Tired of the same old tunes? I've got a new band for you.

A fresh band has just started touring the local circuit, of my living room, and I got their permission to film them. Enjoy, maybe from a distance.

:)



I love you kiddos. Very, very much.

The Future of the Five

I posted a little while back on Facebook how the Prius V was looking like a good option as the next DienerMobile. And I still think that, but would like for our kiddo's to all be in booster seats and not toddler seats when we make that shift, which means probably another year or more before we'd do it. I don't want to deal with car seats and buckling everyone in. This way, they'd just do it themselves and if we travel, they can carry their own seats. So... that's when I anticipate that happening.

And... while this might come as no surprise to some, I've been feeling a little broody lately (that means getting all squealy at the sight of tiny babies, and oddly enough, puppies). But, I'm rational enough to know bringing another life (in whatever form- human already excluded, just so you know) into our household would bring with it a little insanity right now. So, I'm decidedly: future broody. How far in the future? About 4 years.

Yes, roughly another 5 year plan, though this looks different from the original. The original was wait five years after getting married to have babies. In four years, my girls will be 7 years old, Dylan will be 10, and I will hopefully have a great writing schedule that brings in some kind of income to justify my time at home and the home will be somewhat quieter then. So I'm thinking...that'd be a great time to get a dog. But it'd have to be a low maintenance dog. Nothing big. Nothing that requires daily (or more than daily) walks. Something that enjoys the indoors but also playful enough to wear my kids out after school.

Enter...the Chug.

Oh...my...heavens, these little pups are cute! And they stay cute. They meet my criteria for doggies and...bonus...I've heard it's possible to have them partly litter-trained so that if it's nasty outside, or your outing has gone too long- they have a proper place to poo (instead of the carpet). Sounds great, right? My kids are on board with it. Dylan said this morning, "so what's that dog we're getting when I'm 10?" It made me smile. Yes, that is a likeable future.

So without further ado... may I introduce what I foresee as the likely new additions to our family's future:

pics borrowed sans credit from web and compiled into one pic by me

P.S. for Davi/Joanna, I suspect very strongly (after lots of chug picture gazing) that Twombley may very well be a Chug. (Also known as Pugwawa's or Pughuahua's)

Back to School...2011

It was the best of times... it wasn't quite the worst of times, but it certainly had some less than stellar moments.

Who wouldn't be excited about that first taste of freedom? Here I was, sending my two youngest off to pre-school and barely containing the giddiness I was feeling as I pulled up to the mall to go get my celebratory pedicure.

I'd done it. Reared my chicks to the point that they were all ready for independence.

First, Dylan's big day came. First Grade. He was excited, especially so because his neighborhood buddies would be on the bus with him.

We took the standard pictures and... off he went.
















It went well, that first day...until the end of the day. The girls and I waited for Dylan at the bus stop, but when it pulled up- there was no Dylan on board. The driver shrugged her shoulders and said, "I'm not sure what happened. I hope you find him." It took every bit of reserved grace I had not to rip her head off right then. I get it if it's not her problem, but don't you dare shrug it off like it's nothing. But right then, I needed to find my son. So, priorities.

I went inside and saw the answering machine flashing. I didn't take the phone outside with me, we'd waited 30 minutes for the bus to show up. It was a misunderstanding. I'd sent a note- and me, the writer, apparently wasn't clear about when he'd be picked up by me at school. I decided it was first day overload and picked him up. It happened once more, same thing- confused about a note. Can't tell you how much that irritates the writer in me. But, I think it's all clear now.

Otherwise-- it's going extremely well this year. He's a happy kid and he even got an apology (a real one) from the kid that had bullied him last year. So yay for a happy start to first grade.

Next, it was the girls' turn.

For over a month we'd been reallllly working at potty-training. And about a week before the first day- they really seemed to have it mastered. I was breathing a sigh of relief.

First day comes, I snap pictures.

It was a wonderful 2.5 hours. My feet felt wonderful. I didn't even care that they had Maury Povich on the tv while I was pampered.

I pulled up to the pre-school, ready to enfold my little chicks back into my wings, when I heard that awful sound-- "Lynn! I need you to come here please."

I tried to smile but I knew- I just knew- what was coming. Inside, Andrea was walking around doing the poopy penguin walk. It was her 2nd messy pants of the day. Daphne had also had a poop accident. I thought- here we go. Revoking their admission, sorry lady, get 'em outta here. But of course, they've been very sweet about it- but oh, I was so embarrassed.

