Christmas 2014

I'm not sure how it happened, but it's already the end of the year again! This year seemed to go by especially quickly. It may have had something to do with the sleepless haze of having a new baby. Here is what we've been up to this year:

The House

The amount of improvement our house has seen this year makes it almost unrecognizable (in a good way). We moved out briefly while the old growth hardwood floors were refinished, the living room ceiling was vaulted, the sheet rock was finished and everything was painted. What was once a small, stained, and dark area is suddenly bigger and filled with natural light. We left some of the original structural beams that run across the house and they add a nice rustic touch. Additionally, the wasted space that used to be a strange hallway in the back of the house was remodeled into a carpeted office, a mud room, and an area that will be the second bathroom.

Exterior changes include landscaping the back yard, having the house painted (by Joseph's most excellent family!), and installing a porch railing and new gutters. One of the nice things about starting with a fixer-upper is that this house just keeps getting cuter and more comfortable the longer we live here. :)

Our Family

Matthew at 10 months old

Obviously the most notable thing that happened to our family this year was welcoming our own Matthew Timothy on January 22. With the exception of a couple of teething episodes, Matthew has been the happiest, most easy-going and cheerful baby I've ever met. He just loves being around his family (including the dog, whom he seeks out whenever she's inside). He doesn't say much, maybe because his two energetic siblings make so much noise already, but he loves laughing, interacting, cuddling, playing games, and trying to keep up with his brother and sister. He's crawling and starting to stand up by himself and walk while holding on to people's hands. He also stands and scoots along while holding on to chairs, tables, etc. and is finally starting to enjoy a variety of solid foods.

Liam- practicing looking cool

I read somewhere that the definition of a boy is "noise with dirt on it." And that describes Liam pretty well. He's an outrageous ball of fire with a big heart who is deeply loyal to his family. Liam lives out loud- quite literally. Almost everything he does or says is at about 200 decibels. He's initially shy of people, but when he gets to know you there's almost nothing he won't do with you, including singing, having dance parties, and telling jokes. (He has a very Cespedes sense of humor.) He loves playing with his sister, roughhousing, and having books read to him.

Diana loves picking and smelling flowers.

Diana is sprouting up like a weed and becoming smarter, more talkative, and more inquisitive every day. She is constantly asking questions because she has an unquenchable desire to learn about the world. Her favorite book is her Illustrated Encyclopedia. She loves poring through it and asking me to explain everything. She is an excellent "Vice Mother" who I can count on to check on "the boys" and keep them in line. She is especially gentle and caring to Matthew. One of the more interesting changes is that her blonde hair is beginning to darken and (I fancy) take on more of a reddish tint. I think anyone who met Diana would not be surprised if she turned out to be a redhead. ;)

Joseph's company, Active911, continues to grow, hire new employees, and expand to new regions around the world, praise God! In addition, he and his brother and a friend in the industry started a new trucking company called Mammoth Transport. Alyrica Internet is also doing well and continues to grow. When he's not running a business, working on our house, or spending time with us, he's been putting in a lot of hours training to get his instrument rating so that he can fly in weather that limits the ability of a pilot to see the ground (a pretty useful thing to have in Oregon).

Adventures

This year our adventures have largely centered around flying. Joseph and his brother Kevin bought an airplane- a little Cessna 172- which Joseph has been flying every chance he gets. It only has four seats, but we've still managed to pack our family of five in for a few flights- up to Salem for dinner at the airport, on an unplanned weekend trip to Tacoma, Washington, and to Hood River for my mom's wedding. If you received one of our Christmas cards, it's the airplane behind us in our pictures. If you didn't for some reason (maybe my still-recovering-from-pregnancy memory failed me, or you didn't give me your address...but it was probably your fault somehow), here's the picture, taken by Joseph's photographic genius sister Miriam.

We also traveled to Oahu this year as a family to visit Joseph's Sullivan relatives and enjoy some tropical beaches. The kids loved meeting their great grandmother. Matthew enjoyed eating as much sand as he could fit in his mouth. We all enjoyed visiting with lots of amazing family and friends like Nichole's former swim coach.

Because we love traveling, we try to go on one big family adventure every few years. This year we went to New Zealand! We went primarily to visit our friends the Fallons who live in Australia. Joseph and Shawn Fallon have known each other for years and the Fallons have two boys the same ages as Diana and Liam. We all met in New Zealand and spent two weeks having a blast. Joseph's sister Ruth came with us to enjoy the adventure and graciously help out with traveling with kids. (We couldn't have done it without her.) We were able to meet Joseph's Grandpa and Grandma Richards in Auckland and from there we went waaaaay up to the Bay of Islands around Opito Bay where we rented a bach (beach house) for a week. The scenery was dreamlike. Beach access was right down the road, and we had access to a dinghy to go fishing and diving. While Joseph and Shawn were out diving for lobster, we watched from the house as a pod of orcas swam through the bay not too far from them.

Paradise in Opito Bay- the view from our back porch.

