Oliver at 4 (1/2) months

Younger children often complain that there are fewer pictures, fewer detailed accounts of their infancies and childhoods than older children, and jokingly (I think?) assert that their parents must have loved them less. I'm here to argue that the lack of documentation is rather because we love them enough to spend all our time protecting them from their older siblings. I think Oliver would rather be alive than well-documented. Just a hunch.


So this is his four and a half month update, which might just be only his first or second blog update, I'm not sure. That's not to say he hasn't been doing noteworthy things! This little charmer is all smiles and babbles lately. His favorite thing is still his momma (the open-mouthed grin when he sees me! EVERY. TIME.) but his fingers and toes are a close second and third. One day, he was working so hard to get those little toes into his mouth during a diaper change. He squealed with delight when I helped him go that last quarter inch and pop one into his mouth. On another occasion, he was fussing quite angrily as I was simply holding him in my lap while doing something else. It finally dawned on me that he was irritated at not being able to reach his toes! As soon as I shifted him to where he could suck his big toe, he was again his angelic, smiling self. Adorable.

He's been rolling over for awhile...yeah, mom of the year, I know...and who knows when his first smile or first laugh were. Or the first time he grasped a toy. He can boogie all over his crib, though I'm not sure whether he does his scootching before or after he flips over onto his back. All I know is that he winds up really annoyed, and requires help to get back to his favorite little corner to sleep in.

Sleep, by the way, has been a little different for this kiddo than for our first two, but then he has experienced a whole lot more transition than either of them at this age. I'm not sure if it's related. Also, dairy sets him off and keeps him from sleeping well, so there's been that learning curve. Mostly he goes to bed around 6:30-7:00ish, and sleeps until somewhere in the ballpark of 3:00-4:00ish, when he nurses again, and then up at 6:30ish to nurse, and up for the day closer to 8:30. However. There has been SO much variation on this lately that I have to wrack my brain even to come up with what's "usual". Some days he nurses at 7:30 a.m. and then goes to sleep or stays awake, who knows.

Over the weekend, though, he ate FIVE TIMES from bedtime to morning feeding: 6:30, 8:00, 11:30ish, 3:00/4:00ish, and 6:30ish. That was two nights in a row of insanity. The third night he was super angry at bedtime, unwilling to settle, which is so unlike him (thankfully, like my first two, you can usually just chuck him into his crib after nursing and he will go to sleep on his own), so in desperation I gave him Ibuprofen. Boom. He slept til 4:00 a.m. Aha! As an experienced momma, I thought perhaps this was related to all his drooling and fist-chewing lately. Mikayla got her first two teeth at four months of age, so maybe he's an early teether too, right? But those bottom gums have been looking totally normal, when he lets me get a glance. I've been second-guessing my teething hunch, but if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck....? So just this morning I sat down to nurse him, and as has become my custom, checked his gums. The bottom ones still look normal BUT...his top gums are the hardest, whitest, most swollenest things I've ever seen! Mommas, have you had top teeth come in first? I find this highly irregular but, apparently, possible. He's doing it his own way, I guess!

We've had him back in cloth diapers since we moved into the new place, despite flooding the basement twice with the extra rinse cycle (Finally got it figured out. No more lint trap. I am not sorry about this, as I had to climb on top of the washing machine to check and change it.). Nursing has thankfully been very easy with him, and when he is not teething he eats like clockwork at 6:30, 9:30, 12:30, 3:30, 6:30 bedtime, and once overnight. I am quite looking forward to getting back to it!

Naps are not quite like clockwork, as it depends on what time he gets up in the morning. I've been struggling with that third nap; some days he wants it, some days he pushes through until he's a cranky mess at dinner time. I usually slap dinner on the table, wolf down a few bites, and head upstairs to do his bedtime by 6:30. But other days he takes that 4:30-5:30ish nap, and bedtime isn't til a luxurious 7:00 or so. Once these two top teeth break through, we'll get a truer sense of normal, I suspect.

