Weddings and Other Business

Upon trying to make lunch this afternoon, my dear Patrick was underfoot with a grand plan for our day.  "Hey, Mom?" he said innocently, his blue eyes batting.  "When you are done feeding Leo, let's go to my room and get married.  We're probably going to kiss and hug.  You can wear your pink sunglasses if you want, but please brush your hair.  And don't be late."  I tried to keep a straight face, and I agreed.  Find my hairbrush, check.  Locate pink sunglasses, check.  Internally, I rejoiced at the idea of playing "wedding" with my three-year old. 

I thank my sister-in-law for her recent (and gorgeous) wedding and my sister for her soon-to-be (and certainly also gorgeous) wedding for this new obsession.  I should actually thank them that our pretend play extends beyond the limits of superheroes.  I love his excitement about the wedding stuff, and I love to hear his understanding of what goes on.  You see, he has the typical preschool mentality that the whole world revolves around him.  From his perspective, it totally does.  This wedding business is no exception.  He asked his new uncle Justin to buy him a "beautiful" wedding present, specifically a new Buzz Lightyear, because his was broken and only has one arm.  He wants my sister to walk down the aisle as a pink Buzz Lightyear and to have a Spiderman cake.  He is over-the-moon that he was once and will again be a ring bearer (though he has a hard time explaining why a "ring bear" is different from a "regular bear.")  Bless him.  I wish I could bottle him up sometimes.

Life here goes on as usual...just life.  I get a lot of the I-don't-know-how-you-do-it's, which sounds like a toot of my own horn, but it's not.  Sometimes, we barely stay afloat and life here is crazy, but it's really good.  We do it because we just do and because it's all a labor of love.  If that wasn't clear (mostly), it might be more of a challenge, but it's really not.  I promise.  As if it's a choice, anyway?

Work started for me last week.  Baby Hatch a mere 3.5 weeks old, you'd think it'd be harder than it was.  I didn't like leaving at first, but I'm starting to be thankful that I'm doing this now, while he is so young.  Also, I am really starting to enjoy pumping, a chore that I once loathed.  (I recently purchased breast pump accessories.  I'm getting fancy with it now.  True story.)   Also, a friend of mine is watching the boys while I am gone, and she is fantastic.  No, really.  Like, perfect.  The kids love her.  They listen to her.  She keeps the house clean.  She organizes activities for them.  They had a costume fashion show.  She makes dinner.  For us.  From scratch.  She makes me look bad, but I don't even care.  I'd move her in permanently if a.) there was room, and b.) her own child and husband wouldn't miss her.  Considering how fabulous she is, I'm thinking they probably would.  We can't pay her enough for what she does, God love her. 

On to other business, our little William is one month old today.  One month of loving this little guy so much that my heart could explode.  Oh, he's so sweet.  He's still a little petite, but has kept most of his hair (both Leo and Patrick were bald as eagles by four weeks).  I still find little black hairs on his clothes and bedding, but there isn't much I can do.  If it's going to fall out, it's going to fall out.  We'll probably love him all the same.  (I hope you know that's sarcasm.)  He's a good smiler, and though I know many people claim that "real" smiles don't start until at least 6 weeks, I disagree.  He's a very pleasant little guy; a little lover...and really cute.  I was right on with that prediction.  (And I don't care if that's inappropriate to say about your own children.)

Not to leave Leo out, he's still our little brut.  Giant in size and now in personality (and noise), he's a goofy little guy.  His vocabulary includes:

- What is that (What eeess daaaa-aaat?)
- What? (emphasis on the T)
- Look!
- Go!
- No.  (Of course.)
- Baby
- One, two
- Hatch
- Puppy
- Want it
- More
- Me! Me! Me! (said when he wants something, usually a drink of water, while holding up his cup)
- Clock
- Milk
- Watch!
-...and various tones of caveman grunts, which mean anything from "I am absolutely not interested in going to bed right now" to "If Patrick does not give me my Pillow Pet back in less than three seconds, I swear to God I will head-butt him."

In the middle of a disagreement over the contents of Adam's wallet not being disbursed all over the floor, I told Leo that I was going to spank his bottom if he didn't listen.  Looking me straight in the eye, he parked himself in Hatch's mini-swing, so that his tiny bottom was protected, started peeling out the wallet contents and throwing them, and defiantly said, "What?"  It's hard not to laugh at him, but we do our best.  Between his stature and defiance, he's going to have no problem in life...or on the playground. 

