At last...

...my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
-Etta James, At Last

(Yes, I realize the pink bow is as big as her head.  It is as absolutely 

tiny as my swollen fingers could make it!)

Yes, my friends, it's true.  The Foster Four is about to become the Foster Five.  And not only that, this household is going to have a little less testosterone-overload...

IT'S A GIRL!

I have never made any secret of my desire for a girl.  Since I got my first Cabbage Patch Dolls (one boy, one girl, of course) I have imagined having a daughter.  And when I learned that this little one is a girl, I squealed like a 4 year old girl myself.  Truly, y'all, it is a dream come true.  We had decided with great certainty that we were done after 3 kids.  And while I would have been happy to have the 3 Musketeers running around and would have truly loved a little boy too, I am just over the moon happy to have a daughter.

So, to answer the questions that everyone asks as soon as they learn the news:

1 - How have you been feeling?
Like total and complete crap.  I feel like I have had the flu for 3 months, and it is not getting better.  Everyone says you start to turn the corner around 13 weeks.  I'm at almost 16, and I see no corners in sight. I am so exhausted by 4 p.m. that I can do nothing but stumble home and collapse.  Derek has been awesome with fixing dinner, keeping the boys out of trouble, getting them to bed - all the the daily-ness.  He is ready for me to move past the useless stage.

But I have felt like crap emotionally, too.  I am no stranger to the wake-you-up-at-3-a.m.-panic-attack.  I have battled a serious case of the worries for the better part of the last 20 years.  But this is like nothing I've ever been through.  I am waking up with nightmares every night, freaking out about one awful thing and another.  In my mind, I have been through colon cancer, breast cancer, and this poor child has had every single horrible genetic condition and syndrome known to medicine.  And some that medicine has yet to discover.

This is especially unpleasant because I LOVED being pregnant the past 2 times.  They were the only times in my life when I didn't feel the constant presence of worry-wart-ism.  I had even considered being a surrogate because I felt so damn good (once I got past the first 10-ish weeks, and before I got to the huge last few weeks).  I do not love being pregnant at the moment.

2 - When is the big arrival date?
Jan 28th is the official date.  Torquil arrived a week and a half late; CheezeDoodle arrived 2 weeks early.  So this time, it's really anyone's guess.  While I hesitate to wish lateness, February has a nice birthstone for the little lady (and she'd share the month with my mom and with Luke).  But it would be cool to spread out the kids - we could have one in January, one in Feb, and one in March.  And by Christmas, I'm pretty sure I'll be begging her to arrive early.

3 - What are you calling her?
Y'all know how we are about in utero names - the blog name comes from the entertaining names we used while we couldn't come up with actual kid names.  The food craving thing worked well for #2, so baby has been known to this point as "Guacamole" or just "Guac."  It seemed entertaining enough, and was working for us.  Derek offered me all kinds of incentives to use the "Guacamole Song," as my intro, but I'm sorry.  I just couldn't do it.  As a small concession to the one who has done ALL the dishes for the past several nausea-focused weeks, I will embed it here.  True love, people.  TRUE LOVE.

(Apparently there is a Reckless Kelly version of this song, which is somewhat less awful.)

But today, my future daughter-in-law declared that she should be called "Pom-Pom."  I had originally pegged said daughter-in-law to Luke, but now I'm thinking she and Jay might be more well-suited ... but I digress.  I'm liking Pom-Pom.  We'll have to see whether Guac or Pom-pom sticks.

Because we found out so early that she's a girl, and I have had my girl name picked out since I was mothering Cabbage Patch Kids, now we are starting to call her by her real name a bit.  (No, I am not going to disclose the name yet - I already surprised you with the news that we're having kid #3 AND the fact that it's a girl ... isn't that enough excitement for one blog post?!)

May the good Lord be with you...

