I Have a Five-Year-Old!

There's this shred of sadness that comes with saying goodnight to your child on the eve of their birthday.  Birthdays are so exciting, and next to Christmas, it's THE DAY for kids to look forward to all year long.  And I'm excited for him-- for tomorrow, for his party, for his feeling more and more like a Big Boy, especially when he walks on that school bus next month and rides away from me to meet total strangers on the other end. 


But tonight, I said goodnight to my four-year-old for the last time.

THIS BOY!  He is the source of so much pride, love, aggravation, humor, insanity, silliness, wonder.  He will talk your ear off and question you until your head explodes.  Then he'll kiss you and hug you and tell you how much you're loved.  Then he'll ask you to take him to the park!  In that order.


But he really is a loving kid, even when he doesn't want anything.  He loves all people and wants them to be happy.  He's a wonderful big brother.  In fact, I fear for the poor souls who dare cross Casey or Mackenzie.  Recently, at McDonald's playland, a few older boys (around 12 or 13) went into the play structure and they were being pretty rambunctious in there.  Colton marched right up to them and said, "You have to be careful in here!  You're going to hurt my little brother!  He's just little!" 


And so is Colton.  Just not as little.  No longer this baby that I once knew:

Happy Birthday to my big 5-year-old!  Love you, Buddy!



Da Beebie, 7 Weeks

Mackenzie ELAYNE!  You're HOW OLD??  Relentless, unforgiving passing of time!!  What have I ever done to you??

Weellll... we've been busy.  I mean, I'm sure I could have carved out a few minutes here or there to write a little bit about a huge, life-changing event like bringing a whole new human into the world.  But I've been too busy cuddling with it.  Because wookit.

Let me start from the beginning.  Mackenzie was born on June 21st, the first day of summer.  I woke up at 4:30 AM, which was in no way unusual, as I am a bit of an early morning insomniac, especially when pregnant.  But the contractions were definitely more crampy than usual, and... Good Lord Almighty, that baby just shat an audible load in her diaper.  I'ma hafta take a break.


Anyway... contractions.  It became clear to me by 6:30 or 7 AM that this was The Day.  Contractions were about 5 minutes apart and well out of the Braxton Hicks Comfort Zone.  I made the necessary phone calls and Meredith was here by 8-ish to take the boys.  Casey has come out of his shell in a big way recently, and didn't seem to care at all that I woke him up, threw some clothes on him, and sent him off in an unfamiliar car. (Not that he doesn't know Meredith, John and Pete, but STILL... it's a milestone.)  I believe we left here at 8:15 or 8:30, and the ride to the birth center was freakishly easy (especially compared to last time, when I went through transition in the car).  I was about to tell Shawn to turn around and go home, thinking that this was probably the false labor everyone talks about.  My contractions were tapering off, and the few that I did have weren't very strong.  As soon as we arrived, though, they picked up again, and when they examined me I was already almost 7 centimeters.  Contractions were painful but tolerable for quite awhile.  I remember talking and laughing between them up to 9 cm, which is weird and not at all like my last labor.  When my midwife asked if I wanted her to break my water, I said "Yah!  Let's git-r-doooonnnne!"  The water breakage happened at 8 centimeters, and just after that I got into the birthing tub and stayed there until Mackenzie was born at 11:09 AM.  Fast and furious!  And holy balls, painful at the end there.  But it's done, and I have a beebie now!

8 lbs, 15oz, 22 inches long

The day could not have worked out more perfectly.  There was a playdate that day at the church I've been attending in Tacoma (Meredith goes there too).  It's about half a mile from the birth center, so Meredith took all the boys to the playdate and was able to bring Colton and Casey over to see their new sister about an hour after she was born.  They've both been in love ever since.  Squishy, smothering, overwhelming love.  Lots of dirty hands and wet kisses and Casey yelling, "I SEE!  I SEE BABY!!  I SEEEEEEEE!!"

                   We were home by 5 PM, about 6 hours after she was born.

