Her Favorite Color is Yellow

I thought of naming Anna "Sunny." She is loving yellow above all other colors now, so maybe it was an appropriate name to consider. The way her personality is developing, "Sunny" might be a great nickname for her.

Happy St. Urho's Day to the folks out there who know about him! As a 100% Finnish person, it's my duty to spread the Finnish cheer and craziness at all times. Heinäsirkka, heinäsirkka, mene täältä hiiteen!

The kids and I are going to the library soon. Time to refresh my audiobook selections, and it'll be nice to get the kids out of the house.

Anna is looking out the window and waving bye-bye to all the cars that go past.

And she has a new word! "owie"

How cute is that? She's been constipated lately, and it hurts when she poops. She'll run to me, grab her butt and yell "OWIE!!" over and over again. And when she fell down, she started crying and saying "Owie!"

I think it's terribly appropriate that her first two words while living in this house were "Tickle" and "Owie." After all, she does have Ben for a big brother.

Ben's vocabulary is tremendous now. The other day he was eating a piece of pizza. After the first bite, he said, "That's delicious!" I was thunderstruck.

It's really not surprising. I try not to limit the words he's exposed to. When we do the "what word does this letter start?" game while playing in the bathtub with the foam letters, I get creative. I add at least two big words to the list of simple ones each time. "U" "U starts words like umbrella, under, ubiquitous, and uvula. "X" "X starts words like xray, xylophone, and xenophobia." "B" "B starts words like boy, ball, Ben, baby, big, burgeoning, backwards, and bicker." "A" "A starts words like apple, after, antelope, apricot, affection, apathy, and analytical."

Chris gets a big kick out of it. We celebrated our 4-year wedding anniversary yesterday. We had a fantastic date and went to sleep safe in the knowledge of our wonderful relationship that grows deeper and sweeter every day.

When we were leaving for our date last night and getting the kids ready for their own playdate at Katie's house, I glanced at the door and saw the following picture. I shrieked and burst out laughing. Anna decided it would be appropriate to wear our firefighter helmet with her spring jacket. It was the perfect image of our comedic genius, the Amazing Anna Girl.

A Voice from the Past

Am I irrelevant now that I'm not blogging all the time? Does that really matter? Frankly... no. Here's the deal. I'm living offline right now. Some days, I don't even check my email more than once. *gasp*

Rather than work my cute butt off by building up the "Cheryl" brand online, I've retreated back to life with my kids. I'm focusing on quilting and cooking and praying. Chris and I joined the nearby Catholic parish, and we're in the process of becoming confirmed in the faith. It's exciting and thrilling and ultimately fulfilling in unexpected ways.

And oh, the quilting. After finishing Valerie's quilt, I jumped into a quilt to use as my "nap blanket." This one was so much fun to plan. I was able to choose the fabrics that I loved the most. I found a stimulating pattern that would offer a lot of variety with fabric combinations. I think it's beautiful and sweet and cozy-looking. I backed it with flannel in a different color scheme than the front in case I get tired of the patchwork side. I'll post pictures of it once I get the binding done.

While I've been plugging away at that beast, I've had two other quilts "pending." My dear niece Alisha provided me with a pile of fabrics that she liked last summer, full of bugs and butterflies, and I chose a pinwheel design. I was finally done with the pinwheels and able to add sashing and backing. Because of the design, I knew I would have to machine quilt it instead of simply tying it, so I was hesitant to do that on my old machine. The tension never was right no matter what I did, and I didn't want it to look terrible.

An early birthday present landed a new sewing machine on my table, and I've happily been machine quilting every day. Woo-hoo! Other than washing it and double-checking the seams, that one is done just in time for her birthday. I'm so excited.

The other one I was working on was a blue and cream quilt that I had started for Anna but then decided against the baby-ish colors. That turned out really pretty, and I think I'm going to donate it to the church for them to either give to someone or to sell at a crafts table this summer.

Next up is another attempt at a quilt for Anna. I think I have enough fabrics for it, and I think I've finally narrowed down on a pattern I'll use. I want to use the same quilt pattern for both Ben and Anna's quilts, but use different fabrics. So once I pick a pattern, I have to like it a lot.

On the kid front, everything is great. Ben's vocabulary is burgeoning. He's speaking more clearly every day, and he's delightful. Naughty at times, but still sweet and kind as a rule. Rambunctious and curious and cantankerous. A normal three year old. And on Wednesday, he's going to an optometrist because he failed his vision exam. It'll be a new challenge to have a toddler who wears glasses, but I'm thrilled at the new world that is going to open up to him once he can see clearly. I wonder if he'll be able to articulate the difference. And I also wonder if he's going to be responsible enough to take care of them.

Anna is. Well. Dear Anna. Last week she had a stomach virus for three days while we were on a mini-vacay at my mom's house. Vomiting all the time. This is in addition to the runny nose and cough she had for a few weeks. After her tummy settled down, the teething started again. I think there are at least three different teeth coming through right now, including two molars. She's spiking fevers and miserable for most of the day and night, though she's having more and more "happy" hours, which is good. Still, she was very unhappy when she woke from her nap this afternoon, and after a cuddle with Daddy, she fell asleep and has remained asleep. I checked on her, and she's still breathing. :)

Chris is ultra busy at work lately with some new projects he's championing. Hopefully, it'll benefit his career plans. He's also taking two classes right now. And I'm working more than 15 hours a week when he's not working, so we're like two ships passing in the night, often.

I'll leave you with a couple pictures of the latest quilts. Love ya!

