A totally rational fear of toilets

A little over a week ago we went to a friend's house for a play date, where the big kids play together (mostly) and the mamas enjoy disjointed conversation while holding our littlest ones and refereeing the big ones.  On this particular morning, my littlest one was extra fussy and really needed a nap - something not easily accomplished when there are half a dozen other kids (mostly boys) running around yelling at a ball they're chasing.  But after much bouncing, nursing, rocking and shushing, I finally got him to sleep in my arms.  I settled in on the overstuffed arm chair to relax with a sleeping baby in my arms and engage in much needed adult conversation.

Buuuuut, then the toddler declares that he has to go potty, an event that still requires my assistance and at the very least, my supervision.  So I carefully stand up with the sleeping baby cradled in my left arm and with my right arm guide my very distracted toddler to the bathroom.  I help Carter pull down his pants and underwear, slip my free arm under his arms and hoist him onto the potty.  I glance at the baby.  Still sleeping.  This is going pretty well.

But then it didn't.  I quickly realized that I overlooked a very crucial little detail.  His penis was not pointed down.  And as if in slow motion, I see the pee start flowing.  Everywhere.  It's arching over the side of the toilet, onto his pants, onto his underwear and of course, onto the floor.  (why, oh why, are little boys the ones given fire hoses out of which to pee???)  I panicked!  I needed to stop the pee!!

By now, my left arm is now nearly numb from holding a gigantic baby, but I can't put him down.  Because, did I mention that this friend has a cat?  And that the cat's litter box is in the bathroom?  And that there's litter all over the bathroom floor?  Yeah, there was no way this baby was going on the floor.  So again, with one arm, I reach around Carter and try to scoot him back further on the toilet.  Which I successfully did.  But in the process I also dunked his little butt into the cold toilet water.  He's yelling, I'm yelling and the baby, my some miracle, is still sleeping.

Carter has this terrified look on his face and I, quite honestly, had no idea what to do.  I mean, there was a hundred things that needed to be done, but what to do first?  Well, in my good judgement, I decided that first I should haul Carter out of the toilet.  I set him on the ground, instruct him not to step in the pee (yeah right) and leave.  I go back out to the living room where I finally set the baby down (after which he immediately woke up - great), grab the extra pair of pants and underwear from the diaper bag and head back to the bathroom.  My poor Carter is still standing there with sopping wet pants around his ankles with a puddle of pee next to his feet.  And I can now hear Bennett voicing his displeasure of being put down in the other room.  I grab a handful of toilet paper & mop up the floor as best as I could then proceed to peel Carter's pants off.  I didn't want him sitting on the kitty litter floor, so I helped him put on new underwear & pants while standing up.  (not easy, by the way)  I succeed in redressing the toddler and we both head back out to rejoin our play date.  I pick the baby back up to start the rocking, bouncing, shushing, please go to sleep routine again.  I inform my friend that my son peed on the floor.  She just smiled an understanding smile and told me not to worry about it.  I was so glad to have that behind us.

Except that it wasn't.  Just this last week we were at another friend's house for preschool.  Carter needed to go potty, so once again, I help him in the bathroom. (this time with no baby in my arms)  I pull down his pants and as I'm helping him sit on the toilet, he sticks his legs out, stiff as a board and refuses to sit down.  I try a few more times and he protests every time saying "I don't have to go potty!!".  Um, you just said you did.  You're doing the potty dance and your underwear already have a few drops of pee on them.  Clearly you need to go potty.  I try to again to set him on the toilet.  Still stiff legged, he states, more emphatically "I don't HAVE to go potty." And then it comes out.

"I don wanna fall in da potty".

Ah.  There it is.  My child is afraid to sit on the toilet.  I guess I can't blame him.  If my mother dropped me in a toilet, I'd be a little skeptical too.

I try assuring him that I won't let him fall, but he's not buying it.  I threaten that if he pees in his pants we'll have to go home, but still he won't budge.  And because I can't make Carter do what Carter doesn't want to do, I pull up his pants and allow him to leave the bathroom, praying he doesn't pee in his pants.  Thankfully this mama had a potty training chair that we were able to use so he could finally pee.