...down every road you roam
And may sunshine and happiness surround you when you're far from home
And may you grow to be proud, dignified and true
And do unto others as you'd have done to you
Be courageous and be brave
And in my heart you'll always stay
Forever young, Forever young

-Rod Stewart, Forever Young

While the blog has become far less of a milestone marker lately, I couldn't let this one go by.
My baby boy is headed off to Kindergarten.

(photo from Jay's preschool end of year celebration)

I mean, are you serious?!  Can someone please tell me how we got from the tiny baby who made me a mom to this big kid?  (Oh wait.  He was not ever a "tiny baby."  He was a 10 lb 4 oz monster who appeared to be a 3 month old from the day he took his first breath.  But I digress.)  Kindergarten here we come.

(Yes, I look at Pinterest too much.  But I couldn't resist making the sign!)

"I want my picture taken, and I want a new backpack too!"

"Okay, the picture will do."

I am trying not to get too sappy about this transition.  Yes, this is a struggle for me, given my tendency to cry at even the lamest Hallmark commercial.  I have enough sappiness in my life, and it's not like this is going to be all that different for him.  He's been in full-time childcare since he was an infant, so he's used to being away from home for much of his days.  I'm certainly I am no stranger to trusting others to care for him, teach him cool stuff, or watch as he learns new things.  On an intellectual level, this should really be no different than changing schools.

But it's not, somehow.  It's SCHOOL.  It's the start of many years in the formal education system.  And if he takes after his daddy, perhaps many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many years - like 31 more.  (Son, here's a hint.  Academic veterinary medicine is a lovely career, but you'd best love school if you want to follow in those footsteps.  And you might want to find a very patient spouse who is willing to support you in those PhD years.)

Rockin' out to "We Are Young" on air guitar on the way to school.

How he would handle drop off on the first day was a little questionable ... he is simultaneously THRILLED to be headed to Kindergarten, and scared out of his mind.  I get that.  I spend much of my life in that thrilled-scared state. He freaked out at Meet the Teacher day, but today he walked in like a champ, as if he'd been there for years.  He immediately found a table of fellow Wolfpack loving friends.  It's gonna be a good school!

And old pro.

Making new friends before the bell even rings.

And just for the record, I did not cry a single tear.  Go me.

Working in education, I know that getting started on the right foot will have long lasting implications for this academic adventure he's embarking on.  I want him to love school, to love reading and writing, to love learning.  But more than that, I want him to learn to thrive in this crazy world - to make friends, to respect the wisdom of teachers, to get along with those who are different.  That whole "everything I need to know in life I learned in Kindergarten" stuff.  Oh, and to tie his shoes.  We gotta get on that one, like yesterday.

Follow the footprints!

And of course, I can't help but think about the hurdles he's overcome - the miracle we witnessed - that got him to this point.  An hour and a half of CPR, a week on total life support, infections and setbacks aplenty - all with no brain damage.  I'm planning to send the folks at CHOP a card to say thanks, yet again.  I hope it serves as a reminder to them that this is the reason that middle-of-the-night ECMO calls are worth it.  It's been almost exactly 3 years since that awful, life-changing night, and all of us are grateful that he is able to live, fully live, a regular 5 year old life today.

It's gonna be a very good year.

I think I'll go to Boston...

...I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town
to leave this all behind
I think I need a sunrise
I'm tired of the sunset
I hear it's nice in the summer
Some snow would be nice
               -Augustana, Boston


Happy 2013, my friends.  It's that time when everybody is claiming to change their lives, refocus on what matters, get organized, get healthy, save some cash, become kinder, give more, be something else.  Bloggers all over the interwebs are choosing their word of the year, and I'm abstaining from that.  Too trendy.  (Oh Puhleaze - y'all know I'm as much a sucker for trendy as anyone.  I just couldn't think of a good word.)

Instead I share this fantastic song from Augustana (listen here) about needing a fresh start.  Boy do I need that as much as anyone.  I was quite happy to see 2012 glide into the rearview mirror.  Here's to a fresh start in 2013.