Life Along Side the Quilting Table

I am in full-fledged quilting mode, spending at least four hours a day at the task. I have beautified my sewing table and laid in a cache of unheard audiobooks. I have more fabric than I know what to do with thanks to too many trips to the fabric store.

I have had many questions as to how I manage to quilt while taking care of the kids. The answer is complicated, but I'll give you a picture to describe it, a picture of words, that is.

My hair is pushed off of my face with a headband, letting me forget for a bit longer that it's been two (or is it three?) days since last I washed it. My shirt, crusty in places from snot and breakfast, tops off a careless outfit that may or may not include jeans, which I consider to be "dressier" than my pajama pants. The children are clothed and fed and washed; I have standards, don't you know.

In the adjacent bedroom, a Little Tykes slide plays host to numerous activities... the conveyor belt of flashcards, a launching pad for trucks, a laundry chute for disheveled children. Duplo blocks are scattered across the hardwood floor. Don't they make such a great sound when dumped from their bin?

After teaching Anna how to safely go down the stairs, she now as free reign of the house. She frequently makes the trek downstairs to grab a sippy cup or a cozy blanket or a shoe. Every once in a while, I move to the floor to sit and reach for her. We cuddle and giggle together, and I will nurse her until boredom moves her elsewhere or sleep overtakes her. Her favorite spot is on my lap, and when I'm just sewing and not brandishing the rotary cutter, I'll often hold her precariously on my lap, my arms reaching around her to hold the fabric steady under the jumping needle. Her joy is letting one of the widgy-gadgets bop up against her outstretched hands as the machine jiggers along.

Ben will sometimes be content to play upstairs or watch TV. Often, however, he goes downstairs where I have mommy radar going, listening for naughty sounds, or, worse, naughty silence. Mostly, he pulls out toys and plays by himself, entertaining himself without my assistance for up to two hours at a time. Sometimes I come downstairs to minor disasters, like washable marker on the floor or a roll of toilet paper in the toilet.

Before snacktime, lunch and naps, clean-up time occurs in at least one zone of the house, and that's when the fun begins. The quilting table is tidied up, and I give the kids my full attention. I try to make clean-up fun. My strokes of genius include putting the end of the slide on a bucket and using the slide to put toys away. It's much more fun to collect them in buckets if you get to push them down a slide. Or maybe I'll put a broom handle on the floor two or three feet away from a bin, and I'll play referee while Ben practices his free throw skills. That one takes longer, but it's more "play" than "chore," so it's definitely worth it.

Slowly but surely, the quilt gets completed without bloodshed, without too many tears, without resentment and regret. I'm in the homestretch with my dear niece Alisha's quilt right now, and I feel overcome with blessings of a magnitude not yet experienced.

From One Thing to Another

First off... I shared this story with Chris today. Heard it on Catholic Radio, got warm fuzzies. I think it's a good lesson to learn.

A momentous occasion occurred today when Chris brought Momma Val's quilt to the post office. I was so glad to pull it out of the dryer this morning and see that all the stitches held, the colors didn't bleed, and it looked cozy. Mission accomplished. Whenever I look at it, I see all the little mistakes I made. I hope they are not as noticeable to Valerie and her sweet little boy.

Here's a picture of the quilt during one of the last stages of completion:

I had started this quilt early last summer at the end of a quilting binge. I started working, my health was "iffy" and life was chaos. I just didn't have the heart for quilting anymore, so I stopped. Unfortunately, that meant that Valerie didn't get her requested quilt in a timely fashion. Oh the guilt that festered. She never bothered me about it, but I didn't forget entirely.

Fast forward to the beginning of this month. We moved our bedroom upstairs, and I decided that I should bring up our six-foot table to put in the extra wide hallway at the top of the stairs. On there, I could put my sewing machine, and I'd even have room for my cutting board. Bingo. I set it up, and the quilting bug happened again.

It didn't take me long to finish her quilt once I started. I had most of the blocks completed or nearly completed. I just had to cut out the white blocks and put it all together. Happiness, thy name is "matching seams."

And now it's done. After the quilt for Alisha, I have four more quilts planned. A nap blanket for me, a quilt each for Anna and Ben, and a quilt for my nephew Gage. Happy times ahead.

On the kid front... Ben's vocabulary is burgeoning still. He's hard to understand at times, but he's trying. He's "using his words" a lot, even if it doesn't do any good because it sounds like gibberish. He can count to ten and can recognize all of the numbers. And he has most of the alphabet down pat, but he won't say it, just points them out and names them when he sees them. Colors are memorized.

His personality is adhesive. He loves stickers. If I give him a sheet of stickers, he will either put them all over his face (including eyelids), decorate a table top (or my laptop) or add them to random pages in his book collection. A couple days ago I went into the living room to turn off the TV quickly before we left to run errands, and I was greeted with the sight of a TV screen covered in stickers. Ah, Ben.

He's acting more interested in what I'm doing, and most of the time, he wants to join in. Kneading bread dough, washing dishes, picking up laundry, washing the table, etc. "Ben try?" I hear that a lot, except when he doesn't want to do something. Then it's "Mama try?"

Anna's infected boil is slowly healing. The infection is gone, but the spot remains. I'm glad the doctor ran labs on the specific bacteria (ostensibly to rule out MRSA) so that we could get a targeted antibiotic. Unfortunately, with antibiotics comes a terrible diaper rash. She's kind of annoyed by that and the two molars that are still halfway out or just under the surface. Intermittently, she's either jolly and rambunctious or she's whiny and clingy.