I've tried a few more times at home this week to have him sit on the big toilet, but he absolutely will.not. do it.  I'm just hoping he overcomes this fear before we're stuck in, say, Target and he won't use the bathroom.  Oh, the adventures of parenthood.

shave and a haircut

Well, Bennett hasn't had his first shave yet (although with how hairy this boy is, it may not be long) but he did get his first haircut this weekend.  I know.  He's only 12 weeks old.  But his hair really was getting kind of outta control.  He was born with a legit mullet and it's only grown longer since.

before

So we decided it was time.  I was sad, but didn't cry this time.  That's a first too.

after

after the bath

To be honest, I like it trimmed up.  He looks very handsome and he didn't really lose that baby look.  But let me just tell ya, it's not that easy cutting the hair of someone who can't even hold up their own head.  His hair line in the back isn't perfectly straight, but I'm just thankful I didn't cut off an ear!!

Both ends

We are now a family of five, two grown-ups and three children.  Three boys to be exact.  And I often hear the "Wow, three boys.  You must be busy" comment often.  And it's true.  We are busy.  But I don't think having three boys makes us busy.  I'm pretty sure just having three children makes you busy.

My day looks something like this...

7:00am - the big boys roll out of bed.  One of them is usually crying for any various number of reasons.  Chris takes them down stairs for breakfast and I roll over to either get a few more minutes of sleep (if I'm lucky) or nurse the baby (more likely)

7:30 - my feet hit the floor.  I leave the baby asleep in our bed and trudge downstairs to assess the day.

7:45am - Chris leaves for work.  One of the boys cries because he didn't get to say "good-bye" enough times or in the right way (we have routines, ya know)

8:00am - I make coffee.  Lots of coffee.  I find a mutually agreed upon and engaging activity for my boys to do (aka watch TV) while I take a shower.  I live for those 10 minutes of hot water.  It's better than coffee I think.  I find a clean pair of yoga pants to wear, dry my hair (again, if I'm lucky), and begin the "getting dressed" routine which involves telling Brooks 42 times to put on clothes and physically wrestling clothes onto the toddler.

And I wish I could break down the rest of my day, but it's all a blur from here on out.  Between now and 5:15pm I...

scarf down some breakfast, clean up dishes, sweep the floor (maybe), break up a fight, help Carter go potty, nurse the baby, change a diaper, figure out why Carter is screaming, play some cars, start a load of laundry, vacuum the floor, tell Brooks to stop taking Carter's toys, fix a snack, rock the baby to sleep, play a game, make lunch, eat lunch while nursing the baby, clean up lunch, wipe table, wash dishes, hide in bathroom to go "potty", change a diaper, rock baby to sleep, tell Carter to stop screaming, help Carter go potty, wipe Brooks' butt, read books, tuck Carter in for a nap, again, and again, and again, give up on Carter taking a nap, put on a movie for the kids, regain a bit of sanity by checking Facebook, check e-mails, build a tower, fold laundry, prepare a snack, clean up snack, nurse the baby, read more books, play with baby, figure out why Carter is screaming, put Brooks in time-out, console crying 4 year old in time-out, trip over toys, make plans to bring said toys to Goodwill, start cooking supper while wearing Bennett, take away toy the boys are fighting over .....

... and then the clouds part and angels sing.  Daddy's home!  Back-up has arrived.  He occupies the big ones while I finish cooking supper.  After we eat, he plays with the kids while I clear the table, do the dishes, sweep the floor, wipe down the table.  Sometimes I join them in playing, but usually I take this time to catch up on other house projects.  And then it's bedtime.  I love my children.  With all my heart.  But oh, how I love bedtime.  Daddy usually does the bedtime routine - brush teeth, go potty, put on jammies and I join them for prayers and hugs.  And finally, Brooks and Carter are asleep.  The day is done.

Except that it's not.  Bennett is still awake.  And will be for quite some time.  We've discovered that's he's quite the night owl.  And despite our best efforts to nurse, rock, shush, and console him, he will.not. go to bed before 10pm. (it used to be midnight, so I guess I shouldn't complain)  So what used to be our "alone time" without the kids before we went to bed, has turned into a threesome.  And when one of us finally gets Bennett to stay asleep, we collapse into bed around 11pm.

And because Bennett is only 2 months old, I'm up in the night nursing him.  Often.  And that's ok.  I really do enjoy nursing my babies.  But after going all day and up all night I feel like this mama is burning the candle at both ends.  There's rarely a moment when I'm without my children, day or night.  And I'm tired.  Happy, but tired.