And, finally, Adam and I are hanging in there.  There are more naps now than there used to be (Adam in particular is the most tired person I have ever met right now), but we're good.  We start a lot of days with the typical "Oh, look at our babies.  Just look at them.  Did you think they'd be this cute?  Don't you just love them?  Oh, their little breath smells so sweet, " etc., etc.  If anyone witnessed it, it'd be completely annoying, but it's almost a morning tradition at this point.  (This usually occurs while they are sleeping, before the real "fun" begins.)  We're both looking forward to becoming a two-income family again, once that paycheck hits very soon.  I'm still signed up to work part-time, with which I really struggle.  I wish sometimes that there was time to do more, but there isn't.  And who ever wished they could spend more time at work?  (Although, at the risk of sounding like a terrible "homemaker," I will say that I have appreciated some time out of the house at work this past week.  I needed it.  Everyone needs a little time away, right?   My sanity feels in check, and though my social skills still seem a little dusty, I'm working on them.)

So, this is like a true check-in, right?  I feel like I'm writing a letter to a friend I haven't talked to in a while.  I hope I hit everything.  I had other intentions for a blog post today, but I completely forgot them before I sat down to type.  See?  My mind is really going, probably at the same rate that my hair is graying (pitiful, really. Thank goodness for good haircolor.  I'm not that old yet.  Crazy, maybe, but not that old.)

Back To Work...Almost

Monday brings back emploment for me.  One half of me is overjoyed at 1.) starting my ideal job and 2.) having a real paycheck, but the other half of me is dreading having to leave these kids.  Oh, what a great three weeks it's been.  I'm going to miss these boys horribly.  But I'll be back.

Initially gung-ho (is that how to spell that?) about working full-time nights and still managing my boys all by myself during the day, I've come to terms that will likely not happen...yet.  Also, I'm a little spoiled by having made and kept my own schedule these last few months, that I really think a part-time gig is up my alley.  So that is what I'll do.  Two nights a week away from sleeping children = not so bad.  The following day might be a little rough, but we'll work through that.  One thing at a time. 

This past week has been as especially good way to lead up to a regular-person schedule again.  Dinner with friends, a concert with family (still a little foggy today), Halloween parties and excitement, and some good and simple QT...I love it.  I've gotten out of the house with all three little ones quite a few times, and though Leo has developed a penchant for moving cars and roads (scary as $%!+), it's really much easier than I'd have thought...and even a little fun, as long as it's not an errand marathon.  I learned that the hard way.  If you know me at all, or really any other mom in the universe, you know how much pride is rooted in these kids.  Our outings yesterday brought quite a few compliments from strangers, thanks to uncharacteristically simultaneous pleasant and polite moods from the two older boys, which in turn made me feel like we're not so bad at this.  (That feeling comes and goes. Trust you me.)  I'm really happy and fortunate that, despite returning to work too early for my taste, I'll still get the day-to-day kid stuff with them, even the tantrums, which I'm only mediocre at diffusing.  This schedule allows me to be both a working mom and a stay-at-home mom...and a tired mom, but I'll live.  It's true.     

This weekend brings with it the end of another chapter.  Monday starts the beginning of an entirely new book.  Ready, set...go.

Oh, Leo...

Dear Leo,

You are obviously tired. You can barely function on even one nap per day. You NEED two, and why you fight every attempt is beyond me. I don't know what else to do, short of a daily Benadryl cocktail (only kidding, but wish I wasn't.)  Just sleep. Please.

Love,
Mom

Life With a Newborn, Round Three

Little Hatch is now twelve days old. For a relatively short period of time, he'll be a newborn.  And I love the newborns.  I've been asked several times how hard it is now that we have three kids.  I will tell you this: not at all. Yet.  The boys still take a lot of naps, Hatch especially, and I spend the majority of my day doing what I am used to - taking care of my older two boys, chasing them down, cleaning up spills and toys, and trying to keep valuables (including baby Hatch) out of reach. Their naptime is my snuggle time with my smallest son, usually with the TV off in near-silence. It's almost like meditation, healthy for my soul.

I know things will get harder. I have Leo as a constant reminder. (In his defense, he is also way more fun and outgoing than he used to be.)  In the meantime, I am loving our growing family, especially the newborn part. I love breast-feeding, love waking up to his face in the early morning, love the way he smells and how he practices smiling and laughing in his sleep. I love this baby. Of course, that's a given, but I really love this baby.

