Waiting for the Garbage Man

Berit is wildly intrigued by our garbage man. It's not us -- we forget about her fascination completely until it happens. She'll be playing along on a Tuesday morning, and little do we know her ears are tuned to ultra-sensitive and her brain is thinking of more than one thing at a time. A crash outside -- "THE GARBAGE MAN!" And she runs to the window to watch the green truck stop at our house, the man get out and load up our mountains of poopy dipes, then drive away. She's in heaven. She loves it.

And do you know what my theory is? She likes to have the "help." As in servants. Because she says things like, "There he goes, taking away our garbage," in a very rich-girl voice (and just where did she learn that, by the way?). I expect her to wave her hand in dismissal once he's done. 

Fall, Fun, and Prescriptions

What a weekend of ups and downs. We started with a washing machine failure -- about which we were kind of excited, because of course that meant we had to either pony up $300 for a fix, or invest in a new washer (and possibly a new dryer, just to match). Since we're trying to sell our house and build a new one, we thought we'd buy our "investment" washer/dryer combo now and move it with us when we go. (Yay!) 

Here we are at Lowe's, where I gave the girls suckers to entertain them while we learned all about the washers and dryers that would change our lives. We were impressed and we believed they really, truly would. Trevor called one of the guys he gets appliances from for the houses he builds, and found a great deal on a set we loved. Perfect.

(Side note: I also took the girls to K-Mart and, since they both had runny noses and were fussy, I gave them suckers [this was a different day -- not two suckers in one day]. From the looks I got, you would have thought I had given them margaritas! I couldn't believe how rude people acted towards us just because my kids were happily licking pure sugar. I guess you can let your kids have a meltdown in the middle of the store, but you can't give them suckers for entertainment.)

So when the guys brought the gor-ge-ous washer and dryer to our house later that day for installation, they first had to take out our old ones. And as they did, one of them said, "Here's your problem. You've got a kink in the line." And moved it around a little, and poof, our washer is fixed and we save $1,600 and we have no new washer and dryer to show for all of our research, excitement and planning of the loads and loads of laundry that would get gloriously clean all weekend. Oh well. 

After biking with Ellen on Saturday morning, we took the kids to Boyne City's Fall Festival, for hayrides and all things fall-ish. Here're Berit and Liam in the double stroller, both hungry, cold and a little sleepy. But still really cute. 

Marta Bear, being agreeable and funny all day, even though something mean was brewing in her ears.

The jumpers. Of course, the jumpers. This picture actually represents a milestone for Berit, as it's the first time she's ever gone in a "jumper" with other kids. 

Berit l-o-v-e-d this bunny. I foresee a fuzzy Easter present a few years into the future...

After the festival, we had a relatively successful dinner at Red Mesa with the girls, I won a CD from the band playing in the street because I figured out their book question with the answer Brave New World (one of the best books ever), then we headed home, where the kids went to bed and all was well and crisp and fulfilling in a fall kind of way. 

Then Marta woke up at 8 p.m. with screams, which lasted all night. No nursing, burps made her scream more, she wouldn't lay in her bed, if she wasn't screaming she was listless, burning hot, etc. etc. I nearly hit the ER a couple times during the night. Of course, today was Sunday so her doctor's office wasn't open, but the local clinic diagnosed a double ear infection and now she seems to be doing better on meds and Motrin. 

And right now we're sitting down to watch Parenthood, that 1989 comedy with Steve Martin, which we rented because we think it might be really funny to watch now that we actually are parents. Berit is still up. 

Postscript: Parenthood was NOT funny to watch now that we are parents. It was scary and made us downright nervous.

Pics of Weekend At Grandma's

We sure did have fun at Grandma's house!

At Klackle's Orchard.

Playing piano with Grandma.

At Meijer Gardens.

The story behind this dress: My mom took Berit to The Disney Store, and as they were walking past this dress, a little girl was begging her mother for it. The mother said, "No, it's not your size," and the little girl was devastated. So Berit watched this and said, "Grandma, is this my size?" (It was a size 6.) And my mom said, "Yes it is." And bought it. It brought much, much, much-much-much joy. 

So big!

Plies.

Cue Eye Rolling, Throwing Back of Head and Stomping Away in Disgust

Last week my kids were sick. Guess what? They're sick again. Here are a few pics of the ever-indoors activities we were up to today.

Sad baby; so sick.

Not looking so much worse for the wear with a s'more. She opened the crackers and wiped out the insides with her fingers.

Hey, she looks just like Pop!

A C-Section Story

Hark, the herald angels sing, both my children are sleeping!

