  So when a launch was scheduled that we could actually witness, we could not resist.  My mom was visiting and because she is awesome she hopped on board when we heard about the launch and quite immediately piled into the car and drove three hours into the late, shivery night in order to hop out just exactly long enough to say, "OOooooohhhh!  Aaaaaaahhhhhh!" watch the streak of fire fade into the sky, and then drive three hours back home.  All that driving and we got in around midnight on a school night, all for about 8 seconds of rocket.  And I tell you, Peanuts, it was worth it!  Because it was a real rocket going to actual space!!  The coolness.  It boggles the mind.

You know you're impressed.

We also made a fun trip out of it, watching Mary Poppins in the car and stopping at a diner so full of character we could taste it in the fried food.  The batter is made of bread crumbs and character.

It was almost as cool as the rocket, although I would not recommend the clam fritatta.  TOO much character.

Veteran's Day

My Veteran

Just over a year ago we were standing on a dock, waiting to welcome J back home.  In the moments just before we saw him, when the sailors began filing down the gangway, everything that had been forced behind doors and under stones in my heart rose like floodwater and began to sting my eyes.  All the worry, the hope, the proud moments and the weak ones.  I will never forget that moment, the one in which it seemed ok to let those things exist because it was going to be over.
We're a lucky family.  J has been gone only once, not for too long, and he came back. Since that moment I have never stopped being thankful for that, and never stopped crying a little in the deep parts of my heart for all the families who are not so fortunate.
For me, though Veteran's Day has always mattered, it will never be the same. This year, I took time to be extra thankful both for J, for the fact that we were able to spend the day together, and for the sacrifices made by those who never will be tangible to their families again. We celebrated all this deep meaningfulness (and also the fact that J got the day off) by taking a trip to Montecello.
We picked apples in an impossibly picturesque orchard on a hill, and then learned all about one of the most influential men in our nation's history- Thomas Jefferson- by touring his home and museum. A fascinating character.  In interesting estate.  A lot of hard questions to answer like "what's a slavery?"  It was a full, educational, and lovely day for us all.

Hot Cider!

Catching Up

It's cold outside, the baby has a cold and wants to be superglued to me, and I slept only a few hours last night and am feeling lazy.  What better opportunity to sit my sleepy self down with a Mister  in my lap and catch up on some of what we've been up to since the fall?
Starting way back in the almost unimaginable, pre-historic days before Mister.  It seems like He has always been part of our family. Better record those earlier days on here fast- they are starting to slip from my memory already.  Look out for the blog tidal wave.  Here we go!

Magic

LO: "Look Mommy!  Look at all the pink clouds!" 

C: "Where?  I don't see any clouds."

LO: "Well.  That's a'cause they're in my 'magination.  You have to use magic to see them."

C: "Oooh, I understand."

LO: "Yeah! Yeah, that's the problem.  Try again, Mommy.  Use your magic.  You will see them." 

Little Mister Sniffles

Sick newborns are definitely good contenders for the most pathetic-little-thing-ever award.  Especially when they are colicky and sick, and even when the sickness is really nothing but a little pre-school party favor cold.  It's hard to be happy when you have to choose between eating and breathing.  Most of us prefer both.  

Little Mister, however, is doing his utmost to hang in there with mostly just the trembling lip.  Me, too.  However, He does have some rough evenings.  Unfortunately for me, this means that I have little time to do much other than cuddle, rock, and walk the baby between chores and time with Mister's sisters.   Fortunately for me, I get to cuddle, rock, and walk the baby all day and that's a pretty nice job if you can get it.  

In the meantime, He is smiling on purpose now, laughing even!  And that's pretty well worth it all.  

One Month of Mister

Imagine showing up at someone's house, not knowing the language, with the severe handicap of being unable to walk, talk (or do anything really), and being surrounded by the chaos of two dogs, two small children, and various visitors.  Quite the shock after a peaceful lifetime of solitude, wouldn't it be?
And yet, this sweet Mister has come through a whole month of this overwhelming circumstance with grace far beyond his days.  He's taken it all in stride nicely, and though  it has only been a month (yesterday), we've gotten to know a few things about our new addition in between all that chaos.
For one, the poor thing takes after His older sister in that He suffers from a terrible newborn rash and also (cue doomsday soundtrack) from colic.  He does not have the ALL-evening-without-a-second's-letup colic that Little One had, but his woes are enough to keep us on our toes (Reaching for the coffee).  Poor little thing.  Sometimes 4PM hits and his lip pops out and trembles.  His knees draw up and out comes the Pitiful Wail.  We look at Him and kiss His forehead and say gently, "there, there, Little Mister.  You're giving it a good try.  But if you think you can phase us with that mewing little cry you have no idea how battle-hardened we are, son."  I'm not sure whether it's His subdued personality, a less intense case of it, or the fact that our experience makes us both better at knowing how to ease the trouble and less phased by it, but in the end this round of Colicky Baby has been slightly less exhausting than the last.
Other than the evening colic drama and a few nursing issues, though, Mister is a breeze of a baby.  He is unperturbed by the raucous noise of the household, does not complain about being dragged out into sub-freezing temperatures for pre-school drop-off.  In fact, when not in pain or really, really hungry, He is not at all a fussy guy.  As long as He has a clean diaper (a true must for our gentleman) and a full tummy, all He asks is to be snuggled as much as is humanly possible.  He loves to be cuddled SO much.  So, so much.  Fortunately, there is a whole household full of people who are only too happy to oblige.
He loves the bath, loves the play gym, and loves to be read and sung to.  He likes to look right at your face with a concerned, serious expression, as if trying to classify you for His research on alien species, and then break out into a huge grin as if deciding that you are at least a very amusing creature.
He's a pretty calm, happy little dude.  Of course, He has spent His entire month of life being constantly and extremely adored by a crowd of fans. Plus, He has the cutest, most awesome sock collection probably ever.  Who wouldn't be happy with all that?
Overall, the sweetness and cuddliness far outweigh the colic and the frequent night time demands for attention.  They even outweigh the laundry and that is a hefty level of tonnage.
Little Mister, I never knew what it would be like to have a boy.  I wasn't sure I was, you know, that kind of Mama.  But you have so quickly and completely set me straight about that.  It turns out that having a little boy is amazingly fabulous.  It is heart-explodingly joyful, just like having little girls has been.  It turns out that having three littles is wonderful and perfect.  And, my goodness, so are you.
What an incredible month it has been!  What a lifetime it will be.  We love you!