Before leaving the Bay of Islands, Joseph, Shawn, and Ruth fulfilled a lifelong dream and went skydiving. They all loved it. I don't think I've ever seen so many big smiles afterward. Our second week we intended to spend in Waihi because of the wonderful things we heard about the area, but after arriving at the log cabin we'd booked, we discovered there was no cell service (necessary for Joseph to stay in touch with his businesses) and the sleeping arrangements weren't ideal. Unfortunately, we weren't able to book another place to stay in the area on such short notice, so we headed to the only available bach that night up the Coromandel peninsula across from a little town called Whitianga. A storm blew in, so the weather wasn't as nice as the first week, but we still managed to get in some kayaking, beach exploration, and fishing. While the wind was howling we all sat inside by the wood-burning stove. The kids ran around and everyone enjoyed themselves. We had a lovely two weeks and got back in mid-December. While it was an exciting trip, we are already enjoying being home and preparing for a normal wintery Christmas.

We are amazingly and graciously blessed in our lives, and so thankful for all of our friends and family. Especially the two of you who took the time to follow the link to this newsletter from our Christmas cards. (Don't tell the others, but you're our favorite!) We hope you have a merry Christmas and a very happy new year!

The perfect place for a family photo- Ambury Park outside of Auckland, New Zealand!

Are You Done?

There are natural conversation-starters in this world. Children are one of them. From the time you become pregnant with your first child, you learn that you've just opened the door to innumerable conversations with perfect strangers about the subject of having kids. Some of it is helpful and, of course, some of it is idiotic. One conversation topic that keeps coming up for us is, "Are you done [with having kids]?'

Truthfully, I didn't mind the first ten times I was asked the question. I still don't really mind if the person asking is a friend or relative who's genuinely interested in the affairs of our family. But after a year or so (people have been asking us this since I was pregnant with our second child), it does start to feel a little suspicious. I don't know- if you'd started making beautiful cakes for a living and after each cake was complete, people asked you if you were finally done making cakes, you'd start to wonder if there was a hidden point to the question, wouldn't you?

For what it's worth, as much as it is up to us to decide (we recognize that sometimes God has surprises in store), we are done. Not because, as most people are ready to believe, we are overwhelmed- that three is an unmanageable number and we're somehow in over our heads and we need to quit. As I mentioned before, having three kids hasn't really been that difficult. I love each one of our kids and I will genuinely miss having a baby in our house. But it really feels as if a switch has been turned off in my mind and it's something I just don't deeply desire anymore. There's a lot less hand-wringing and nail-biting than I'd imagined in the decision not to have more kids. I'm pretty much at peace with the idea.

As Liam grew older, we struggled a lot with the decision to keep having kids or stay with two, but I felt like there was someone around that I couldn't see. It felt like someone was missing and that I was always forgetting someone when I was loading up the car or tucking kids into bed. Soon I became pregnant and I found I was actually excited about the idea of having another baby. I calculated their birth date. I thought a little bit about names. I wondered if they'd have the same birthday as Diana (they were due November 2013). I wasn't able to do all of that for long, because one day I started bleeding very heavily and felt sick with heavy heavy cramps that kept me in bed all day. I had a miscarriage. It was very early on. I probably wasn't more than five or six weeks along. But I'd been able to make plans around this little person and suddenly they weren't with us anymore. We hadn't even really gotten to know them. The excitement I felt upon learning we were expecting and the confusing depression and disappointment when I miscarried made me realize I still wanted to have more children. Thankfully, two months later God gave us our Matthew.

Now our family just feels complete. I don't look around anymore with the feeling that I'm forgetting someone unseen. Of course we'd be happy if we had another child, but it's not really in our plans.

That doesn't mean that it's easy in any way to watch our kids grow up. I'm trying to savor Matthew's baby-hood as much as humanly possible. He's almost eight months old and still not interested in solid foods, and truthfully I don't really care. Breastfeeding is still one of the most wonderful things in the world to me. Every developmental milestone is just a little bittersweet because I know it's another step toward being a toddler running around with his brother and sister. He's already too wiggly to sit in my arms for snuggles. My husband has been incredibly patient with my tendency to, within the bounds of law and order in our house, indulge him as the last baby a bit. Still, it's a little difficult. We started having kids before all our friends and now after a whirlwind four years, our baby-having days are done while they're still growing their families. I think we decided we were done before most of our family members too. So while I was able to go through the journey of pregnancy and having kids with a large community of people (especially during my last two pregnancies), I don't know anyone who's reached the end of that road yet. It's a little lonely. There are no other moms to talk to about the slight sadness of giving away baby clothes you'll never use anymore, or disassembling fixtures like the bouncer or baby swing. We have many wonderful years ahead of us with our three goofy kids, but there are no new additions to look forward to, just our kids growing up. Excuse me for a moment-

I'm better now. One wonderful thing about being part of a community of growing families is that there will never ever be a shortage of babies around! I know of three that were born in the last two months. Because of colds going around our house, I've only gotten to cuddle one of them, but there's always more time for that and I know of even more on the way in coming months. I've always enjoyed babies without being baby-crazy, but I may just end up turning into the aunt that won't put down her nieces/nephews/any other babies people will allow her to hold. (Fair warning, relatives! Hide yo' kids!)

How did you know when your family was complete? Or how do you handle people asking about it?

Comedy Hour: The Relatives

I try not to write about things too soon after they occur. Time creates a nice distance that allows me to view events in a more emotionally detached way, which can be very useful. But this just needs to be shared because I think it's something that all parents have experienced.