I have some unexpected free time, so here I sit doing something I haven't done in about three years -- watching A Baby Story on TLC. I was addicted to this show when I was pregnant for Berit; back when I had never delivered a baby in my life, when I knew deep down I'd have a C-section because my mom had three therefore it stood to reason that I would, too.

Of course, the heart drama with Berit lead us to an induction a week-and-a-half early, so I was even more convinced I'd be delivering by C-section. But lo and behold, I delivered my first vaginally and successfully and, might I say, fairly easily. (Much thanks to Mr. Epidural, but still, success.)

And what joy and excitement the whole process was! I know many moms had horrible, scary labors and they don't want to hear about women who have easy deliveries. I'm sorry to you; it must have been terrible, and how awful to have the fear of that kind of delivery looming over your subsequent pregnancies. That's how I thought it'd be for me. But it was really just hard work and an amazing payoff.

Imagine my delight when I knew I could deliver Marta in my city of residence, and wait for her to induce labor herself, and experience another (hopefully) joyful delivery.

But at one of my last scheduled prenatal exams we learned that Marta was in a breech position, and that realistically, she probably wouldn't turn. We didn't want to go into labor with a breech baby, which wouldn't be fun for anybody. And my obstetrician's father had died the night before; he was leaving first thing the next morning to tend to his family out-of-town. So, while we were looking at the screen of our upside-down babe, he said, "Let's do a C-section tonight." We were scheduled for 7 p.m... I left his office at 4:30 and cried the whole way home.

Now I know that C-sections are healthy and good in so many ways. I do! I was ready to have one with Berit! In fact, so often I'd say to Trevor, "I wish we could just schedule a C-section and be done with it all." But when I was faced with my own, I just wasn't ready.

And I had it and it was fine, and even though I couldn't watch Marta being born with the mirror the way I did with Berit (gross to some, I know), and even though I couldn't tape it like I had hoped (grosser to some, I know, but I really wanted to see the whole thing happen for myself and why oh why can't we tape C-sections???), in the end I had this most amazing, precious child and holy cow, nothing else mattered.

But to be very honest, I think of it constantly. Not so much that I regret having one, but I don't like not having the option of a vaginal delivery again. It's weird, because this isn't like me -- I don't regret things like this. But I can't deny this very innate tug of a feeling that makes me want to experience labor and deliver my own baby. Maybe it's because I've been through it and I'm not afraid anymore, and I want the excitement of it all. Who knows? And it's minorly selfish, because the end result is all the same. And truly the recoveries for both were equally do-able and gross, so it' snot about that. It's just this void-like feeling, like I'm missing out on something special, something I was made to do and something that delivers my most perfect, most important gifts.

So when I watch A Baby Story now, it's with a whole new feeling. An appreciation for those moms who work so hard to have their babies, and for the fear and anticipation they go through. But it's also with a touch of jealousy, knowing that from here on out, any babies who come our way will be done on a schedule, with a yucky, scary shot in the back and another incision into my scar (creeeeeeepy!).

But this isn't supposed to be a sad play for encouraging comments. I know many women have it so, so much worse. I'm just saying, as my friend Kelly says, and I want my girls to know about this, because someday maybe they'll go through the same feelings -- much like my own mom and me. Funny how that works.

Happy Days

We've had a couple of fun stay-at-home days that used to make us all bonkers, but now we're relishing the homebody life. Take a peek...

Jeans

Because having my little opinion on this may save you money and bring you joy:

Thumbs way down to Old Navy's toddler jeans with stretch (and all the girls' jeans seem to have stretch this season). Even with the adjustable waist as tight as it goes, they constantly fall down.

Thumbs way up to DKNY's Easy Street Bootcut jeans (for ladies, not toddlers -- I hope you know I wouldn't buy my kids DKNY jeans). In the past I've noted my approval of high-waist jeans now that I'm a mom and have an itchy C-section scar. (Not to mention I don't appreciate flashing my rear every time I bend down to help my kids. Which is a lot.) These jeans sit just right -- above the scar yet no where near the belly button, which would launch me into full-on 90s mom mode. I need to preserve a little allure, and jeans that don't quite hit my belly button do it for me. 

Anyway, they're stretchy but they don't get all stretched out by the end of the day. And they're comfy without looking like pajama pants, which is what Trevor said my yoga pants looked like yesterday when I left for an orthodontist appointment. Um, they're called YOGA pants. No, I don't technically do yoga, but I specifically paid for yoga pants so that I don't have to wear pajama pants all day. 

So there you have it.