I Haven't Seen You Since Last Year

Hello, Peanuts.
Happy 2014- can you believe it?
I have some catching up to do here, if I can.  I kind of dropped the blogging ball at the end of 2013, because Colic.
It's just as well, though, because no one was awake long enough to see any other balls drop on New Year's eve, I assure you.  I provide failure by metaphor as a service.
Today is also the first one we've had without company since Mister's arrival.  No offense to you all but, in this gig of mine, adult interaction is a rare and priceless gem. When I have the option, I'd sort of rather spend my slivers of time between diaper changes, piano practices, hi-ho-cherio-ing, and working on my imposing 3-D artistic rendition of the Swiss Alps (in the medium of half-folded laundry) speaking to an actual person's face than typing, even if it is to you lovely Peanuts.
That said, all the faces are gone now, and there are critical moments of family history in need of plastering on the world wide web for posterity, so it is my hope that I will have the opportunity to bore you with it all soon.  In the meantime, happy New Year!  What are your big goals and dreams for 2014?  My first resolution is to take a shower and  brush my teeth without anyone crying about it.  I aim high.


  

Pisces

When you have a baby to nurse, you have a lot of literal down time to do important things like talk to Peanuts, post Instagram photos, and read magazines (thanks mom!).  In this month's riveting edition of Glamour, I noted on the horoscope page that Little Miss was born a Pisces.
Aahhhhh.  It all makes sense now.  She is celestially ordained to be a little fish.
This must be why Her life is so consumed at the moment with adopting the identity of fishes.  Particular fishes.  A couple of months ago, we borrowed "Finding Nemo" from the library.  Since then, queen of make-believe Missy (who usually "is" a cat all day every day) has spent a large portion of Her existence delegating roles.
"Dad! YOU ah Mahlin and I am Nemo! Mommy, you can be….can be… the Scary Divah! Sistah you ah Dori and baby brufah is  a shahk. OK!"
This role-assigmnent occurs approximately 2.47 thousand times a day, in various permutations.  Then the important part comes-
"Dad, tell me.  Tell me!  Tell me not to touch a fin on that boat!"
Missy lives to be told not to touch a fin on the boat.  She lights up with the anticipation of the admonishment not to touch a fin on that boat.  Because. Once She is told, She gets to reach out- (say it again say it again!)- and reach a little closer- (fits of giggles! Say it again!)- and (so exciting!)- can you guess?  She touches a fin.  On the boat.
This is SO Missy.
That in the entire 100 minute film, this 5 second bit is what most impressed and captivated Her.  The moment in which the child character rebelled against the parent.  Now we must relive and repeat the magic of that moment all. day. long.
This is the child who may never overcome the reverse-psychology lure of "don't eat that squash! Don't you dare eat it up!" and "Don't smile for the camera! NO smiling!"  The child who fears no time-out, no early bedtime, no lost privilege of any sort.  A child who, I am quite convinced, often refuses to eat Her dinner, put on Her shoes, or clean up a toy not because She doesn't like the food, the shoes, or cleaning up- but simply can't resist the higher joy of saying no.
I'm not that into astrology.  But I'm pretty sure Pisces must be known for swimming their own way, for being headstrong and feisty.  And for being so sweet and cuddly and lovable at the same time, that their parents can't help but adore them, even as they are driven crazy.    This is going to be awesome in about 10 years, isn't it?  

Nemo and The Forbidden Boat

Epipen Apron- Vegan Chocolate-Chip Brownie Lovechildren

When we had our big holiday cookie baking day, we ended up making over 600 cookies.  And yet, here we are. Christmas eve, and there are only a few sad looking cookies crumbling at the bottom of the jar.  Such is the joy of giving (oh, ok.  And of having eaten a ton of cookies).   

Combine that with the fact that the weather went from soaring through the 70's the last few days to taking a lemming-dive into the 40s this morning, and the fact that J went back to work this morning (and we had to take Mister to the Doctor and wow that did not go so smoothly.  Not so much).  What we have here is a recipe for cookies.  

To review: no cookies plus cold plus stress = COOKIES.  It's a simple recipe.  I use it often.

