1st day

Kiddo had her first day of school, real school, kindergarten school. She was completely ready. (It was three weeks ago.) She made a friend, was intrigued by her friend buying lunch (she got strawberry milk!), and generally enjoyed herself. She's not really a detail girl, so that's about all the information I got.

One reason I wanted to buy this house was we could walk to school. I spent the week before school started wondering if that was such a good idea. I mean, this is what we look like as we walk to school... Well, not really. Usually I'm pushing a stroller with Babs inside. And often the Boy is struggling to free himself from the wrap. And if it's after school, Kiddo may be standing on the back of the stroller, also being pushed, uphill (no really, the walk home is uphill - except in all honesty, I make her walk on the hills). Plus I've lost Babs' sunglasses, making her less amenable to the walk. So perhaps this is the ideal version of the walk.

And, given the kids' ages, it's entirely possible I'll be walking to the school two times a day for the next seven or eight years. But, I won't be pushing a stroller the entire time.

But back to Kiddo. She loves school. She's made friends. She follows directions and comes home happy every day. This is our school girl.

keeping up

it didn't seem so easy the first time...

As I prayed for a blessing on my breakfast, I also asked that my husband would be blessed at work, and Kiddo at school, and Babs at preschool, and I realized that some day my whole family will be out of the house.

But today it was just most. So after dropping Babs off at her preschool, the Boy and I went to the grocery store. He compliantly stayed in his carrier in the cart while I shopped. I walked at my own pace, not slowed down for little legs. I never once said "stop that!" or "be careful" or "I told you that was a bad idea!" I could think my own thoughts. It was really amazing.

As I drove home I thought, I could actually get something done with this arrangement. Last time I only had one child at home I wrote a dissertation. I wonder what I will do this time?

the thousand words

This picture illustrates two major themes of my life right now.

1) This is the last day that all three of my kids are home together as a rule, instead of an exception. Kiddo starts school tomorrow, and while there will certainly be plenty of days where they are all home again (like say, the day after tomorrow, which is a Saturday), most days Kiddo will be at school. What will our life be like, just me, Babs and the boy? What is the new normal?

2) My house is a mess. I spend much of my "free" time working on the mess, but it's like bailing in a rainstorm with a thimble - less effective. Part of the mess is the girls that enjoy their toys a lot (a good thing). Part of the mess is that not everything has a place, or is unpacked in the right spot. Mostly we use our time differently. I remind myself that we have years here to find order, so be patient. Also, the major place I spend my time currently is on that little head just peeking out of the swing. I feed him. I hold him. He prefers to nap in my arms, and the swing is only sometimes an acceptable substitute.

But he is only this small once. So I am trying desperately to locate the fine line between enjoying him in my arms as much as possible, and not going crazy that this 10 lb child is the only thing I do. I recite often the important lines: "I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep."

milk for all

We finally got both girls to bed at the right time last night, largely to a) improve Babs mood (to avoid further 20 minute screaming fits like last night) and b) get Kiddo on her school schedule, ready for kindergarten on Friday. The dark side of getting them to bed on time is they wake up on time, so every one was up by 7:30. (This will be a blessing on Friday, but today I had spent the last three hours partially asleep, partially soothing the boy, so I was, I mean, AM, tired.)

So there I was on the couch, nursing the boy, then Kiddo emerges, and requests chocolate milk from her dad, and settles next to us. Not long after, Babs stumbles out of bed, and also requests chocolate milk. She curls up on my other side. All my little ones, sharing the couch with me, drinking their morning milk.

(Wouldn't a picture be swell? Well, we weren't all decent...)

90 minutes

I took all three kids out today. Grandma was here too, so I will give credit where credit is due, and say we took all three kids out. (Because there was more than one time that I needed the second adult.) This was the first time. From all of us basically waking up, it took an hour and a half to get every one dressed, fed, and to the car. This felt extraordinarily long to me. Is it because I had to feed the boy twice? Is it because I only managed this time because I had extra help? Is it because I'm petrified of what we'll need to do in one short week when Kiddo starts kindergarten (with no additional back-up)?

I don't know, but it was a long 90 minutes.

"He's coming!"

My son was born a week ago today. It was both my longest and most exciting labors. He checked in at 8 lbs 11 oz, and 21.5 inches long. This makes him "large for gestational age" (born at 40 weeks, 1 day), so he had multiple blood pricks in his first 24 hours to make sure his blood sugar levels were appropriate. It should be noted that he is skinny, like all my babies, because he is ridiculously long to go with his "great" weight.

After approximately 8 hours of contractions (both my other labors could have fit in this time frame), some at home, and some at the hospital, we decided to break my waters so I could finish up.

As I stood to move to the hospital bed, my water spontaneously broke. I felt a huge pushing contraction, yelled "he's coming" and out came his head. (It sounds so simple. It was not.) In retrospect, I keep thinking it's miracle this happened when the midwife, nurse, and medical student were all in the room. I wonder if my husband realizes how close he was to having to catch the baby. But the midwife was there, and he (literally) caught the baby as I pushed the rest of him out. It was an intense two minutes. He emerged face first, thus the bruising in his first day photos. But, as we were deciding to break the waters, I turned to my husband and told him I was anxious to be done, but was scared about the pushing that still needed to happen. Then it finished so quickly, and that was a blessing.

They gave him to me, and labor was done. Now the real work begins.

***
Two postscripts:

A. I labor without drugs. But I labor with my husband's support, help, and presence. What I do would be impossible without him there. I'm so grateful for him. I'm sorry about his shoes though. As I continued to labor with an intact bag of waters, I kept worrying that they would break at an inopportune moment, and get my husband's shoes all wet. That fear was realized. (But the pushing fear was not, so I feel I got the better end of the deal.)

B. As the contractions kept coming, I often called up this picture in my head, of Babs after she had fallen asleep in my bed the night before the boy came:

Remember to be relaxed like Babs, I would remind myself. It helped a lot. (Not as much as  my husband helped me though.)