But actually this song works even better because we just got back from a grown ups only New Year's trip to Boston where I got to see dear friends (who both happen to be friends of the blog as well!).  Yes, you read that right - Super Derek and I got a whole weekend away from the boys, complete with a little black dress-worthy event for NYE.  Yeehaw!

Spent most of the weekend alternating between the following statements:

"Wow!  That's cool.  Hold up, let me take a picture."

or

"Damn, it's cold.  There's a coffee shop.  Let's go drink coffee while we thaw out."

We spent some great time with my friend BG, meeting her hubs, drinking their homemade brew (which was fantastic!) learning about Boston, and enjoying their hospitality.  We had a minor adventure finding them in the first place - we attempted to meet at our hotel, in a sports shop, in one restaurant that was closed, AND in another restaurant that (surprise!) was closed.  Thank heaven for cell phones.  It was a comedy of errors, which would have been far more funny if we weren't facing gale force winds while wandering the streets of downtown Boston.  But we found each other and found good eats, so all was good in the end.  BG has been my tour guide/host on quite a few Boston trips, and it's always great to catch up.  It's good to spend time with people who knew you in your dorkiest middle school phase and still like you today.

Then for the main event - the New Year's Eve wedding of my college friend KHC.  In all honesty, New Year's is usually not a holiday I get too excited about.  Watching cold drunk people standing in a very crowded Times Square for hours, my practical side always peeks through (see dork reference above).  I spend the whole time thinking about how miserable they must be.  And how surely they have to pee.  Then people get all fake and start shouting "Yippee!  A new year!" and kissing everyone in sight ... the whole concept feels phony, like everyone is happy because they are supposed to be.

But this time, we got to play dress up for real - fancy attire, red sparkle pedicure, champagne, the whole shebang.  And it was super fun.  It was one of those weddings where we didn't know many other people there, but were seated at a table with folks that turned out to be lots of fun to get to know.  The rooftop ballroom was gorgeous beyond description - and being the moron that I am, I even stepped outside to check out the rooftop view of the city.  Took me a good 30 mins to thaw back out after that.  Boston weather is cold, people!  See how pretty it was?!

I spent a huge portion of the weekend playing with my camera, and I was probably a little obnoxious taking pictures of everything in sight.  But it was all worth it for this little series of dance moves of our tablemates:

love how E is demanding he show off...

and he does.

See!  Told ya we got put at the awesome table!  I gotta admit - this dude was the last person I expected to be able to dance like that.  But he was fantastic and it was a hoot to watch him - even more, it was awesome to watch the crowd react to him.  He had a great way of getting folks into the celebration.

Wolfpack in the House!

And while it was wonderful to spend some time with old friends I don't see often, it was even more wonderful to spend real time with the hubs that I see every day.  It was a luxury to be together for two whole days with nothing to do but enjoy each other's company.  We danced, we laughed, we kissed at midnight, we toasted the happy couple and drank to the start of new things in 2013. May this year be filled with new and beautiful things for each of us.

There's a song in every silence...

...seeking word and melody
There's a dawn in every darkness bringing hope to you and me
From the past will come the future, what it holds a mystery
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.
-Natalee Sleeth, Hymn of Promise


Hey y'all.

It's been a very long time.  So long, in fact, that I really don't know where to start.  There's no instruction manual on how to re-start a blog after many months of silence.  (Yes, I googled.)  During the initial week of outdoor swim practice, I was always the knobby-kneed scrawny kid who took 10 minutes to get all the way wet, shivering through the first half of the workout.  But there's no gentle, toe-in-first warm up here in blog-land - either you write something or you don't.  Here goes writing.