Developmentally, he's been on target, if not slightly ahead of the curve. At his two month appointment he was holding himself up on his arms at a four-month level. He's been picking up toys and putting them in his mouth, and can darn near get his pacifier into his mouth correctly. He LOVES his exersaucer, which is a Godsend while I am fixing a meal for the big kids or doing school with them.


Speaking of the bigs, they love their little brother so much! As I type, he is in his swing, and his siblings have been taking turns jiggling him around, cooing loudly in his face, and attempting to remove articles of clothing. I used to worry about them being gentle, and I do still keep an eye on Isaac especially, but Oliver is really pretty well adjusted to their volume level and proximity. Which is good, because it would personally drive me NUTS to have a three year old THISCLOSE to my face screeching, "Do you have a BOOGIE in your NOSE????" a hundred times in a row, in an obnoxious voice that she thinks is how you talk to babies. The biggest issue the siblings have with Oliver is when they get over-enthusiastic and pull on his arms or legs because they want a hug and a kiss. Provided he survives infancy without being dismembered, I think we will all be a very close and demonstrative family.

That is really it. Oh, at his four month check up he weighed 15 lbs 3 oz, and was 26 3/4 inches long (woooaaaaa, big baby! according to Dr. Chi). He is projected to be 6'2" and 165 lbs as an adult, very close to his dadda's young adult measurements. Weight is a little above average, whereas length is up in the 97-99%ile range. His head circumference is fine, but if you think I can remember that detail, you obviously overestimate me. He's also a quick forgiver like his siblings when it comes to vaccinations. My tough little guy!

Joel, if you're reading this, have I forgotten anything?

(Not) A Story of True Courage and Inspiration

I'm not sure why I clicked on the "31+ Hair Braiding Secrets" if not for myself. After all, my almost-four-year-old hasn't even required a haircut, save to clean up a few straggling hairs. I told myself, laughably, that I would brush up on some braiding skills for when her hair gets longer, so that she can have a sweet "Princess Elsa" side fishtail braid and think I am the coolest mom ever. No, I lied inside my head, it's not like I will be using these on my own hair!

After all, if ever there were a diagnosable hair-styling disability, then I would have it. The highlight of my styling career was the double ponytail, but I had to leave that behind when the 90's ended, for obvious reasons. (Although according to that link, maybe they are coming back? Score!) Lately I have been attempting this side twist ponytail thing that works at home, but isn't really presentable.

Enter fifteen year old poppet on a Youtube tutorial, explaining to me how to oh-so-easily French braid my own hair. Something snapped inside me. If this little whipper-snapper can French braid her hair, then surely I, a reasonably intelligent, educated, determined thirty-something could learn to do so as well. Forget the painful memory of blood-drained limbs struggling to keep my baby-fine sections of hair in place. Forget the burning muscles of my upper arms and the eventual ponytail waving its white flag for the remainder of the day.

No, those tens, dozens even, of failures are in the past. Today is your day. Seize it. Divide it into three even parts and, for the love, BRAID IT. Frenchly.

Ok. Hairbrush, mirror, and laptop next to me on the couch. Fresh faced teenager ready to instruct me in her black magic. It's go time.

She's telling me to "just" do this, then that, brush it smooth,  oh and "you'll figure out your own way how to hold your hair as you go!". Stop. Forgive me, but I wouldn't be watching a tutorial if I already knew how to use my ten left thumbs to hold and manipulate all this hair, would I? No, I would be looking in a mirror instead of at the back of YOUR head trying to decode your tricks.

Suffice it to say, I did NOT figure out how to hold my hair, and I endured several angsty moments of wondering which hair section, exactly, was supposed to be braided next because I can't SEE them because they are on the BACK OF MY HEAD. That, and I don't have a tri-section mirror or a third arm to give me the right visual angle back there. Not whining, just saying. It felt more like I was weaving a very tangled rug back there than neatly plaiting a braid. More rugged-Scandinavian than French, in any case.

Then my kids woke up from naps and joined me on the couch. You know what's even better than trying to master something you suck at, while not being able to see it? Endeavoring to do so with a sweaty two-year-old draped across your lap. My chiropractor would have been thrilled to see me "engaging my core" so diligently while styling my hair.

