Movies

Dan + Emily + Date Night Movie



And a movie we both enjoyed:

Baptism Pics

Random Motherhood Thoughts

Random, random thoughts I have about motherhood:

1. Magazines are inspiring. They inspire me to live vicariously through them. 

2. What is more likely: 

a. Successfully returning an item that has been accidentally dragged through slush

or

b. Successfully returning an item which has no tags due to Miss Scissorhands?

3. I blog to know I'm not alone.

And a little something for the Hubs (Who I adore):

1.  When I can't find something, I HAVE to blame others first. If I realize that I'm losing it, I'll never regain my sanity. Take the blame and everyone will be happy.

2. How do I spell sexy? 

T-A-K-I-N-G   O-U-T   T-H-E   T-R-A-S-H

3. As a matter of fact, pearl earrings DO go with sweatpants. I'm glad you like them.

4. I have no idea how a mega bag of Skitt*les ended up in my shopping cart. (This is the part where you take the blame.)

5. Sorry... I traded in the tatas for these lactose producing missiles. Approach with caution.

6. Before marriage, I couldn't wait to go to bed with you. Now I can't wait to go to sleep with you. There is a difference.

7. When you come home at night, you have your choice of one out of three:

a. A super sexy wife

b. A clean house

c. Clean, well fed children

Keep in mind that "sexy" means "showered", 

"clean house" means "the right side of the kitchen sink is empty"

and

"clean, well-fed children" may just mean that they ate Cheerios and watched TV.

Your choice.

Good

I am proud of my occupation: Mother. 

I couldn't always say that. I was never embarrassed of it, per se, except when high-powered looking people started flaunting their accomplishments. Then I would add to the conversation with my accomplishments. (Silly.) But now I'm coming to terms with the high honor it is to be a mother, a nurturer. 

I see the beauty in holding my infant and knowing that sometimes there is no cure for her fussiness but a long strong hold from momma. I smile at those times. It's good.

It's a job that is constantly changing. I kind of like that challenge. I like walking side by side Morgan as she sheds her babyness and embraces her girlness. I like painting her fingernails as an excuse to talk to her about girly things; it's one of the only times to get her to sit still. And as much as I disliked educating her about the female body parts (at her insistence), I like the fact that she accepted her femininity with surprising excitement. It's good.

Today I had an unexpected visit to the pediatrician. I went to pick up Morgan from preschool and in the course of a conversation with another mother, it had been suggested that baby Eve had an ear infection. I went to the doctor straight from there. In fact, it wasn't until we were at the doc's office that I realized that there was dried chocolate sauce dribbled down my shirt and onto my pants. The doctor was giving me instructions and I caught her eye volleying between my eyes and the stain on my shirt. Eyes. Stain. Eyes. Stain. I was very tempted to make light of my dirty situation but I told myself: "No. This is your uniform. Wear it proudly. Do not bring up your chocolate stain to the doctor." I spoke as intelligently as I could and did not break eye contact with the beautifully coiffed doctor. That was good, too.

And then, when I wearily came home, the baby was crying more and I needed to take a break from her. (She was, after all, fed, changed and warm.) So I went into my "office"... the ever-luxurious hot shower. I went primarily to drown out the sound of crying. I went to relax my weary muscles. And it didn't hurt to clean up a bit, too. It was very good.

And now... now I am blogging because tempted as I may be to pick up my adorable infant (who I think is now asleep)... I need to respect this precious time to recoup and become new again. Or at least new-ish. It's all good.

Dear Eve

Dear Eve,

You are now 4 weeks old. You are wonderful.

You're very much alike your sister and yet very much your own person. I can't describe how you're "you" but in the near future I hope that those words will materialize. For now, I just marvel.

I have a confession: I'm in love. I have no idea how you managed to wriggle your way into my heart in such a short time, but you did. Your sister has accepted you into her life since your were in utero. She effortlessly claimed that she loved you, even before she could feel you kick. She has that marvelous "faith like a child" love. I owe her a heap of thanks for showering you with the love that I had a hard time realizing. 

In fact, it wasn't until the day of your birth as I was pushing you that it occurred to me that you were actually coming. The nurse said, "I hope you like a bald baby" as you were crowning. Her efforts to get me to push harder may have worked against her because I began to bawl. Out loud. I guffawed in a way that should only befit grief, but I assure you it was joy. And shock. But mostly joy. 

