My Kids, aka: The Pirahnas

Pure Excitement

Gruesome

I found all these great gruesome pictures from my broken ankle this last summer!  They are so awesome! And, yes, it is REALLY hard to paint your toenails when you break your ankle, so my toe nail polish was NOT up to par here.

I can tell you, this helped make it a fantastic summer.  )o:

A brief glimpse of our lives...

The conversations on these videos are the epitome of our family right now.  I love it!

Savannah 101

It has been so fun watching Savannah develop over the past 6 months. She is our first baby to roll over before she crawled! At 4 months, she started flipping over onto her tummy and has slept that way ever since. Thank heavens we got a breathing monitor, or I would have been a paranoid wreck. SO worth the money to have a good night's sleep!! She catches on to things so quickly! She can push herself up on her arms and pivot around to reach a favorite toy. Then, about a month ago, we sat her down on the floor, and she just stayed sitting, easy as can be like she had been doing it forever! We were amazed at her "skilz". A few weeks ago she started saying "Mama" when she was sad and wanted to call for me. The other day I'm pretty sure I heard a "Dada" too. Just to have it out there and documented...she said "Mama" first! hahaha!

I haven't written anything (hardly) about my sweet new baby, Savannah; either here or in my journal. It's time to change that!

Here's what happened:

Around my due date, I got really, really sick. Deep, hacking cough, weakness, head exploding...it was awesome. I cuddled up with a heating pad and humidifier for about 2 weeks... but, anyway...The day after my due date, I was so miserable and in so much pain just from the pregnancy itself, that I broke down sobbing in my poor doctor's office, telling him that I was done and couldn't hold on to my positive attitude anymore. He probably gets that a LOT. So, he called up the hospital to put me in the queue to be induced. They called me late the next night to see if I wanted to come in then. I was exhausted, I was even sicker than I had been the day before, and I knew I could not do it, so I declined but asked to be kept on the list. I'm a naturalist at heart, and I really didn't want to be induced if I could help it...but that was REALLY battling my desire to not be pregnant anymore. A week went by and I didn't hear anything, but by the time my next appointment rolled around, I was feeling a whole lot better. (I made a huge effort to be apologetic and cheerful for that one.) The next morning at 8:00, the hospital called to see if I could come in right away. I said "Heck, yes!", grabbed my bag and my husband, called my mom so she could watch the kids, and waddled ran out the door.

Once at the hospital, it took a while to get all set up. We were hoping they would just break my water and I would labor naturally, but the doctor wasn't going to be able to come for another 4 hours. The nurse proposed that we try just the slightest bit of pitocin to get me started and then see where we were when the doctor got there. Paul and I conferred, then agreed to that. It turned out to be an AWESOME experience. My best labor by FAR! The only thing I wanted out of the whole labor deal was a healthy baby and a nice experience, which I didn't feel was too much to ask since all of my other births had been pretty horrific. So, after 2 hours with a really low dose of pit, the doctor came in and broke my water (gross!). We stopped the pitocin and everything went great from there. We had asked my good friend Melanie to come and be our photographer and labor support (listening to Paul talk to someone really helps me cope, for some weird reason), and she turned out to be the biggest blessing during this.

We decided to wait until I was in active labor to call her over, because that would have just been boring for her, but once we really got going, she was there. I pretty much chanted my way through the whole thing...("ow, ow, ow, ow") or whatever word I happened to be using to respond to someone at the time. Paul was an absolute hero, losing major circulation in his arm while I clung to him and walked the halls ("sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry"). Melanie is really good at reading my non-verbal queues that even my Paul didn't see, so between the two of them, I felt totally taken care of. I also experienced a huge blessing right around the time that it got so painful I could hardly bear it and started praying ("Father, help, Father, help, Father, help"); there is about a 30 minute time period of which I have no memory. It was a sweet, tender mercy at that point.
 My helpers could tell during this time that I was getting close because every question they asked me, I was completely unable to process ("I don't know, I don't know, I don't know").
Melanie ran out into the hall for the doctor at this point and we had a quick, extremely painful pushing session, screamed my guts out, probably deafened my doctor and traumatized other, medicated laborers, and voila! Baby! .
There had been meconium when they broke my water (did I mention--gross!?), so they whisked the baby up to the little carrier thing to check her out while the doctor worked on other, messy, stuck things and I did more screaming...which scared the cookies out of my new baby. Melanie ran over to comfort my Savannah while Paul held my hand and helped me cope. It all ended just in time too. Melanie had to leave for play rehearsal at 6:30 and Savannah was born at 6:29, which I thought was very considerate of her. She was 9 lbs, 12 oz and very long too, with these sweet fat cheeks that rested on her chest, and more hair than any of my other babies had possessed before the age of one. She had a little stork bit between her eyebrows, one over her left eye and one on the back of her head.
 All of my girls have had at least one, so it was like a sweet little stamp of recognition when I saw them. Her hair has red highlights that you can only see in the sun, and, at six months, her eyes still haven't decided quite which color they are going to be. Some people say they are blue, some say brown. I'm leaning more towards blue, myself...but it's her grin that really sticks out. She is the smiling-est baby I ever saw.  She was so big, that when my brother-in-law Jay first saw a picture of her, he exclaimed, "That's not a baby! That's a full-grown woman!" I still laugh about that.