Today all three littles got tucked in for naps and I hit the sugar bowl.  I decided that what I needed was some chocolate, with extra chocolate, and maybe some chocolate.  With chocolate on top.   So I whipped up these suckers, which I highly recommend for anyone interested in chocolate-induced comas.  

I have included the recipe below, although in the interest of full-disclosure I totally made these cookies up on the spur of the moment by throwing stuff together in a bowl and did not take the time to measure anything.  So the recipe is an approximation based on what I remember and might need a little tweaking if you try it at home.  

You should, though, because the result of this combination of kitchen odds and ends is the sinful lovechild of a chocolate chip cookie and a brownie.  It will not make you skinny.  But it is guaranteed to treat cookie deficiency, winter chills, and even severe cases of for-the-love-of-goodness-put-your-dang-SHOES-ON-child-we-are-late.  Merry Christmas.

Vegan Chocolate-Chip Brownie Lovechildren

1/2 cup margarine

1/2 cup shortening

3/4 cup white sugar

3/4 cup brown sugar

2 replacement eggs (I used flax)

2 generous teaspoons vanilla extract

scant 2 1/4 cup all-purpose flour

generous 1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

1/3 cup cocoa powder

1/4 cup soy milk

1/3 cup applesauce

1 bag chocolate chips

preheat oven to 375f

Cream together margarine, shortening, and sugars.  

Beat in egg replacer and vanilla.  

Sift together flour, baking soda, salt, and cocoa powder.  

Add these dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, and beat the heck out of them all until you have an ugly glob. 

Add 1/2 of the soy milk and beat until the glob lets go of the beater.  Add the rest of the soy milk and the applesauce and blend well until the batter is creamy. 

Stir in chocolate chips.  

Drop by rounded tablespoon onto cookie pan and bake for 10-13 minutes.  

Let cool before removing from pan.

Eat these suckers warm, preferably with milk or ice cream and with your fingers in your ears to further drown out the sound of children crying over lost shoes.  Ahh.  See?  All better.     

Advent At Our Place

Christmas Day is fun. 
Sure.  But, to me, the real joy of this season is in the anticipation, the build-up before the big day.  And also that part of the holidays about spending time with the people we care about.
So this year I decided to do an advent calendar for the Littles.  I love the idea of a countdown- it makes the wait even more exciting!  But to refocus on doing things together and making memories and all that fuzziness, instead of little treats inside each day the Littles get a note.  It tells them where to find a surprise, which in turn is a clue about what the day's special activity will be.  I think they like this treasure hunt part as much as the rest of it!  Missy gets to take the note out, and Little One has to read it.  Then they search together for their clue.
The first night, it was a little package with sprinkles inside.  Because if you know me, you know I must start things off right- with cookies!

Baking

 And decorating!

Grandma joined the fun, too!

This was kind of a cheat, since I really needed little elves to help me make and decorate all those hundreds of cookies so I could wrap and deliver them.  (Ssshhhhh!  I have them convinced it was a fun family activity, and not slave labor.)

The next night there were holiday prism glasses (which make little shapes appear when you look at Christmas lights through the lenses) hiding in the play car, and the activity was a drive through the light display at the beach.  You get to drive right down the boardwalk.


The next night was a little dollar-store angel to top the miniature pink Christmas tree for their room, and their activity was to decorate it. They got very creative, using necklaces as garlands, and love the idea of their very own tree.

One night they got some stickers, shiny santa confetti, and fancy stationary and had some hot cider while writing their letters to Santa.

I love this one because it also became a lesson in how to write and send a letter.  Little One learned about return addresses and so forth, and carefully printed everything Herself.

This year, both Littles insisted that they wanted to ask Santa for only one thing, and they both knew exactly and unequivocally what it was.  It's been a couple months since they made these decisions, and they have stuck by them so far.
Little One's wish list:   "A Toy Batman"
Missy's:  "A Piggy Bank to Save Money"
I love these choices.  They are so emblematic of who They are at the moment.  Little One is SO into the boys at school and playing superhero and running around saving the world all the time.  Missy wants so much to be like Big Sister and get coins for extra chores, and save them up.  Such a practical Little, She wants to save money, "To save it.  To keep it in there inside the piggy bank, so to save it so it can be safe."  I don't think spending it has occurred to Her at all.

We've also had holiday movie night


A walk/ride through the neighborhood looking at lights on an unusually warm evening


Door decorating


wreath making


Gingerbread Man Garlands

Santa Crafts
 

Salt dough ornaments for Litte One's entire class

And lots more fun activities.  Tonight we get to go to a pajama party with stories and crafts at the library, and there's a great show about international traditions at the children's museum Saturday.  I have some more at-home crafts ready, too. 

I'm having a lot of fun watching them get excited about the day's surprise, and doing these fun little things together each day.  It reminds me to step away from the hectic aspects of baby and holidays and enjoy the magic through the eyes of my angels.  I think we'll all be a little sad when we get to the end of the calendar!  

