The days before

Last night, while pilfering the ice cream I'd bought for tomorrow, The Mr. told me, "It's not even close to your birthday yet".  How dumb of me to buy ice cream two days before so we could take it to his mother's house.  I even got HER favorite kind.  I bought cake mix and frosting too, because Winston especially expects for their to be cake when it's someone's birthday.  On the frozen foods aisle Wednesday looked at me and said, "I want to come wif you to your birfday, Mommy."  My birthday is just at home this year.

That's perfectly fine with me.  I have issues with my own birthday anyway.  We lost our first baby a month before the biggest birthday celebration I've ever had (Vegas!), and got pregnant with Winston less than 2 weeks later.  Maybe that's why it seems so insignificant.  I didn't really begin until Winston was conceived and born.  It just feels wrong to celebrate too much the person I was before they all came.

Last year, much to my surprise, my husband went all out again.  I used my spa gift certificate, we took a surprise shopping trip to Houston so I could buy some new clothes for myself.  I was shocked, and it took me a long time to process that it was for me.  I dunno...

It just feels weird, I guess.  My mom always texts me at the time I was born, and that means the world to me.  

When you're small, your birthday is so very important.  I want it to feel that way to my boys, and even though he's grown, to my husband.  Even my Mom, who was born on Halloween, gets everything I can possibly create to make her feel special.

I don't know how to feel special on my birthday without feeling guilty.

Yesterday, I hung wash on the line that the woman who sold our house left behind.  I made my Grandmothers' brisket and purple hull peas form the farmers' market.  We listened to my brother's band all day in the van, and I remembered my cloth bags for the grocery store.  

That was all pretty damn magical in one afternoon.  That was enough....  And I'm ok with that.

Finkin' Bout

I know, two posts all smooshed up together, but if I don't do it now then I won't get it done.  This is just a list anyway!

The Things in My Brain:

1.  Homeschooling:  So many of the parenting blogs I read are actually homeschoolers.  I've checked out books from the library but I'm still conflicted.  Do y'all have any thoughts before I do a whole post on this?

2.  Activities:  When do I start the boys in things outside of school?  Scouts?  Soccer?  Fencing (so cool)  Martial Arts?  Music Lessons (high on the list)?

3.  Composting:  Do any of you compost?  I know it's supposed to be easy.  we could have a separate garbage can in the kitchen, and there is a place for the actual composting can behind the garage.  Is it going to attract bugs?  Because I can't be carrying a baby in a sling to take out the food for composting and be attacked my bugs.  (Yes, I did lay awake one night thinking about that)

4.  A Texas Blogging Meet-up:  Swistle talked about an anti-Blogher meet up, and now that I know I can't go to Blogher in NYC next year, would this be something worth doing?  EDITED TO ADD:  Danielle from Left of Lost was my bravery inducing inspiration.

Grace(less) Under Pressure

It was pretty clear from the moment Winston woke up on Wednesday morning that he did not feel well.  As soon as I walked in the room I was commanded to "Go Back THERE, Mommy!!  I Don't WANT YOU To Be Out Here Yet!!!".  I went and sat an the dining room table, took off my glasses, and put my head down; it was going to be one of those mornings.

It never let up.  The fit that started when he saw me only escalated and by 8:09, The Mr. and I had decided he shouldn't go to camp that day (his lunch was made and he was already in his swim clothes).  He was, of course, furious with me (even though the Papa made the choice as well) and wailed about it for another ten minutes.  Then he suddenly asked if he could please take off his swim clothes and have regular ones since he was staying with me.  

After we dropped off Wednesday, who watched us both go with a quiveringly brave wittle face (sniff sniff), I took Winston with me to Walgreens.  He helped me push the cart, picked out a snack, and remembered every single thing we needed to buy, as usual.  

Once we were home and he had some serious allergy medicine in his system he relaxed completely.  It used to be just be me and him at home, and I miss it so much that I cry almost every time I think about it.  We used to play and read and just hang out ALL DAY, and he is so big now, so smart, so handsome.  He is not my tiny boy anymore.  But on Wednesday, we rescued a small sliver of our pre-brother relationship.

We lay on the bed in his room after I'd done something cleaning, looking at cookbooks and just being silly together.  And after promising him for 3 weeks that we would go out to eat, just the two of us, we finally did.  He was perfect in the restaurant, and we even went to Half-Price Books together.  He sat on the floor and looked at books in his own little world, while I gathered nifty stories for us the bring home.