I will say, however, that I'm SO thankful for Chris and how much he's stepped up with this baby.  He volunteers to rock him so I can have a break.  He'll take the big kids out so I can nap while Bennett naps.  He really is amazing and the only reason I'm still surviving parenthood.

So yes, we're busy.  And it's good.  We love our boys.  We love our life.  But I would by lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to when we can at least sleep through the night again.

Bennett Lee. the birth story.

Our third son Bennett Lee was born on January 11th, but it's taken me a while to sit down and write out his birth story.  I've tried a few times before this, but I couldn't do it.  Seeing his birth in writing makes it so .... permanent.

I've learned that it takes time to process a birth - not only the happenings but also the emotions entwined in it.  Birth isn't just physical.  It's emotional.  So very very emotional.  And this birth was so different from both of my others - both physically and emotionally.  Not better or worse.  Just .... different.  But now that I've had some time to process my feelings and recount the day's happenings, I'm finally at a place where I can write it down.  So here goes.

Our due date was January 10th, but since my first two babies came a few days past their due dates, I really wasn't expecting a baby until at least Jan 15th.  Not sure why I had that date stuck in my head, but there it was.  So it was no surprise that I woke up pregnant on January 11th, a Saturday.  I did, however, wake up to a few "stronger than Braxton Hicks" contractions.  Nothing too serious, but strong enough to wake me up.  I tried timing them, but I was tired and telling time at 4am is not my strong suit.  They were perhaps 10-15 minutes apart.  Maybe this is it?  But 7am comes around, the two noisy big brothers roll out of bed yelling at each other and, as suspected, contractions spaced out to nearly non-existent.

Chris took the boys down stairs and started making breakfast while I enjoyed an extra half hour of sleep.  I eventually waddle downstairs and join them for breakfast.  I told Chris I had had a few contractions, but it's most likely nothing.  The boys are still bickering with each other (hello cabin fever) and I feel like crap!  As it turns out, I developed a lovely case of shingles that week.  Yes, shingles.  So not only am I 40 weeks pregnant, but I have this painful, burning rash wrapped around my rib cage.  Lovely.  So Chris graciously offers to take the boys out to the zoo so I can enjoy some quiet time alone.  I love that man!

While they were gone, I tried timing these contractions but they were the farthest thing from consistent.  10 minutes apart.  Then 8, 15, 12, 7, 14 minutes apart.  They were strong enough to cause me to pause during each one, but the inconsistency made me believe I was in super early labor (if I was in labor at all).  I texted my doula (who lives an hour away) to let her know to keep her phone close by, but I really wasn't expecting anything to pick up until maybe that evening when the boys went to bed.  The contractions weren't consistent and with  the kids awake, I knew nothing would progress.  And besides, who has a baby in the middle of the day anyway??

After the boys left, I putsed around the house - I took a shower, dried my hair, prepped a crock pot meal for supper, made sandwiches for the boys' lunch - all the while having these really random contractions.  It felt good to lean forward during them.  And each contraction I felt solely in my lower abdomen.  In fact, I had to feel the top of my uterus with my hand to see if it was even contracting that high.  It was.  You see, this baby sat sooooo low throughout my whole pregnancy that all my broad ligaments were maxed out.  Stretched, achy and cramping.  And that is where I felt each and every contraction.  It hurt, but they were mild enough that I was handling them fine.

Chris and the kids came home around 12:30pm and I sat them down for lunch.  A contraction came on and I leaned over the table to breath through it.  And then Chris starts to get a bit nervous.  "What's going on?  Are they getting stronger??  Should I call someone to come get the boys?"  They were getting stronger, but I really didn't feel the need for the boys to leave.  "I'm fine" I told him.  "They're so putsy putsy, this may not even be labor at all."  I honestly didn't think I was in labor and I really didn't want to call our whole birth team over just to have them sit around twiddling their thumbs.  But after a few more of the "stop me in my tracks" contractions, Chris calls Grandma Gale to get the boys.  And then he starts filling the birth pool!

"What are you doing?!??  This is a little premature, don't you think??"  And now Brooks and Carter were getting excited too.  They're hovering around the pool asking "Is the baby coming today?  Are you going to get in the water and push the baby out, Mama?"   I didn't even know what to say to them.  Um ..... maybe?  The baby might come today.  I didn't want to get their hopes up if this turned out to not be labor after all.  And while the pool is filling, Chris is packing the boys' backpack, pulling down the boxes filled with our birth supplies and getting the house ready to have a baby.

