summer morning

It's morning. Late morning, for us, which is probably mid-morning for you (my kids get up early, so morning starts, you know, Early).

My bed is made. The dishwasher is running. My baby is still playing in his crib, surrounded by his siblings who are playing some sort of game that I hope is not making a mess, and requires tape. Hmmm.

I need to eat breakfast (leftover brownies from dessert last night doesn't count, does it) and shower.

I need to get the baby out of the crib.

It smells lovely this morning, and I am looking forward to this week full of summery activities like swimming, hanging around in small towns, skipping rocks in (on?) the lake, and well-baby check-ups for my 1 yr old. He will be so pleased to get his shots tomorrow. Yes, lovely.

One Year

Caleb, finally with mom, after everything.

Exactly a year ago at around 8:30 a.m. I was sitting in my hospital bed calling the nurse to bring me my baby. I'd delivered him 6 hours earlier (awesome, fast, and natural), had taken a short nap, and was ready to see my baby again. Nobody had told me he'd been moved to a special care unit because his oxygen levels were too low, but they did then.

I called Ben, who had gone home to get a little sleep and get the kids breakfast, to update him on our baby. I was calm. He was calm. Crustimony Proseedcake, right? (That's winnie-the-pooh speak for customary procedure.) I was a little unnerved.

Until my parents came by a few moments later to see the baby because my mom was leaving out of town (nice timing, mom). We walked down the hall to the little room he was in, and that about did me in; my heart sank as I saw his small body tucked into fetal position with his head turned to the side and the soles of his feet so small up by his diaper. And a little tube running to his nose and monitoring wires all over his tiny body. The kindly nurse, against the rules and regulations, let my parents in to see the baby since my mom was leaving. And then I was more than a little unnerved.

As I walked back to my room with my parents and without my baby my eyes welled up with tears and my voice choked just a little bit over the words "That was stressful." Perhaps that was a tad underestimation but we of the inherited Danish genes, we're stoic ones.

The next few days were odd in the life of a mother at the hospital. Ben was at home with the other four kids, Caleb was in the special care unit where I visited him to feed him and hold him every few hours, but otherwise I just hung out in my room alone.

The blessings of the event were thus: I delivered naturally so I was back on my feet right away instead of having to wait until the epidural wore off and I brought with me a few pairs of actual pajamas both of which were helpful in wandering down the halls to the Special Care Unit at all hours of the day and night. They put him on a 48 hour course of anti-biotics which seemed to clear-up whatever it was and he was able to come home with me.

Earlier this week I was sorting through my baby clothes and I found four little newborn hats they put on the babies after they are born. The fifth hat was lost in the transition from the labor room to the special care unit and I never got it back.

But I got back my sweet baby. Who is healthy and strong, and mad that I won't let him play on the computer right now. (Not that I let a 1 year old play on the computer, but he likes to bang on the keys. Like mother, like son, eh?)

Happy Birthday, sweet Caleb. I love you so much.

Favorite Quote of the Week

"Either you are very calm, or you're dead."

- What the nurse said to me after she took my blood pressure reading.

Wee, Small Hours

It's 6:59 a.m. Ben got all the kids up just after 6:00 a.m. to take them to the hot air balloon something-or-other here in town. There were still a little bit sleepy and tired, but I think they will have a good time. I opted to stay home and let the baby sleep. Hot air balloons are cool, but a sleeping baby is more my cup of tea.

Calling It a Day

Today I am tired. I have ambitions to get to bed earlier and I did this past week for a few nights, but I had a cold, so it kind of didn't count because when you're sick you need more sleep. My children have all decided that engaging in rude, obnoxious and unkind behavior towards one another should be the norm. They are striving for it. My exasperated attempts at reigning in their unacceptable actions are not helping. Dare I say: perhaps making it worse? I will be the first to admit it: I am (évidement) not stellar at this mothering thing. But who wants to be stellar? I never liked that name anyway.

The Determination of Summer

It is here, according to weather.com, eighty-five degrees outside. I don't think we're really quite there, and my guess is that the temperature will dip before we ever reach the potential high for today. But, I concede it is warm. And it hasn't been really warm all year.

But it is also windy, cloudy and grey. And because my children are set on having a Summer (and whose children aren't?), our sprinklers are on and my children are running through the wind-whipped water determined to have a good time in between bouts of shivering in their new beach towels wrapped around them.

I have a memory from when I was a child of a Summer that never quite warmed up. I waited and waited for the melt-in-your-skin days that never showed. The excursions to the pool were fun, but a little chilled. It was always pleasant, but it was never Summer. Never too hot. While that would not bother me now, I was surely disappointed then.

Some years much earlier my brother and I stubbornly filled our small wading pool on the last day of school, sometime at the end of May, and we fearlessly froze as we slid down the slide of our swing set and into the water. School was out and Summer was here regardless of the temperature and our mother (who was conveniently off running errands when we arrived home and couldn't tell us no).

My rule these days is that we must hit 80 degrees before the swimsuits come out. My children find this somewhat heartless and frustrating, especially with our state's current love affair with drippy, cold weather (and in a desert? who knew?). But today, sprinkler running not quite full-blast, Summer is here.

But don't check the weather forecast for the rest of the week.

Juin, Juin

That's {June} in French.

June has always been an okay month in my book. Our weather has been crazy and colder than usually so I am hoping for a warm mellow June.

My kids are out of school and that means the level of crazy just jumped a few levels. Hopefully things will even out. It may mean hours and hours of badminton.

We had a family reunion with Ben's family over the weekend. The kids had a jolly time running round poking sticks in the mud and picking up rocks and eating s'mores with their cousins.

My baby turns a year old in a few weeks. I don't know how I feel about that.

June means the year is almost to it's half-way point. Crazy.