The rest of the day was fairly successful as well.  There were a few behavior bumps when Wednesday was re-introduced into the picture, but it was an excellent and much needed day overall.  Winston's snot is almost gone, his gremlin-like allergy voice has disappeared, and I know we loved each other a lotta-bit more.

Then Thursday came.  Oh my, was it a day.  My nickname as a child was "Grace" in the most sarcastic fashion imaginable and I lived up to it yesterday.  I was horrible Thursday morning.  I needed a serious timeout.  A headache woke up with me, I hollered at the boys, I cried, I whined, I spilled, I choked on nothing to the point I almost got sick.  It was rough.  Wednesday was staying home with me, and after we dropped Winston off at camp, he proceeded to get into The Mr.'s desk 5749583405834 times, pester the cats until they scratched and bit him, and was otherwise clinging to me like a velcroed monkey.  

We picked Winston up, naptime was crap until we all conked out, and when we got up I remembered I'd promised a meal made in the pressure cooker.  Sigh...  If that wasn't the perfect metaphor for our day I don't know what could have been.    

Now, I'd never used that thing when my Mama wasn't here with us.  I think she's used it 3 times for different holiday meals at my house.  I found a recipe for chicken tacos, and after reading the directions 4 times and practicing opening and closing the lid, I started cooking.  5 minutes.  Cooked chicken in 5 minutes, and it wasn't even scary!  Did it taste like cardboard?  Yup.  Did everyone eat it?  Yup.  Will my MIL with a heart condition who doesn't like spicy food get all of our leftovers?  Yes Ma'am.  So it, like the rest of the day, was enough to get by, but not my best work by any means.

I was on my best behavior by bedtime, and stories were super fun and we all went to sleep feeling loved and peaceful after our long, long, LONG day.

This morning went extremely smoothly, and now I'm here by myself, regrouping and thinking and writing.  There's a song I sing to the boys almost every night that asks God for love, and power, and grace, and that is what I ask for today.  Love oozing from every pore, power over my own emotions, and grace enough to forgive myself and be the Mama I long to be.

 

For Them...

I finally let my tears go this morning.  I always hold them back when I hear these words, but I was alone in the van and it was ok.  

There's always one song with each pregnancy that holds my heart, and this says the things my mind cannot find.

Sweet Dreams by Jewel Kilcher

The shadows are waltzing
The moon beams are calling
Like a dream I am falling into
Silver threads lined with dew
Twinkling stars seem to shine just for you

Behind your eyes
Are endless blue skies
You travel places i want to come, too
Each breath that you breathe
Is a brush stroke that leads me to you

So sleep
Fall into night’s indigo hue
Believe me, its true
Theres nothing that I would not do
For my dream is sweet dreams for you

It seems far away
But there once was a day
It was grey in a world without you
To this heart like a dove from above
The miracle of your love found me

So sleep
Fall into night’s indigo hue
Believe me, its true
Theres nothing that I would not do
For my dream is sweet dreams for you

So hush you bye
And don’t you cry
Sweetly dream, little baby

Yes, sleep
Lose yourself in night’s indigo hue
Believe me, its true
There is nothing that I would not do
For my dream is sweet dreams 
Yes, my dream is sweet dreams for you

www.jeweljk.com

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttwkbAz021U

Scenes from Almost and Saturday

Late last night I finished my book.  I was, and still am sad that it's over, as the author hasn't written as more non-fiction that I can tell.  Still too awake to fall asleep with Wednesday, I went to Amazon.com and began my insomnia ritual of going through all my lists.  Did you know you can leave comments for yourself on your wishlist?  Adding a few words for the things I'd saved for Christmas or Halloween was very satisfying.  I am also feeling very "called" to homeschool the boys, in some context, these days.  I found a bunch of good looking books for beginners, and then stumbled upon a couple of Listmanias that really shortened my search.  But I still wasn't sleepy, in my brain or otherwise, so I went to look at the cookbooks.  Oh the lovely cookbooks!  I think I saved about 30 to my wishlist.  (Like this one, and this one, and this one, Oh My!)  I had just started a search for baby and Mama yoga DVD's when the battery on my laptop died.  I gave the sleeping 2 year old a large pouty lip and reluctantly got under the covers to go to sleep.

