This morning as I was hiding from the kids (in one of their rooms because I'm sneaky like that) I had time to reflect about the quilt laid out on the bed in front of me. This particular quilt was made by my mother, about 10 years ago, long before she got cancer and all that heart break. The quilt is a t-shirt quilt, rather garish in colors, being as it was made from my high school and college t-shirts. The story behind this one always brings a little smirk to my face, as I remember how coniving my kind, pure, "without guile" mother could be. Because you know how you surprise someone with a meaningful t-shirt quilt? You steal their meaningful t-shirts. While they are out of the country! I returned from my 18 month church mission in England, fully expecting to have my old wardrobe waiting for me, and of course it wasn't. When I asked Mom though, she first said, "Oh, it should be all in those bags." When I pressed her with specifics (what about my Dr. Seusse shirt, and Rolling Stones, vacation and soccer shirts?) she "had no idea! Maybe...they got donated?" I chalked it up to one of those sacrifices a missionary makes, a casualty to the cause, and assumed I'd never learn the ending of the missing shirts. But almost 2 years later, all came to light in the most surprising Christmas gift I've ever received: the gift of a stolen t-shirt quilt. Mom can churn out quilts like nobodies business, in a matter of weeks even, but this one took so long because...SHE CONTINUED STEALING MY SHIRTS! A Jamba Juice work shirt I brought home over break that never made it back to work, as well as the Salt Lake City marathon t-shirt, silky, sweat-wicking fabric notwithstanding, were the final additions on this diabolical masterpiece, this elaborate heist. And gosh, how I love it.
It reminds me that Mom and I are more alike than I once thought.
I always wax a little nostalgic during the Christmas season. It's a bitter-sweet magic, sometimes. But still, magic.
Here is a little more of that Christmas magic, from 2018:
Santa's workshop. Aka Home Depot, where they do free crafts for the kids on the first Saturday of every month. Not pictured: free popcorn, as part of their "get your furnace serviced" promotion. Christmas magic, I tell you!
Yard decorating, and then Rudolf getting blown over in the short blizzard we had December first.
Ward Christmas party and Primary performance. Always wonderful.
And two little handwritten signs created during the Christmas devotional last night. The first, by Joe, was taped to a rocket and sling-shot into my lap while I was sitting by Dave. The second, by Riley, is a sort of instruction sheet on how to use the mistletoe. Although Joe has adapted the rule to allow for hugging if you're not a big kisser. I must say, that mistletoe has already gotten a lot of mileage this season. I rarely can walk into the kitchen without having to stop and give some little person a kiss or cuddle first.
So yes, we are deep in it, my friends, and be warned, if we see you in the next 3 weeks, we will probably hug you and wish you a Merry Christmas. And then a happy New Years. And then, a...tolerable January? Haha! I need to find something to look forward to about January. I saw on Facebook a 100 mile January challenge. Like, running 100 miles in January to start your New Year off strong. I'm still mulling over that one. I run about half that at the moment - 3 miles a day, 4 or 5 days a week. I haven't been in a running phase for a good...7 years, so maybe it's time. But if you have any, less tiring ways to be excited about January, do send them my way. I'm open. :)
Gather round, friends, for a tale of woe and horror this Thanksgiving night (it's afternoon but for our purposes...)
One cold and windy Thanksgiving Eve, I with focus and great care, was brushing my first-born's hair. From the basement I heard a shout. "Mom! Come see this!" Sleepy and still in my morning funk, I responded with a sour, "Not right now," and carried on with the hair. I barely registered the thump of feet up the stairs, but then the door opened and a child's voice innocently asked, "So, is this a fake one, or a dead one." "That makes no sense..." I began, turning to look over my shoulder, and shrieked when I saw that in my sons hands, clamped in a pair of pliers, was a mouse, held helpfully at eye level.