We're in Hawaii on the island of Oahu. It's beautiful. It's idyllic. It's basically like wandering around through a slightly crowded tropical paradise.

Paradise is full of scenes like this

We've been able to meet up with friends like one of my past swim coaches and we're staying with Joseph's aunt and her family. Absolutely beautiful people. They couldn't be more wonderful and welcoming than if they were actually my blood relatives. I love staying with them. While we were here, we got the opportunity to see some of Joseph's uncles, whom he hadn't seen in decades. We first met them without the kids- Joseph's aunt watched them while we went out to dinner and had a lovely adult conversation. It was especially interesting because it turns out Joseph and his youngest uncle have very similar personalities, thought processes, and interests. They could basically be brothers. This uncle and his wife (may they never find this blog) were friendly, funny, charming people, and they invited us over to their house for an early dinner. 

All of us.

Fellow parents... you know.

These lovely people recently got married but don't have any kids yet. So despite their best efforts to make us feel welcome, their home wasn't really kid-friendly. I totally don't fault them for that. I've never kept a family of ferrets in my house, so my home isn't ferret-proof. You just can't know that you shouldn't leave water bottles or glass picture frames within three feet of the floor until your kids have pulled them down at least once. 

Unfortunately, we were starting this whole evening at a disadvantage. The kids took short, broken naps, or in the case of our eldest child, skipped naps altogether. A lack of consistent sleeping schedule coupled with strange surroundings have made our kids a little off-kilter this entire trip. On top of it all, I forgot my first rule of outings with kids, which is to lower all expectations until they can be lowered no more. It was because these were nice family members and I enjoyed being around them and wanted to make a good impression. My fault. So I got myself all wound up when our kids were acting like kids. 

What happened exactly, you ask? Well...

We pulled up to their house and all got out of the car to say hello. They have an Australian Shepherd who is very smart, very energetic, and was barking at us very loudly. That made Diana and Matthew a little nervous and nearly sent Liam over the edge. He had an experience when he was younger that left him afraid of aggressive or intense dogs, even if they're just being intensely friendly. So the kids were nervous right off the bat. I don't blame the dog for that at all. I know that good dogs, like good kids, sometimes don't act socially acceptable. Whatever. However, Diana is actually allergic to dogs. So though the dog and the kids eventually reached a state of detente, Diana very shortly became horribly itchy and uncomfortable because she petted the dog and because there was dog hair in the house. Her face began to break out in hives and she began to cry. We mostly put out that fire by wiping her down with a wet rag. 

Matthew, who has spent a lot of time riding around in his car seat during this trip, started yelling from his perch on an ottoman because he absolutely did not want to be left in his seat any longer, so I had to hold him the whole time. He was almost entirely pleasant, but makes for a very wiggly happy handful at this point.

Liam was doing what Liam does- thoughtlessly touching everything he shouldn't. He took the tops off of water bottles, pulled on the cords of shades, pushed pillows off the couch, stepped on his sister's foot (more yelling), pounded on the glass shower door in the bathroom- just stuff a little boy will do in a place that isn't really set up for little boys yet. 

After much whining from kids (and some genuine fear because the dog followed them everywhere) while I juggled Matthew and tried to half-participate in conversation with the other adults, dinner was ready. They put together a really lovely dinner with local dishes. It was healthy and tasted delicious. But of course, Diana needed to have mac and cheese (and though she had insisted upon it, literally the first thing she uttered on tasting it was, "This doesn't taste good.") Liam had a hamburger, though only part of it because he was so energetic and distracted that he kept hopping down and using the couches for tumbling practice instead of eating dinner. And Matthew mostly sat on my lap and made eating difficult by trying (and sometimes succeeding) at grabbing handfuls of my dinner. I had given up adult conversation by this point. I was getting wound up and mostly death-whispering to the kids to sit still and/or stop bothering each other and/or stop whining. Joseph was absorbed in conversation with his uncle, and I'm glad they got the chance to talk. But this situation would have been impossible to deal with even if we'd both devoted all our attention to it. We were trying to make kids act like adults and I was setting us all up for failure with impossibly high standards. 

For dessert, Joseph's aunt had made a lilikoi (passionfruit) chiffon pie from fruit grown in their yard. (I told you this was a tropical paradise!) However, because our kids don't react well to sugar, I suggested to a very interested Diana that we would share some pie. That didn't sit well with her, so she slipped into the kitchen where Joseph's aunt was dishing out pie and asked for (and got) her own piece. Of course his aunt couldn't have known that Diana wasn't supposed to get her own piece of pie. I only discovered it when Diana marched into the living room where we were all sitting munching on a generous slice of chiffon pie. That was straight up naughty, but we couldn't really discipline right then because we would risk making his relatives feel bad. So I told Diana she could eat half of the pie and we would take the other half home (where she would never ever see it again, but I didn't tell anyone that part). It was only when I began eating my slice of pie (minus a handful that Matthew claimed) that I had a shocking realization.

Chiffon pie is light and silky only because it's made with eggs. Beaten, lightly cooked eggs.

There are only a few things in the world that Diana is allergic to enough to throw up if she ingests them: Peanuts, tree nuts, and eggs. 

Yes.