The tears haven't stopped. I cry on average once a day. It's mostly when I'm feeding you and gazing at how marvelously you were made. I cry at the mystery of your appearance. I know that there was IVF involved, a marvelous medical discovery. And I know that a heap of hope and perseverance didn't hurt either. But at the end of the day, no amount of positive thinking or medical cocktails made your blond lashes or peach fuzz hair. It was God. Pure and simple. 

And now I have the privilege to raise you, creation of God, into a woman who knows who she is, who God is and what love is. Amazing.

I'll write more later. The tasks of daily life are calling me again. 

But know that I love you and look forward to the days ahead,

Mommy

She Speaks

Emily: "Morgan, it is VERY cold outside, so when we run out of the car into the mall, I want you to keep your mittens on."

Morgan: "Oh yes... or else my fingers will fall off."

Emily: "What?"

Morgan: "You told me that if I keep my fingers in the cold my fingers will fall off."

Oh yes... now I'm recalling the talk about frostbite.

Emily: "Um, right. So don't do it." 

______________________

Morgan got a happy meal at McDs yesterday. The toy giveaway is a little dog... different each week. This was Morgan's response:

"Mom! Mom! Look! This time the dog can actually stand up. The last one has one leg that's shorter than the others!"

Laughing... well, it was made in China. I'm glad she thinks it's Christmas all over again.

How You Know You're Tired

When I read a comment my husband made on my blog about "feminine napkins" but had to re-read the blog b/c I thought he was commenting about how he met me:

"Oh, come on -- there's like, a million different types of those things on the shelves! And I'm not the type of guy to spend more than twenty seconds looking for the right ones...any longer, and I start feeling like I'm under surveillance by all the women in the store. I look, I grab, I run. Any guys out there? Back me up!"

Words that Bite Me Back.

This is what happens when you tell your 5-year old that she can't share a drink with you b/c of germs and sore throats:

Morgan: "Mom, how about we do something special and share that last cupcake before we have our breakfast?"

Emily: "Okay. You cut it in half."

Confession: It's going to be a long day... Dan is out of town and I'm exhausted. I'm totally caving and I don't care. Besides... cupcakes and donuts are the same thing. :)

Morgan: "Oh, you know what? I touched the donut and I don't want you to get my germs. I should eat the whole thing Mom, okay?"

Emily: (Smirking) "Good point, Morgan. I don't want your germs, either. You should eat the whole thing."

Yep. Gonna be a long day.

And this is what happens when you define words like "emergency"  as for your 5-year old and she uses it against you:

Morgan: "Mom, can I have one of your granola bars?" 

(I keep granola bars in the car for when my sugar level crashes or when I'm ravenously hungry due to breastfeeding. Keep in mind, Morgan has JUST had breakfast and we're on the way to preschool.)

Emily: "No, sweetie... Mommy needs those for, um, emergencies."

Morgan: "An emergency is when someone is bleeding, Mom." 

She looks at me skeptically. I'm too tired to argue with her. 

Emily: "No. You can't have one." 

That's right. I said "no". I didn't explain anymore. I just said a good, old-fashioned nada.

And one for good measure:

Morgan: "Is this movie suited to my level?"

Lands, she is Dan's child.

Letter to Body

Do you talk to your body? When I feel like being mean to my body, sometimes I talk to it. Not out loud... in my head. And this is essentially what I've been saying to it lately:

Dear Body,

Well, hello there! Long time no see! I mean, there's still plenty to see, but a lot less than 4 weeks ago. 

First, an extra special hello to toes. You guys look great, you really do. Sorry I didn't splurge for the pedicure before the whole birthing thing, but it was slushy and cold out and I didn't want you to have to endure more than you already had. Plus, ankles were swelling and complainy. You know how it was.

Stomach, you look great. Don't worry about the new vertical line that the belly buttons appears to have drooled down... it happened with Morgan's birth, too and it will probably go away. Even if it doesn't, you really look great considering. Oh, and the extra "love" that overflowed onto the back... that's totally normal. Just be glad it's winter and enjoy the extra warmth. Oh, and thanks for enduring all those shots. It was so worth it. You took one for the team.

Congrats to the tatas. Feeding a baby frequently can really get one down, but you girls are workhorses. Good job, ladies!