I wish you all could see her adorable facial expressions. The "stinkface" with a crinkled nose and pursed lips. The "oh-hi!" where she squats slightly and grins like she's ready to jump for joy at seeing you. The "oh-really" where she raises her barely-there-blond eyebrows and smirks, letting loose a deep-throated chuckle.

That's all I can do for tonight. Hope you all are happy and well.

Bedroom Switch 2008

Anna, Ben and I went from having the stomach flu around Thanksgiving to having colds this week. Ben is on his nebulizer a few times a day, and Anna is constantly dripping copious amounts of snot and very fussy. So of course it's the perfect time to start sleep training again.

Yeah right. We started training her again because her sleep patterns were getting worse and worse, finally to the point where she would pop right back up in her crib when we'd put her down. And then she'd cry forever until she'd either pass out for 30 minutes or so or until I would cuddle her.

Wednesday night, I slept upstairs with her. I slept in the twin bed, and she was in the packnplay. The idea is that she'd still have to go to sleep on her own, but she wouldn't be alone. Didn't work very well. She's had two very difficult nights. So we're taking it to the next level. She'll be sleeping in her crib in a room by herself. And Chris will be doing the Ferber timing. Going in after five minutes to tell her she's loved and should lay down. Then after ten minutes. Then again after fifteen. Etc. Until she falls asleep.

The other side to this, though, is that she's not feeling well. She's sick, and she's tired and cranky and congested. So this mama's heart might bleed too much, and I'll have to take her up into bed with me and keep her there with me all night long. I've eliminated the night feedings, though. That's tough on her.

While I was sleeping upstairs with her Wednesday night, I was thinking about how nice it would be to have our bedroom be upstairs. It's such a big room. 12x19. And we hardly go up there nowadays since Ben is sleeping downstairs now.

I mentioned it to Chris last night, and he jumped at it. At first he wanted to wait until we can paint the rooms to non-nursery colors, but his desire to sleep train Anna came first. Instead of putting her upstairs and leaving her to cry, and having to walk up there all the time to comfort her, we switched bedrooms today. Ben's twin bed is temporarily in the dining room (again) until Anna is sleeping better. Hopefully we'll be able to put it in their bedroom before Christmas. Tonight Chris will be sleeping in the dining room doing the Ferber thing. And I'll have the whole upstairs to myself. Such a luxury. Except I have to get used to not drinking so many fluids around bedtime. It's a long hike down some noisy steps to go potty.

Getting our bed upstairs was a challenge. It's just a queen, but we couldn't get it through the stairwell because of how steep the steps are. We folded the mattress and shoved hard. Very intense workout. The boxspring was a lost cause though. We just can't bend that. So Chris bought some rope, we leaned the two-story ladder against the balcony, and we did the pulley thing to slide the boxspring up the ladder/ramp and up to the second floor. That was quite the ordeal, but we got it done. Phew.

On the Run

Anna started walking when she was 13 months old. Really, she started just after her first birthday, but she didn't start walking on a regular basis until a couple days ago, when walking became her ideal mode of transportation. She quickly learned the value of walking upright and how it eclipses crawling both in speed and convenience.

My little girl. She's walking. She toddles along, straight legged and clumsy, falling often, but able to get up now without having to pull up on something.

When Shiloh was a baby, Angelina Jolie got a lot of flak for calling her a blob compared to the sparkling personalities of her other children who she didn't meet until they were older. She called her infant a blob? How terrible. Well... not really.

I loved Anna desperately even while she was still in utero. After she was born and began growing, I was delighted and enamored with every new squeak, every new gesture, every spark of the special personality developing. But honestly? It's not until these last couple months that she's less "my baby" and more "my Anna." She has distinct likes and dislikes. She calls me "Mama." She plays hide and go seek with her toys. She claps and giggles and loves petting the dog. And now she's walking everywhere, suddenly with much more access to mischief.

She's becoming fully formed now. It's so difficult for me to remember Ben when he was still a baby. He's come into his own now, and he's my buddy, my entertainer, my shadow. This is who he is, more himself now than when he was a wailing infant.

So I'm feeling like I'm getting to know a new friend now, as Anna throws her first tantrum when I won't let her play with my cell phone, as Anna runs to greet me at the door when I get home from work, as she yells, "Mama!", when she wants my help.

My brain is fuzzy in the mornings, my eyes bleary, after yet another night of frequent wakings. Her sleep apnea keeps us all up at night (or at least the two of us) as she's stirring awake every hour or two in a hacking cough. I barely wake up now when I'm summoned into the dining room to feed and cuddle her again. Every night, I consider sleep training again, night weaning, so I can share the burden and lighten my load. But nearly every time, my heart goes into protective mother mode, and I go hug her as she yells and cries for me. So I resolve that when she has a clean bill of health, when the doctor tells me that she's fine and there's no reason for her to not sleep through the night, that is when I will start sleep training again.

In other news, Molly survived her spay surgery on Thursday. She slept most of Friday and yesterday. She's very cuddly and sensitive, and I hope she's not in much pain. That first day and night that she was home, she had diarrhea, and there was much ... um ... "leakage" where she was lying down and sitting. It was horrendously stinky, but luckily that resolved quickly.

Anna and the Horrifying Tonsils

Anna had her 1-year well child visit this morning. She's back on track as far as weight goes, and her exam was perfect ... except for one part. Her tonsils.

"For her size, they are enormous. I was horrified when I saw them," Dr. Sarah explained.

Outwardly, she is showing almost no signs of infection. She's drooling a lot, but she is also cutting a tooth. Her ears aren't infected, and her nose isn't running. Our only concern today was a hacking cough she gets when she lays down in her crib.