The truth is that it has been an intentional silence.  I have always poured my soul out here, and I simply haven't been willing to be quite that vulnerable in such a public space.  I could pretend that I'm doing fine and post funny stories about my messy house, our epic home improvement failures and adorable yet exasperating kids - and it would all be true.  It would be true in the way that what we post on facebook is true, but is a carefully crafted truth.  But that would not be authentic and real, and somehow that feels wrong here.  Or I could be depressingly honest, and that wouldn't be any fun to read, nor would it be much fun to write.  Instead I chose the silence.

But I've missed writing.  There is a song in every silence.



I feel compelled to write; I want to create something.  I want to find the perfect song that touches where my life is at a given moment.  I want to use the perfect picture to illustrate my story, my kids' stories.  I have more seriously considered writing a book, and maybe someday I will actually do it.  (It's tentatively titled "You Picked Your Nose With Your Painty Finger and Now You Have Paint Up Your Nose."  Think an editor will go for that?  If only it would fit on the spine...)  But until I figure out the whole agent/manuscript/editor/publisher gig, I will get back to writing here.  It's a start.

The first step is always the hardest.

But mostly, I missed y'all.

From this valley...

...They say you are going
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile
For I know you are taking the sunshine
That has brightened our path for a while

Come and sit by my side if you love me
Do not hasten to bid me adieu
Just remember the Red River Valley
And the girl who has loved you so true.
 -Red River Valley, traditional folk song


This post has been rolling around in my head (and my slowly-breaking heart) for a while now. Not a bit easier to write than it was to let it swirl through my jumbled mind. My mom is dying. We have all known this for a many months, but I could know it for a hundred years and not be ready.

Most of you who know me in real life know that mom was placed under Hospice care in January.  While that was an incredibly difficult step, it's just so hard watching as she continues to get weaker and weaker.  She is so tired - so tired of the fight, so tired of keeping up the positive outlook, so physically tired.  Seeing her go through this is the hardest thing I've ever done.  And honestly, I've seen a lifetime's worth of hard things in the last 5 years.  I've seen my son go through two open heart surgeries and watched as he spent a week on life support.  I've said goodbye to my home and everyone I knew to move across the country.  I've lost the grandparents who shaped my life and my faith, my understanding of what family means.  And still, preparing to lose my mom is harder for me.

I am afraid to try and explain how close my mom and I have been because words can't do justice to our amazingly special relationship.  She has taught me how to get through those hard times and has held my hand on the toughest days.  She's given me the "suck it up" speech when I needed it and been patient and understanding when I needed that.  We've shared work life and silly inside jokes.  We've shared a love for writing and a hard core shoe-shopping addiction.  I cannot imagine the future without her here with us.  With me.

This week has been full of the highest emotional highs and the lowest of lows.  Derek and I both had the biggest events of our respective careers on back to back days, and now coming back to earth is proving difficult.  I'll share the highs soon - it's good stuff! - but right now I am feeling pretty beaten down by life, worn out from the roller coaster.  I am so glad she was able to hear about Derek finishing his PhD and my successful graduation gala with some of the most influential people at the University.  She is incredibly proud of each of our successes.  I want to focus on gratitude for her being here to experience these things, but it's tempered with disappointment that she is so weary she can hardly stay awake to hear about them.

This is not how I had planned my life to be, and I am still waiting to wake up and have things the way I envisioned them.

Last summer she made me promise that I would not dwell in sadness but would be grateful for the closeness we have shared and the incredible blessing we have had in an amazing mother-daughter relationship.  I totally lied.  (Sorry, Mama!)  Tonight, I'm having a hard time with the whole grateful business because I'm too busy being brokenhearted.

I love you the best, Mom.  I am not ready to say goodbye.  I don't know when that goodbye is going to be - but even if it's a year from now, I will not be ready.

You can't judge an apple by looking at a tree...