Now, as I write this silliness, I'm sitting on the bed in the boys room in the middle of a de-funked naptime.  The big boys went to the beach with friends this morning while Wednesday and I tackled the farmers' market (where I could feel the sweat dripping down my legs) and Target (where a grown man couldn't say "excuse me", but instead just pulled out in front of my very full cart on the way to check out).  When we all got home, the plan was for the boys to come nap with me in our bed and for The Mr. to finish cleaning up beach stuff and read.  I sang the songs and held the hands and patted the parts, but neither of my creatures would sleep.  Winston started fiddling with the tag on a stuffed animal in the co-sleeper and Wednesday just wouldn't keep his arms still.  So I told Winston to go "out there" with Papa if he didn't want to nap so we wouldn't have to fight about his behavior.  Then, I realized that Wednesday wasn't going to go back down either.  Sigh...  "Do you want to go back nigh-night or do you want to get up?"  Get up, of course.  So I took a much needed shower and brought Wednesday to the front of the house, thinking we could just move along with our big meal of the day and I would just push past my tireds again.  

Now, or course, Winston has decided to take a nap on the couch, and I got shooed out of my own living room.  Rocking and holding didn't produce more nappage for the little one, so now I'm here and he's there <<<<<  playing with Handy Manny and pulling books out of the shelf.

Happy Saturday, my dears.  I hope your nap times are long and your patience isn't short.

Good News, Bad News

The good news is:  I found the ant trap that went missing after The Mr. did the dishes for me last night.

The bad news is:  He washed it in the dishwasher (LMAO).  I re-ran the dishwasher on hot, high, and sanitize.

The good news is:  My headache and general heat sickness from yesterday was cured with Benadryl and Tylenol over night.

The bad news is:  It led to a very med-induced dream right before I woke up.  I couldn't find my husband, after my parents house had been broken into, and "Tears in Heaven" was playing in the background.  I'm blaming it for any and all tears shed this morning.  Stupid dream.

The good news is:  My dr. appointment today was good.  We set an official c-section date of September 24, and they'll call me with the time soon!  It's so very good to have a date, and the one we wanted.

The bad news is:  I had to drink that horridly sweet drink required for the gestational diabetes test.  It always makes me feel like crap and I'm still feeling it.  BLECH.

The good news is:  I feel like blogging ALL THE TIME now.  

The bad news is:  I feel like blogging ALL THE TIME now.

:)

And The Little One Said:

I was in the bathroom trying to finish getting ready for bed two nights ago.  Actually, I was just peeing for the fourth time in 20 minutes, so I wouldn't have to get up again as soon as I fell asleep.  A piercing scream in a Winston-like key came from the bedroom where the boys were waiting to be read to and I lumbered as quickly as I could to see what had happened.

"He bit me, Mommy!"  What?!?!  "I was just trying to hug him and he bit me!"  Climbing into the bed I jumped all over Wednesday for biting and snuggled his brother close to love and inspect the bite.  It was a bad one; almost through the skin.  I calmed him down, told Wednesday again that biting was a No No, and began reading.

But a few pages into our first story, Wednesday was still really upset.  "Bitty, you know better than to bite, why are you so sad?" I asked.  With droopy eyes and a pouty lip he said, "I tried to eat Bubba!"  He cried and cried, disappointed in himself that he'd thought to do such a thing.  I burst out laughing, looking at Winston and imagining his little brother taking a bite of him.  "It's not funny, Mama", Winston said and started to cry again.  This set Wednesday off again and I held them close to me while I laughed and cackled and their funny brains.  I looked down at Wednesday and he said again, in shock this time, "I tried to eat him, Mommy!!".

My husband came back from reading his book to see what all the noise was about, and he was tickled too.  All through that night, after we finished singing lullabies, Wednesday would repeat his horror, and I would snicker.  

Then this morning, on our way to the beach, Wednesday started to cry again.  His nose was stopped up, and he was distraught.  The poor kid hasn't had a booger-free day since he was born.  "It's ok, Baby.  Do you want to hold hands?"  I held his tiny fingers and the Mr. asked what was wrong.  "I just want a new nose, Mommy!!", he wailed.  "I don't want this one, anymoe!".  We reassured him that his nose was beautiful and would feel better once we got to the beach.  It did, and he says he has a new nose now, but it was damn funny at the time.

Books to Munch On.

I had to take Winston to his dentist appointment on Tuesday.  Ever since his very first visit, when we found out he needed fillings done, my husband has always taken him.  But, it was time for his cleaning and The Mr. is teaching summer school so Wednesday and I went with him.

The last time he was there he was great about them using the scraping tools on his teeth, but the round, electric toothbrush freaked him right the hell out.  So I was going to try my hardest to prepare him for the sensations better this time.  I didn't want him to be scared of something that isn't painful, and I didn't want Wednesday to be frightened on his first visit to a dentists' office.