The tonsils are causing sleep apnea and obstructing her airway when she sleeps, which is why she snores and wakes up frequently. It's also why she coughs only when she's lying down and why she drools like a Saint Bernard puppy.

The first course of action is two weeks of antibiotics on the slim chance that there's a deep infection in her tonsils that didn't clear on its own. We go back to Dr. Sarah for a re-check in 4 weeks. If her tonsils are a normal size, we're fine. If they aren't, we'll be referred to an ENT. The doctor said that surgeons are VERY hesitant to remove tonsils on a child her age. They prefer to wait until 2 or 3 years old.

Honestly? I'm very worried about her. Chris has sleep apnea and has to wear a CPAP at night, so I know a little about the condition. It's risky territory. But I'm also relieved that I'm not going insane. Whenever I tell someone that Anna is still waking up every 2 hours or so at night even now that she's 12 months old, I feel a bit like a failure, like maybe we didn't stick with sleep training long enough or maybe I'm drinking too much caffeine and it's affecting the breastmilk. Knowing that there's a reason why she's waking up all the time ... well ... it offers some comfort for me.

To Anna, on her first birthday

Did you know that my precious baby girl is one year old today? Hard to believe how quickly this year has gone by. I still remember distinctly what her birthday was like and the crazy week leading up to it. Sigh. She's a year old now.

I wish I had good pictures to throw up here, but I don't. She's having another photo-shoot this weekend, so you'll have to wait for those.

But let me paint a word picture for you.

She's gnawing on the edge of the entertainment center right now. I'm not surprised. Everything gets tasted at least three times. Her first tooth is *this close* to the surface, and the front of her outfits have been soaked for the last two days as the drool flood settles in to saturate our lives and our furniture.

She pulls herself up to standing and pushes whatever she can to get herself across the room on her feet. Such great strides, but she's not feeling confident enough to let go and stand on her own, let alone take more than one or two tentative steps. Soon. The tops of her feet are always dirty as a testament to my terrible house cleaning. She crawls everywhere, and that's where her feet come in contact with the floor.

When she sees Ben, her eyes always light up. It's automatic, and it's such a relief, considering how poorly he treats her sometimes. Watching them play together is one of my greatest joys. She loves to play with his choo-choos, unfortunately only while he's playing with them or right before he wants to play with them. We had to tear down the choo-choo tracks because she thought they looked better in a mad jumble. She drinks his sippy cups of juice, and God help him if he leaves a half of a PB and J sandwich on his table.

Her smile is easy and sweet, and when she finally lets loose a giggle, it's infectious. Her blue eyes sparkle and dance with private amusement long before she actually chuckles. My favorite moment in the last month with her was a private little minute we had while nursing. I was watching her suckle away, and I started tickling her under the arms, behind her knees. She tried so hard to keep concentrating on her task at hand, but she couldn't help it. She began to grin widely, breaking the latch for a moment, then the giggling started. I could feel it rumbling through her body before it escaped her throat. Before long, we were both laughing hysterically.

She's my delight. On Criminal Minds the other day, the hot guy called Garcia his "God-given solace." That's my Anna. She heals the fractures and soothes the friction burns from an abrasive day. I love watching her explore and grow every day, and I'm so glad she's in my life.

Separation Anxiety

In two weeks, Anna will be one year old. She took her first step on Sunday. Just one step, but it was enough to make me weepy. She's awesome.

But this post is about Ben. My dear Benji Boy. Oh, how I love him. In the last week, however, he has presented us with new challenges in patience and compassion. He's dealing with some very strong separation anxiety issues. If we're getting ready to leave the house to go to the store or go for a walk, he starts to panic that we'll leave without him, and he screams and wails, running for his shoes and his jacket. We try to convince him that we won't leave without him, but every time he turns around and doesn't see one of us in his field of vision, he panics again.

At night, we'll go through our nighttime routine, ending in storytime with Daddy upstairs. Even if he manages to relax and fall asleep, he wakes up or gets out of bed within 30 minutes, realizes that no one is up there with him, and he has a panic attack. One night we brought him back upstairs 10 times before he finally passed out from exhaustion.

This is a typical developmental phase that kids usually go through before second year. Lots of babies have separation anxiety from their parents. It's a matter of learning object permanence. Ben's issue has such a strong emotional component, it breaks our hearts while it frustrates us. When life is happy and peaceful for him, he's affectionate and funny, playful and charming. I'm always wary for something to set him off.

Last night, we let him sleep in bed with us. Normally, this is forbidden. We were desperate, I guess. Neither of us wanted to sleep upstairs with him, and we weren't looking forward to the now commonplace back-to-bed dance that leaves Ben in gulping sobs. We may be pushovers, but we gave in.

The strong-line-parent in me didn't want to. I wanted to be strong and insist that Ben sleep in his own bed at a time that we set. I told myself he was being manipulative, and that this was a test. But the gooey-intuitive mommy in me felt that this just wasn't so. Something is going on in his spirit, something topsy-turvy, and he is just letting us know. Maybe if I hug him closer and give him as much security as I can, we can help him through this phase, and he'll become the independent and easy sleeper that he once was.

Tonight, we're blowing up our air mattress and putting it next to our bed. It's a compromise. He'll be separate, but he'll still be able to see us and hear us if he needs to. Next phase would possibly be to reverse the baby monitor. Can you imagine it? Setting up the video monitor so that he can see our bed and us in it. That might be a silly/crazy idea, but it might work.

In other news, our dear new doggy Molly is in heat. That's kind of messy and gross. She has her spay appointment at the end of next week, so at least this will be the only time she has to go through this. Behavior-wise, she's not awful. She's better with Chris than she is with me. I'm trying to be the alpha dog, and it's not like I feel nervous or passive around her, but it must be evidencing itself somehow, because she doesn't walk well on a leash for me. I'm trying.