End result #1:

Slightly crooked, stragglers everywhere. Ok. As the judges from Cutthroat Kitchen would say, "Does it remind me of a french braid?" Yes. Maybe not church-ready, but mission accomplished.

The kids were into it, though. Mikayla was cheering me on: "Mommy, it looks pretty! It looks like what the girl was doing!" And Isaac, irrelevant but sweet: "I love you, Mommy." I told them I was going to try it a second time, and they asked me to turn around so they could watch me braid from the back. This time around, I think I was sweatier than my two-year-old. French braiding for upper body strength, who knew? Two reps and my arms are feeling it. But it came out a little better this time:


If you knew me and my hair-styling disability (rivaled only by my statistics disability, seriously), you would be doing straight HANDSPRINGS at this moment. (I'll forego the celebratory gymnastics myself, which aforementioned chiropractor would discourage anyway.) You guys. I would be willing to leave my house right now. Albeit just to the store or the playground, or anywhere with the kids so that I could play the whole nonchalant, "Oh, this? My hair gets so messy when I'm being such an awesome mom to my three little kids!" card. But still. No Ponytail of Defeat! Win!

And just wait til you see my braiding muscles start to develop. I'll be that totally ripped mom spinning her five month old on one finger. Or, you know, not.

Thanks for sharing in my little victory today! I needed this. It's been such a demanding couple of days. God grants these little graces sometimes, doesn't He? There are so many bigger, more important things going on, but I can enjoy the fact that my hair is braided while I weather the stresses today. To God be the glory for even this small blessing.

Learn to do an Elsa braid:
http://www.howdoesshe.com/31-hair-braiding-secrets/

"My" French-braiding tutorial:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2ru7d9yDWo

Our First Day of School: Fantasy vs. Reality

Better late than never, I always say. And so, on the totally random day of Wednesday, October 8, 2014, we commenced our first day of homeschool. I would have loved to jump in with all the other normal people at the beginning of September, but we had things like a two and a half month old baby, and a house closing coming up, and of course painting and moving into said house. So now that we're all settled in able to cook and shower with relative convenience, I'm obviously raring to add school to the chaotic mix of our days (which currently consist of feeding children, changing diapers, picking up discarded clothing [why do the under-4's have such an aversion to wearing socks and underwear??], and unpacking the occasional box, only to organize the same items 3-4 times as the children cheerfully "help"). When the kids asked today if they could go to school, and I responded with, "Sure!"....it was like I knew there were words coming out of my mouth, and I couldn't get them back.

Silent prayers of thanks to the Lord, who motivated me to print and laminate my little tush off during our last few weeks at Joel's parents' house. I have two weeks of lesson plans ready to roll, and the rest waiting to be queued. I think my reasoning in saying yes today was that as long as I could locate the bin with the purple lid, everything else would fall into place.

And it mostly did, except for a few teensy details. Like, oh, the time I needed to dig out dice to use with an alphabet review game. As I was shoulder-deep in 50lb library boxes excavating for board games, do not be deceived by my children's angelic demeanor into thinking that they did not require parental intervention not once, but three times due to ONE OF THEM (no names, Mr. Impulse Control Issues) "killing" the other with a small plastic king. Yes, big sister came wailing to find me because she was killed. This is an entire blog post unto itself, as the hilarity of me convincing my daughter that if she is able to feel upset and tell on her brother, then she is not dead, is just...I don't even know what to do with that.

ANYWAY.

The real point of this post is to show you that I am just like all the other Pinterest moms out there who capture the first day of school with such aplomb and matchiness and personalized chalkboards. JUST LIKE YOU. Other than the fact that my bubble letter skill is a relic of sixth grade art class, and that it took us no fewer than three tries to capture the perfect First Day shot:



(Of course a silly face pose. Oliver apparently woke up in between shots and joined the party.)