All in all, it's been a pride-worthy season of change in the Diener house, but not without a few smelly bumps along the way.

That's all from our side of the tracks, for now. I hope you and yours are having a good start to the fall, too. Maybe without the incident-als. 

Let the Potty Training Begin!

photo © 2010 Manish Bansal | more info (via: Wylio)
I know you've been on pins and needles waiting for this big day to come. Well, folks, it is finally here. And this is the go-to spot for all the potty updates.

The strategy?

Beginning today (April 28, 2011)
We'll increase the time the girls spend in big girl pants by 30 minutes everyday prior to noon, to start. So, today- they started at 11:30. Understanding the noon hour is a tough one with lunch and the transition to a nap most days.

We'll hold it at whatever time length we're on for as many days as needed, until they're dry for that long. But ideally, by the end of next week- they'll be going from wake-up to noon "dry". (Or w/o accidents)

This is a highly flexible plan. If it's clear the accident is out of the norm or there was some reason it made sense that there was an accident- then we'll still move on w/ increasing the time.

Then hopefully, in a few weeks, they'll make it the whole awake day dry.

This is clearly the lazy mom's plan. I want some reasonable reassurance that I won't be cleaning up an abundance of messes. So, my theory is- if we slowly build up to it- and always focus it around that tumultuous part of our day-- then...maybe, this plan will work.

The girls will only don big girl pants from the waist down during training time. Just to keep things simple. And our motivation?? A Dora potty chart for each of them with an abundance of Dora stickers. Stickers for telling Mommy or Daddy that "I have to go", stickers for going pee/poop on the potty, stickers for wiping, stickers for flushing, and stickers for washing hands.

I'll be posting a daily accident # and also whatever actual pee/poop or other successes they have.

I know, riveting stuff here.

But hey, if this system works for us- I'll have fodder for an e-book :)

Well, our second half-hour is up. Time for a potty run.

Stay tuned!

Double the babies, double the love.. a birth story times two

It's April 4th...
And on this day in history...
1887 - Susanna M. Salter became mayor of Argonia, KS, making her the first woman mayor in the U.S.
1928- Author and Poet, Maya Angelou, was born
1968 - Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated at the age of 39.
1975 - More than 130 people, most of them children, were killed when a U.S. Air Force transport plane evacuating Vietnamese orphans crashed just after takeoff from Saigon.
1986 - Wayne Gretzky set an NHL record with his 213th point of the season.

Some things are of greater consequence than others. Some will wow the world when they happen, some will wow the world as they grow, and some will just always wow the world.

My daughters, Daphne Almeda and Andrea Danae were born on this auspicious day, too. They made a wow in the world upon their entrance, at least very locally, and they continue to wow our worlds. But God remains the only one who knows where their wow’s will happen and how big an impact they will have.

In keeping with my pledge to share my childrens’ birth stories- I now offer to you, the story of my daughters' births.

(originally posted on 4/28/2008 on our old website, but I’ve edited it since then, too.)

The adventure began on Thursday, April 3. The story beginning far too similarly to Dylan’s for my liking. I was leaking amniotic fluid. So around 2pm, our then family of 3, went to the midwife’s office. I was scared. Induction was a very real possibility. I knew that if my labor didn’t start on its own that I’d have to be induced because of the risk of infection when waters have broken.

A few rubber glove balloons and ph strips later, we were told that if labor hadn’t started on its own by 10am the next morning then an induction it’d be. The midwife gave me some homeopathic medicine to try and kick start the labor. I was doubtful but willing to try it because I was so desperate to have a different experience than I’d had with Dylan.

Within an hour of trying the blue & black cohash treatment, I started having contractions. I was excited but also aware that they might stop after I had the last dosing. So, I tried to enjoy the fact that I could be up and about and tried to get things done before the babies came.

Around dinner time I realized my back had been hurting pretty consistently, so I decided to lie down and time my contractions a while. Sure enough, they were 10 min. apart. A cautious smile began to form in my heart.

We called the midwife, as instructed, and she was willing to let us labor at home an hour more. But 5 minutes later, she called back after conferring w/ a fellow midwife and said I needed to get to the hospital directly.

This delivery was on!

We called our doula to let her know what was up and off we went.
We dropped Dylan off at his aunt’s house and with our energy, anxiety, and anticipation abuzz- we arrived at the hospital.