...You can't judge honey by looking at the bee
You can't judge a daughter by looking at the mother
You can't judge a book by looking at the cover
-Bo Diddley, "You Can't Judge a Book by the Cover"

Upon retrieving the kiddos from school this afternoon, I found this in Jay's artwork folder:

They have been growing lima beans in a variety of ways - some in the old paper towel/ziploc bag taped to the window experiment, some in the sensory table in actual dirt, and then some outside near the playground.  Springtime is a good time for learning about how plants grow and where your food comes from.  Thank you, preschool, for teaching him stuff I never, ever, EVER in a million years would have thought to teach.

So upon seeing the book and his drawings inside, I enthusiastically asked, "Tell me about this book you made!"  No response.  "Hey Jay!" I tried again.  "What are these drawings inside your book?"

Get ready for it...










"Oh that's the instruction manual for Daddy's lawnmower."

"Ummmmm?????  I thought it was about the lima beans you've been growing at school?" I wondered tentatively.

"Oh yeah.  I guess it's that too.  But mostly it's telling Daddy how to use his lawnmower."

You say it's your birthday

It's my birthday too, yeah
They say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday 
Happy birthday to you.
-The Beatles, "Birthday"


One of the joys of having two boys with birthdays only two weeks apart is the opportunity to have a joint party.  I know that they won't love the idea for too many more years, but for now they are big fans of shared birthday celebrations.  And let me assure you, I am a BIG FAN of the shared birthday.

First up, Jay's big party with his buddy Sam from school.  Sam's mom is my new bestest friend in the whole wide world because she offered to include us in the celebration she was already doing.  With all the worry over my mom's declining health, I am just really hesitant to think about anything more than about 3 minutes in advance.  Planning a birthday bash and inviting kids to celebrate Jay turning the big oh-4 was just not on the agenda this year.  But she turned a celebration for Sam into a double birthday bash, and I am certain that Jay had ten times the fun by having a party with his best bud.  We didn't let a little rain slow us down - the kids did their best rock star impressions, played on the playground between showers, and thought that the trek through the words to meet some friendly geese was the highlight of the party. It was great times.

 Making rockstar faces

 

 Party friends and a little craftiness.

Sweet - a humongous puddle for jumping!

Oh yeah.  My knees are wet.

What's a party without some silly faces?

 Enjoying the park

Birthday Buddies

One VERY happy birthday boy!

Then we had a family celebration to honor Jay and Luke on Sunday evening.  We had been envisioning a small, informal, low-key event.  Well let me say that my family is all about informal and low-key.  But we are not small.  Not in any way, shape or form do we know the meaning of small.  We're large in number and we are loud!  While the chaos of having a multitude of grandparents, aunts and uncles sometimes wears my dear hubby out, it's just what a family gathering is to me.  We had pizza and goldfish and good company.  We inherited a ball pit and the boys (young and old!) had a blast throwing balls around the back porch.  Jay and Luke opened presents, we watched NC State finally win a basketball game, and we laughed.  A lot.  That is what family gatherings should be.

 

 

 

 

Brotherly Love

So, thanks to all those who helped make the double birthday celebrations twice as much fun.

To Luke - I just cannot believe you are already TWO years old.  You're so much fun.  That sneaky, "I'm-going-to-get-in-trouble-but-I-don't-care" grin lets you get away with more than you should.  It's awfully hard to tell you no when you're so dang cute and laughing about your silly antics.  But your enthusiastic bear hugs and sweet kisses are two of my favorite things in the world, and you know just how to use them to say you're sorry.  I miss that sweet baby face - and I might just keep rocking you to sleep until you're twelve.
Happy Birthday, wild man.

To Jay - I am really proud of the little boy you have become.  You are so caring and know just how to make those around you feel better.  Your teacher says that you "have a mind of your own and you're not afraid to use it!"  That makes me laugh, but it's such a perfect description of who you are.  I am glad that you know your own heart and that you go after what you want with such gusto.  You've taught me a great deal over the past four years, and perhaps the most important lesson is to embrace every day as a gift.  I don't want your heart defects or miraculous recovery to define you, but I don't ever want to forget how close we came to losing you. 
Happy Birthday, buddy.