Why did it take three tries, you ask? Because my dinosaur of an iPhone chose not to save our entire first photo shoot, and froze up the second time around. And then they were all, "NO MORE PICTURES, WE WANT SNACK!!" So yes, we had our snack break before we even got pictures, let alone started the actual school part of things. We're morning people! By the third attempt, my kids were complete grump-heads (do I blame them?) and complained literally up until the instant before I hit record on our happy face video:



Incidentally, I can't help but notice that most of you other social media overachievers didn't have your kids "help" decorate your First Day Chalkboards. How mediocre. You must have planned ahead and artistically designed your chalkboard on an elevated surface, safe from little hands, while the kids were asleep or planted in front of an educational LeapFrog video. Me? I rose to the challenge. After first catching and then clothing my bare naked son, I trooped into the school room with my students and our brand new chalkboard and brand new chalk to DO IT TOGETHER. Mostly because I didn't know today was the first day of school until approximately seven minutes ahead of time, BUT STILL. I do hard, impressive things, no?

Then we did Calendar Time (which, it's not preschool without Circle/Calendar Time, amiright?) sitting on the floor while I nursed Oliver. Without a calendar. The only reason my kids humored me on this one is because I donned this huge, cheesy smile and said, "Good morning, STUDENTS! I'm your teacher! Welcome to school today!" Mikayla obviously bought into this big time and refused to call me anything other than Teacher Harriet for the remainder of the morning. Ok. But we sang our Days of the Week song!


Also? Our piano technician showed up to tune and repair the piano about 20 minutes into our school time. And Oliver didn't want to be put down for anything, which led to us discovering that he is ready to love this:


What I'm saying is, our First Day of School was so easy and just like I'd envisioned.


We duly completed our Alphabet Review games. Isaac only pinched his hand in a lowercase-letter clothespin one time, causing him to spiral into hysteria. Hopefully his parents don't sue the school. He took two turns in our Alphabet Board Game and then became distracted by the plastic legs of our shelving units, which make excellent telescopes and even better guns (which shoot by bopping people in the head, obvs). But Mikayla rocked it all with no problem, and we had a mini field trip to the living room to see how a baby grand piano works on the inside. Take that, Mister Rogers, who needs a Picture-Picture? Also we met our new regular mail carrier who is even cooler than Mr. McFeely and brought me a new central vacuum socket and my new mint-green case for my new iPhone 6 which arrived today, whereas my hubby's new phone won't be here til tomorrow. These are complicated times, when an iPhone 6 order gets split into two shipments, potentially causing great marital strife and discord, except we are way above that in our marriage, right honey? <3 nbsp="" p="">
You know what else is cool? I accidentally made a special First Day of School breakfast because I was tired of scrambled eggs and felt like baking last night. So we had Giant Breakfast Cookies! The only problem is that I didn't alert the children to the fact that it was a special First Day breakfast because I didn't know at the time that it was our First Day. So many issues when school starts out of nowhere, I am realizing. I'll have to tell them later, when we also have our special First Day snack of blackberry jam bars (I'm getting this).

Still, I started school within a week and a half of moving, and with a baby on my hip. I am feeling like a boss. The kids even asked if we can play the Alphabet Board Game again after naps, so obviously I am the funnest teacher ever. Plus I am wearing a scarf today that matches my shirt. Pinterest, I own you. Even if this happened in my house today:



Thanks for reading all of the thoughts that happened in my head for the whole day. Sheesh, epic post. This is Teacher Harriet, signing off.

My Big Boy!!

Today, Isaac announced that he had to go peepee and proceeded to take off his pajama pants and diaper. Now, we've been here before, and I was hardly thinking anything would come of it. He told me that he wanted to sit on the potty, which, ok, knock yourself out. So he took his bare little hiney up the stairs and the next thing I know, I can hear the unmistakable sound of tinkling! (One perk of toddlers never closing the bathroom door is the ability to remote monitor.)

I looked at Mikayla and said, "I think he's going peepee on the potty!!" Her little face lit up and we raced upstairs to celebrate. We jumped up and down, we clapped, we made all the fuss. Isaac was SO PROUD that he sat there and insisted on trying again which of course did not happen.

So basically he managed to use the potty without any assistance or prompting from his lazy momma, who didn't even move from the couch when he headed upstairs to the bathroom. (In my defense, I was working on a simple homeschool calendar.)  I am so curious to see where this will go! He asked to wear his big boy undies which...what's the worst that could happen? A little extra laundry?

