Of Note.

Well look at that. Here we are about to enter Holy Week and it was JUST Ash Wednesday. Ah such is life. Busy. That's what life is. There has been much ado about EVERYTHING here at Chez Burps & Farts. Among which:

1.) My oldest son has finally decided that the only appropriate place to dispense his pee-pees is on the potty. OH YES. Last Tuesday, as I was kneeling down to get him dressed, I commented to him that his pull-up was dry. At that moment I we decided that we should just try sitting on the potty to see what happens. And FOR ONCE OH MY GOSH YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW STUBBORN THIS KID IS he agreed. And he PEED! And then he peed again! And then we pulled out the big boy underwear that have been sitting in his drawer gathering dust for AGES and now he wears them every day. Each morning we sit together while he's on the potty (or the Pot-tay as we like to call it) and we look through every single pair of underwear that he owns to decide which character's face will grace that cute little bum today.  He's doing remarkably well with all of this, even today going into the bathroom twice without my knowing to do his business.  Why yes, my son is a superstar.  We'll talk more later about the sheer DEVASTATION that occurs when we don't quite make it to the potty. It's heart-breaking really. Let's not discuss it.

2.) Son #2 has given up the paci. Well. Unbeknownst to him. We are on night four of Project No Paci and, THANK GOD, he's surviving.  Monday morning he took it out to drink some juice and, instead of keeping it clutched in his sweaty little fist, handed it to me. So I did what any other horribly insensitive mother would do. I set it aside where he wouldn't see it. It wasn't my intention that it be set aside permanently, it's just that we've been trying to make a point to only let him have it for sleeping times, especially now that he's CHEWING HOLES THROUGH THEM. (On a weekly basis. This chewing the paci thing is getting to be an expensive habit.) And I'm afraid he's going to choke. But then I put him down for naptime and realized, as I was climbing the stairs to rejoin the land of the no-nappers, that I had forgotten to give it to him. When he actually SLEPT without it, I figured Hey, let's keep going.  That night was the same. Super sleeper. No problem. Next day? Super nap. No problem. That night? SCREAMAGGEDON. Until midnight I'm not even kidding. While I was debriefing Tim the next morning we pondered whether it was because of the paci or something else. Okay, we figured it was the paci.  But I wasn't about to give in yet. "Let's try it one more night," said I. And now here we are at Night Four. Super Awesome. And, I have to say, I haven't seen him with a paci in his mouth since Monday morning and you know what? He looks like such a different boy. Such a big boy. Let's all pause for a collective sigh over how big my baby Jake is getting.

3.) The sun has come out here in Northern California and thank God for that. This has been a hard winter, what with bringing home the new baby and all. There have been many a rainy day when I would have bundled the boys up and gone out or even played outside (or even in the garage) but you just can't take a newborn out like that. So we've been in the house a lot and that coupled with every other type of stress and exhaustion that comes with new babies has been wearing on me. I've been looking forward to spring and summer so much because it just feels like life will be easier then. Sure enough - the days we've spent outside this week have been awesome. The boys can spend hours digging in the dirt and running around after this ball or that. The weather, combined with that re-energizing that comes after making it through that "fourth trimester" and a few other things have led me to the point where I can feel life getting easier. And that's just what I've needed.

4.) Speaking of son #3. At four months old he is now spending a lot of his days smiling and laughing. And ROLLING OVER onto his side, and almost to his tummy.  He's got the cutest little chuckle and the rolls on his legs are starting to get a little chunkier. While he did torture me for a little while with what I can only guess is a 4-month sleep regression, he is getting to be a better sleeper.  I'm winding up right now to get him started on a daytime sleep schedule, although Chris wasn't a napper at all until he was five months old and I didn't even attempt with Jake until AT LEAST that long. So I'm not too concerned with it at this point.  Chris and Jake have been super big brothers lately, always sitting next to him and trying to make him laugh or get him to stop crying. That alone makes my days easier. I love looking up and seeing them all sitting together in the family room. It drives my brain to ten years down the road when I'll have big floppy boys lounging in that same room, eating me out of house and home.