Right on cue, Diana began to cry and complain because her stomach hurt which rapidly became "my throat is stinging" and her cheeks began to swell up. I experienced her reaction to undercooked eggs in the past, so I didn't really fear an anaphylactic reaction, but I knew she needed antihistamines fast. Thankfully, there was some Benadryl in the house so we gave her that and made our exit. She was wailing because she was in genuine distress. I had to put Matthew down in his chair to carry him to the car, which caused him to scream to high heaven. They live on a hill, so I had Liam follow me down the steps, but of course he managed to trip on his ever-present blanket and tumble past the side of me. I don't even know how many times he hit his head on the concrete steps. He wasn't bleeding, but he was definitely hurting. Joseph's aunt and uncle were so nice. They came out to wish us goodbye through the screaming symphony of our whole little circus. I was wound up as tight as could be and fuming at the way things had played out. The kids fell asleep on the car ride home, but each woke up to yell in turn as we carried them into the house. Diana was the last to come in, and though Joseph sprinted admirably, she still threw up on both of them. And the sink. And the other sink. On the plus side, he now finally believes me when I tell him Diana is allergic to eggs. It only really takes one time being vomited upon to make you a believer. 

And now, we all rest. I'm going to bed. I'm sure by tomorrow this will all seem laughable.

Do you have a cry-larious story about visiting relatives with kids?

Nine reasons why kids are the best

I know many stay-at-home moms, myself included, who will acknowledge how blessed we are to be able to stay at home with our children, but in the next breath can talk (at length) about how frustrating and maddening is our job. That's kind of the nature of things, isn't it? We're not here to be buddies with the kids and have fun all day long. We're here to train them to be good people, and that means that sometimes there will be friction.

There's a fine balance between sharing enough with other mothers to encourage camaraderie or raise awareness and just venting in a negative way about your family. I'm still trying to find the right balance, but lest anyone ever doubt it, I love my kids- sometimes so much I can't even describe it. And while some days are bananas, there are a lot of reasons why being around kids all day is really awesome. Here are nine reasons that kids are the best:

1. Unconditional love- This is easily the best and most overwhelmingly beautiful reason why being around kids is so awesome.When I mess up (which is on the daily- maybe more like every few minutes), I miraculously don't have to worry that my kids are going to love me any less or even hold a grudge. It wouldn't even occur to them. If I am becoming a loud and grouchy mama bear, they still tell me I'm their best and favoritist mommy. When I am eaten up with guilt over having lost it again and apologize to them, they forgive me completely and freely, with smiles and hugs. They don't think to compare me to other mothers the way I do myself because in their minds I'm the only mommy for them and of course I'm perfect. It is so precious to have such soft and open little hearts to take care of!
2. No judgment- You don't feel like changing out of yoga pants, doing your makeup, eating healthy like a grown-up, or leaving the house? No problem! Kids could run around naked eating chicken nuggets all day (in fact, that may be child Nirvana), so they seriously don't care if you do the same. 
3. Complete acceptance- I realize this is kind of a double-edged sword. There are bad people, bad behaviors, and bad ideas in the world, and kids need to be taught about them. However, I love watching the complete open acceptance of people. Kids are just open. My dad is Pacific Islander, so he looks different from the rest of our pretty white family. Even if I pointed that fact out, I doubt my kids would notice it. They adore him. We go to an International Moms and Babies group and the kids just don't see any difference in each other, even if they're from vastly different cultures. Are you a different race/ethnicity? Don't speak English? Are you handicapped? Rich? Poor? Who cares? Don't pull my hair, and we'll share animal crackers. I love watching that.
4. Playtime!- If you want to surround yourself with people who love blowing bubbles, painting, running around, or playing in sprinklers, stay home with your kids. They are always up for fun.
5. Human Growth and Development 102- This part is a personal favorite because it's something that I find fascinating. I love watching the way people's brains work. It is amazing to watch three people at three different stages of cognitive development who are constantly learning.  It's like having your own observational study right in your own home. (Nerd alert.)
6. Creating your own family culture- It started with inside jokes and shared beliefs between me and my husband. Now, as a family we share our own special language, memories, nicknames, preferences, goals, values, you name it. And I get to hold a special place in shaping our culture. Dads may traditionally be the head of the family, but mothers are the heart. I find my husband and kids becoming interested in the things I value, and I've become interested in the things they like. It's like creating your own club.
7. Seeing yourself and your loved-ones- This is beautiful and bittersweet. I see my husband in my kids, which is wonderful, because I love him dearly. Liam looks and sounds like my Pacific Islander dad and his side of the family, and acts like my brothers. Diana reminds me often of my little sister, and causes me to dwell a lot on how I treated her growing up. Matthew looks like my mom's side of the family, which makes me wish they were closer so I could share that with them. In my kids faces, sometimes I catch glimpses of my paternal grandmother, who I miss even now. She would have adored getting to meet them. She would have appreciated the fact that Diana loves eating seaweed. I see reflections of myself in them, which can be good and bad. Children are like little mirrors for whatever bad attitudes or habits you might have, which is humbling. Mostly, though, I see in my kids the combination of generations of remarkable people. 
8. Company- Life with kids is never lonely, and not just because they won't even let you out of their sight to go to the bathroom. You're always surrounded by little people who love and need you. And in times that would otherwise be very lonely, that's a great feeling.
9. Physical affection- I remember visiting my mom when I was in college, and she asked for a hug. I thought it was odd, but she pointed out that she never got hugs anymore. She was single and my siblings and I were all either in college or high school, and none of us ever thought to give my mom or each other hugs. In fact, if you're an adult who's not in a relationship, you probably don't experience a lot of physical affection. When you're surrounded by kids, you're smothered in physical affection all day long. Hugs, kisses, climbing, wrestling, snuggling, sitting on your lap, trying to suck/chew on your face/elbow/hands (that'd be the baby), playing with your hair... sometimes it's overwhelming, but I know I'm going to miss all these joyous physical expressions of affection.