Stay tuned! For today we have one very proud two year old, who got to pick popsicles for morning snack. And I printed off a Cars-themed potty chart for him. Potty training 16 days before moving to our new house is the best idea ever, amirite?

When They Grow Up

As the kids were eating their snack of cheddar cheese and Rye with Caraway Seeds Triscuits (my toddlers have the palate of middle-aged men), Isaac asked me to sing my lullaby. One of the lines is, "Who will you be tomorrow? What are the paths you will follow?"

Mikayla interjected then with, "I will be a mommy!"

"I hope so, sweet girl."

Isaac, predictably, then declared, "I will be a daddy!"

"I hope so, buddy."

And then M again: "I will follow Jesus!"

Oh my melting heart. But wait... "I will follow Jesus there, and there, and there, and there!" This devolved into several minutes of my children giggling and pointing to all the places where they will follow Jesus. A bit literal, but still cute. Finally Mikayla reiterated, "I will follow God everywhere he goes!"

Bless. I hope so, sweet girl.

The Most Epic Bathroom Stop Ever

The kids and I just returned from an almost-two-week adventure to western PA to visit my family. It was a whirlwind visit full of friends, a Children's Museum, a birthday party, a wedding, a fantasy football draft (keep the dream alive, gentlemen), and more. While not exactly restful, it was refreshing, like a deep cleansing breath. I have returned ready to collapse in exhaustion organize and pack for our big move in just over three weeks.

With three children under four years old, not all moments were equally refreshing. Some were chaotic, a few were downright laughable in their absurdity. The following story relates one of those moments. And yes, I made a note in my phone so that I would remember to tell you about this, dear readers, because this was one of those tales that must be told. And since the kids are taking awesome naps today, no doubt because of our little chat on self control during story time, I have the opportunity to share it.

We had stopped for gas somewhere in the middle of PA. The details escape me, but I do know that it wasn't the time when I had only four miles left on my gas gauge and the good Lord dropped an exit out of nowhere 1/4 of a mile up the highway. The things we do to preserve car naps - why, yes, I did drive past a perfectly good exit with several functioning gas stations, with under 20 miles til empty. Only to discover that the next exit (only seven miles away, they said; you can get off the highway there instead, they said) had NO SERVICES. We were running on fumes and prayers that time.

But no, this wasn't that time. This was the time with the yellow jackets. It started minimally enough - Joel was pumping gas, and suddenly flung his sandal off of his foot at me. "What?!" "There was a yellow jacket by my foot." Oh. Ok. Aside from my questioning his aim (do I look like I need a flying sandal followed by a stinging insect in my life?), that was that.

A few minutes later, I pulled the van over to a parking spot so that I could sit and feed Oliver. Joel took Isaac along for a bathroom visit. Rather than keep the car running for the A/C, I decided to roll down the windows a bit. We began to nurse, and M had the run of the car because reasons.

Suddenly, M was freaking out and trying to leap from the front passenger seat into my lap or the CD player or wherever she could get to. Mind you, I was holding a peacefully nursing infant. This limits the mobility somewhat, particularly within the confines of a bucket seat with a steering wheel. So she's shrieking, and I'm going, "What? What?", trying to convey a sense of urgency and helpfulness while not disturbing my baby. "There's a bee!!!" she yelled. Sure enough. So now, nursing baby, steering wheel, freaking out three-year-old, and a yellow jacket. It was like one of those silly songs ("there's a frog on the bump on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea") except with more danger and very, very real.

Somehow with no arms, I managed to eradicate the yellow jacket, calm the child, and roll up the windows. I will accept my Mother of the Year award at a later date (wait til you hear about the way I reached and returned my screaming baby's pacifier while driving down the highway). For now, imagine me continuing to nurse and accepting the new, warmer, stuffier atmosphere inside the van. And then?