Seven

You might not believe it.  But really, you can ask J, his mom, teachers, friends, and many random strangers we've been in elevators or standing in lines with.  And they will tell you it's true.
For months, Little One has been announcing to everyone who would listen: "Mommy haves a baby boy in hers tummy! It's a brother! He's coming on December 7."  
We would gently correct Her; He's due on the 12th, love.  Not the 7th.
"But that's when He's coming." 
We figured She guessed 7 because it's the day of the month Her own birthday falls on.  Or maybe She confused the date with the AFC Charity Benefit, since we'd told Her I'd be traveling to DC that day to volunteer, as I do every year.  Whatever the reason, She stuck to Her prediction. On December 6th, as I prepared for my trip, we all joked.  Wouldn't it be so funny if She was right and the baby suddenly came the day of The Event?  I mean.  What are the chances.
On the 6th, I woke up full of energy.  I had a lot to do to get ready for my trip.  All day my Mother In Law kept saying, "Don't you ever stop?  Won't you sit down for just a minute?!"  But I didn't.
I emptied and scrubbed and vacuumed the inside of the car.  I rearranged the car seats; one, two, three.  I cleaned out all the the kids' closets, organizing by size and season, folding and hanging.  I did six loads of laundry.  Organized the pantry. Took out the recycling. Cleaned the house top to bottom, hauling the vacuum up the stairs.  Hauling it back down.  I got out all the baby stuff from the garage; I washed the bottles and the teethers and the crinkly toys.  Cleaned up and swept the garage while I was at it.  I finished up some wrapping and decorating, I started the holiday cards.  I painted my toenails.  At- no kidding- 9pm, my generous MIL accompanied me shopping so I could wrap up a gift for the birthday party the Littles were attending later that weekend.  I just needed to get stuff done.  All the while I noticed that the Braxton-Hicks contractions I've had so many of this pregnancy were a little stronger than usual.  But I didn't think much of it, until around the time we were walking the store that evening.  "You've dropped," my MIL noticed, "like, way dropped."  I did feel like I was waddling around.  I did feel a lot of those practice contractions. 
Hmm, I thought.
Nah.
But then, ouch.  Hmmm.....
By around eleven PM I was writing them down, timing them.  Just to see. 
"Is it today?", J asked.
"NO.  It is NOT today.  I'm going to DC in the morning.  I'm going to the event."
J gave me a certain smile.  "Ok."  He said.  But, like Little One, he knew.
By midnight there was no more denying it.  The contractions were strong and the list I'd been keeping read one every ten minutes like clockwork.
"So.   Today?" 
"Maybe."  
I walked around the house awhile.  The list read- five minutes, five minutes, five minutes.
But guys.  It was late. And after all that productivity all day, I was dead tired.  I mean, SO tired.
I laid down.  They spaced out again.  All night, the contractions got stronger and more painful.  But the timing didn't budge- ten minutes, ten minutes.
I tried to rest between them, but it was a long night.  As the sun came up, I was struggling through each one, wondering how long this was going to take, for goodness' sake.  The Littles came bounding in, bubbling with hugs and cuddles and can-we-please-have-waffles-it's-Saturday! And looking at me funny when I would suddenly sit up straight and take deep breaths.
J took them down to eat and kept checking in on me.  I was sitting in bed, just waiting out contractions. They were really strong, now. 
"Why don't you take a hot shower?" J suggested.  "It helped you the other times." 
"Ok, but will you stay?  I'll call out when a contraction starts and you can help me keep timing them."
I stood up.  I had two contractions just walking across the room.  That was weird.
I got into the hot water.  But, just like that, the contractions had gone from 10 minutes apart to two minutes apart.  I was in the shower yelling- "another one! ....And now!... NOW!" After about ten minutes J came in and told me to get out.  But I didn't want to. 
"The hot water just helps so much though."
"GET OUT. GET DRESSED." 
J does not often, in fact basically does not ever, outright order me around.  But he knew. Thank goodness for J.
I got dressed and, because I am apparently myself even when in transition-stage labor, stood there putting on my mascara and brushing my hair with contractions coming one minute apart.
"GET IN THE CAR!" J was almost yelling now.
I put on my favorite new maternity/nursing dress, so I could wear it at the hospital, after.
"GET. IN. THE.CAR."
I got in the car. A contraction came on, stronger than ever.
"Whoa...J.  J!! We're not going to make it.  We're never going to make it!"  
"I know! That's why I said to get in the car!"
"AHH! J! Drive faster.  DRIVE FASTER!"
J was racing along the freeway, thankfully free of traffic for once.
A contraction would hit and I would start hollering,
"It's too hot in hereTooHotTooHot!!!"
He rolled the window down.
"NOOOOO!  NO NotGoodEitherThatIsNOT GOOD EITHER!"
It would pass.
"Sorry.  Sorry J.  Yelling helps.  It just does."
"I know."
"Don't pay attention I don't mean to yell at you"
"I know that, love, it's ok."
"AHHH!  WHY-IS-IT-SO-HOT-DRIVE-FASTER!"
And so it went.  It became very real to me how close to having a baby we really were.  I remembered Little Miss, and began to become seriously concerned that this baby was going to be born in the downtown tunnel.  
But He wasn't.  We made it to the hospital and parked the car.  And then, because this is how patient-friendly this hospital is, I got to walk.  Across the parking garage.  Down the long hallway.  Through the pharmacy, where the pregnant lady and her friend stood with their small children cooing to them, "Look!  Look, guys, that lady's going to have a baby!  She's having a...yikes don't have it here in the hallway."  
I was not yelling, now. I was walking, very slowly.  A contraction would come on and I would stare at the floor and take a deep, silent breath, and think to myself, "Keep walking.  Keep walking. Keep walking."  And I did.
At the elevator, the mothers let us on first.  "Go ahead, we'll take the next one. Good luck!" 
Some hospital staff person got on with us.  "I'm guessing four?" She said.  Labor and Delivery. 
We nodded.  The doors opened and we got off.  I was squeezing the bajeezus out of poor J's hand.
We realized it was the wrong floor.  The lady had gotten off on three.  We waited for the elevator again. We finally made it to labor and delivery, though, and I could (TMI alert) actually feel the baby at this point.  We walked up to the window where the nurse was sipping a coffee, looking at a computer screen.
We stood there.
She sat there.
We stood there.
contraction.  "HI! Hi, hello?"  Deep breaths.
"Yes? Can I help you with something."
I looked at her like she had five heads.
"I'm having a baby."  Deep breaths.  Deeeeep breath.
"ok....?"
I started wondering which one of us was crazy.
"This is labor and delivery, right?  I mean..." contraction. "I'M HAVING A BABY RIGHT. NOW!!!"
She got annoyed with my rudeness.  She took a sip of her coffee.
"Ok, well, if you'll just take a seat over there, I'll get your paperwork together."
I could feel the baby's head.  I pressed my hands on the counter.
"I don't think you understand."   contraction.  "I REALLY THINK YOU SHOULD LET ME BACK! I REALLY NEED TO GO BACK NOW!"
J tried to calm me down, he stepped to the window to try to talk to her. 
She blinked twice, very slowly.  She handed J a clipboard.
"If you'll just complete this paperwork,  then I will let triage know you have arrived."
Triage.  Triage?! I looked at the form.  I could barely see through the blur of pain from another contraction, but the thing seriously had like 50 questions.  It might as well have been a biochemistry final exam. J's pen was flying over it and I was ready to kill people.
"NO! NO!  THIS BABY IS COMING! IT'S COMING NOW!"  
The nurse looked at me and sipped her coffee.  She didn't say a thing.
This is the point when some kind of instinctive delirium took over.  I felt the baby coming and I knew it was time and any slight grasp on reason or logic I'd been clinging to was gone.  I went over to the locked double doors to the delivery deck and began screaming.
"HELP! HELP ME! PLEASE! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP!!!" 
The doors swung open and some visibly annoyed nurses rushed over. 
"Ok, ok.  Calm down, please.  Lets get you into triage and- " contraction.
 "AH! THE BABY IS COMING! IT IS COMING!"
 "-and we will see if you are dilated.  Do you need to use the restroom first?"
This was such an insane question to me at that moment that it totally threw me off.
"What? No! Wait yes.  No.  Yes. NOOOOOO!!! THE BABY IS COMING HELP!"
They pulled me into triage and as I climbed onto the bed, my water broke.
It was the end of that lovely dress I'd bothered changing into.  
Suddenly, there was a rush of activity.  I was flying down a hallway and someone was yelling out "Meconium! Meconium!" and I was looking around for J and calling "Is my baby ok? Is he ok??"  We got into the delivery room and they were telling me to get off the stretcher onto the bed. 
These people, guys. I had been doing everything within my power, I mean everything,  since the moment we left the house to hold that baby in.  But we'd made it to the delivery room.  And the fact that they were asking me to get up and move told me they were all freaking insane and would never get it, and I decided in that moment: the hell with you people. And I stopped trying so hard to hold him in.  I just closed my eyes and did nothing.
So, as the nurses were lifting me from the stretcher to the bed- literally in midair- the baby's head popped out.  The moment I was on the bed someone said "ok push!" and I did, and the rest of the baby was out.  We had made it just in the nick of time.  We had a son.
Born after almost 14 hours of labor, yet all at once.  With a fairly dramatic entrance, weighing exactly seven pounds.  And born (with no regard whatsoever for my weekend plans, just as His sister predicted) on the seventh.
Did I ever tell you?  Seven happens to be my lucky number. 