Whoa!  Seriously?  We're doing this?  I am NOT in labor and we do NOT need these things!  He was making me nervous with all his bustling about.  Several times I told him to sit down.  Finally he stops and says to me "Do you NOT remember how fast Carter's labor was?  I need to get all this set up so that I can focus on you.  You don't want me filling the birth pool when labor really picks up and you need me."

Fine.  I finally conceded to his birth preparations.  I breathed through a few more contractions while he worked.  Grandma and Papa Gale arrived a little before 2pm.  A contraction came while they were here, so I stepped into the bathroom, breathed though it and them come back out to chat with them.  I still felt kind of silly asking them to take the boys so early, but even if labor did stall out, I would at least enjoy a quiet afternoon with my husband.  That would be nice.  I kiss both the boys good-bye and they all head out.

After they left, Chris made me some toast and I sat down to eat lunch.  A few stronger contractions came while I was eating and I told Chris to call Sara, our doula.  Since she was coming from Vermillion, an hour away, and has two young children of her own, I wanted to give her enough time to make it here.  She offered to send over her back-up doula, Niki, until she arrived but we declined.  Labor was still going slow and we were handling things fine.  Chris was timing contractions now and they were finally settling into an every 8 minute pattern.  We contemplated calling our midwife, but decided we'd wait until things picked up a bit.  I just knew this was going to be my "all day" labor.

When I finished eating, I laid down on the couch for a bit.  The contractions hurt more while laying down so I got up and knelt over the couch.  That felt better.  Then I moved over to the floor by the pool.  It was the middle of the afternoon and the sun was beaming in though the window.  I wanted to sit in the sunshine.  So there I am.  Sitting on the floor - just soaking up the warmth of the sun.  Contractions were getting stronger, but still 8 minutes apart.  Chris and I were talking and laughing in between them.  And it was nice.  It was how I pictured labor to be.  Calm and relaxed.  I even joked with Chris, Wouldn't it be great if we had a baby before supper? knowing fully that this labor would go well into the evening.

A little after 3pm, I had a few contractions that were 5 minutes apart.  We decided to call Debbie, our midwife.  And then I decided I wanted to get in the birth pool.  Contractions were becoming increasingly stronger and I wanted to relax in the water.  About 3:15pm, Sara arrives and finishes getting the house ready for the birth - making our bed, laying out plastic sheets and such.

When I first sat in the water, it felt so good.  The warm water was as relaxing as I thought it would be.  And then I had a few contractions.  Whooo, were they strong.  Having never labored in such a big pool before, I wasn't quite sure how to situate myself.  But I ended up on my knees, leaning over the edge of the pool.  And now, after just a few minutes in the water, these contractions became really intense.  I mean, barely making it through each one kind of intense.  I was relaxing as best as I could, moaning, yelling and cutting off the circulation in Chris' hand.  But still they came even stronger.  And that's when the fear set in.  I still have it in my head that this is going to last several more hours, and I can barely handle it right now.  I felt like I was drowning in these contractions.  I wasn't sure if I could handle even a few more, let alone countless more over the next few hours.  And because all the pain is still concentrated on my cramping ligaments, it didn't matter how much I relaxed during each contraction.  They still hurt like hell.  This was not peaceful.  Or relaxing.  And all of a sudden, this was no fun at all.

A little after 3:30pm, Debbie and her assistant arrived.  I heard her come in, but I never saw her until after Bennett was born since I had my head buried in a towel on the edge of the pool, overwhelmed with contractions.

And then the mother of all contractions came.  And about the time it was "supposed" to be over, it wasn't.  It just kept coming.  And coming.  And coming.  For 4 minutes it came.  I remember saying out loud "It's not stopping.  Why is it not stopping?"  And I officially panicked.  I truly doubted my ability to birth this baby.  I questioned our decision to have this baby at home - away from all drugs & pain relief.  And for the first time during any of my labors, I was really scared.  Chris kept saying what a good job I was doing.  Sara was telling me that the baby was coming soon.  But I didn't believe a word of it.  I was handling these contractions terribly and I still had hours to go.

(I'm pretty sure at this point everyone knew I was in transition .... except me.)