What I also love is the number of things I have learned that I can do one-handed, while either simply cradling or breast-feeding my tiny man. I refer to this multi-tasking as Mothering 312 (upper-level, you see.)  The list includes:

1.) Making dinner (specifically, assembling BLT's and ingredients for chili in the crock pot)

2.) Helping Leo with his yogurt (read: spoon-feed one child while breast-feeding another)

3.) Vacuuming

4.) Making the bed

5.) Brushing my teeth

6.) Reading a bedtime story AND giving a back rub (to/for the same kid)

6.) Scolding and pointing with purpose, using my mom voice (extra points for not un-latching or startling the baby) 

So...yeah...things are good. Great! As of two days ago, I had eight pounds left on the scale, which leaves me only a little discouraged, but also a little hopeful. I'm not ready to leave the boys in two weeks, but we'll get there. Reluctantly, but it still counts. Life will go back to normal, but even normal is still pretty good. No complaints here. (Important to note: Speaking of complaints, the angry pregnant woman who lived inside me along with Hatch has finally moved out. I can see the relief written all over Adam's face.)

The Professional Documentation, From Katie Marsh

Having a good friend and sister-in-law double as a photographer has its perks:

Birthday Photos

Five Days Old

William Has "Hatched"

I woke up to an alarm on my phone this morning. This is only interesting because I never have an alarm set to go off on Sundays (and, really, with these tiny kids, alarms are hardly necessary). When I picked up my phone to look at it, it read: Due Date 10/16. My due date. I put my phone back down on the dresser and snuggled my little William a little tighter.

It's been a week and a half since we met our smallest son. Ten days since we laid eyes on each other, and yet it feels like I've known him my entire life. He belongs here. He is ours.

Last Wednesday started out like any other. I had had contractions the night before, which made me think his arrival might be coming close, but they fizzled out and I fell asleep sometime around five AM. I took Patrick to school, came home, and was even more hopeful for a Thursday arrival. (Again, I will leave out the details. Let's just say I have my reasons for thinking that). Leo and I went for a walk. We came home and ate lunch. We picked Patrick up from school. I had not a single contraction all day long. My hope was fading, so I took a shot of castor oil. Still, nothing happened. Not even a Braxton Hicks. Nothing. In fact, I felt great.

Adam came home from work and was clearly sick. I ordered some pizza for dinner and agreed to take Leo for another walk so that he and Patrick could rest a little. I barely got out of the driveway when I felt the contractions start. Like clockwork, they were coming every three minutes and strong enough that I could barely walk through them. I was probably smiling as I closed my eyes and took deep breaths through each one, some worse than others. By the time we got home, about 20 minutes later, I was hit hard. I was in some pain, but I was loving every minute of it. I called my mom and asked that she or Colleen come by the house to watch the kids.

By the time they got here, my contractions really weren't terrible anymore. I was afraid they were fading, so Adam and I went for another walk. (This was a highlight to the entire night for me. It has been ages since the two of us held hands and took a walk. We checked out the other houses in the neighborhood and discussed baby names.) Because of the contractions, my bladder was barely holding anything. With Adam as my look-out, I did end up peeing in a neighbor's side yard...I imagine that was a pretty interesting sight, and thank God they did not have security lights.

Back home, I curled my hair, put on makeup, double-checked my bag, and we were off to the hospital around 11pm. It was an insanely busy evening in triage, but I was obviously in labor (still not nearly as painful as when it started) and progressing quickly. It took no more than a couple of hours to completely dilate and efface. I opted to labor down for a while, since it was late/early, the doctor wasn't there, and I really didn't want to push long. As it turns out, that didn't pan out the way I had hoped. I did push for a long time. Over three hours, to be exact, and with no pain medication. I had a loading dose of the epidural, but because of the baby's position and my (in my opinion) ineffective contractions, the epidural was turned down. With nothing to "turn down," it was turned off. It was a long labor. It got scary at one point. I cried in fear that something was wrong with our baby. I cried because this wasn't how I wanted our baby's delivery to be. I thought there was a reason he wasn't coming out. There was talk of a C-section--the doctor, who I now love, also feared something was wrong. But he and the nurses got me through it. They were miraculous. When I was exhausted and emotionally drained and all but begging for an end, they are the ones who talked me into keeping it together and continuing to push. And, even now, as I think about that morning, especially the last few hours, I start to cry again. I was in pain, I was scared, I was horribly emotional, but we got through it. And though it wasn't at all what I had planned, it was perfect. He is perfect. If I had to do it all over again, I would in a heartbeat. In fact, maybe I will...more on that later...in" a couple of years" later.

