She Laughs at the Days

 Babymoon, when you are supposed to relax and enjoy your new baby and get strong and recover. Unless, you have to deal with document problems with the insurance company and the DMV that didn't surface until 2 days after you gave birth and can't wait, or finding out that someone somehow has managed to use a fraudulent copy of your bank card and has been draining your bank account for a week starting the day your baby was born, or everyone coming down with the flu just ten days after he is born, or a tired, sick husband sliding into a major depressive episode for almost a week while you are still in the middle of hormone flux, or going back to work as the administrator of your non-profit corporation within days because there is no one else out there crazy enough to do what you do for free, at least not yet, and there are orphan kids who need rice this month. Someone has to keep it going. Some days it's really hard to remember to notice the gifts all around. The temptation

1. This is going to sound weird, but, I ALMOST like the smell of baby poop. Not from an 8 month old baby eating solid foods, but that newborn, nothing but breastmilk sort of cheesy yellow poop. Admit it, you've smelled way worse. There's something almost comforting, familiar and fond about it. 2. I haven't got cloth diapers yet, though everyone tells me to get Fuzzibunz, and by everyone I mean the moms I know who have cloth diapered a lot of babies recently. They had me at "washes the easiest" and "leaks the least". Anyway, in the meantime I have been using disposables, and let me just tell you, I will never buy Pampers swaddlers again. They got all filled up with these gross little gel balls filled with pee that would build up inside of the diaper and then fall out and make a mess all over the place. They were nasty to wipe up and I'm not even sure I want to know what they are exactly. I switched to Huggies Supreme. They don't have gross bu

I started making my own wipes many years ago. That way I know exactly what's in them and don't have to worry about what's on my baby's skin. (Or mine. There have been train trips where access to a baby wipe sponge bath has come in handy.) The wipes that I make are strong enough to clean up the mess but they will actually degrade in a land fill, unlike most commercial wipes I've encountered. Oh, and they're way cheaper and only take a few minutes. Honest. You can do this in the time it takes for a diaper change. You need: A roll of Viva paper towels , cut in half. (A bread knife works for this. Yes, they need to be Viva in my opinion. Other paper towels fall apart because they aren't strong enough.) A container big enough to hold half a roll of paper towels. Yogurt or cottage cheese containers usually work. 1-2 tbsps glycerin hand soap . (I like the lavender scented one from Avalon botanicals, or I snag a bar or two of my MIL's homemade o

Part I Part II Beema's house. The kids go straight to their beds there. I go straight to the couch while Milly gets her room ready. They aren't that hard, the contractions, but I do vomit, a lot, until I'm completely empty, and yet I still feel nauseous. I'm still not convinced that there's very much progress yet. I'm pacing myself for the long haul if necessary. I wish I could get some rest. Finally I opt for getting in the bathtub. Milly's bathtub is gigantic, deep and big enough for two people, which works out well in the end. If I'm not very far along, the contractions will probably slow, in which case I'll get some sleep. Or they'll speed up and we'll get this done. I want the solace of water now, the support of it against my body. Walking to the bedroom the contractions subside again. I can brush my teeth, talk and laugh, look at how silly I look in the mirror with my hair pinned out of the wa

Part I is here . After dinner I have the kids each pack a bag for a stay at Beema's house. Just in case we need to go there tonight. I call Milly, I call Michelle. After all, we all know that I can go from something to SOMETHING quite quickly, so I give them the heads up. Kids tucked in bed, I take Aaron up on his offer to clean up dinner and the kitchen. Which he doesn't do immediately. I'm feeling like he had better hurry up and do it, because I may need him soon, which should have been a clue, but I was still able to do things, so I was. I start in on my labor project, which is to sew myself a baby sling. Note to self-If you are going to sew in labor, at least try and get all of the items assembled ahead of time. Mid contraction is not a good time to need to climb a step stool to figure out where the sling rings are stored. But I am going to get this thing sewn! The contractions are harder, they press down against my chair as I work