5.) I have been promising this recipe to people left and right without ever delivering on it. So here it is, JUST FOR YOU.  My mother-in-law's super delicious chocolate bundt cake (bohn? Bonk? Oh!!! A Cake!!) Name the movie and I'll make the cake FOR you.
      1. Blend yellow cake mix with one 3-oz chocolate instant pudding packet and 1/2 c. sugar
      2. Add 3/4 c water and 3/4 c oil
      3. Add 4 previously beaten eggs
      4. Add 1c previously beaten sour cream
      5. Stir in 1/2 c (apparently some people measure their choc chips. not me.) choc chips.
      6. spray bundt and lightly dust with sugar
      7. Bake 45-55 min @ 350 degrees
      8. Before you pull it check to see if it jiggles. If it does PUT IT BACK. It's not ready.
       9. Before serving, dust some powdered sugar over the top.

6.) MMMMMMM. Trust me. MMMMMM. Now, Shelby has made this cake and poured a ganache over the top, which I can only imagine was chocolate deliciousness covered in chocolate heaven. Especially if you don't measure the chocolate chips. Really, friends, the more chocolate chips the better. Just keep pouring. You won't be sorry.  Another thing I've been wanting to try with this cake is to make it with a lemon (or yellow, I suppose) cake batter and white chocolate chips. I think that would probably be nice and light for spring. And you know, really good.

7.) Last. And certainly Least. For the last three weeks I have been TOTALLY CAUGHT UP on my laundry. Like, to the point where I'm finding myself looking around to find something (anything!) to make a full load. Don't you just hate me? Sorry. I'm just super proud of myself for being so on it. And I totally know that as we start spending more time outside this will all go to pot, so I have to mention it now.  I credit my new Three Basket System, courtesy of the multi-hued laundry baskets that I just can't seem to stop buying at Target.  I'd tell you more but I just finished writing a mile-long comment about this very thing over at Amy's and I'm all laundried out. But let me just say for now - tomorrow I'll fold my last load of laundry FOR THE WEEK and then? Laundry room is CLOSED.  Now that's what I call a nice weekend.

More Quick Takes here.

Seven Quick Takes...

Ha. November 12th. I suppose it's about time I got back down to business. To be honest, the thought of updating the blog has been a constant in my mind, but with each day that has passed it seemed like more and more of a challenge. The more thoughts of "oooh, I should write about this," the more daunting of a task it became. So, following the lead of some others I've been enjoying...

1.) I decided to take some time off from the blog so that I could devote my much needed minutes to finishing Jacob's stocking. In all, it took 36+ hours. Good thing I started as early as I did. And boy did it come out cute, if I do say so myself. It was a really fun project, and I'm so glad to have this Christmas keepsake for my boys to use every year and to eventually take into their own homes with their own families. My mom made our stockings when we were babies, and I've always loved how creative and beautiful they were. Little did I know how HUGE of a project it was! To be honest, I'm very proud of the finished product and it feels so good to be able to display it in our home - especially during those years, such as this one, that will be a bit more modest and understated in terms of Christmas decorating.

2.) My Grandma is beginning to lose track of who I am. Not really, but a little. The thoughts I'd like to share on this issue range for heart-wrenching to knee-slapping, but the gist of it is that the past few months have been a roller-coaster ride between hospitals and nursing homes, laughter and tears, navigating social services, meeting new doctors, and accepting the fact that Being There means being loved and appreciated one day, despised and yelled at the next. Starting with her fall in mid-august, to the first senior home, through standing by her bed in the ER for HOURS ON END during her stroke, to the second fall and resulting hospital stay due to her broken neck AND back, back to the senior home, back to the hospital (because she was being so mean to everyone) and now to a new senior home - these months have been only manageable because of the strength and encouragement of my beloved husband who has gone with me on nearly every single visit, and has (somehow) been able to talk some sense into Grandma when necessary. He has stood by me and held me up through her anger and my tears. The Grandma who is ill is not the one who I've been close with all these years - she is the one with whom I have had many challenging moments. While there's a much bigger blog post brewing about this, what I can say now is that I have truly learned what it means to be family through all of this. I have learned what it means to love - not just to love her, but to love my dad and serve him through the care that I can extend to her. It's not even an issue of what it will be like to look back - I can say now, as we're in it, with certainty that I can see the grace in these moments and the blessing of what this time means for all of us. Relationships are being mended. Hearts are healing. And finally, after 30 years of being her granddaughter, I am getting to know my grandmother.