William Hatcher Walden, who was nameless for a solid 32 hours, was born at 9:00am on October 6th, 2011. He weighed 7lbs, 7oz and was 21 inches long. For the first time, I was the one who annouced the sex to the room. I couldn't stop laughing. And crying. He was/is beautiful. Gorgeous. With a head full of dark, downy hair, small features, and very attentive and almond-shaped eyes...I still can't believe we made him. (I go through this sort of awe and disbelief after the births of all of the kids. The miracle of childbirth never grows old.)

He was so close to being an Eddie (Edison Hatcher Walden.) I even called him Eddie once. But we just weren't sure. Once we realized we were putting too much thought into it, the decision was easy. We threw out the names that we were then considering (also Gabriel, Adrian, and Hatcher) and went back to basics. William is the name of the man who's heart still beats in my dad's chest, and what a more beautiful way to memorialize one life and family so remarkably selfless than with the start of another? So, here he is,our little William "Hatch" Walden; our smallest, darkest, hairiest, and most appreciative (and overall very pleasant) son on his birthday and beyond:

Laboring down and enjoying some ice chips

Fresh out of the oven

Delivery room lovin', one hour old

Patrick meeting his Baby Hatch

My Three Sons (Whew! I've been dying to write that...)

Hospitalized for an extra day because of high bilirubin levels, our little Glo-Worm

Loving his tanning bed, 10/8/11

Sleepy Daddy and Sleepy Hatch, 10/9/11

Finally going home, 10/9/11

Just a Few Things to Note

First, I am still pregnant.  Not that I shouldn't be, but I am. With sporadic contractions, I have noticed that the position of this baby appears less than ideal. I really hope it moves. I tried my own hand at an external version of sorts today with a little luck...for about four minutes. I am beginning to think I will carry this baby right up to my due date. Is that ok? Absolutely. Does it make me happy? Not entirely.

Next, I start work four weeks from today. Perhaps that decision was a little ambitious, but I am so excited about it that I care very little. I cannot wait to have a job. A great job. A great job that I have dreamed of having for years. Me=extremely fortunate.

Finally, and completely unrelated, Adam and I really need to start using each other's first names. I mean it. We found out we were expecting Baby Patrick exactly six months into our marriage, so we really have grown together as parents the last several years, and spent a relatively short period of time as just a couple. Perhaps it is that reason that we refer to each other as some derivative of "mom" and "dad". For example, I called Adam from the grocery store last night to see if he preferred item A over item B, and the conversation started like this:

Adam: Hello, Mother.
Catie: Hi, Father. We seriously have to stop doing this.
Adam: I know, Mama.

There is no end in sight. We are not our parents, we are our grandparents. And while it's wonderful to be such a solid team, there is little romance to be had when you call each other by the same names as you would the people who raised you. Truth.

As my due date approaches, I feel as if the boys are starting to sense the big change coming (Patrick more than "senses" it...he knows).  While he is becoming more and more loving and figuratively glued to my side, to the point that I actually trip over him several times a day, Leo is mad.  Furious.  And, affectionately, I remember falling so deeply in love with him immediately after he was born and thinking, "You are so perfect that I will never be able to get mad at you."  I was wrong.  We are now mad at each other.

Leo will be 17 months old tomorrow.  He is, in my humble opinion, remarkably handsome.  He also has a fury of fire, with which we have recently become more accustomed.  Thankfully, he is not the first born, or I swear Adam and I would think he is possessed.  I know he's entering a full-fledged toddler stage and it will eventually pass...but I really think he may be cursed with that temper for life.  However, as quickly as he gets mad (more often than not, soliciting more laughter from us than anything.  Once you learn to ignore them, tantrums are pretty funny), he turns right back into that sweet, pretty baby with the dimples...and a combination of relief and adoration washes over me again. We have a long road ahead of us, Leo and me. (Oh, and Leo? The faster you learn to just let me win our battles, the easier your life will be. I don't think your father would disagree.)

On the baby front, nothing is happening. No real contractions as of late, no other labor signs of notable significance, and no hope for me that the baby will arrive anytime soon.  Being 37+4 today...that is neither too discouraging or disappointing. Though I am brimming with excitement about meeting the newest member of our family, I am also trying to find peace in knowing that the baby will come when it is ready (this is much easier said than done, trust me.)