With a scream, Riley and I made a dash for an adjoining room, startling Joe, who dropped the pliers and the mouse, causing our overgrown puppy to bound for the kitchen. I barely snagged his collar as he lunged for the mouse, and, after kenneling the dog, ran through some mental exercises to snag an anxiety attack by the collar as well. Sending the kids from the room, I grabbed a shoe box and scooped the offending rodent (dead, now confirmed) into the box and out to the trash just in time for morning pickup. As I stood on the curb, contemplating my narrow escape and watching the garbage truck's long arm lift the truck, I saw with horror the shoe box teeter and fall out of the can and onto the lawn. I made to pick it up, but the kindly garbage man beat me too it and without ever knowing he actually held a tiny coffin, tossed it unceremoniously into the heap. I fervently thanked the man, before turning to drag our bin back up to the house.
Would that the story ended there... Alas, we found a few mouse calling cards today under the couch. On our family puzzle, actually, which we keep on a giant drip pan under the couch and slide it out on slow days like today. I binned the puzzle, sterilized the area, and then gosh darn it, while preparing Thanksgiving dinner I discovered further evidence in the kitchen. I don't know that anything has ever brought me so quickly to the brink of panic as discovering mouse leavings in our cupboard.
Which is why I am thankful for stores that are open on Thanksgiving. Multiple mouse traps have been purchased (and the turkey bag - I always forget to get the turkey bag) and hidden about the house. The workers at Walmart have been fervently thanked - I'm so grateful for employees that keep the store running so a person can make emergency mouse trap runs when need be. Because of them, I was able to finish a simple Thanksgiving dinner (we had planned on gathering with friends but are continuing our tradition of being sick on Thanksgiving, so home we stay) and relax in the knowledge that those little varmints are going down.
Happy Thanksgiving!
PS: Lil Bet is the only one dressed up because I bought this dress back when I was pregnant with Henry, before we found out he was a boy. Well, I now happen to have a girl baby, years later, that happens to fit it, so gosh darn it she's going to wear it. Nevermind if the rest of us look like hoodlums.
Fall, you beautiful beast you. We've had a tremendous fall. The weather has been charmingly unpredictable, with snow on one exciting Sunday early in October, and then we had a balmy 65 degrees to Trick or Treat in on Halloween. We made time for certain beloved fall activities (apple picking, leaf raking, family pictures) and skipped some of the good/not best ones (ahem, school Halloween dance).
This morning it was 7 degrees when we woke up and scraped frost off our window (the one with the poor casing, obviously...). Seven. De. Grees. That is cold, friends. It's past the point of flexibility with your toddlers winter wear: sorry, H - your wearing your coat whether you like it or not. At twenty degrees, I'll let him walk outside sans coat because he then will cooperate getting into it. But at 7... nah, son - coats go on before we open the door. But be ye not dismayed: there is no bad weather, only bad clothing for the weather. At least, that's what Bishop Foster told us when we first moved to MN 6 years ago. He's mostly right. A down coat goes a long way in a frigid tree-lighting ceremony or neighborhood hockey match. Pro tip.
6 years! Has it been that long?? I mean, we have moved like, 6 times since then, with various jobs and schooling and whatnot, but the bulk of those years we've been in Minnesota, slowly developing a heartier attitude and aptitude for cold and an extra layer or two of insulating fat stores. Go us! As lovely as MN summers are, with their music in the park and 10,000 lakes and 80+state parks and camping and impressive network of bike trails...despite all that, I think Fall and Winter remain my favorites. They bring out the heartiness of the people, and a deepened sense of community. We're a bunch of vikings, but instead of the violence and plundering, we're lustily digging each others cars out of snow drifts.
And Hygge! The hygge of winter! Candles, books, plaid throws, hot chocolate and rocking chairs, decorations of winter greenery and berries, bread baking in the oven and stew on the stove. The hush on the world that comes with snow, the ruddy cheeks smiling above thick scarves. Boots. Boots. Woolen tights, and boots. People congregating in each others homes to share a meal and pass a long winter evening with a puzzle or a card game, or quietly sitting by the fire and knitting something soft. It is a magical, restful time.