Our new baby had a rough first day and was pretty sad. She would eat okay, but it wasn't until after Paul's mom visited that we really got some results. She took one look at my sweet baby and realized that she was tongue tied. They clipped the bottom of her tongue and she has eaten like a champ ever since. Loving the benefits of having a lactation consultant in the family!

 After a terrible night's sleep for Paul, he left us in the hospital for the day so he could go home and sleep, then get some things done. Savannah and I spent a quiet day resting and bonding. I just loved looking at her!  It had been nearly 4 years since my last baby, and you forget how sweet it is to lock eyes with a newborn and watch them just drink you in. After a nice long, quiet day in the hospital (during which I got a call telling me I had gotten the promotion to Lead at work and another call saying Paul had gotten the teaching job at Charter--we should stay in the hospital more often!), several visitors, and a couple of calls to Paul reminding him to come and get us, we went home.
  My parents, with whom the kids had been staying, had brought them all over before school to come meet their new sister. They were so sweet and just loved her right away. (The first thing Audrey said was, "NOW, am I four?!" because we had told her that her birthday was after the baby came. She was very disappointed at our answer.)
The kids were ecstatic to have a baby at home, and I LOVED having Mom come stay with me for a week to help out. This week is so wonderful, and I really look forward to it every time I have a child. We stay up late, take turns napping, and just generally enjoy the baby, the other kids and each other. My mom is my absolute best friend besides my husband, and is just so fun to be around. It makes this week especially fun! This time was a little bit more challenging because of how much help my dad needs now, and how hard it was for my mom to get away. We were so, so blessed to have family members pitch in to help, and my sister to come stay with him over the weekend. That week with Mom was the best gift they could possibly have given me.

She has truly been a joy to have in our home. She is remarkably happy and smiley (she started smiling at only a few days old), only fussing when she gets really hungry or it's nap time. There is no "fussy period" at any time during the day. The kids get a lot of joy out of playing with her, getting her to laugh (Kobe is the master at this by making silly faces and saying "Boogally Boo!") I love, love, love this sweet-tempered, mild little love of a baby!!!

Ah, Heck.

Let's add some more, just for fun.  These are all pictures that Kobe took

 on his own camera.  I think he did awesome!

This is one of our kitties.  Her name is "Snittles".  This was a mix between "Skittles" and "Snickers".  The kids couldn't decide, so this was the compromise.

Kobe was so proud that he got a picture of his baby sister giving him kisses.  I've never seen a little boy so crazy about a sibling, at least since the last one was born, got bigger...and then became a stinker(o:  

He's got a very real gift with little kids. 

This picture always goes along with a husky voice saying, "Hey, baby.  How about a little kiss?"

Finding her toes

She is such a very happy baby (Thank you, Babywise!), and is Kobe's very favorite picture subject.

 This is "Dusty", the mascot of our local baseball team, the Dust Devils.  We went to a game last night (what a blast!).  Below is a pic of most of our family...we never did get everyone.  I'm wearing the sleeping Savannah in my Moby Wrap (thank you, Jennie!), and Audrey could never get high enough to squish in. 

We took what we could get.  Kobe especially had a blast blowing every last bit of his birthday money.  

But, hey.  That's what birthday money is for, right?

Lots of New Pictures!

Both of our big kids got digital cameras for their birthdays this year (thank you, Amazon!), so we've got a lot more people taking pics!  It's been a while since I put some up here, so this should be fun!

Here is my sweet Audrey, snuggling with Savannah.

All my big kids asleep in the same bed.  We never know where 

they are all going to end up every night.  I love it!

Kobe continues to be the Group Activity Leader.  Here, he has 

wrangled up his posse of "Super Tickle Blankie" heroes

Our pseudo-mommy at work.  Nicole is a HUGE help.

Sometimes this baby gets a little TOO much love, if you know what I mean.