"I have to poop! I have to poop!" I'm not even kidding. But don't fret, gentle reader, we have a small potty that we take in the van on long rides for just such an occasion. What mother wouldn't volunteer to be stuck in a confined space with recycled air with their child's waste, amirite? So M dropped her drawers and made it in time. But then. My eyes slowly began to water as the oxygen content of the van dropped precariously.

You know what's an awesome choice to have to make, while STILL nursing a baby behind the steering wheel of a minivan? Yellow jackets or muggy poop air. Which will be my immediate future until my husband finally returns from his apparently epic journey through Middle Earth to Mount Gas Station Bathroom? (P.S. WHAT IS HE DOING IN THERE?)

I decided to gamble with the yellow jackets. I mean, what were the odds that that same little bugger was hanging around just waiting to make my life a wailing, flailing nightmare again?

Yeah. And he brought a friend.

So, the muggy poop air cleared out a bit, but a moment later M's high-pitched Mommy Alert System was back in full force, notifying me of not one, but TWO BEES!! IN THE CAR!! Oh sweet mercy. I begged the yellow jackets with my eyes to return from whence they came, because at least if I could refrain from shrieking and jumping, then we wouldn't add a screaming baby to the mix. File that under "last thing I freaking need right now, or ever". Apparently they did fly out the window because they aren't still there, and as I again telepathically rolled up the windows (I guess? I was still nursing Oliver?), Joel finally emerged from the Gates of Mordor Sunoco. He was carrying a small bag of snacks, by way of explanation for why it took him three days to get to the bathroom and back. You would admire my self-control; I didn't even chuck the baby at him and run away in tears.

Yes, twenty ounces of Sprite and some Cool Ranch Doritos TOTALLY made up for my having to battle the Death Eaters by myself (great, now I am mixing my epic movie references). At least I survived to tell about it! And to make up for my great travail, Joel volunteered for potty dumping duty (wait, did he volunteer, or did the look in my eyes leave him no choice? I'm not sure.). At the end of the day, thankfully, nobody was stung, and no accidents were had.

All in all, then, I guess I'd call it a success. Bahahaha.


An Opening Party, Guest List: You

So, I am officially an old person. Mr. UPS heaved a giant Amazon box into our front entryway, and I proceeded to open it while taking multiple photos and uttering phrases like "Oh my stars!!" No really, I used those exact words. Out loud. My kids were gracious enough not to notice. Possibly because they were able to do THIS:


What was the gift? You mean besides hours of free entertainment for my kids via packing themselves into a giant box and wearing a big blue bag around the house?

You guys.



Possibly the best house-warming gift ever. At least that I can remember, but I guess that isn't saying much since my brains leak out through my kids these days. Shout out, Aunt Patti and "hey you!" (Aunt Pam. What, you said I could call you that!)

The kids say thank-you too:



I seriously typed this to the sound of Mikayla, from inside the box, begging her brother, "Pack me up!! Pack me up now pleeeease!" But of course he was too busy bumping into things in his new blue world. Oh and don't think I didn't notice that we now have TWO boxes and one giant blue sack for packing up when we move in a few weeks. Jackpot all the way around.

And because I find the ruckus so hilarious when I tell the kids to say cheese:


So thank you to my dear Aunts, and we will think of you often when we cook, well, anything in our new home! It was all I could do not to pull every single piece out of the box to ooh and aah over it all, but I realized that I will never get it all packed back in there quite the same way it is now. But in three weeks, believe you me, that stainless steel will get some serious lovin'.

Edited to add: The reason this is such an amazing and much-needed housewarming gift is because I packed up my nine-year-old non-stick cookware and gave it to my sister-in-law, as she is moving out of the house the week before we do. (Yes, it's about to get very quiet at my in-laws' house. I imagine crickets chirping and voices echoing.) The set was about shot anyway, but Amy said it would make a great starter set for her as she gets on her feet. So, we are (were!) in need of cookware in order to eat anything other than Easy Mac and Doritos which, even though they were my favorite in college, the Mom part of me has developed something of a culinary conscience regarding powdered food. Scrambled egges? You got it. Spaghetti and meatballs? Coming right up. FROM SCRATCH. Good heavens I can't wait! 

(See? Old person.)