Don't get me wrong - I don't want a Narnia plunged in eternal winter. Part of the charm definitely is knowing that spring and summer will have their turn.
But, Lady Winter: you are a delight.
*Another pro tip: sun lamps to keep you Vitamin D needs happy are very affordable these days: we got ours here
*If you don't love your stew recipe, try this one - you won't regret it
*The kids and I are reading Miracles on Maple Hill, and it is the warmest of warm fuzzies from my childhood. I remember reading that in bed under a quilt in the middle of the day during Christmas break and being sweptaway. I read through the whole book in a day, only emerging from my room to grab rolls and yoohoo. Funny how certain books have an impact on you, to the point where you can remember the details of the day you first read them, even 25 years later.
*I've said it before but, I really am going to try for a weekly blog post going forward. I love looking back on earlier years and seeing the babies and seeing how our lives have evolved, and I deeply desire to share more regular updates for loved ones who care and wish to be more involved in our lives, many of whom are not on social media (which is where my short, quipy updates go on the day-to-day, for convenience sake). So stay tuned :)
Here is the birth story, as taken from my emails sent to family that very night, slightly edited for correctness. It all happened so fast - this was the first time it was just Dave and I there for the delivery (along with the dozen or so strangers circulating in and out of the room, of course.) It was lucky that even Dave was there! Despite feeling contractions since 3am that morning, I wasn't sure I was in labor - having only been induced before - until about two hours before she came rushing into the world. Basically shot out of a human cannon. So Dave didn't have a clue until two hours before she was born. But I digress; here are the emails:
Subject: We had a baby!
"This nameless, perfect, squishy little creature was born at 2:04. We are
both doing well. I’m sitting in a dim room by myself while Dave is picking up
the other kids from various locations and bringing them back to meet
her.
Whirlwind day! I’ve always been induced before because of
late babies and/or time constraints (mom flying home or moving to MN) so
this was a new experience. I started having painful contractions and
back labor at 3am but thought maybe it was from doing too much -
major nesting going on lately. This morning I took the kids to school
and dropped Henry off with a friend so I could go to the DMV and take a
test for my MN license. I was sucking in air periodically but still
wondered: indigestion? I then went to the library to print off some
forms and then to the store to get bread. Didn’t make it into the store, simply because I was in too much pain to make it across the parking lot. Called the hospital - hadn’t timed my contractions exactly, with all the
errands and driving around, but the nurse said come and we’ll check
you. Then I called Dave, not sure if he needed to leave work, but I had a
contraction while talking and there was crying and wordless yelling and that had him moving pretty quick.
We planned to met up at home, a close rendezvous point as I didn’t
think I should be driving. I got there first and when I got out of the
car, I felt a gush. My water broke! I was excited - ok yes, I am in labor -
and at the same time I was horrified. Oh. No. It’s going to get worse. I went in the house to
change...
TBC
Email #2
"...hospitals are busy places.
Anyway, Dave came home soon after and slipped in the amniotic fluid upon
entering. It was very satisfying in a Hollywood sense. Together we got
me into dry clothes and back in the car, then drove the 12 minutes to
the hospital in...less than 12 minutes. We were lucky not to get pulled over. Although I think Dave might have enjoyed that drama. I felt
another contraction coming as we walked into the hospital, and I made it as far as the
waiting room before kneeling on a chair and banging my head on the
backrest till it passed. Dignity where art thou? We checked in at
1:30. We were in triage, to make sure I was in labor (haha!) when it
really amped up and sounds were coming from me I didn’t know I could
make. Like a foghorn, or perhaps a typhoon. The
nurse, Kevin, plugged his ears. Dave said it wasn’t
as bad as the lady next to me, who sounded like a rooster. By the time
they got me in a delivery room, about 1:50,
the pressure was so intense, I refused to sit on the bed like they
asked (to get an iv in). I really felt like I needed to be kneeling on
the bed. Poor Kevin had a hard time convincing me, but got it done. There was no opportunity for the pain meds I desired through the iv though - birth was too near.