After writing all these down, I just want to go give my kids big hugs. Being a mother really is incredibly special. Can you think of any more reasons kids are awesome?

Ideas from my pre-parent days

I know someone who frequently makes comments about other people's ill-behaved kids. They've made it very clear they have no tolerance and complete disdain for children who act up. (They don't have children.)

Why do they tell me this? I think they share the confidence because they imagine that my kids are "good," so I must also have a natural disdain for "bad" children. I think that just illustrates how little they know us. My kids are good kids, but as a mother, there have been times a'plenty when I've seen that even good kids have bad moments (or days, or weeks, or months). Being a parent changes your perspective on a lot of things. Before having kids, my ideas about children ranged from naive (that I'd have free time) to downright delusional. (In one of my pre-baby fantasies, I sat rocking my peacefully sleeping baby wearing a white gown. WHITE.) For example, before I had kids, I thought:

1. Bad behavior = bad kids, and bad kids = bad parents. Kids are just tiny human beings still learning to keep a grip on sanity and reason for most of the day, and the smallest (and weirdest) things can set them up for failure. Even good kids will scream at the top of their lungs, throw things, and turn and run away from their moms at least once, if only because they're still learning how their world works and they want to see if they can get away with it. However, bad behavior can be influenced by too little (or too much) sleep, sleep at the wrong times of day, their diaper situation, air temperature, hunger, thirst, visiting relatives, siblings' behavior, wind direction, the presence (or absence) of their favorite toy/sweater/snack, their blood sugar, stress, uncertainty, boredom, personality, the phases of the moon, current world events, and just being a kid. Just because you see a toddler throwing a tantrum in a store once doesn't mean they've ever done it before or that they're bad kids. They may just be having a bad moment. And more importantly, it doesn't mean their parents are bad parents. I do believe that there are bad parents and bad children, but that doesn't mean that they can't ever change.
2. Our moms' stories didn't apply to me. I grew up hearing all my mom's stories about my siblings' ear infections, tantrums, sleep-walking, and food aversions. I listened to my mother-in-law talk about her kids' dealings with allergies, eczema, bad dreams, rounded feet, etc. without absorbing any of the information. Where exactly did I imagine my kids were getting their genes from? When we started dealing with allergies, eczema, bad dreams, and sleep-walking, I went back to our moms and asked them to re-tell their stories, and this time I really listened.
3. That I'd have free time. I worked throughout my first pregnancy. I planned to scale back my hours after having my baby, but keep working. In fact, I remember telling my boss, "I should still be able to get that writing done, at least for a few hours a week. I'll just be sitting at home with a baby and nothing to do." 
   
   
   
4. That the hardest thing I'd do is be a mother. Being a mom is a big job. You are the universe to one (or three!) small people. They want you to know what to do all the time. Your personality, preferences, beliefs, and actions shape the culture of an entire family. And if all you had to do was be a mother, it would still be a huge job, but if you're married, you still have to be a wife as well. ("WHAT?? You mean my husband is still going to want to spend time with me and talk about things other than the kids? He's still going to want some of my last shreds of energy to have a meaningful conversation and wonder why I don't make him lunch or put away his laundry like I used to when we were newlyweds? Who does he think he is? One of the kids??") My parents' marriage was never great that I can remember, and they ended up getting divorced around the time I got married. They come from failed marriages on both sides. If there's one thing that runs in my family, it is not doing well at marriage. The fatal blows to those and so many marriages are struck in that vulnerable time after having babies- when two people are trying to learn how to be parents and maybe end up letting go of being spouses at the same time. I had hormones that prepared my mind and body to be completely fixated on my babies. It took a huge effort to intentionally carve out some time and energy and space in my brain for my husband. But I know that (aside from being something I truly love) being his wife at the same time as being my kids' mom is one of the greatest investments I can make in my family.
5. That there was a right way to do things. Please don't hate me. Please understand. We all start out without a clue. Before I had babies, I believed a low-intervention pregnancy, a natural home birth, and breastfeeding a child were the best and therefore the right way to bring children into the world. I have learned so, so much since then. I know people who wanted to have home births but couldn't, who wanted to have a hospital birth but had their babies in cars, moms who had unplanned C-sections, moms who had scheduled C-sections, moms who had epidurals, moms who went natural. I know moms who breastfed for years, who never wanted to breastfeed, who introduced solid foods early, who just couldn't breastfeed, who exclusively pumped and bottle fed. And do you know what? All their kids are fine. Babies are born all kinds of ways. They are cared for all kinds of ways. And they almost always turn out fine. 
6. That I'd be able to turn it off. I imagined that I'd be able to effortlessly switch between "mom" and "me" whenever I had free time (see number 3). But there is no longer any difference. Of course I'm still the person I was before I had kids, but I am also for the rest of my life a mother. Even when my kids are asleep, even when I'm on a date, even when we spend a night away, even when my kids grow up and leave, I will always be thinking about them, thinking about kids, thinking about myself as a mom, thinking about mothering in general, thinking about mothers and babies and families around the world. I am changed forever. I am always a mom. It's not a bad thing. But it's not a part of myself that I can be separate from like I expected. I will never be able to completely be like my pre-baby self. Heck, I'll probably never be able to take a shower again without wondering if a baby/child is crying in the next room. (AmIright, moms?)
7. That I'd be an expert. If you run often enough you become a pretty good runner. If you throw a ball often enough you become an expert at pitching. If you have enough babies, the only thing you become an expert in is knowing where to look for help. Every pregnancy and every baby is different. I keep thinking that one of these times I'm going to be able to use the knowledge I gained taking care of one child with the next child, but it hasn't happened yet. They each have their own quirks and needs. The more kids I have, the more I get this itchy uncomfortable feeling that the beginning of wisdom is realizing how much you don't know. I'm pretty much an expert at changing diapers, but that's it. And only the disposable kind, because cloth diapers still baffle me.
8. That my body would be the same. After assisting in the creation and care of a new human being for TEN MONTHS (multiplied by the number of kids you've had), your body forgets how to be a body anymore. There are bits and pieces where you didn't leave them before getting pregnant. (Even your bellybutton changes! Forever!) Your hips are different and where you carry your weight. You'll feel a new anxiety at the thought of sneezing, which will be amplified greatly if you already have to go to the bathroom. Your hormones are all. Out. Of. Whack. If you're lucky, your body might snap back to some semblance of its former self, but only if you've had only one baby. Or if you're a fitness instructor or Victoria's Secret model. I imagined that since I'd always been thin and small, my body would just naturally revert to that after having a baby with no effort. Not so.