 The ironic thing is that the hand-written sign on the box (per Kobe) says "Rule: One at a Time"

My sweet baby, asleep in her posh swing.

 I LOVE thumb suckers!  This reminds me of my sweet Audrey here (click, then scroll down) the first time she sucked her thumb.  They are even wearing the same shirt!  How weird is that?!  (The only way I can tell them apart in the pictures is that Audrey sucks her right thumb and Savannah sucks her left.) Miraculously, Savannah also takes a passie.  Makes me feel like she is bilingual or something.  She only uses her thumb when she is trying to put herself back to sleep when she is in her bed.

Oh, the darling foot toosies!

My Audrey, asleep in the hall; this is her favorite place to sleep right now.  Yes, my children really do all have their own beds.  Nice beds.  I promise. 

 This is her first self-portrait.  Isn't it good?  (o:

My Perfect Imperfect Mother's Day

I love Mother's Day; not because everyone makes it a perfect day for me, but because of all the imperfections. My Mother's Day starts the night before when, like the night before Valentine's Day, my hubby makes an emergency late night trip to the store.  This might offend some women, that their true love doesn't remember these "special" days until the night before, but it never has bothered me.  He makes so many other days special so frequently that these two dates on the calendar aren't going to tip the scales out of his favor.  I can't count the times, just in the last week in the normal course of his day, he has taken the baby so I can get a nap, washed the dishes, brushed Audrey's teeth so I can have a few minutes to myself, delivered food to my "office" while I was working because he knew I was hungry, and mediated child squabbles to help keep the peace in our home.  So, if my Mother's Day gift is a little...spontaneous, I'm really not upset.

The morning of Mother's Day is always the same too.  The kids start peeking in our room very early in the morning (inadvertantly waking me each time) to see if I am conscious yet.  Then, when they see me stirring, they run downstairs to the kitchen and proceed to make a catastrophic mess and a brilliant cacophony of noise to produce my "breakfast in bed."  This meal is usually eggs (half raw, half burnt) and a wide variety of weirdness on the side.  Today, it was yogurt, bananas, juice and hot dogs (cooked the "old-fashioned way--in the sun").  As they lay the tray over my lap, Kobe (10) exclaims, "Wait!" and runs downstairs for the shish-kabob sticks, comes back up and skewers the hot dogs, nodding in satisfaction.  I am then allowed to open all my gifts, as the kids proceed to devour most of my meal.  (After they had polished off the hot dogs, the sticks were artistically poked through pieces of banana.)  With my family all around me, a strange mixture of bizarre gifts scattered on the bed, and my husband and I exchanging barely-concealed grins at each other as the last of my eggs gets sneakily stuffed into a little mouth, I am the happiest of mothers.

As I thought back on my perfect imperfect morning, my heart ached in advance, thinking of the day when I won't have a pack of kids gathered on my bed, eating the weird food they have made for me.  I won't get my child's most precious possession as a gift, just to have them take it back again two minutes later.  I won't have sweet little hands wrapped tightly around my head as a wet, sticky Super Kiss is smooshed into my cheek.  It hurts my heart already to know that I can't hold onto this day forever.

All Four

Am I Four Yet?

I think my Audrey (yes, I'm sick of coming up with nicknames for them) has been three for several years now.  All year she has been asking when she is going to be four, but it's really hard to explain to a small child the concept of landmarks in the year.  The best one we could come up with was that she would be four after the baby was born.  Fast forward to that happy, happy day when Savannah was finally here.  The children are all gathered around my hospital bed.  Audrey climbs up onto my lap, looks at the baby, then at me and asks, "NOW am I four?!"  Alas, still another month and a half to wait, baby!

The week of her birthday finally arrived.  Sometimes, she would wake up from a nap, unsure of the day and say, "Am I four today?"  "No," I would reply.  "It's two days after preschool day."  I would hold up my fingers and point to them in turn.  "Here is today, here is tomorrow, and then THIS day is your birthday."  Today was finally the big day.  When I came down in the morning I said, "Audrey!  Today is your birthday!!  You are four now!"  A look of surprise came across her face.  After much squealing and jumping about, she calmed down and came over to me.  "I don't feel four, Mama.  I still feel three and a half!"  Sweet girl.  It makes me sad that my baby is getting so big.  I'm sure that four-ness will soak in soon.  (o:

Love is Patient, Love is Kind

I had forgotten how very much I love being the mother of a newborn.  I love everything about it.  I love that during her awake hours, any time not spent staring into her eyes and talking to her is time wasted.  I love the fleeting grins that she flashes at me, the ones that I only catch if I am right there, gazing into her attentive eyes.  I love her sweet cooing sounds she makes when she is talking to me.  I even love, in the middle of the night when it is hard to get up, how it is impossible to feel impatient with her little awake self.  I love trying to get those tiny, fragile little fingers into long sleeves, and trying to hold those tiny, kicking feet out of her poopy diaper.  I love nursing her.   I love the sweet, gasping little face that is getting hosed down by milk; how she will gulp desperately and then spit out an entire mouthful, just for fun.  I love that she settles down and looks for me when she hears my voice.  I love that she tries to nurse her sister's face and her sister thinks it's a big kiss.  I love that when I am burping her, she snuggles over until her little head is resting under my chin.  I love the soft, sweet-smelling hair that I can breathe in while we snuggle.  I love that she sounds like a squeaky toy when she has the hiccups.  I love how she clasps her little hands together when I am holding her.  I love that she would rather be with me than with anyone else in the world.  I feel so lucky, so blessed to be the mother of a newborn again.  It's a love that softens my outlook on everything.

Pregnancy is Like Death

While I think that is a snappy title, there is a lot of truth to it.  I tried to express this sentiment on Sunday, but I'm pretty sure it didn't come out quite the way I was intending.  (o:  Here are my thoughts:

A few months ago, we were studying New Jerusalem in Sunday School.  As we read about how wonderful, peaceful and safe it is going to be, I found myself growing more and more upset.  After about 15 minutes, I was positively ticked.  I started crying and needed to leave the room to calm down.  This was such a violent reaction for me, and so out of character, that I've been trying to analyze it ever since.  Here is what I came up with.  I felt like it was just plain mean to swing this carrot in front of our noses when it could be a REALLY long time before any of that wonderful stuff ever actually happens; until I can let my kids play outside without worrying that they will be hit by a car or get kidnapped; until I can see my brother walking down the street, just to hang out; until there is actual peace without the constant need to protect my family, or at least the need to think about how I would protect my family if they were threatened.  During that class, I turned to my friend to express my feelings about how I didn't think it was nice to tell us about these things if we may not even live to see them.  She, in her sweet, calm wisdom, said, "But now, we can teach our children; and they might."  Later, I expressed my same concerns to my mother who told me that New Jerusalem was a light at the end of the tunnel, and that it was important that we know that it is there.  These helped a little, but nothing really clicked until last Sunday.

I was sitting in Fast and Testimony meeting, which usually, I must confess, is pretty boring for me.  As one of the bishopric bore his testimony though, an idea sprang to my mind and it was like my whole being gasped in recognition.  Now, for a little background, I am about 8 1/2 months pregnant, and finally feel like I'm actually going to have a baby; not just be sick and miserable for the rest of my life.  The thought that came to me was that the whole idea of New Jerusalem, even of life after death in Heaven, is just like pregnancy.  With pregnancy, while you are in the trenches so to speak, it really feels like the misery is going to go on forever.  I know that I feel exhausted 95% of the time, sick 95% of the time, and in pain 98% of the time.  There are those few moments of pure joy when you feel that sweet baby kicking around, but even that can be painful.  The only thing that makes it worth going through this small eternity of pregnancy is that light at the end of the tunnel; the knowledge that you are going to get something sweet, perfect, and irreplaceable from the experience.

The last two and a half years have felt like this to me.  While we were in North Bend, everything was good.  Then, when my husband got a really great job, it felt like we were about to be handed the world.  We would finally, after 9 years of constant moving and scraping by, be able to have our own home, live a comfortable lifestyle, and settle down.  This was the dream we had been working so hard for.  The day before we closed on our new, perfect home, three days before we were scheduled to move, my husband lost his job.  I had never felt so devastated.  It was a complete rug-being-pulled-out-from-under-your-feet moment.  So, instead of moving into this dream, we moved in with my parents.  Eventually, we did get our own home, and we loved it.  But, then, my brother died.  I have always been the kind of person who bounces back pretty fast after adversity; the flower that springs back up after it has been stepped on.  But, these two things were like the heel that ground my flower to smashed bits into the sidewalk.  I couldn't recover.  But, the thought that came to me as I was sitting in that pew was that we go through all of this; all the terrible pain, the exhaustion, the fear, the disappointment because it is the only way to get that something sweet, perfect and irreplaceable; the reward for enduring through all of this.  That is why we need to know about New Jerusalem, about Heaven and how wonderful it is going to be; so that when we are smashed to the ground and don't feel like we can get up again, we can look forward to that bright, shining moment in the future when we won't feel like this anymore.