3.) Speaking of 30 years, another development since my last post? I TURNED THIRTY. And it was AWESOME! Not because I had this huge party with all of my family and friends. Not because I received awesome and expensive and meaningful gifts...but because, in what has been an incredibly challenging year, I was loved on my birthday. Truly loved. That probably comes off sounding really cheesy, but it's true. There's no other way to explain the joy that I felt through the blessings I received this year - starting with my awesome visit with my girlfriends in the spring, to a surprise visit from my buddy on my birthday weekend. And, lest I forget, my mom's surprise gift of the new stroller I had been eyeing for the boys. The stroller that I'd been saving and saving for, but whose fund kept ending up getting swallowed into the "needs" part of the budget because it really did fall under the "want" category. The gifts that I received for my birthday were all things that I truly needed at each moment that they were received - down to the gift certificate to a restaurant in the city from my brother and sister-in-law, on the very day that I sat venting to my husband about how "when we get back on track, all I want to do is go out to dinner. Just once. Just to feel 'normal' again." Even remembering it now makes my eyes fill up. I will always remember the year I turned 30 as the year I not only truly learned to love, but also truly learned how to receive it.

4.) Yesterday, Christopher ran into a pole. Yup, he got off the slide and took off full speed ahead, looking down, until that mean old pole got in his way. The way the metal made that "BONG" sound would make anyone think we were headed to the ER, but I'm telling you, that kid has the hardest head you've ever seen. He's a tough kid with a tough head - and lately, a pretty rock-star vocabulary. My favorite of his many words, these days, is "Hoop." (For the uninitiated, "Help.") "Mommy, Hoop." It's so cute. Everything he says, of course, is at a decibel level that can't be good for anyone's hearing - volume control is not something we're interested in around here. So, it's really, "HOOP!" or "BYE-BYEEE MOMMY! BYE!!!" or "NIGHT NIGHT YAYAAA!" to the sleeping baby in the next room. Each new word makes my pride swell and, of course (you know me...) my eyes well up.

5.) Thankfully, his brother is so chill that the volume doesn't bother him much. But the teeth are making that kid crazy....and having the same effect on his mommy. I don't remember Christopher having NEARLY this much trouble with his teeth. I don't remember because HE DIDN'T. One night last week, Jacob SCREAMED. ALL. NIGHT. LONG. Really. I'm not exaggerating. For a little boy who hardly ever cries, this was bordering on the ridiculous. Tylenol didn't touch it. Watching mommy cry didn't touch it. Watching Daddy sleep didn't even touch it. Just kidding. Well, only a little. In the last couple of days, though, Jakie has really taken to the Two Nap Schedule, and as a result, has been sleeping better at night. THANK GOD FOR SLEEP BREEDS SLEEP.

6.) On an unrelated note, Twitter is my new favorite website. This surprises me because, seriously? WHO CARES WHAT I'M DOING EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY? But, honestly, it's FABULOUS. And it's also partially to blame for the fact that I have not updated my blog - everything that has seemed like too big of a post to take the time to write out has been whittled down to 140 characters or less. If you don't know Twitter, you should get acquainted. After all, don't YOU want to know what I was thinking at 3:02pm yesterday? Of COURSE you do!

7.) So, for my New Year's Resolution, I'll really make a point to get back to the blog and to be consistent. It will be taking second place, though, to our family resolution which is....LEARNING TO ROSARY IN LATIN. Really. I know. We should have it down by 2010.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, dominus tecum. Benedicta tu....