I know there must be more, but it's late and I only have free time to write at the expense of cleaning up and putting away laundry. What are some ideas you had about kids before becoming a parent?

The perfect day that almost wasn't

I got to do a Thing a few months ago. As luck would have it, it was on my birthday. Even more fortuitously, it was absolutely the most fun, perfect, and wonderful thing I could never have imagined (seriously, I wouldn't have ever thought to name this as my perfect birthday activity) for any special day. I didn't even get to do some of this stuff for my wedding. The entire day was an absolute delight. I will definitely share actual details, but what I really wanted to share was how that special day almost didn't happen.

My wonderful friend Valerie is a seriously wonderful wedding planner with a wonderful wedding coordination team in Portland. (Champagne Wedding Coordination. Getting married? Look them up.) She was putting together a photo shoot to feature a new event venue in Portland, and she needed models, she said. And she asked ME! (And Joseph.) I was surprised and a little shocked at first and then immediately kind of like this: 

My husband had to hear a lot of that for many weeks. Thankfully, Valerie was feeling about the same way and we kept in contact for updates about the shoot, so we got to do a lot of that sort of thing together.

Now here's the honest truth: I had just had a baby not three months before. And I had not lost all of the 35-40 lbs I'd gained during my pregnancy. As with most women, I probably noticed it more than anyone else. But it was okay- I wasn't letting it bother me because I was just enjoying being healthy and taking care of a very obviously fat and healthy baby. Because here's another truth about me: I truly believe, and I will say it all day long, that if mom and baby are healthy, there is no need to worry about weight loss after pregnancy. I know people who go bananas trying to lose weight right after giving birth- counting calories, working out (maybe sooner than they should), going on diets, constantly using the phrase "goal weight," etc. Look, I don't like carrying around extra weight any more than the next girl, but I've always had a high metabolism and I didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize my (admittedly ample) milk supply, so when it came to losing weight after having Matthew, I was content to work out enough to feel good and eat healthy food and see how weight loss went. It wasn't my focus. I was happy with my body the way it was, extra pounds and all.

Or was I?

I never told Valerie any of this. (Sorry, Valerie!) As the weeks went on, I began to get slightly nervous. It became apparent that this wasn't just dressing up and taking some pictures. She was planning a full fictional wedding and putting great thought into details about her vision for all the elements of the shoot and choosing only the best vendors. In particular, when she showed me the dresses she had picked out... well, first I did this: 

But I started to get nervous as well. Because it's one thing to feel comfortable with your own body around your husband and family and even going around your small town. It's another thing to feel confident enough to be a very visible piece in someone's gorgeous wedding photo shoot, which had a chance at being published on blogs that had a very large audience. It was possible that many, many people would see me. And though they'd never seen me before, and for all they knew I could have looked my best, they would still see me a little rounder than I used to be, and certainly heavier than most model brides.

I even asked Valerie at one point if she wouldn't rather hire professional models. She assured me that we would be great. (My husband has no lack of confidence, so he was not going through the same struggles I was.) Despite her reassurances, I started looking through more of Champagne's past photo shoots to see what I could expect/compare myself to past models and feeling nervous became feeling stressed. I worried about how I looked daily. I made more of an effort to work out, but most shamefully, I stopped eating. As the shoot got closer, I went for several days at a time eating barely anything. I even considered asking Valerie if she had a backup because I didn't know if I could/should do the shoot at my present weight. Unfortunately, because I ate so little at the same time as Matthew had his three month growth spurt, my supply dropped and I struggled to keep up with his demand. For the first time, he became sad and fussy while nursing, as if there wasn't enough there. 