I do have a little extra encouragement for you, face. I know you're sad that you can't find your bone structure too well anymore. You will. It just takes time. And at the end of the day, it doesn't matter. Let's just be thankful that you can eat, okay? Eating is good. Keeping it down is even better. Yes?

Good job to all of you... organs, bones, muscles, emotions... I'm really proud of you all. Now be kind to yourselves... you need to regain your strength again. 

Signing out,

Self

Eve Pics

Ain't no silent night around here. Just sleepy days.

This week's forecast: Snowy with a chance of dimples.

"What you talkin' about?"

Got milk?

This post is only for those who can handle lactation-speak. This is a quasi-fictional piece I created based on the past weeks of working with lactation-consultants, reading La Lech*e League books and listening to my sleep-deprived mind-vomits. I wrote it to help me laugh. 

Emily: "My milk production is down lately. Can you tell me how to increase the supply?"

Advisor: "Are you getting enough to drink?"

Emily: "Probably not. I'm pretty forgetful lately."

Advisor: "Are you getting enough rest?"

Emily: "Define 'enough'."

Advisor: "Well, I think you should let the baby nurse whenever she wants for now."

Emily: (Hesistant.) "Okay."

Advisor: "And hold her as much as possible. It's also a good idea to let her co-sleep with you. Infants don't care about the clock. Don't count on every 2-3 hour feedings. Sometimes they just want comfort."

Emily: "Mmmm-hmmm. Doesn't this conflict with your earlier question about my rest?"

Advisor: "You can rest with her."

Emily: "Sure, sure. (bahaaa) Question: I have a 5 year old also... how am I supposed to take care of her while I'm co-sleeping and holding a baby all day?"

Advisor: "Oh, it's really not all that hard. You simply keep the baby in a sling on yourself all day and you can do most of your regular activities. You can do laundry, dishes and play with your other child. While you make organic, wholesome dinners."

Emily: "What about when I shower?"

Advisor: "We don't advise that you shower until 6 months from now when you are fully trained in breast feeding. At that point you are allowed to have your spouse give you a sponge bath."

Emily: "And where will the baby be?"

Advisor: "Remember the sling? Also, don't forget to eat healthfully during these key milk-producing times."

Emily: "Cool... I haven't been out in ages. I look forward to grocery shopping."

Advisor: "Actually, you aren't allowed out until 1 year from now. Your spouse will have to shop for you while you fatten up your milk supply. Plus, you'll want to have a 'milk bank', so between feedings I want you to pump more milk for future use. By the way, don't eat any fiber-producing veggies, dairy, wheat or sugar. They hurt milk supply and flavor." 

Emily: "Lands... how in the name of lactation am I supposed to survive on that diet?"

Advisor: "Now, now... it's all about milk supply. And remember not to be stressed, dear. You need to rest."

They're not resolutions. Aw, heck. Maybe They Are.

1. Learn some new hairstyles. 

2. Learn to preserve jam.

3. Grow an honest-to-goodness producing garden.

4. Memorize the Ten Commandments. In order. Verbatim.

5. Give knitting a whirl.

6. Make family first:

1. My household family. 

2. My siblings/parents. 

3. My "family-ish" friends.

7. Make Dan more of a priority. 

8. Show hospitality in simple ways. (Dan wants to showcase his beer... Beer and Chili dinners?)

9. Use my decorating abilities to make the house feel more like "us" and less like the last owners.

10. Show my gratefulness for health this year by doing physically fun activities. Canoeing? Biking with the fam?

Grace

I am acutely aware of how impatient and controlling I am.

I bought bulk chapstick the other day so I could put it at all my "nursing stations" around the house. I'm dry all the time. I can't find them because I have a little friend who wants to be like her mother and immediately confiscated them for her own purposes. Patience, patience...

I had over 100 pictures developed yesterday of Eve and the family. I spent several minutes before dinner organizing them into piles for different family members. It felt so good to organize something, albeit small, during such a chaotic time. Then I hid them. Morgan found them. And put most of them in her new photo album book to take to school. I had already given her 30 pictures to put in her album. But she needed more. Patience...

I have a water bottle that I carry around so I can keep hydrated. Morgan wants to drink out of it even though I told her I have a sore throat. She wants my water bottle, not hers. Patience...