Welcome to the Family, Jake.

It's 8:32 pm. Tomorrow morning, my little Jacob will be baptized into the Catholic Church. As I sit here, the first time today, I finally have a minute to reflect on what all of that means. We've been preparing so much over this past week. Shopping. Cleaning. Painting. Vacuuming. Cooking. Dusting. All to prepare for the massive celebration that will take place at my in-laws' house tomorrow.

AFTER the Sacrament.

It will be a grand party, that's for sure. Tim's wonderful parents have opened up their home to the 45+ people who are coming to celebrate this joyous day in the life of our little one, and for that I am so very grateful. But just because the party is at someone else's house, doesn't mean that our share of the work has been any less. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

But now, as I sit here with my mind still swarming of what needs to happen tomorrow morning before I even hit the showers, I can see the irony of it all. Or the ridiculousness, really. Our focus ALL WEEK has been on the party. I, for one, have reflected very little on the real celebration of the day. The honest-to-goodness celebration that will be taking place in the Church Triumphant as another soul is added to the ranks. Another member of the Church Militant signing on for battle. The beauty of the ritual. The glory of the rite.

The blessing of the CHILD.

Once all is said and done, it will have been a wonderful party. So many family members and friends will gather to celebrate our boy and to enjoy each other's company. I know it will be just lovely.

But when you ask me how the day went, don't let me get away with only telling you how lovely the party was. Don't allow me to ignore the real celebration of the day - the splendor of my precious son beginning the process of full initiation into the True Church of Christ.

Decisions, Decisions.

Well. We finally settled on Godparents for Jacob. And, believe it or not, it was a lot easier this time than last. When I was pregnant with Christopher, we must have mulled it over for months. As Catholics, it is something that we take quite seriously. So Tim and I set up some criteria.

Criterion #1 - Catholicity. They must be practicing Catholics. And that means PRACTICING. In the Dictionary Of Me, "practicing" can be defined as REALLY GOES TO CHURCH. EVERY WEEKEND. AND HOLY DAYS. And, perhaps....maybe they even go on a weekday from time to time. It also means that they know their faith and have a love for it. Perhaps a devotion is exercised here or there. Maybe they even own a Rosary. And use it. In most cases this would narrow the candidate pool....but in our circle of family and friends, it really only shaves a few people off the top.

Criterion #2 - Proximity. As the role of Godparents is to provide a lived witness of the Faith to the child, we both feel that it's really important that these people are a frequent presence in our lives. I want my children to see them more than once a year. For both boys we considered family and friends who lived out of town, out of state, even out of the country. But we keep coming back to this consistency issue.

Criterion #3 - Family. There are certain things that, I feel, you have to use family for first. Whether it "should" be that way or not. Whether it's annoying or not. Whether you really want to or not. It's kind of like the whole issue of who you have in your wedding. There's a progression, and lest you have complete disregard for the possibility of alienating people who are bound to you FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, you should really start there.

I tell you, we AGONIZED over this issue with Christopher. Is this person going to pass on the Faith to him the way WE will? Is that person around enough to really have an impact in his daily life? Is anyone going to get their feelings hurt if we ask so-and-so instead? Good grief.

But, the agony was worth it because I'm confident that we chose the PERFECT people for him.

And then I got pregnant again. I chose not to think about Baptism AT ALL FOR THE DURATION OF THE PREGNANCY because it's just too stressful. All of a sudden, Jacob was one whole month old and we'd only discussed the issue once. Maybe twice.

We both knew that we wanted to ask Tim's sister. She is the perfect match. We both adore her. And she adores our kids. Easy peasy. The real challenge was going to be finding a Godfather. Because, after all, what about THE CRITERIA?! So Tim says, without taking a breath, "What about your brother?" Once I regained consciousness, I asked him if he was serious. And then I asked him if he was sure. And he said yes. And I started crying.