Molly Dog

So we got a dog Tuesday night. I've already been experiencing buyer's remorse, but I hear that's normal, especially if you are not normally a dog person. Dang, dogs are a lot of work! We're house training her, so I have to remain hyper-vigilant about her "needs." I suppose this is practice for pottytraining Ben, whenever he decides he's ready.

She's actually a very nice dog. She doesn't bark or whine. She loves the kids. She likes her kennel. She loves me. She can already play fetch, and she's catching on very quickly to Sit. We went for a long walk to the park yesterday, and she got very worn out. I'd pause to let her go potty in a shady spot, and she'd lay down instead, panting.

I named her Molly. It seems to suit her. Unfortunately, Ben can't pronounce it. He calls her "Wah-ee." Ben loves her desperately, and he can even open her kennel to let her out to play (grrr).

I was very burnt out last night from the kids and the dog, and I was ready to give her back, but I've promised myself that I will wait two weeks before making a decision like that.

In other news, Anna is now 11 months old. Isn't that amazing? It seems like just a month ago, I was hugely pregnant with her. And now, she's cruising along furniture, pushing laundry baskets and trucks across the floor while walking behind, and climbing to the top of our Little Tykes slide and scaring the crap out of me. She's sleeping very well at night, though she still wakes up once for a snack and once for a hug and to be tucked back in. I'm sleeping much better.

It's a combination of the better sleep, physical therapy and more frequent T-Tapp exercises, but I graduated from physical therapy yesterday. I don't have to go back! It's been almost two weeks since I had a headache, and my neck feels fine. It's nothing like it was. It feels wonderful to be pain-free again. That was a rough time.

I'm going to try to get back into blogging again. I turned inward for a while, and I didn't want to push anything out onto the page. I didn't want to share; I just wanted to live in the moment. I'm hoping that I'm phasing out of that. We'll see. I'm not going to force it.

Waiting for the next one

I don't know how mothers with chronic illnesses get through life. This sucks. When I'm not feeling ill, I'm waiting for the first twinge of an oncoming migraine in hopes that I'll have time to take my new medicine and head off the evil brain cramp at the pass. My "cue" that one is soon arriving is numbness, and last night I laid awake in bed for fifteen minutes waiting for the brief numbness in my jaw to start traveling to other areas of the body.

My doctor prescribed me Midrin yesterday, for which I am grateful. Luckily, she's the kind of doctor who feels that migraine sufferers have decreased quality of life if they have frequent migraines, and she's very anxious to find the right combination to keep me pain free. Love her for that.

In the meantime, until I start forgetting the hellish pain, I'm still more likely wake up an hour early so I can start drinking coffee and taking tylenol to avoid a migraine. In time, I should relax and stop sitting on the edge of my seat waiting.

I had a headache last night when Ben made another run for the highway (not really, we're not near a highway). I thought he was just standing at the side door looking outside until I heard Anna screaming. She was outside on the porch, stuck between the door and the jamb. When Ben opened the door and ran, she tried following him. He ran down the graveled alley (how did that not hurt his delicate feet?) and I followed in my slow, tenuous way.

I'm not usually a spanker, but last night he needed an extra reminder.

In happy news, ecstatic news, thrilling news, my sister is giving birth to her daughter Mya tomorrow morning in a planned c-section. Such a happy occasion. Good luck, Jolene! The first six weeks are the hardest.

A Plate of BenAnna Cake

Oh Anna Kathryn of my heart. I know I write odes to you at each passing month milestone, but I'm so full of moments lately that I want to capture in snapshots of the heart, I just had to put some down on the page.

I looked at you last week and was startled by how long you've gotten. At your six-month checkup, I figured it was a fluke, a temporary state. A tall Mathis baby? Both your dad and I are 5'4". Ben has been small since his birth. He still seems at least six inches shorter than the other kids his age. But you are stretching out, all arms and legs. A gymnast and a ballerina, maybe a track star.

You are easing out of babyhood, and through the misty tears and smiles, I see shades of a little girl peeking through the veil. The special smiles for your brother, the look of incredulity when we don't give you what you want. The pure joy and exhilaration when you see us after an absence. The concentration across your whole body as you examine the mardi gras beads every day, and the graham crackers, and the sippy cup. Like you are going to work every day, studying your world, turning it around and over, learning what it's all about. I'm honored by the hugs and kisses you bestow on me, my magical, flailing girl of light.

And, dear Ben, my little gentleman. I've often contemplated your transformation during your two-year-old days. When before you would trundle around the world, mute and smiling, grunting and pointing to get your point across, now you startle us by clasping your hands together and saying "Peeeez! Mama. Peeez! Getti!", a plaintive look on your face as you let us know exactly what you want for dinner. With language, you've come alive. Now you narrate what you are doing with your choo-choos, you call out points of interest that you can see from the backseat of the car, and you tell us that you are drinking yellow juice out of Ben's sippy cup. You let us know when Anna is crying, when your diaper is uncomfortable, when a toe hurts.

Today at the park while I was doing my playground workout, you joined me, showing me the stretches you learned at the baby gymnastics program at the YMCA, reaching to the sky, hiding the turtle, actually talking me through the movements. It's hard to describe how this change makes me feel. I've always been your mommy, and I've always loved every part of you. We are still your parents, and you are still our tagalong, but now that we see and hear you notice everything around you, it feels like you are a real person, less a baby to cart around and talk excitedly to. Now you do the talking.