I did drop a lot of weight before the shoot, but that was kind of a low point for me. Breastfeeding is my "thing." It is one of the things I am immensely proud of, because I believe in it and because I fought for it so hard for it with all of my kids. I feel incredibly personally satisfied when I see my babies growing big and strong and fat and smart without depending on anything but me for sustenance. That's all aside from the emotional satisfaction of snuggling and bonding with a baby while nursing. When I saw that Matthew was not getting what he needed from me, I was forced to confront the fact my actions were completely contradictory to my beliefs about postpartum weight loss. 

I had to pull myself together for a major mental readjustment. I had some soul-searching conversations with Joseph which (as usual) helped me begin to get the right frame of mind. And instead of working out and depriving myself of food to lose the last few pregnancy pounds before the shoot (I could have made it to my pre-pregnancy weight, too, if I'd kept up with it!), I decided that Matthew's needs came before my vanity. I decided to be curvier but happier. I decided to trust Valerie's judgment in choosing me. (She is the professional, after all.) I decided that the rest of the pounds would come off in their own time, but I wasn't going to force them right then. 

And suddenly, instead of a looming, intimidating event, the day became something I looked forward to. I was so much happier, and so was everyone around me. My weight didn't drop, but it didn't go up either, and my supply came back and we got through Matthew's growth spurt. And because I decided to wrestle my vanity to the floor, tie it up, and throw it in a closet, THIS was the result. Go ahead, follow the link. Look through the whole gallery. I'll give you a minute.

Isn't it stunning?? 

First, I'd like you to notice Valerie's brilliance, and how all the beautiful, fresh details that she thought up in her own creative noggin came together to create an absolutely gorgeous Tuscan themed wedding. 

Then I'd like you to note the talent of all the vendors who contributed to the shoot, from the owner of Opal 28 who made such a beautiful modern venue, to the brilliant photographer, the dessert caterer who made the gorgeous, sweet, real cakes and desserts, the florist! The jewelry designer! The stationary designer! And my drop-dead-stunning hair and makeup! 

And then finally, I'd like you to notice how unnoticeable my few extra pounds are. You can probably see them, now that I've pointed it out, but mostly you probably notice (as you should) the heavenly dresses, veil, hairstyles, jewelry, or really anything other than my weight. 

If I'd allowed my vanity to get the better of me, I would have missed out on one of the best days of my life. I got to spend it with Joseph acting like a bride and groom again. I got to hang out with Valerie. I got to fulfill a lifelong dream of having a professional do my hair and makeup for the day and I met some wonderful, interesting people. I got to relax, dress up like a princess, and smile and kiss my husband on demand, essentially reliving my wedding day but with incredibly talented professional planning and coordination. Seriously. There was no downside. Plus there was cake. CAKE. 

So now I can say with even greater conviction than before that there is no need to worry about weight loss after pregnancy. If it's not for health, then it's basically for vanity, and mine caused me to lose focus on what was important and nearly kept me from some of the most fun I've ever had. I wasn't at my pre-pregnancy goal weight. I'm still not. And I can now confidently say, 

I want to be healthy, but my life is too full of important things to stress about something as unimportant as quickly losing weight. 

(P.S. I recently discovered the site www.reactiongifs.com. I can't get out. Send help.)

Comedy Hour: Well-Child Checkup

Welcome to comedy hour here at No Ordinary Family! In this segment I will relate to you a hilarious story about the time I took three young children to the doctor's office solo. If you're a parent of three or more kids, this will sound mighty familiar to you. If you're not a mom, make sure you're sitting down. If you're pregnant (especially with your second or third child), definitely be sitting down (take is easy, girlfriend!) and don't worry, you'll learn to appreciate this kind of humor.

Last week was my son's two year well-child checkup. I hate the doctor, but I love my kids, so I take them to be tortured to make sure they're healthy. Unfortunately, I ended up having to take all three kids by myself. What I know of doing anything (especially if it's "an outing") with three kids so far is to lower your expectations about as far as they can go. So in my mind, the visit would have gone well if we,
a) Made it to the doctor's office, and,
b) Saw the doctor, and,
c) All made it home alive.
I used to have ideas about "cleanliness" and "good behavior" and "being on time," but experience and a lack of sleep have taken those from me, along with my dignity and short-term memory. (Although one thing I can remember is my son sitting on my lap last week poking my still-soggy post-baby tummy and saying "beep!" over and over again. I laughed with him and cried on the inside. No dignity. Anyway...)

In the car, I mentally prepped my kids for the general order of events and what the doctor would do, trying to glaze over the fact that my son would be stabbed with a needle multiple times. This has worked well in the past, but this time it caused my daughter to start crying. Was her tender heart sorry for her little brother? No. She was "sad because I'm not getting a shot so I don't get to pick a treat. Waaauuuuhhh!" We hadn't even made it out of the car.