You see, my brother lives in L.A. We see him maybe twice a year. And when it comes to criterion #1....well let me just say that when I told my mom who we were asking, her response was "are you hoping for a back-door conversion through Jacob?"

I finally called him last night to ask him if he'd do it. He provided a good deal of comedic effect when he asked me "how Christopher and...um....the other one...why can't I think of his name?" were doing. But when I asked him if he'd be interested in the job, he was speechless.

When he finally spoke he said that he'd be honored. And that he was humbled. And then he thanked me profusely. The conversation ended with a slew of dates that he'd be available to come up, even if he had to come up the weekend after he was up here for something else, he'd make the trip to be here for Jacob. With this, I knew that we'd made the right choice again.

The agony was different this time. And I should know by now that God often works in ways that are opposite to what I'm expecting. The first time we were looking for the people who Christopher needed in his life. This time, maybe we've found the people who need Jacob in theirs.

And Then There Were Two

....or there will be anyway, tomorrow morning just after 8am.

What a surreal feeling. I've been way into this scheduled c-section thing, especially being so very grateful that regardless of how many aches and pains I had, at least I knew I wouldn't be pregnant past this Thursday. There's some serious psychological goodness that comes along with that kind of assurance. Especially after waiting and waiting and waiting for nearly three extra weeks last time. I've even done a pretty good job of not getting too emotional over leaving Christopher.

Until today.

Today was the perfect day. We got up early and headed over for daily Mass. Living right across the street from our parish church, one would think this is something I could do quite often. Okay, okay. I really could do it quite often, but I don't. I'll make my excuses another time. Anyway. I wanted to go today to be with my family, to pray, to receive the Eucharist. That is strength that I will need over the next several days. Christopher, my little angel, lived up to his title. We sit in the back pew so that I can stand next to me in the aisle and play quietly, and he did just that. Again today he demonstrated this connection that he has with the spiritual - one that amazes me with each manifestation. Today was not the first time that he walked up and down the aisle (the last few empty pews, anyway) holding his little cup in one hand and his drum stick in the other, dipping the drum stick in the cup and then waving it up and down - just like Father has been doing with the Holy Water throughout the entire season of Easter. It is amazing to me the things this kid picks up. OH - and lest I forget, today he bowed toward the tabernacle before he entered the pew. Makes me wonder if the seminaries will lower their age requirements.

All day long he was just so sweet and loving. He'd give me hugs without solicitation... He continued his love for my belly with snuggles and kisses... He oh-so-kindly repeatedly lifted up my shirt to show the entire family my monstrous stomach....

And I cried through every single minute of it.

Because I'm exhausted. Because I'm emotional.

Because I'm excited. Because I'm anxious.

Because I'm leaving my boy for the first time.

Because I'm meeting my boy for the first time.

Because I am for more blessed than I have ever had any right to expect.

Far more blessed than I ever realized I'd even desired.

I keep picturing a shitsu....but I feel more like a Saint Bernard

We've gotten to the stage where the doctor has officially stated, "you could go at any time." Really, that is not a very nice thing to say to a pregnant woman who is about to burst at the seams. I recognize that the conversation was more of a "you could go at any time and be just fine from here on out," but honestly? I don't think he realizes the power of his words. That in my brain, even though we've done this before, I still take that to mean "any slightest little pain or cramp that you feel is the onset of labor so GET READY!

When I was pregnant with Christopher, I had three due dates. THREE. Another not-so-nice thing to do to a pregnant woman. So I never really knew when I was due, and with each date that came (and went) I could just dismiss the whole thing as the doctor being wrong with that little wheely thing that holds the power of the Almighty within it's little bracketed cardboard self based on the date of a period that (by the time you're actually in the doctor's office) you already have missed for 2 months. By the time the third date had passed, I was so busy feeling HUGE (a trend throughout the entirety of that pregnancy, actually) that I didn't really notice any other pre-labor symptoms.