My children. My heart. My bits of wonder and effervescent joy. My silver lining.

Reunions and Memories Made

Last weekend we had the pleasure of traveling to a relatively remote area of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Twin Lakes. For the American history of my Finnish relatives and ancestors (okay, maybe just the last two generations), we've gathered on the shores of the Twin Lakes campground to eat and play.

We did it again on Saturday. My dad's side of the family, but just his sisters and their families and our family. Pasties in the enclosure. Too many delicious desserts.

Ben played by the water with his cousin Brice, but often just by himself because when you get a 2-year-old boy together with a bunch of rocks and some water, he's self-sufficient.

Chris threw a ball back and forth with some people, then just with himself. Later, he attempted to teach me how to throw a football properly. It didn't work, but the next day, I realized it was quite the biceps workout.

Anna sat in her stroller, then in the grass and dirt, eating said dirt with gusto.

My boys played in the playground area, and Chris showed Ben what the digger is all about. I relaxed on the swing with Anna Dumpling. My nephews threw footballs at each other, and Ben was the monkey in the middle.

Ben throwing the rocks. He did this for an hour.

I seem to have a lot of pictures of Anna in the stroller. Here's another one.

Daddy the Digger dumps sand on Ben's feet.

The monkey in the middle of two bigger monkeys.

I loved collecting skipping stones for my nephew Chaz. Simple pleasures.

Quiet Now Please

It's a quiet night here at the Mathis house. Chris is at class. Anna is eating something she found in the corner. Ben is tearing around the house with his huge Tonka truck, pausing to come get a kiss for his owwies after he crashes too hard into something. Yes. Quiet.

This is my last week of employment. Bittersweet, but not as bitter as it was leaving the first time. I know what I'm getting into (and out of), and I have a full life without work. I have projects on the back burner (Val's quilt, painting the living room) that I haven't had a moment to work on much this summer. And time away from the kids is rarely happy.

My mother is okay. Thanks for asking. She meets with a couple more doctors in Madison on Wednesday, and we're all expecting a miracle. The surgeon up here was unable to reattach the muscle to her eye, but we have a positive outlook on it. Once this is fixed, we'll have so much to celebrate, because the blessing will be even sweeter because it will be a miracle in our lives.

Anna continues to struggle with daycare. I wish it were like it usually is, where babies scream and cry when the parent leaves, but minutes later is fine. She really did cry the whole afternoon... wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep. Totally breaks my heart. She'll be there all Wednesday. Positive spin #2. Without my mother having an injury, we wouldn't have this opportunity to get Anna over her stranger anxiety. After Wednesday morning, I have no doubt that she will be cured, and will love playing with other kids even when Mama isn't there. The last time, she was marginally better than before. Though she wouldn't eat, she did sit in the exersaucer and watch the other kids.

This coming weekend, we'll be traveling to the UP of Michigan to visit with my dad's side of the family at a reunion at Twin Lakes Campground, the site of so many of my childhood memories. The rocky beach, the playground, the trees, the boat rides. I'm not looking forward to the hours in the car, but the rest will make it worth it.

Thursday morning, Chris and I are participating in a one-mile fun run at work. I will do it mainly for the possibility of prizes, but the exercise will be nice, and just to prove to myself (and others) that I can do stuff like this now.

I told Ben the other day that life wouldn't be such a struggle if he went potty on the toilet instead of in a diaper. Last night, he asked, in his way, to sit on the potty. So we sat there, and I blew bubbles in his face. This morning, I bought a smaller foam potty insert for him (Bob the Builder), and he's sat on it frequently today. Lord, give me patience to blow so many bubbles. He hasn't produced anything yet, but I'm glad he's interested in it finally. Maybe once I'm done working, we'll do a potty boot camp. I have no idea.

Anna's black eye has followed the usual course of black eyes. What had first presented as a bruise above her eye on her temple has traveled down her brow and now rests on her eyelid with some shadowing underneath her eye as well. I'm so impatient for it to go away. It's rather embarrassing, and it detracts from her sparkle and charm, though she's still the cutest baby I've ever seen.

Did I tell you the tree in the backyard is finally gone? During ChalkFest, Chris and a bunch of guys from work were here with a couple of chainsaws. They didn't hurt anybody, and the tree came down. Unfortunately, now we have a backyard full of brush and logs since they didn't have time to haul anything away to the local yard waste site. I'm hoping that will get taken care of this week. I saved some of the big chunks of trunk for Ben to use as an obstacle course and generally as things to climb on. I've seen shows on TV where they've put huge boulders in the backyard for that purpose, and it seemed like the natural thing to do.

Our little family went for a bike ride together last week. Chris mapped out a 5.5-mile route on the north side of town, and off we went. It was lovely and fine until we found some hills, some gradual (those are killer), some steep and kind of scary. At least now we know that we should drive the new routes first just in case. We had to walk up a couple of the hills, and we were drenched in sweat when we got home, but we were pleased with our accomplishment. We are a family of vim, vigor and vitality, and we are not couch potatoes. We do stuff like ride bikes in the evenings and walk to parks.

How is your week starting out?

Anna Dumpling, Age Nine Months

Oh Anna Kathryn of my heart. You are nine months old today.

Your black eye shines back at me, not managing to shadow the intense sparkle of your blue eyes. Your brother Ben figured out that he could pick you up yesterday, and shortly after, you learned you could take a nosedive to the floor and land on your face.

And you smile, "a grin with limbs," still, finding joy in small things like a long lost pea or a plastic bag, finding ecstasy in fireworks and brother hugs. Your voice is deep and husky, and your chuckle and laugh doesn't quite escape your chest, though it rumbles and shakes your body with mirth.