And just about that time, a contraction came and I grunted at the peak of it.  Wait.  Was that a push?  I can't be pushing, can I?  This must be what's called "wishful" pushing.  Because as much as I wanted to be pushing, I still didn't believe I was at the end of labor.  It had just started after all.

And then with the next few contractions, I pushed.  But I still wasn't sure if that's what I was really doing.  The sensations are totally different in the water.  I felt pressure, but not the bearing down sensation I felt with the other two boys.  In fact, I actually reached my hand down to feel if there was a baby even coming.  Sure enough.  There was.  My bag of water was still intact, because that's what I actually felt.  But I knew baby was right behind it.  And I kept thinking "Does anyone know I'm pushing?  Is it ok that I'm pushing?"  Because no one said anything.  Not a word.  Our midwife just stood by and quietly observed.  I felt like I should have mentioned that a head was coming, but I couldn't get the words out.  She obviously knew what was going on, but it was just so different to not be given any instructions - to just allow my body to push as I felt the urge to push.  With a few more grunts and pushes, the head was out.  It just kind of ... slid out.  Birthing in the water is so different.  It didn't really hurt.  Just a whole lot of pressure.

With the next contraction (which seemed to take forever to come) I started pushing out the rest of this baby.  Chris was still holding my hands, and Debbie said to him "Dad, if you want to catch this baby, you better get back there."  Apparently neither of us knew baby was coming this quick!  So he rushed back, and just as the baby was slipping out, Chris caught him in the water and lifted him up.

I turned over and was finally able to meet this baby face to face!!  And as Chris handed him to me he said with tears in his eyes "We have a little boy".  I couldn't believe it.  I felt like labor just started and here was this sweet baby boy already in my arms.  He was beautiful with dark hair and the cutest little snorts and grunts as he cried.  Our third son was absolutely perfect.

Bennett Lee was born at 3:45pm, less than 10 minutes after Debbie arrived and about 30 minutes after Sara arrived.  My friend Katie, our photographer, was still on her way.  She missed the birth, but thankfully Sara grabbed our camera and took pictures for us.  I'm so thankful that she did.

About 20 minutes after Bennett was born, Katie showed up and took some more pictures.  Niki, another doula and friend, also came to offer her support.  We were surrounded by so many fantastic people.  I'm still overwhelmed thinking about how blessed and loved we were (and still are!).

After he handed me my baby, Chris climbed in the pool with me and we both became acquainted with our new son.  What an amazing feeling to be holding this child that we've been waiting for for the last nine months.  I cried.  Chris cried.  Both so very thankful for all we've been blessed with.

It didn't take long to again realize how different the water made this birth.  Because when I normally feel the instant relief after birth, I still hurt.  My uterus hurt.  Now my bottom hurt.  And the post birth contractions still hurt like crazy.  I couldn't quite figure out why, since the baby was already out.  But every few minutes a contraction came and I would wince in pain.  Focusing on the baby helped some, but I was really ready to be done with these contractions.  I had put in my time and was done.

After an hour of skin to skin and bonding with Bennett, Debbie mentioned that we really needed to get the placenta out.  I was surprised that it still hadn't come.  She suggested that I get out of the pool to push it out.  We cut the umbilical cord so I could get out, and Chris was able to enjoy skin to skin time with our sweet boy.

I started to stand up to move out of the tub, but was instantly struck with a major cramp and I sat back down in the pool.  Good grief, why did these contractions hurt so bad?  And where was this darn placenta?  In birth's past, it's detached on it's own and the midwife just pulled it out.  But not today.  With Sara and Niki's help, I did eventually get out of the tub.  I squatted on the floor and had to actually push out my placenta, which I didn't really want to do since everything still hurt, but it had to come out.

I will never again give birth without doulas.  What amazing people!!

After that ordeal, I finished drying off and settled in on the couch.  Finally I felt some relief.  And it felt so good to lay down.  And here's the cool part.  While I was resting and nursing my baby, Debbie and her assistant, along with help from my doulas, all starting cleaning everything up.  Draining the pool, starting the laundry, washing up dishes, deflating the pool.  It was awesome.  Within a couple of hours you would have never known we just had a baby in our living room.  I got dressed, Katie ran and grabbed us some dinner (because we ended up having this baby before dinner after all!) and we - me, Chris and all our friends - sat around our living room, just hanging out and talking.  It was fantastic.  We were just at home, comfortable and relaxed.  And now we had a new baby to hold.