I'm not even considered "full-term" yet, but I am so ready to meet this little baby.  More than anything, I cannot wait to see its face for the first time...I'm dying to know what this baby looks like! Patrick and Leo looked so similar in ultrasounds and at birth; I'm anxious to see what similarities this baby has. (Of course, I'm looking forward to delivering a super-cute baby, but even if it ends up looking kind of troll-ish, I won't realize it until (s)he is grown and I look back at pictures. Everyone wins!)

Here are my predictions:

Boy

Born: 10/5/11

Weight: 8lbs, 1 oz
Length: 21"
Blue eyes (genetically, they have to be)
Dark hair, more than the others

Here are Adam's predictions:

Girl
Born: 9/30/11
Weight: 7lbs, 5 oz
Length: 20.5"
Blue eyes
Dark hair, more than the others

In my mind, I picture this one as our peace-maker; our old soul. I anticipate a free-spirited, artistic, opinionated, kind, and quiet person. I could be wrong, but I would imagine that this one will be different from the others, just as they are different in their own rite. (And, though Leo was a nearly-silent baby, we later learned that he was just faking us out for about a year. Well played, Leo.) I have had one good night of contractions thus far, one that made me think it could be our time, but as early contractions go, they fizzled out and went away. I hope that this delivery goes quickly and that everyone comes out healthy. I can't wait to see our Leo baby as a big brother, and Patrick as the bonafide "oldest," further contributing to his already healthy ego, I'm sure. The anticipation is building, my clothes are getting too small, the bed impossibly uncomfortable, and the kitchen more and more organized. Come when you're ready, tiny baby. Your family, and the rest of the world, is ready for you.

32 Truths for Mature Humans

32 Truths For Mature Humans

1. I think part of a best friend’s job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong.
3. I totally take back all those times I didn’t want to nap when I was younger.
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.
5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
6. Was learning cursive really necessary?
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I’m pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
9. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at least kind of tired.
10. Bad decisions make good stories.
11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren’t going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don’t want to have to restart my collection…again.
13. I’m always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.
14. “Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will never wash this – ever.
15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? **** it!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What did you do after I didn’t answer? Drop the phone and run away?
16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.
17. I keep some people’s phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.
18. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
19. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.
20. I wish Google Maps had an “Avoid Ghetto” routing option.
21. Sometimes, I’ll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it.
22. I would rather try to carry 10 over-loaded plastic bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.
23. The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m trying to finish a text.
24. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.
25. How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and smile because you still didn’t hear or understand a word they said?
26. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!
27. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.
28. Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year?
29. There’s no worse feeling than that millisecond you’re sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.
30. As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate bicyclists.
31. Sometimes I’ll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.
32. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey – but I’d bet my *** everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time.

via Ruminations

Preschool

One month until baby, which sometimes feels like "...sigh... One whole month until baby," and other times, "OMG!  Only one month until baby!"

As one's first milestone is looming on the horizon, another's is already behind him.  Patrick John Edward is a pre-schooler.   A REAL one, he would tell you.  Yesterday, I saw this posted to Pinterest, and it made me cry:

This is a very literal and accurate description of how Patrick's first day of school went for me.  For him, it went like this:

Me: "How was your first day??"

Patrick: "Good."

Me:  "Just good?  Did you like it?"

Patrick: "Yeah."

Me: "You did?  Do you want to go back?"

Patrick: "Yes."

Me:  "What did you do all day?"

Patrick: "Played with my friends.  Shared my toys.  Sang songs.  And I didn't suck my thumb.  Mrs. Connor loves me, she said."

(To be fair, I do think Mrs. Connor loves him.  More about that later.)

Here is Pjew on his very first day of school:

Despite not having planned on sending Patrick to pre-school this year, I am very thankful we did.  I think he learns more by getting out and socializing than we can give him at home.  Since he's never been to a daycare, or even a babysitter, for that matter, this was a big step for him...and for us.  His teacher (the famous Mrs. Connor) is actually the mother of one of Adam's good friends from high school, which means she and Patrick share a little bond.  I pulled up to pick him up today and witnessed him on the playground.  With a thumb in his mouth, he rubbed up against her leg, leaning on it while staring at the ground, just like he does to me when he gets tired.  She was talking to another parent and without hesitation, reached down and rubbed his buzzed little head, resting her hand on his shoulder.  Patrick closed his eyes.  It made me feel good to know how well taken care of he is and that people other than us can feel how special he is.  Joy.  Pure Joy.

What a big kid.  My big kid.  Oh, what the future holds for you, Mr. Walden...