Circles

In the beginning, there is uncertainty.
You are weak.  You can't do everything; you sleep a lot.  It's all sort of overwhelming.
You have to learn so much; you reel from the changes that come and keep coming.
As you go, it gets a little easier.  You become stronger, more familiar.
There are so many worries, so much to wonder about.  But the feeling of Life and Possibility is so rich.  There are plans to make, and work to do, and so much to expect.  So much hope.
Over time, it all begins to feel routine.  There are discomforts, sure, but you bear them, you become somewhat acclimated to this existence.
You feel strong, but time begins to pull at your elbow.  It passes so much faster than it ever seemed it could, at the beginning when the days stretched out long.  Now you look back and the days have flown, and there seem to be so many more behind you than there are ahead.
There begins to be fear.
What will come next?  What will it be like, after?  Will it hurt so very much when it happens?  Too much?  Can you bear to leave behind all you've known, all you were?
You start to dread it.  Maybe you'd rather just not.  Rather just stay like this and never get to the end.  There are such Unknowns, at the end, and Unknowns are so scary.
But when you know a thing is inevitable, you think about it, worry about it, and slowly become used to the idea that, well.  Scared or not, it's coming.  That you won't know if it will hurt too much, or how it will happen exactly, or what is waiting for you After- but you'll just have to find out.
And, after awhile, time wears on at you.  You begin to get weak again, tired again.  The discomforts become more numerous, more onerous.  After awhile, it gets hard to sleep, hard to move, hard to breathe.  There seems to be more pain than there is anything else, and you start to think- the heck with this.  Whatever is coming, it can't be as bad as staying like this forever.
You begin to feel that you've gotten all the joy you can from this whole thing; it isn't much fun anymore, and you are ready to move on.  The suffering is your Gift to nudge you through the fear, to a precipice you are ready to jump from.
And then, when you are ready. When your body is ready, when Fate and Heaven are ready-
It happens.