But- would you believe it? We made it to the doctor's office on time! Early, even! I used the old Jedi mind-trick of setting my phone alarm too early. The waiting room was filled with silent adults. My kids headed to the corner with the toys, where there happened to be no other children, and proceeded to be adorable. Strangers smiled in our direction. Score.

I took Matthew out of his car seat and he smiled at me from my lap and all the strangers smiled at our adorable family. But then I smelled a smell. A smelly smell. A smelly smell that smelled... smelly. It was the diaper of my own smiling baby. Taking him to the bathroom would be a gamble, because I had no idea if our name was going to be called in two minutes or twenty. As it happened, at that moment, Diana announced she needed to go potty anyway. So I pried an unwilling Liam away from the germ-infested toys to go to the germ-infested bathroom. (I forgot to mention that our family doctor's office shares a waiting room with the Urgent Care center.) Our MO in public restrooms is for the kids to stand in a corner NOT TOUCHING ANYTHING until we exit the stall. But since I was alone, with two hands occupied with Diana and then changing Matthew, they sensed my weakness and would not stay put, so we were exposed to an unknown number of germs and diseases.

We left the bathroom and the kids bolted over to the germ-infested toys where a little girl was playing with some foam letters and proceeded to jointly rip them from her. I didn't see it, but I heard her protest. They know we don't grab. I don't know why they had taken leave of their senses and had chosen to forget that fact in a waiting room full of silent adults who had nothing better to do than watch the noisy children. So I called them over to me and used my best "You'd better shape up or you're in big trouble" death-whisper. It seemed to work, because they played relatively peacefully for the rest of the HOUR that we spent waiting for the doctor. However, in that time, Matthew began to cry more insistently. I began to get set up to feed him when, of course, the nurse came out and called Liam's name.

Liam is a very outgoing boy, and very happy, and loves people. But as if he could sense our malicious purpose, he suddenly shrank from the nurse. He followed me into the back, but his cooperative good nature was overcome by fear and a murky memory of the horrors he had experienced at the doctor's office before, and he fell to pieces. I had to hold him with me on the scale, which meant the nurses had to get my weight first. (Newsflash: it's not my pre-baby weight.) Matthew was fussing, but I couldn't feed him because for the rest of the exam, I had to hold Liam on my lap or wrestle him bodily on the exam table. At least I wasn't pregnant for that part. He might not have been able to hear Liam's heart well, but the doctor confidently said he had "very healthy lungs." He had to shout his list of standard questions ("Can he stack blocks by himself?" "Does he have a vocabulary of more than 20 words?" Etc.) over the sound of Matthew yelling and Liam sobbing, but I think all the answers were satisfactory. Meanwhile Diana was taking off her shoes and dropping them on the floor under chairs, asking to read the magazines and trying to explore the drawers under the exam table. Still, I kept my cool. What else could I do, really? We were basically a loud three-ring circus. At some point it all just becomes hilarious.

What's that, you say? There's room for more chaos? You're right! As the doctor was finishing the exam and going to fetch the nurse to administer Liam's vaccinations, Diana announced she had to go potty. Again. And of course there was no way Liam was going to wait with Matthew in the exam room while I took her. So off we took our whole flipping circus of four to another germ-infested bathroom. Liam kept dropping his blanket on the floor and then picking it up and putting it in his mouth, but I couldn't do anything about that because I was holding Diana on the potty. Matthew provided the soundtrack for the whole event. As luck would have it, it was a FALSE ALARM, which I love. However, I took the opportunity to put up Diana's hair since it had been falling into her face. This caused her to loudly yell, "Ouch, Mommy! Stop! Stop it! You're hurting me! Stop!" Which is, of course, an awesome thing to have coming from a child with you in a closed bathroom- if you want to be investigated by Child Protective Services. She also remembered my promise that Liam could pick out a treat after he got shots and began wailing because she wasn't going to get shots. Of course. Out we went, back to the exam room, poor ignored Matthew still yelling. Liam was very happy to see the cool Band-Aids the nurses showed him, but when he saw the needles the jig was up. (Happily, when Diana saw the needles, her eyes got big and she stopped whining and declared that she didn't want a shot or subsequent treat.) More twisting, screaming, and wrestling, despite gentle assurances from me trying to remind him of all the good things to come after the shots.

I dislike doctors in general, but I love, love, love nurses. They prove to me every time we go to the doctor's office (which is fairly often now that we have three kids) that there are good people who care about others out there, even in a medical setting. When the deed was done, the very sweet nurses offered Liam his choice of stickers, and he stopped crying right away. Meanwhile, Matthew is still crying, Diana is asking me goodness-knows-what, and I'm just sitting there like,

We packed our circus up and walked out past the waiting room full of silent adults who had certainly heard what sounded like two children being murdered in the back room. Out at the car, I let the kids climb around in their seats while I finally fed my longsuffering Matthew. He sat up and smiled at me, and out of sheer joy and gratitude, spit up probably almost everything I'd fed him all over himself, my shoulder, arm, jeans, and the passenger seat. I cleaned him up, ordered the kids into their car seats, and as I was putting him into his car seat, I noticed that the strange feeling from my shoe meant, yep, I'd stepped in gum. And tracked it into the car.

We got there, we saw the doctor, we all got out alive. It went well.

Fin.

(P.S. I've learned my lesson and am actively looking for people to watch my older two during Matthew's four month checkup this week.)