The two big brothers came home around 7pm that night and were able to meet their new brother.  They were so so excited to meet him and hold him!  They were just as anxious for him to arrive as we were.

And when everyone went home and the boys were tucked into their beds, we went to bed too.  In our own bed.  In our own house.  With no one interrupting us every hour to sign paperwork, check vitals or any of that other hospital protocol.  It was amazing.  And even though we had good births in the hospital, I am absolutely sold on home birth.  If we decide to have more children, I would love to have them at home!!

Bennett Lee

We're proud to introduce:

Bennett Lee Anderson

January 11, 2014

3:45pm

8lb 5oz, 21" long

We are all so in love with him!  Brooks constantly asks to hold Bennett and Carter loves to rock him in his chair.  He's just fantastic and a wonderful little snuggler.  We are thrilled to add another prince to our family!!  (thus further solidifying my role as Queen :)

I'll write up his birth story hopefully soon.  It was a crazy one!

Humbled. Blessed. Grateful.

We're a pretty scheduled bunch around here.  Chris and I are both firstborns.  Brooks is obviously a first born.  And Carter?  Well, Carter is just trying to survive among us.  One such regularly scheduled event is grocery shopping.  Every Monday morning we head to Hy-Vee to do our weekly grocery shopping.  Every Monday.  Like clockwork.  In fact, this is so ingrained into my four year old that one day he randomly said, "You know what would be funny??  If we went to Hy-Vee on a Tuesday!"

Yes, my son, that would be funny.

Well, such a funny thing happened this week.  With yesterday's high temp a balmy -15 with wind chills close to -50 (that's 50 degrees BELOW zero), we clearly didn't make it to the grocery store.  We didn't even leave our house.  So tonight, as our fridge was running a bit bare, we all headed to the grocery store as a family.  I know I could have gone by myself (and boy that would have been nice), but with being 39+ weeks pregnant, I gladly accepted my husband's help in loading and unloading groceries.

Knowing that baby could arrive literally any day now, I planned my menu to include meals I could double and freeze.  Plus stock up on other essentials in case I don't make it to the store next week Monday (I'm really hoping I won't make it to the store next week).  Well, with all that extra food needed for the extra meals, our grocery budget for this week was going to go over.  Waaaaay over.  I cut things out, rearranged meals and tried to make it work, but there was no way around spending the extra money.  But, I figured, after baby came we would be eating off these reserves and wouldn't be spending as much in the weeks to come.  "It will all work out" I told myself.

So we shopped.  The boys did great (despite our radical change in routine) and we headed to the check-out.  And then it happened.  That moment when God whispers (or perhaps shouts) to you that He cares.

Chris is unloading all the groceries, I'm trying to get the boys bundled back up in hats and mittens before heading outside and this lady - a complete stranger - walks up to me and asks, "Can I do something for you?"

Um, sure.

She then proceeds to open an envelope and pull out a card from inside.  She explains to me that her employer gave her an opportunity to bless someone and to "pay it forward".  She'd had this card since Christmas, but forgot about it in her purse until tonight.  Then she hands me a $50 prepaid Visa gift card and said she wanted to help pay for our groceries.

I seriously had no idea what to say to her. I was so humbled.  Blessed.  Grateful.  So in as many words as I could muster I told her "thank you" and hugged her.  (I rarely hug my friends, let alone strangers, but I didn't know how else to respond.)  I don't think she really knew the enormity of that random act of kindness.  There's no way she could have known our situation - how "over budget" our shopping trip was.

But the amazing thing is that God did!  He knew.  He knew we would be at the store on Tuesday evening instead of Monday morning.  He knew that she would "forget" about that gift card until tonight.  And He knew not only how much we needed the grocery money, but also how much I needed that reminder that He will always know our needs and provide for every single one of them.

One Giant Christmas Post

I originally had grand intentions of posting more often, but between the busyness of Christmas and my extreme lack of energy and motivation during these last few weeks of pregnancy, it just hasn't happened.  So here it is, in one gigantic post ... The Anderson Family Christmas

At the beginning of December we drove up to Falls Park where they literally have every tree in the park strung with Christmas lights.  It's pretty amazing to see.  On this particular night, it was actually around 40 degrees.  And we figured with snow and extreme cold (-10 and colder) on the way, we had better take advantage of the opportunity.  We bundled up in all our snow gear, and were actually too warm.  That's an odd problem to have during a South Dakota winter.