All day long I have a little girl who desperately wants her mother to know that she's trying to grow up and do things just like her mom. But her mom, unfortunately, is a grump lately and doesn't see the charm in her imitation. 

Grace to Morgan and me.

Thoroughly Thursday

And*roid

This is the Google And*roid. 

It's sitting in a box on top of my fridge.

My husband offered it to me. He received it from his work. 

If Dan had a normal wife, she would jump for joy and tackle him with screams of delight. But poor Dan married me. The technophobe. 

New technology scares me. 

My current cell phone is at least 4 years old. It doesn't even have a camera on it.

I keep cars as long as possible because I get attached to them.

I have the latest browser loaded on my M*ac, but I usually use the older version. 

To further illustrate, let me add this: 

Dan's family bought his grandmother a microwave oven years ago and the dear elderly woman was so frightened by the novelty of it that she used it to hold dishes she wasn't using. She never used it.

Dan's family gets a laugh from that story. 

I will totally be that old woman years from now.

I'm not sure if I want to activate this beautiful piece of technology. It would open a whole new world of accessibility for me. Photos. Texting. Wireless internet. 

So I'm asking for advice on the pros and cons of activating this phone. 

-Waffle Girl

Ten Thoughts

1. It's really unfair of me to expect my husband to pick out the right --how shall I say it-- "feminine napkins" at the grocery store. Even though I give him the exact specs. It's just not fair of me. 

2. How is it that both my daughters need me at the same time just as they both DON'T need me at the same time? Hmmmm.

3. Is it Murphy's Law that the phone only rings when I put my head on a pillow? Or that the baby only cries when I try to nap?

4. When will my face become unswollen again? 

5. When will I be able to wear jeans again? Will I wear sweats the rest of my life? 

6. Can I install nanny cams in all my friends houses who have newborns? I want to see how they do it.

7. How did basic needs suddenly becomes luxuries once Eve arrived? Showers? Breakfast?

8. Why do I keep looking at photos of myself as a skinnier person? Wait, don't answer that.

9. People told me to enjoy my pregnancy, even the last trimester. They said I'd miss it. 

I don't. 

I love being "un-pregnant" and having Eve in my arms.

10. How come whenever I try to think of what I did in 2008, it all revolves around Eve?

Jan: Started paperwork for IVF

Feb: Drugs for IVF

March: Drugs for IVF

April: Transfer of embryos

May: Sick

June: Sick

July: Sick

August: Less sick

September: Grew baby

October: Grew baby

November: Grew baby

December: Had baby

First Day on the Job

The day has begun.

The day began with the 3am feeding for me. But technically it didn't begin until Dan left for work. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Dan kissed me goodbye. I remember that much. And we prayed for each other. 

A little while later my precocious 5 year old came into the room with these morning greetings: "Mom-I-didn't-get-the-Little-Pony-set-I-wanted-the-one-that-my-friend-Emily-has-so-please-please-please-can-you-buy-it-for-me-today?" Diplomacy was necessary at that early hour. 

My folks leave for the airport in a couple of hours. We called a service to drive them b/c the day felt too big for me to drive them. Call me weak, but I'm trying to make this first day home the best it can possibly be. Read: I'm trying to remain rested and strong.

But the day is starting right so far: feeding a hungry infant, praying with my best friend, kissing same best friend and steering the thoughts of my 5 year old to better things.

God, give me strength.

Square Dance

I can't believe it. I'm blogging. 

I'm not the most strong of women-folk when it comes to breastfeeding. I find the process very rewarding and also a lot of work. A lot. I can almost hear a caller at a square dance as I attempt to navigate each day:

"Now pick up your partner from her crib.

Check her pants for things unclean.

Try to not step on your 5 yr old's toes.

She's underfoot now, there she goes.

You've just changed your infant just to find

That she's pooped again and you want to sigh.

But keep your head 'cause the day is long

If you lose your mind, it'll go all wrong.

Now sleep when you can and sleep when you can't

'Cause there's no time for stopping to rest or pant

When the babe's awake and crying for food

You'll be much more happy if you're not crying, too.

Then go to sleep for a fitful rest

And do it again 'til they're grown at last."

And in the midst of it all, as I look at my beautiful daughters I know that this is 

exactly 

what 

I 

wanted.