 It starts Sunday night. At least, I'm hoping it's a start. They could be real contractions, but it's so mild I can't really tell. The hospital monitor showed several while I was in there two weeks ago but I haven't felt any of them. Whatever is going on, I sleep quite easily that night, a welcome change from all the getting up and going to the bathroom, or walking off leg cramps, or taking care of Little when she wakes and calls for me. Monday there are contractions. But there are things to get done. We need to go and get supplies for a birthday cake. I need to finish assembling the birth kit. I deal with contractions all day but they aren't enough to stop me. Yes, I'm planning a home birth. In a way I'd always been planning a home birth, I just didn't tell anyone. I didn't want to hear all of the doubt filled nay-saying that would inevitably come. Aaron and I are quite comfortable to stay home unless it becomes obvious that we

Catching my own baby as he was born with the loving support of family and friends nearby. Michelle, our midwife and friend, coming to help at the end for free. The Girl putting her hand gently on my head as I lay in the car to comfort me every time I had a contraction on the drive to Beema's house. Falling asleep exhausted with him and waking to find every detail taken care of and attended to. The big kids quietly sneaking into the bedroom one at a time in the morning to get their first look at their new baby brother. The girls placing little tiny vases with flowers they picked at my bedside while I slept. Family who will take their whole day off to come and meet the new baby, and help the bigger kids bake him a birthday cake while the rest of us rested. A tireless, tireless mother in law who not only gave up her bedroom so I could have a baby in there, and attended me all night in labor, but took care of my children for another 3 days while I rested and made

and they are a whole lot smaller too. For those of you not on Twitter or facebook, Jellybean was born Tuesday morning, Aug. 10, at 4:05. 8lb 11oz, 20 7/8 inches long. I'm working on putting together the whole story soon with pictures. In the meantime.... Just look at that face. Also, he needs a blog name. His real name means "give thanks God is with us". Not sure what to call him here. I'm taking suggestions.

Today marks the longest I have ever carried a child, 39 weeks, with nary a contraction in sight. I am tired. Also, very uncomfortable and big footed. Random strangers like to accost me in public places to tell me I'm "ready to pop". Aaron tells me I'm missing a golden opportunity to mess with them. I should stare confused and say,"What? What are you talking about?... Oh, I'm just fat. Thanks for pointing that out." Or, even meaner, "It's cancer." Also, you know that thing that some people like to do, where they turn their head sideways and eye your belly before confidently declaring what your baby's gender will be? Usually the people who do that are pretty evenly split, girl or boy. I have not had one person this pregnancy declare that I'm going to have a girl. I wonder if they are all right, or all wrong. I lean toward wrong. We don't know what we're having, obviously, we have never wanted to find out. "Oh, you

Ten years ago today I married Aaron in my little Canadian hometown. This week I read Tamra's post about weddings which I loved, and it reminded me of my own wedding. Particularly it reminded me of my mom, who over the years had managed to equate everything that went wrong with her wedding day as the harbinger foreshadowing all that would go wrong in her marriage. She spent a lot of our wedding planning time telling me she "just didn't want me to be disappointed the way she was." That lasted until the day I turned around and said, "Mom, I want a marriage, not a wedding. As far as I'm concerned, if he shows up, and his dad shoes up to marry us, and I'd like him to think I look fabulous as well, it's a good day." Credit to my mom, she listened. So, I've told the story of how we met and got engaged , but I've never written about our wedding day, which was far from "perfect". First of all, we were married in a soup kitchen.

Playing battle ship with the Boy. More roses than vases to put them in from GG's house. The Girl's "hide the flower" game that she made up for me to play with her. The elaborate pretend games that keep my kids busy together for hours at a time. The Girl's "new" boots that she wears everywhere. ($5 leather gap boots at the thrift store.) The way I can see my belly move now when Jellybean moves. Little was complaining one day while trying to do something hard. The Boy ran over to her and started bowing repeatedly while saying, "Boy here, at your service." How proud the Boy was of his $1 purchase of 3 water guns, one for him and one for each sister. "Because it's getting warmer now mom and we can play with them." Rubbing noses with the girl as she smiles up at me, smelling of watermelon. Watching a humming bird out the kitchen window while doing dishes. Little laying on her belly on the floor coloring whi