A life ends.  Or, begins. 

Part of the miracle of pregnancy is that in many ways it is an existential microcosm.  A little circle within a circle.  I think so much of my Grandfather these days.  Last night he lost a sister-in-law, the last in the family of his generation.  He is 86 now and he may be with us for years to come...but he's getting tired.  I think of the parallels between our experiences; nearing the end of a pregnancy, nearing the end of a life.  I think we are both beginning to look towards what is next.  Not quite ready....but nearly so. 

Why I Love My Husband's Ugliness

A few nights ago, J and I went to his work's holiday party.
A bunch of the guys decided to make it an ugly sweater party.  So I hopped over to the thrift store and bought him a lovely blue turtleneck covered in little cartoon snowmen.  In the same fine establishment I picked up a couple accessories to kick it up a notch, and a hand-knitted, lime green monstrosity for myself in case spouses were expected to participate.  Lucky for me they were not, and so J decided to incorporate the monstrosity into his own ensemble.  Taking care to leave the prominently visible "goodwill" tag on the shoulder for added flair.
Unbeknownst to us, there turned out to be a contest at the party.  It was decided by audience applause, and it wasn't even close.  J won the Ugly Sweater Contest by an uproarious landslide. 
As he claimed his prize, a friend laughing with me leaned in and said jokingly, "Well! Aren't you proud?"  And I answered, "I totally am!"  Not joking at all. 
The thing about J is that he wore that getup walking from the car through six blocks of trendy downtown Friday night crowd and didn't blink. 
He didn't feel embarrassed, and he wasn't showing off.  It was just an ugly sweater party, so he wore an ugly sweater.  And he would have worn it wherever, whenever, and not cared. 
This is one of many things that has always charmed me about J.  I have never met a less insecure person in all of my life.  He really, truly, does not care what anyone thinks about him.  At all.  He does what he likes and what he thinks is the right thing, no matter who is watching, no matter what. 
This goes for being silly and/or weird, and it goes for walking against the crowd when it's something serious, too.  There is no peer pressure strong enough to sway him. 
Which is such a large part of how he is able to pull off one of the other traits that captures my heart over and over; his absolute and immutable integrity.  J always does the right thing.  Always.
As his wife, I appreciate that he's not afraid to be silly and play with our children in front of his friends, and I appreciate knowing that when he tells me something, it is The Truth.  But as the mother of his children, this special immunity to other people's judgements is something I find myself being thankful for every single day.  I hope that by watching his example, they will also learn to be true to themselves.  Whether it's what they like to listen to or wear, or whether it's following their conscience when that internal compass leads them down the harder road. 

Especially now that we have a Mister on the way- a little boy to try and turn into a man as good as His father- and knowing that Little One will probably be in a public elementary school this time next year, I have been thinking ahead about the coming years of raising Littles, and the trickier waters we will be heading into soon.  In a world that can seem angry and unfair, in a world full of cyber-issues I've no idea how to face, and social issues that roil and burn, it is easy to be afraid of navigating those waters.  But what helps me more than anything is knowing that my Littles will always have a mother who loves them just as they are.  And a father to look up to who, when it's time to wear an ugly sweater, wears the ugliest one there is.  And rocks it. 

Epipen Apron- Vegan Maple-Glazed Spiced Pumpkin Cookies

What to do with all those decorative pumpkins from the front step? Hmm. 
How about what I do with anything I can possibly make edible with sugar? Yes!
How about Spiced Pumpkin Cookies?  Yes!
To kick it fully into fall, how about Maple Glazed Spiced Pumpkin Cookies?  In baking, the more adjectives you have to add to the title the better, I think.  So yes.  Of course, since we have our little Littles peeking hopefully over the countertop, we will add Vegan to the lineup.
This recipe was made up by combining and adapting pumpkin cookie recipes from the internet, and Little One helped me think of the icing at the last minute.  They turned out really yummy.  They are fluffy, soft, almost cake-like cookies and while I didn't get a picture of them all dressed up, the glaze makes them shiny and pretty to boot.  Even if you don't usually go vegan in your baking, this one may be worth a try.  And here you go:

Vegan Maple-Glazed Spiced Pumpkin Cookies

Ingredients:

For Cookies






5 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoon baking soda
4 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup earth balance margarine
3 cups white sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 flax or replacement eggs 
3 cups baked, pureed pumpkin

For Glaze

2 cup confectioners' sugar
4 tablespoons maple syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Soy Milk 

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 450. 
2. Wash pumpkin, poke holes in sides, set on foil in a baking dish and bake for at least an hour, until very soft. 
3. Reduce oven temperature to 350, and remove pumpkin.
4. Peel pumpkin, remove seeds, and puree in a blender or food processor until very smooth.
5. Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves, and salt; set aside.
6. Beat margarine and sugar until creamy. 
7. Beat in pumpkin, replacement egg, and vanilla to butter mixture until smooth. 
8. Mix in dry ingredients until well combined. Drop on cookie sheet by tablespoonfuls.
9. Bake 15 to 20 minutes, remove and cool.
10. With a fork, combine sifted confectioners sugar with maple syrup, vanilla, and just enough soy milk (if necessary) to make a smooth icing.  
11. Drizzle over cookies with a fork or glaze with a pastry brush and let set.  
12. Yum.  