The doctor (Doc Harper) arrived just as I had
to push. It was the most bizarre pressure and mental weirdness to push
through, but boy was I keen to get her out and be done with
contractions, so I did it. Two contractions, right Dave? She was born at
2:04. Today, 2/21/2018. Once I had her in my arms I was a little stunned - it was hard to believe she was here! No one comes on time in our family, much less early! Also, I didn't really feel like celebrating - without pain killers, delivering the placenta was another uncomfortable experience. Once that was through I was able to coo over her sweet little lips. Another difference in this delivery: she wasn't in the birth canal long enough for her head to take on that cone shape that the others had for a day or so. Her head was pretty normal looking.
Dr. Harper
About five minutes after giving birth, we got a serious lecture from nurse Kevin about not letting her do 21 shots on her 21st birthday and having her die of
alcohol toxicity. Kevin was kind of an interesting guy, but it is sound advice
nonetheless.
There were no complications, no tearing or dizziness or anything. The baby was grouchy for a while till we figured out feeding, but on a full stomach she is extremely loving. Same as most I guess.
I got
to see the placenta this time and they delayed cord clamping for a
little while. They also delay bathing the baby, she still has vernix in
her hair, six hours later.
Isn't she lovely?!
Update: just had a bath. No more vernix.
Dave went and got the kids at about 6pm from friends homes in the ward, and
Riley and Joe were happy to get some cuddles and ham it up for the
camera. Henry took a slight interest at first and then played in the
curtains. My friend Selena came and took pictures
- she did our family pictures in the fall and did a great job, so I’m
sure we got some sweet shots, even with labor fatigue (and just
relief) setting in and baby girls eyes still puffy from her shoved
through the birth canal. [She did indeed get some amazing shots, many of which you see in this post. Thanks, Selena!]
Dave took the kids home about 8pm - we decided he’d better stay with
them tonight. It’s been a wild day for them too, and Henry especially
depends on him at night. We moved Henry back into his crib just last
night for containment purposes - he will not stay
in his own bed, and usually ends up sleeping on Dave’s chest.
The doctor said I can go home tomorrow if I want to. I might. I have
always stayed three days in the past, but I get a little stir crazy and
wanting my own bed. Hopefully we’ve settled on a name by tomorrow!
That’s all I can think of! I’m enjoying this very peaceful time (they
have meditation music on in my room and nature scenes on the TV
screensaver. It is very peaceful:) and feeling so grateful that all my
birth worries were mostly unfulfilled. Well, all were,
actually - I didn’t really worry about the painful stuff, always having
had an epidural before. But all is well, hallelujah! The kids were taken
good care of, Dave was with me when I needed him, the baby is healthy,
the nurses are lovely, I’m recovering well.
Blessed day for us!"
The 24 hour hospital stay proved to be one of the most peaceful I'd experienced, maybe because our room was at the end of the hallway and we were one of only like three mother/babies in the wing. Betty only left me once for tests, and the rest of the exams, baths, etc, took place right by my bed, which I loved so I could ask any questions and see what the doctor was looking for.
I was treated to aromatherapy and massage, room service, and then Dave ran me a hot lavender bath before handing me an intriguing little jewelry box, inside of which was a pair of beautiful earrings. It made me feel like a million bucks! No small miracle for a woman who is one day postpartum, let me tell you! Every time I think of it, I want to kiss his face off. That Dave: he's the sweetest, and I love him.
No amount of pampering can take the place of your own bed though, so I decided that yes, I would check out a day early. We settled on a name just an hour before time to checkout. Betty Louise, after both our Grandmas: amazing women whose names carry a legacy to inspire and uplift our little girl throughout her life.
Dave took a total of 3 days off for the baby and headed back to work on Monday, but we have been so well taken care of with meals and visits and gifts from friends, coworkers, and church family. Suzette flew in mid-week and has been a huge help taking care of people and making sure the other siblings feel loved while Momma is busy nursing or napping or doing what women have to do in recovery.
Here is a video with clips of her first week on earth. It has been a wonderful week. So. Much. Love.