Daddy loves how your personality is shining through. Ever the Mama's girl, you are stubborn and determined to get what you want, and now that you can crawl, you don't let anything get in your way. Put you in a room full of people, and you'll be smiling and gurgling at everyone, but only if you are being held by one of three people — Mama, Daddy or Nana. No one else will do.

Developmentally, we are starting to notice waves when you see people. You've mastered the commando crawl, and on certain surfaces, you do a modified monkey walk, one knee and one foot. No teeth yet, but that doesn't stop me from serving you peas, corn niblets, carrots, raisins, green beans, graham crackers, etc. You rake it all into your mouth eagerly, and you pulverize them with your gums.

You still don't sleep through the night, but for the most part, you are willing to get shushed back to sleep only every two hours, requiring only one night feeding now. You sleep in the big white crib in the dining room now, so when you nap during the day, I try to keep Ben in our bedroom with a movie, because if he sees you in the crib, he wants to join you and entertain you.

You two are so incredibly cool together. He's generally willing to let you maul him with your pinching fingers and your slobbery mouth. He in turn loves to coo at you and find ticklish patches of bare skin. He brings you his toys and balloons, though he sometimes pulls them away quickly to assert his dominance. Never mind, you love him completely, enthralled by his activities and exploits.

I'm coming to the end of my little sojourn into part-time employment this summer, and I'll always remember how much fun we had on Friday mornings when your Daddy would drop you off at work for a few minutes, and I'd steal you away to the lactation room. I'd nurse you in privacy, feeling like I was the luckiest woman in the building, luxuriating in your soft skin and warm body pressed against mine, while everyone else in the world was relegated to that cold, sterile "adult" world with spreadsheets and campaigns. Afterward, we'd walk back to my cubicle to call your Daddy, and you'd right away grab for any stray papers I had left within reach.

If I would let you be in a room alone with your favorite toys, I'd come back to see you wrapped up in Mardi Gras beads, tissues pulled one by one from the box and strewn across the floor, soggy bits of paper that you had chewed and spat out, balloons wet with your saliva, books with your favorite pages ripped out, and laptop cords snaking a path through the whole glorious mess.

Ruffling

The wind took ownership of my hair, and I nuzzled Anna's bald little head, savoring her warmth, relishing her soft skin, her barely-there strawberry blonde hair.

My own hair flipped and flew, twisted and tangled as we soared over Lake Winnebago.

Crazy hair, swept and swirled. Crazy soul, ruffled by the wind, shaken by the speed.

I felt the same freedom I felt when I was younger and enjoying boat rides, but now with a new weight as my worried heart lurched with each bump that, in my wild imagination, could send Ben flying overboard. Another new weight was perched on my lap. My daughter snuggled awkwardly against me in her life jacket, her eyes squeezed tight against the wind.

Memories. Their first boat ride. Gage's and Ben's blonde heads in a row as they sat side by side, enjoying the ride together. A pair of rapscallion toddlers, braving the wild world together. Taylor, the experienced older sister and cousin, hovering with the care and attention that makes me smile every time I remember.

Then and Now

The top two pictures are of Ben and Chris. The bottom two are of Anna and Chris. I'm completely flabbergasted that they look so alike. They are so different to me. When someone says, "Wow, she looks a lot like Ben!" I think, "Wow, you are freaking crazy!" But I guess they have a point. I just can't see it because I'm too close. I know what a gentle jokester Ben was at this age, and what a spitfire Anna is, living so close to the edge of so many emotions.

Chris loves them the same. He nuzzled Ben just as much as he cuddles Anna. His little babies. His growing children. I know he's scared of disappointing them, of disappointing me, of them growing up too soon. He thrives on family time, and when he has to leave us (especially when we're all happy), he keens with longing. I can see it on his face as he reaches in for one more hug, one more kiss, one more tickle.

Looking at these pictures of Ben then as Anna is now is such a mind-mess. It reasserts the concept that Anna, in a blink, will be a toddler. A 2.5yo scrambling onto Mommy and Daddy's bed to watch a favorite movie, asking for cookies and chocolate milk, running up to my legs to hug me fiercely after an absence. I'm dizzy at the idea, but I'm so looking forward to it. *I wonder what she'll be like.*

The Universe is Heavy Tonight

It might be the dull layer of chest cold that is hovering over me. It might be the oppressive humidity that sticks to your skin like watermelon juice. It might be the melodramatic, beautiful music I'm listening to on iTunes (Damien Rice). The mania of a little boy discovering the sprinkler for the first time this summer has mellowed into a quiet heaviness.

Nothing is ever really easy. You know the saying that goes something like, "True love shouldn't be hard"? I've never bought that. If your relationship is so easy that it never feels like an effort, you are incredibly special. I've never had an "easy" relationship because of this dang monologue that is always going on in my head. This absolutely singular "me" that remains nestled under the mommy-ness and the wife-ness sometimes tries to briefly forget the happy commitments that make my life secure.

My life is not in turmoil. My marriage is solid. We appreciate each other every day, I express my gratitude for his awesomeness every day. I revel in his adoration like settling into a warm, cozy featherbed on a winter's night.

Still, the universe is heavy tonight.

Let's lift the mood a bit. We started Anna on a course of gentian violet last night. That awful purple/blue dye that stains everything. The nystatin is a pain in the butt. I'm a dedicated, attentive mother, but I have a hard time remembering to give her a dose four times a day for two weeks. So instead of going through another course of the sticky goo, I decided I'd rather deal with the Purple Monster for four days. It's cute.