 

                                                 


I'm sure I don't have the right words for how great Shawn was that first week.  He did everything for the boys and let Mackenzie and I heal and adjust to the new life in the most relaxed, quiet way possible.  I was terrified of him going back to work the next week, but in the end it wasn't nearly as challenging as the ghastly pictures I'd painted in my head.  Challenging, yes, but not undoable.

THREE kids.  It's been interesting.  Though I really think that the transition from 1 to 2 was harder than going from 2 to 3.  It's like I'm just used to being a little crazy and never feeling caught up.  With anything.  Ever.  Now that she's seven weeks old, I'm feeling a little more human again.  For awhile there, it was just pain, boobs, diapers, poop, children, screaming, food, hungry, poop, mastitis, dirty fingernails, dirty dishes, more mastitis, diapers, crying, and booooobs.  Dude.  Sleep?  Etc.


But tonight, it's 8:30 PM, and even though Mackenzie has not yet pooped today, she is happily snuggled into her Moby wrap and I was just able to type more than two sentences is one sitting.  In fact,  I think I'm going to post this one now.  I was going to attempt to make it more reader-friendly, but I just don't think I AM reader-friendly right now.


But first, let's check in with my gigantic children.  Here's a couple of tidbits:  Colton starts Kindergarten in less than a month and is turning FIVE in two days.  Last week, he fell at the Harborside Park in Bremerton and split his head open.  12 STAPLES.  Will post pictures later.
Casey is still a mountainous pile of cuteness.  A few weeks ago, he ran down the hallway towards me and said "MOM!", then glanced around with an exaggerated nervous expression and said "Bear comin'."  Then he took off running.  Must have been in the middle of reenacting one of his favorite books- 'We're Going on on a Bear Hunt'.

                 And lastly, here's a bonus picture, because I'm so generous:

A Letter to My Unborn Child

Dear Bad Baby,

We're full term now.  You're past due.  You are officially freeloading off your mother.  Get out!

Much Love,
Big Mama


P.S.  Like, BIG. 
P.P.S.  Like, only two of my shirts go down past my belly button. 
P.P.P.S  Like, I ain't buying a new wardrobe, Baby.  Get out!  (I swear I'll be nicer than this when you get out!)

You:



Me:

The Moody Pregnant Woman Sounds Off and Cusses a Lot.

I went to my 39 week appointment today.  There's a new midwife in the office (filling in for another who's on maternity leave), and she's kinda sorta maybe batshit crazy.  I have no idea where they rummaged her up.  She absolutely does not fit the laid-back vibe of the office, which is 85% of the reason I go there.  I mean, she's fine, I'm sure.  I'm not going to start dreading the possibility of her being on-call when I go into labor (though I'm tempted to).  I just wish she could have calmed the fuck down for two minutes today!  I took two small children to my appointment, and they were calmer than she was.  Anyway... I did get an extra ultrasound out of the "ordeal", with a second confirmation that the baby is indeed a girl.  And the baby is good, everything is good.  There was just some paranoia about the baby's head not being engaged in the pelvis and the midwife's belief that I was dying for an exam to check for progress, but she didn't want to accidentally break my water if the baby's head isn't engaged (which... wow, does that happen?  By accident?).  I kept trying to tell her that it's okaaaay, I really don't need the exam, the nurse told me to strip, aaaaah I don't care!!  But suddenly I was on the ultrasound table and the midwife was hanging over the tech's shoulder, yapping incessantly about membranes rupturing and doing squats and what is the baby's head doing over there???  And our ultrasound tech is... well, the word 'serious' doesn't begin to describe it.  At one point during the ultrasound today, I said "Sometimes it feels like she somehow reaches her hand out of the uterus and grabs hold of my bladder and tries to wring it out like a sponge."  And the tech looked from her screen to me and, in all seriousness, said "No, that can't happen" and went back to her business.  I would use the word 'deadpan' if she used humor at all, but... no.  (Another example-- at my 20 week ultrasound, I asked her what percentage sure she was of the baby's sex, because the crazy internet forum people were saying that their ultrasound techs told them they were "75% sure it was a girl".  Her very monotone response was, "That's stupid.  I wouldn't have said that I know if I wasn't sure."  Not exactly a people person, but I've grown to implicitly trust her capabilities at her job.)  I don't know why I'm on this subject.  Oh!  It was just funny, watching the anxious midwife and the no-nonsense tech trying to communicate.  Except it wasn't so much 'funny' as 'highly uncomfortable'. 