Little Mister

Poor little guy.
Third child, two diva older sisters.
He has a lot to compete with for attention already!
I know I haven't talked much about the Little Mister much, but it's not as if we've forgotten him.  In fact, with a belly like this, it's not as if we possibly could!
We are officially "full term" now, just a couple weeks and change from our due date and definitely at the waiting expectantly stage. 
Aaaaannnyy time there, little dude.  Any time at all.
I try to appreciate the experience of pregnancy even though- as I may have mentioned- it's not my thing.  This particular round, in which the nausea never did leave off entirely, among other interesting adventures, is frankly a job I would only go through to get to the best thing in the world.  Which, fortunately, is exactly the point.
While pregnancy isn't on my list of favorite things, babies? Babies I get to keep?  Number one. 
These days I'm enormous and uncomfortable and ready to get the show on the road so I can begin a road to recovery.  But mostly I'm anxious for the finish line because I'm just so so excited to meet this little guy!  I can't wait to see what He looks like, count His toes, hear His voice and sit up exhausted in the middle of the night, snuggling Him and learning about who He is.  Not even Christmas morning could be more exciting to look forward to than all that!
It will be so fun to see what kind of a guy He turns out to be.  So far, he seems pretty chill.
Unlike His sisters before him, who seemed to be doing acrobatics or trying to escape- particularly Missy who I'm pretty sure kept in shape with some cardio kickboxing in there- He has been fairly calm in His little pre-life.  He moves around, but all long it's been mostly languid stretches, maybe shifting position a little.  Around 10pm He gets a little more active each day, but even then His punches and kicks have almost never knocked the wind out of me like Little One and Miss used to do. Such a Little gentleman already.  Whether He will really be as calm out here in the big world, or has just been conserving energy to be a wild little thing, we will have to wait and see. 
I'm a little nervous about His grand entrance, a little nervous about this new prospect of raising a boy, a little nervous about juggling three Littles.  But more than anything I'm feeling blessed.  To have all that to wonder and worry over and look forward to, about having had this uncomfortable but amazing and certainly unique experience of growing a person.  And to think that soon, where we hadn't even realized we had a huge hole in our lives, it will be filled by the perfect missing piece of our family.
Hopefully very soon.
Aaaaaannnyy time now, Mister...

An Overly Opinionated Post

Little one snuggled up for an extra long goodnight hug, and sighed, her lip blooming into a little pout.
"What is it?" I asked
LO: "Mommy...why is it? Why is it you and daddy has always to work so much? All the time?! Why is you always taking care of the house, and cleaning the things, and folding stuff and all those things? Why does you have to work so much?"
C: "Well, Little One, because that's my job right now.  To take care of you and Missy and take care of the house.  I have to try to work hard at my jobs."
LO: "But whaa-hyyyyy? You don't need take care of the house! Its fine! You should do other stuff!"
C: "Oh. What do you think I should do instead?"
LO: "Sleep! Sleep and rest! And color, draw pictures.  And play."
C: "You think I need more playing time."
LO: "Yes! Stop washing all the stuff mama.  You and daddy work too much."

Later, when we'd said our goodnights, I thought about what she'd said.  My first impulse was to feel terribly guilty, jump on the sappy-mom-blog post all us moms have seen a hundred iterations of, and throw down the mop. Let the dust bunnies collect and organize and start a union, and dedicate each of my darling babies' waking hours to coloring fields of flowers, being ordered about in endless games of pretend, and mixing mud pies.
I wanted to, I really did.  For a minute.
And then I remembered that I do all of those things. I do them all! Just not constantly.
And here's the thing about that.  Part of being a good mom is actually taking care of my kids.  Not taking care to cherish them, not taking care to fulfill their every emotional need- taking actual, physical care of them.  Part of that includes making sure that they have healthy meals, clean clothes, and a hygienic environment in which we can all find things and feel at peace.  When did it really become fashionable to let children live in a sty and eat take-out so that mom has more time to play dress-up? And who does that really sound like it benefits?
There's another reason I think I'll hang onto that mop, after all.  While I could try to do it all, play with the children all day and then madly rush to get every chore done while they sleep, I don't actually want them to think that the laundry washes itself and the toothpaste on the counter evaporates overnight.  I want them to know that having a nice life takes work.  I want them to know about work.
I want them to see me work, and know that J has a job and works hard and I have a job and work hard, because that is what grown-ups do. It's certainly what I expect my kids to do, when they are grown up.  And rather than spring that lovely little reality on them all at once around college age, as I've seen done many times, I personally would rather break it to them gradually.  In a way that it becomes a part of the background, the fabric of living, taken for granted that in life you grow up, and you work hard.
So that you can have what you need, so that you can contribute to the greater good of your choice, so that you make goals and meet them, and know what it means to achieve and be productive.  And so that when you have children to provide for, with your job or by personally scrubbing the aftermath of an afternoon of mud pies in the garden, you can do a good job for them.
I know my kids wish I spent all my time revolving around them like tiny suns, letting the rest of the universe take care of itself.  Sometimes, to tell the truth, that's what I dream of too.  Building a duplo city is a lot more appealing than picking up the dog poo in the yard.  But I'm not going to hide behind the "cool moms don't care about chores" trend when I'd rather play.  I'm going to get my stuff done, so we don't all step in it.
And so my kids learn that although they are the center of the little universe inside my heart, always, they are not the actual center of the literal universe, all the time.  Sometimes. We have to be with ourselves.  Or play with our siblings and friends, even if they are less likely to take directives. Or to wait.  And sometimes, actually a lot of times, we have to work.  Hard.  I want my kids to learn that everything is not about them.
And then, when they grow up, if they know how to set goals and persist until they achieve them, how to get along with others and how to be alone sometimes, and how to do their own laundry for Pete's sake; if they look back over a childhood that felt organized and smelled like coconut curry instead of stale laundry, then.  Then I hope they will see that actually, it was all about them, after all.  