Anna is doing well in her new sleeping area in the dining room. She seems comfortable in there, and she's been sleeping soundly. She still wakes every couple of hours, but she's able to fall back asleep with some butt pats from Chris. Last night, she had a harder time getting to sleep after our night feeding, but I think that was an anomoly in our new system and was probably due to the humidity.

I was playing laptop games in the dining room tonight after I put Anna down. She wasn't sound asleep yet, and it seemed to comfort her that she could see me nearby as she drifted off. Ben came into the room a couple of times to see me. On the third time, he noticed Anna sleeping in the crib.

"Shhhh," he whispered to me with wide eyes.

With a smile, he started pushing his little chair over to the crib so he could climb up and peek in at her. It was a charming idea, but very detrimental to the continuity of Anna's sleep, so I stopped him, but I was delighted. "Shhh." He's never said that before.

When the weather cools off this weekend, Chris and I are going for a marathon stroller walk. He borrowed some discman speakers from a friend, and we're going to listen to an audiobook as we walk. We're hoping it will be good incentive to walk longer than we normally do, and to walk more often to hear the story. Our first trek will be three miles.

Shush Little Girl

I guess I just kind of hoped that this would happen on its own. She'd just grow out of it, and we wouldn't have to do anything. She'd fall asleep on her own, and she'd sleep all night long. Because that's what Ben did, right? Funny thing. I don't remember. Didn't blog way back then.

Part of it may be that she was still in our room. We have a small two-bedroom house. Chris and I sleep in the first floor bedroom, and Ben sleeps upstairs, which is pretty much one big bedroom. For her early months, we were comfortable keeping her in our bedroom. Made it easier to nurse at night. The months ticked by. She's 8 months old now. And she's still in our room, almost always in our bed, nursing every 90 minutes.

And I'm tigered. Pronounced Tie-gurred. Family thing. Especially on the days when I'm working, of course, because not everyone there takes naps for two hours in the afternoon, though one young man is known to lay his head on his arms during the lunch hour and check out.

Chris had a tough time these past couple weeks, as we've tried a few different things. He'd stay up with her until midnight, rocking her, holding her while she slept, just so I could sleep undisturbed. But once he went to bed, I was on duty. If she woke up, I would go get her from the packnplay in the corner, and she'd latch on and fall asleep eventually. Sometimes, I could pull her off and put her back in her crib, othertimes, she'd wake up crying when I'd put her down, and we'd have to nurse again to get her to go back to sleep.

All night long. On good nights, I'd manage to sleep with her next to me. The past two nights, I've been sneaky. I'll nurse her to sleep on my side of the bed, then I'd pull her off, roll out of bed, put a pillow where I was, and go sleep on the living room couch. Of course I'd still have to go back in when she woke up again, but at least I could sleep on my own, in the position of my choice. She sleeps well on our bed, but we don't sleep well with her in it.

This morning, we pulled off the bandaid. Before work, Chris brought down her crib from Ben's room. The big behemoth now sits in the corner of our dining room where it will remain until she's a champion sleeper and won't disturb Ben.

Tonight, she will not be coming into bed with us. We're doing a modified Ferber method. When she wakes up, Chris will try to calm her down with pats and whispered sweet nothings. If that doesn't work, he will pick her up and sway. If she still doesn't put her fingers in her mouth to suck herself back to sleep, he'll rock her for a few minutes. Then down she goes again. Repeat. I don't imagine he'll sleep much tonight, and I wish I could feel sorry for him, but he hasn't had my sleep schedule for the Last Eight Freakin' Months. A week or so of sleep training won't kill him.

We'll let her cry for a while, but not for more than five or ten minutes. If her crying escalates, we'll go back in and comfort her. We're not focusing on her sleeping right now. We are focusing on eliminating all but one night feeding.

And it won't kill Anna. I hope. I'm typing this now in the dining room, where she fell asleep with me in the room, but not holding her. I have "Baby Mine" playing on repeat on iTunes. Shush, little love. Mommy and Daddy love you very much.

Bucking for Sainthood

I hereby nominate my mother for sainthood. I know we're not Catholic, and she's not dead, but the scope of her kindness should override those pesky issues.

After a late afternoon call to playfully ask if she was coming down here last night instead of this morning, she pulled in at 7 pm, rescuing me from a very tiring, upsetting day with the children. We went shopping for bedsheets (400 threadcount queen set for 30 bucks), and we were home by 8:15. Put Ben in bed, fed Anna. At 9, I handed Anna to my mother and went to bed.

Bleary eyed and half asleep, I stumbled to the bathroom at 10:30. I angrily asked Chris why Nana was sleeping with Anna on the couch. He should be the one tending her. Let Nana sleep! He calmly told me to go back to bed, that Nana was going to take Anna for the night.

I forgave him around 1 am. By 2 am, when Nana carried Anna in for her *only* night feeding, I was humbled with gratitude and relief. By 5:30 when the alarm went off? I was jubilant.

The past couple months have been so difficult. Since Anna started getting ear infections in April, she's been less willing to sleep on her own in the crib. Trying to claim any sleep I can, I just pulled her into bed with us. Instead of sleeping soundly nestled against mommy, she wanted to nurse all night long. I'd doze on and off throughout the night and wake up exhausted, counting the hours until I could nap with the kids.

Yesterday morning, I woke up so tired, I felt like vomiting. So to sleep in my own bed without having to accommodate a sprawled baby? HAPPINESS. JOY. BLISS.

Seriously. Give the woman a prize, something other than my undying love and affection. She should get a trophy.