Aw, man, and don't get me started on the freakshows who were waiting for an ultrasound at the same time as me.  The mother (of one very coddled little 'angel') even spoke baby-talk to me:  "We all get a little fussy-fussy when we're past our naps, don't we?  And us mommies don't get shower time, do we?"  (The fuck we don't!  That's gross!)

So anyway... I was let go today with just a warning:  Do your damn squats!  Baby's head needs to engage or all hell will break loose!  We can't have these unmotivated baby's heads just floatin' around!


There we are.  Thirty-nine weeks and five days.  Due date is Saturday.  EEEEK! 

"The world, that understandable and lawful world, was slipping away."

Tonight, I folded and put away two loads of laundry upstairs while the hellions boys played downstairs.  Apparently, that's how long it takes for children to go all Lord of the Flies in this house. 

When I came back downstairs, they were no longer clothed, and I don't think they speak English anymore.

It was all executed in such eery quiet.  But the trail of destruction spoke volumes.

TWO LOADS. 

Then they ate some ravioli and grapes, read a couple books, and all was right with the world again.  No Beasts or bloodshed this time, but I believe I'll think twice before ever accumulating a third load of laundry. 

Casey's Birthday Party

To begin with, the weather was perfect.  Like, absolutely perfect.  Best day of the year so far.  We got really lucky, considering the unpredictability of June (not to mention the fact that this year's weather has been kind of a mess).


We kept it small this year, as we were also dealing with the unpredictability of a pregnancy in its 38th week.  And duuuude, I'm tired, so a big party sounded absolutely horrid.


Casey chose a sports theme for his party.  A few weeks back, we lined up a few of his favorite toys 3 times and watched to see which he'd favor-- Mickey Mouse, motorcycle, or ball?  He chose the ball every time, which wasn't in the least surprising. 


So here's the invitation (with a link to its designer, because I love her creations):

http://www.etsy.com/shop/madebymeredith

I didn't go theme-crazy like I did at Colton's construction party last year (because, like I said, GAH, 38 weeks!), but I managed to find some sporty birthday decorations at the dollar store and I made some cupcake toppers with scrapbook paper and foam stickers:

We spent the whole party outside playing, which I think all the kids loved.  Dirt piles, a giant trampoline, a sandbox, a four-wheeler, a dog-shaped tent... every day is a party around here!

We had our regular BBQ fare for dinner, and it was cute to watch all the kids schmoozing over their meals.

Tête-à-tête at the umbrella table:

The many faces of Casey the Bean:

The opening of the presents went pretty smoothly until I realized that Casey's tendency to get physical over the ownership of toys extends beyond his brother.  Here's Casey inspecting his new truck with Pete:

And here's the moment when it dawns on Casey that he has company in the inspection of his new toy:

And finally, here's Casey "apologizing" to Pete after pushing him down and making him cry:

(His apology looks very heartfelt on that picture, but he started laughing at the situation about three seconds after the photo was taken.)

Here's the whole smörgåsbord of presents and kids.  I don't mean to alarm anyone, but one of the toddlers might be missing, because it looks like I rolled one up and stuck him in my belly.  Maybe even a whole preschooler:



Curvin showed up right after dinner and was immediately attacked by his gaggle of fans:

But there was competition for attention this time, as Colton was SUCH A HUGE FAN of Ava's from the moment she arrived:

How freakin' cute is the whispering??



Cupcake time!  Casey carried his around for at least twenty minutes before taking a bite:

And Pete... well, Pete just makes me laugh.  Meredith said he was dead serious about his blue frosting and big boy cup:

Only one meltdown from Casey that day, when I removed him from Colton's four-wheeler because I thought he might drive himself backwards down the driveway.  (also, I apparently think crying babies are funny.  Or maybe I'm laughing about the Chins of Pregnancy.  Who knows.):

So that was a good party!  I think we should always have smaller ones like that.  Right, Shawn??