The Adventures Continue

Each year, Dr. Allergy likes to get a good, solid idea of where we stand in the world of the Littles' allergies.  Children, still growing and becoming who they are, have minds made for learning.  And bodies, too.  Sometimes, those smart little bodies can learn over time that food is...food.  Not poison.
As you know, Little One has already passed the test on several foods Her body rejected when She was a baby.  So each year we take Her little immune system over to the clinic for some standardized testing, to see if it has learned anything.
Now that Missy is old enough, She gets to be drilled, too.

Literally.
The test involves rows of little pin pricks, each of which is exposed to a drop of something Dr. Allergy suspects could cause a reaction.
Now Little One does quite well in actual school.
But Her punk little immune system is kind of a slacker.  It is totally this guy:

Generally speaking, the thing never does it's homework, and has basically been held back in three different subjects for years.  So Little One's fill-in-the-circle sheet for this round of immunologic exams looked like this:

To see whether Her immune system had learned anything about not mistaking food for poison, and also to make sure it hasn't forgotten what it knew and started to be allergic to new things.  You can never tell with that renegade.
It's quite a lot of pinpricks.  But Little One knew that Missy was next.  That Missy was scared, and watching.  So She smiled through the whole pincushion process.  Moments afterwards, when those spots began to burn and itch, She got very quiet.
I went around front to check on Her, and found Her biting the chair, with tears streaming down Her face.  She didn't want to scare Her sister, so She suffered in silence.  It must have itched like crazy, too.  Because a moment or two was all it took to for Her immune system to start filling out the form.

FAIL.

Happily, there are no new allergies to contend with.  Unhappily, Her immune system has been cutting class and not studying at ALL.  Her allergist tells me not to even bother next year.
Let me put it this way.  A 3mm wheal is what counts as a solid positive reaction on a skin test.  Little One's measured in the high 20's.  Sigh. 
At least we have one motivated immune system in the family- Missy had much better results.

While She is still quite allergic to shellfish (no lobster dinners in this girl's future), Her tests for peaches, egg, and milk were negative!
So, to see if She's really outgrown the allergies, or if they've just improved enough not to flare on a scratch test, Missy's immune system gets to advance to final exams- food challenge.
Missy doesn't seem to quite grasp the implications of this yet (which is just as well since we have learned from Her sister that sometimes it doesn't work out as we hope).  But I'M excited! And Little One, though pretty disappointed with Her own results, is excited for Her sister too.
I will keep you Peanuts posted.  In the meantime, we shall continue to treat nuts, eggs, and milk as if they are radioactive when Little One is around, shall we?  And I can't help but think of Little Mister and muse, as Dr. Allergy did that day, "Hmm.  Wonder what this one has in store for us! Hopefully NOTHING."

Car Wash

Recently, when I knew we had a rough morning ahead of us, I promised the Littles a special treat if they could be patient- the drive-through car wash. 
OOooooooOOOoohhhhH!!!
I like to bribe creatively.  The drive-through car wash is SO exciting, because, well, all that water! And you don't. Even. Get. Wet.  It looks like you might! Ahh! But you don't.  OOoooOOhhh!
They behaved like angels, and even though we agreed it might not be the most thrilling, fantastic drive-through car wash we'd ever experienced, it was still full of awesomeness. 
The awesomeness has continued to be discussed and reenacted with the cozy coupe since. 
This morning I buckled in Missy and observed,
"Yikes! It's getting messy in here! I think we'd better clean out this car today." 
Missy looked around and nodded in consternation,"Oooh, yes.  Lookin' duhty.  So we need 'nudder cah wash, Mama! YAY cah wash time!"
C: "Well, this time I think we need to clean the INside of the car, though."
Miss: "Yep, yes.  The in-sahd.  Hmm.  I have the right a-dea! To clean the in-sahd, we can go to the cah wash, and put the windows down! OK!" 

Not my first thought on a 28 degree morning.  But I'm sure it would be exciting.