So without further ado, I'd like to dedicate our completely successful and smile-filled visit to Just Going to the Dentist, by Mercer Mayer.  Little Critter seriously saved the day, my friends, and I would recommend this little book to anyone preparing a young child for the dentist.  All of the different feelings were discussed and illustrated:  apprehension, awe at the equipment, the tickling and sound of the toothbrush, ever what getting a filling feels like.  Thank goodness for Little Critter!

The Sunday before, we took the boys to Barnes and Noble after dinner.  Our last library visit as a family was quite a fiasco, and we had a gift card so it seemed like a good idea.  The Mr. reads so very quickly, he goes through 2 books a day sometimes!  He was in serious need of a new story, so after he found something readable, he took the boys to the children's section.  I wasn't planning on getting anything for myself, but after the boys finished with the choo-choos, I thought I'd just browse the cookbooks.  I've read the reviews of so many really great books on bread and canning and general homey-cooking and I wanted to see what B&N had to offer.  On a table in the cookbooks I saw something that caught my eye.  If I'm being really honest I haven't read an actual books since long before I got pregnant again.  I've read lots of cooking, crafting, and children's books, but nothing with a plot of any sort.  

Too Many Cooks, by Emily Franklin caught me completely by surprise.  Suddenly, I'd found the book that would get me reading again and I was giddy with knowing all the yummy words that were coming to me.  What really won me over was this:  "...this is a narrative family eating."  "Mainly, I don't have a platform.  I'm not here to lecture about local or organic or beef or sweets."  "Too Many Cooks is an 'eating book'".  Isn't that brilliant?  And the relaxing tone of the stories has made this book such a joy and an ever present inspiration in the kitchen.

So far we've conquered rhubarb, real popcorn from the stove, and eggplant.  Next up are tofu, fresh artichokes, and plantains, among other things.  I also picked up A Homemade Life, which along with Dooce's newest book, Split by Suzanne Finnamore, and Cynthia Kaplan's most recent memoir have me longing for the days and nights when I can just devour words for hours on end.

Happy munching...

Pink Celery, Bitter Apples.

I made my very first rhubarb-inspired dessert tonight, and I could not be more happy with it.  After seeing so many gorgeous recipes on various crafty-mama blogs, I finally decided to try it, if only for the adventure of cooking something I'd never done before.  

Winston stood in the kitchen while I minced fresh ginger (he smelled it and got it on his nose!), pears, and finally the rhubarb.  Thinking ahead, only slightly, as I was already elbow deep in the recipe, I tasted it raw.  I remember eating a strawberry-rhubarb pie at my maternal grandmother's house as a child and HATING it.  Could it have been because my Mama warned me it would be awful?  I think probably so.  I took a tiny bite and was shocked at how yummy it was.  Imagine a very unripe green apple and that is both the taste and texture of uncooked rhubarb.  Winston ate three bites of it raw and wanted more, but I stopped him.  Silly boy.  He is the picky eater of the family and was standing there eating something completely out of his comfort zone with glee!

I added orange zest and half of the juice from one orange, then topped it with oats, almond cookies, turbinado sugar, and butter.  It was so, very, extremely delicious.

Even with my impending, 3-days-in-the-making-headache, I am overjoyed at this simple little dessert.  Even more so, I am utterly amazed that Winston devoured his portion, when normally he is so hesitant.  This, combined with his newly acquired, and still developing emotional regulation is leading our relationship back to the very lovey, silly place it was when we was a baby.

I have so much more to say, about the book I'm reading, what I fed my parents when they were here, my crazy body...  But the head-bone hurt looms and I'll be back tomorrow...

PS:  The main recipe came from The Fussy Eater's Recipe Book, with a few alterations from Jamie Oliver's newest cookbook.

Book Mark

This is just an accountability post for me so I will actually come back and write what's in my head.  I have funny pregnancy things and book stuff and food stuff.  So there, brain, you must write now!

About Last Night

Last year we ended up parked on the Harbor Bridge.  We left too early this year and went down to North Beach instead.  Right as we got out of the van

the 

fireworks

started!

Winston was AMAZED.  He stood, holding my parents hands.  Wednesday was on my hip while I held onto my beloved with my other hand.  

I always HATED fireworks before I had the boys.  They were loud and wasteful, and I just didn't care for them.  This year I cried.  I cried for the change that I still hope will come for our country, for the imminent end to the war that I long for, for the baby boy growing in my belly and my family all together.  

Winston walked back and grabbed his Papa's hand, "give me a kissy" I said, and he pooched out his gorgeous lips and kissed my teary face.

My precious boys.  My parents that I love more now than I ever have because we've accepted each other.  

Thanks, God.  I'm grateful to be an American.  I'm hopeful that it will only get better.