This time has been entirely different. I've felt so good throughout the entire pregnancy that, in a way, I feel like it's just about time that I started to complain. Not that I'm complaining for no reason, of course. All of a sudden, I'm HEAVY. And SORE. And GRUMPY. And....well....DONE WITH THIS WHOLE ENTIRE GROWING A PERSON INSIDE MY BODY thing. Okay?

Over the past few days, since the "you could go anytime" declaration, I feel like my body is preparing itself to hunker down and get this baby out. Deep within me is this draw to sleeping and storing up my energy for the marathon that is childbirth. I feel very connected to nature - like I'm really a part of the Circle of Life. (Good grief, I just had this image of Elton John singing in my delivery room. No further comment is necessary.) But, seriously, yesterday I had this image of myself as a dog getting ready to have her puppies - sleeping a lot. Panting a lot. Just ready to get down to it and PUSH!

The irony here lies in the fact that I'm having a planned, scheduled c-section. There will be no labor (even if the baby comes early, there will only be labor to the extent that it takes 20 minutes to drive to the hospital). There will be no panting. There will be no pushing to the count of ten. What there will be are drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. And four nights in the hospital getting used to having this new little person with me, while missing my bigger little person who will be at home being spoiled rotten by his grandmother.

I feel like I'm cheating the system. Like I'm TiVo-ing my childbirth ahead of time so that I can fast-forward to the joyful part. And, really? I'm okay with that.

Movie Night. Cancelled.

Movie night is not something that we get all that often around here. It's month nine of the pregnancy and between that and all the stress and drama of what has become our daily life over the last month, we're both usually dragging ourselves into bed after we've dropped The Boy off in the crib. So tonight, when MW said, "let's watch a movie" and I actually had the energy to do so, I was thrilled.

So we put The Boy down. We got the downstairs cleaned and ready for the day tomorrow. Then the phone rang. This first call was a mercy, actually, as MW got to talk while I actually used the time for good (finishing my chores) rather than evil (laying down and ignoring the chores.) The phone call ended just as I was finishing up and I was reaching for the remote when it rang again. This call will last at least an hour. But MW, who is so much more generous and patient than I, is talking and listening like the good guy that he is. Perhaps this, too, is a mercy. Now I actually have a moment to sit down and start up this blog. For the time being.

I've been putting a lot of thought lately into adding a second child to the mix. The fact that #2 will be arriving in less than a month has forced the issue, really. People keep asking me if I'm nervous or worried or wondering how I could love a second as much as I love the first. I feel like they think I'm naive when I respond with "no" and "no" and "no."

Maybe my confidence comes from my experience teaching. After that first year of totally falling in love with the kids, I became extremely nervous when getting ready to greet my second class. How could they compare? Would I adore them as I had my first class? Would we have as much fun? Would they like me as much as my first class did? Teacher friends of mine assured me that I would witness this miracle of watching my heart grow to encompass this new group without losing any connection with the first, and at the same time I'd be amazed that my love for the firsts would not fade in the least. And you know what? They were right. Probably within the first five minutes of that first day of class, I got it. I loved them. Immediately. I found this to be amazing.

With that experience behind me, times five, I've learned many things about what being a parent means when it comes to loving kids. It was the closest thing to parental love that I had ever experienced until I actually became one for real. Now I have one son. Prior to his birth (and in many ways still) I had about 800 kids. No, I can't remember all of their names. But I can remember the blessing they were in my life. I can feel how much I loved....no, LOVE....them.

So this is why I'm not so nervous about adding #2 to the gang. Sure I'm anxious about the transition time. But when it comes to LOVING him as much? No way! The thing is, when I was pregnant with The Boy, I didn't know anything about him. I didn't know what he looked like. I didn't know his personality. I didn't know what his laugh sounded like. I didn't know what he'd look like running around naked with my sunglasses on his face, as I found him this morning... But I loved him. And as I find myself preparing for number two, I feel that in a way I'm even more excited. All of the unknowns remain the same, except for the fact that now I KNOW just how deeply this little person will touch my heart. Just how deeply he'll change my life.

For that I am grateful. And blessed. So incredibly blessed.