The view of the park from the top of the observation tower

crossing the bridge over the falls

aren't we cute??

On a totally non-Christmas related note ... the boys and I made pizza.  That was fun.

If ya can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Oh, and I also turned 36 weeks.

I'm actually 38 weeks now, so this is a few weeks old.  I look about the same.  Just a little bigger and a bit more tired.

Ok, back to Christmas now.

Last week Monday it was wicked cold here.  Cold as in, at 9am it was -15 degrees.  With windchill it felt like -30.  So we stayed home.  (a fantastic perk of my job)  And made Christmas cookies.

Brooks is a great help in the kitchen.  The boy can crack eggs better than I can.  We normally save our cooking projects for when Carter is napping because, well .... Carter isn't such a great help.  But I didn't want to leave him out of this.  He actually took instructions really well and didn't make too big of a mess.

We moved to the kitchen table to roll out the dough and start the cookie cutter fun.  I set the boys up and left for about 15 seconds to grab something quick and this is what I returned to.

This, apparently, is a toddler's interpretation of "You can start making shapes with the cookie cutters.  I'll be right back".  I think we salvaged maybe two cookies out of this roll-out and then we started over.

It took us several tries, but we did eventually end up with something worth baking.  Mostly.

Some of them were a little maimed, but oh well.  I figured they were going to be covered with frosting anyway so it didn't matter

Oh, and all the little gingerbread boys?  Those were for the gingerbread houses we were planning to make on Christmas.  It was Brooks' idea.  He figured if we were making little houses, that we needed little people to go in them.  Smart kid. 

On Christmas Eve we all sat down and ate decorated ate the cookies.

With the exception of one Christmas two years ago, we've always spent the holiday with one side of the family or another.  And we love it.  We love spending time with family and doing Christmas together.  But this year it was just us.  I was 37+ weeks pregnant and was NOT going to travel.  And no one was coming here.  And that was ok.  In fact, I was kind of excited to start building some Christmas traditions of our own.  One of them being new jammies on Christmas eve.

Seriously?  Is this not the more adorable thing you've ever seen?  I mean, really.  We also gave the boys "The Legend of the Candy Cane" book that we promptly read three times before bed.  

We've been trying to be more intentional about not getting caught up in gifts and cookies and all the "stuff" that comes with Christmas.  I don't think we nailed it, but I feel like at least my attitude toward it was better this year.

Christmas day we spent the morning opening gifts, eating breakfast (yes in that order) and lounging in our jammies.  Two things we've learned about Christmas morning with kids.  1. Brooks is old enough to be excited about opening presents.  As in, let's wake up at 6:15am excited.  He "snuggled" in bed with us for a while, then we sent him downstairs to get himself breakfast.  2.  Carter, at 2 years old, has zero patience for waiting to open gifts.  Zero.  So we held him back just long enough to plug in the Christmas tree lights and start a pot of coffee before we let him tear into them.  And he was so excited to pass out gifts.  The boy can't read, but was he sure was enthusiastic when shoving a present in your hand, whether it belonged to you or not. "Here Daddy!  Es is your present"

We did eventually get dressed, and then we headed over to the Gale's for lunch and an afternoon of lounging and spending time with our "bonus" family.  Seriously, they're fantastic.  We're so blessed to be "adopted" into such a great family :)

Grandma Gale was wonderful and built graham cracker gingerbread houses with the kids.

Oh, and how could I forget this?  The Christmas mustache.

And if that's not enough ... there's the many faces of the mustache.

And then accessorized ...

He didn't have ANY fun with the mustache.  Clearly.  I did try to convince him to put on my Packers hat and go for the "Aaron Rogers" look, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

One of the best parts of Christmas this year (and no, it's not the mustache) was that Chris took off work for three days.  And we just played.  It was fantastic.  He took the boys out sledding and playing in the snow, we went to see the Christmas light show at the Western Mall, Chris and Brooks spent an afternoon at the arcade (a definite highlight for Brooks) and I took Carter out on a "date" for ice cream and then to Falls Park to see the lights again.

I was nervous about how the boys would handle Daddy going back to work on Monday after five straight days of playing, but they did well.  Overall, it was a fantastic Christmas!

Now we're down to just a few weeks to go before baby comes.  It isn't slowing down around here.  And that's ok :)