Once again, we were booked into room 301!! I’d delivered Dylan there, and when I was booked into the hospital a few weeks prior for premature labor, I was assigned room 301. And now it seemed I’d be laboring away with my girls there.

The contractions were consistent but definitely tolerable. I had wondered, since I hadn’t really gotten to experience a natural labor last time, how I’d be able to deal with early labor or if it’d feel significantly different than it did with Dylan’s induction.

It was completely different. And I was relieved and grateful.

At that point, the midwife declared me to be 2-3cm dilated. I was glad there was some progress already.

I was hooked up to the monitors, but had a horrible time getting both girls registered on the machine. This was a repeat of the experience I’d had with my premature labor at 33 weeks. Every last midwife, nurse, and I think janitor made their attempt at getting the straps lined up just right so that we could listen to both girls at the same time (ensuring both were indeed alive and tolerating labor). It just wasn’t possible with the machines there. So, finally, a doctor rolled in an ultrasound machine and verified that these two babies were indeed fine.

Once that was established, I was left to sleep as I’d need my strength soon.

As any woman (or dear husband who’s stood by them) can tell you, sleep is basically a joke at this point. Nevertheless, I tried really hard to relax between the contractions and for lack of a better explanation, take mini-naps, as best I could.

Around 3am, I rolled over in the bed. As I turned from one side to the other I felt a strange sensation that I swear I could hear- it was a series of little pops, then like someone had pulled a switch, a huge rush of water spilled out of me. I thought, OH, my water has REALLY broken now! Trying not to move and get everything on the bed drenched, I hit my page button for the nurse.

She came in and helped me get cleaned up. I knew that often times after waters break (or are broken) that contractions can get much more intense. So, I called our doula and told her we were ready for her.

Ten minutes later, the contractions were already more intense, bearable, but more intense. Nevertheless, I was glad when the doula showed up so that I could have someone there to help me cope a little better, someone to distract me.

Danny was still sleeping when she arrived.

The next few hours crept by. The contractions gradually getting more intense and eventually I’d gone from being able to just pause and concentrate during conversation, to fully focusing on both relaxing between contractions and trying to relax through them. Towards the beginning of this period, Danny and I took the traditional stroll thru the halls of the ward, me stopping every few minutes to let a contraction pass.

We discussed the possibility of getting the tub set up for me to labor in, but as I recall, it never even appeared in the room in any form before it was all systems go.

I’m not sure of the timing of things but I remember that things had gone from me being able to concentrate on the doula’s voice and being able to get grounded again, to being able to hear her and not caring about getting grounded- just wanting it to be over.

I will admit, when things are that intense for me, I whine. I was whimpering, I was whining, I was a complete baby- but no judging me unless you’ve given birth, okay?

I remember that the doula was trying to get someone to come in and check me. I remember thinking that if they came in and found I was only 4 or 5cm that I’d cry and beg for the epidural. At this point, I felt some pressure below but not like I did with Dylan. I said I wanted to push, but felt like there was a long way to go yet.

Finally, someone (I think it was the OB) checked me and said I was 9cm & could feel the head.

Wow! I thought; we’re almost there. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this.

Pushing commenced shortly and I was definitely ready for this part to be over. Soon, I realized my baby was leaving my body and I got to see her coming out and up onto my belly.

With her hearty cry, I cried, and my love for this little girl who grew within me began to multiply. It was 8:42am, and Daphne Almeda was born. Born in the same room as her brother three years before.

I was able to spend a few minutes with Daphne before the chaos of moving me to the c-section room ensued (a protocol for all twin births there).

I was wheeled down the hall on my bed into the glaring white lights. I had enough wit about me to make some remark about this being why Danny likes all the lights on in the house. He joked back that they weren’t even turned up all the way.

I remember being asked if I wanted to nurse Daphne a few times, and I understand why that is, but it was too strange to me to be in the process of laboring my second child out while nursing, so I passed on the chance. Sorry, Daphne.

I was told to take another dose of the cohash in order to re-start contractions. It didn’t take long.

I remember our doula standing next to me holding Daphne and telling her, “that’s your mommy and she’s trying to help your sister be born.” Or something like that. It was a surreal moment, to know that one of my children was out and in a sense watching me as I delivered her sister.

I remember the midwife telling me how this delivery would go. It would be a breech delivery, frank breech if I recall correctly. She explained how they wanted me to push and when. I remember thinking, I’ll try but I’m not sure how much I’ve got left to give.

I remember the pushing went pretty quickly and that in no time I was supposed to provide a huge push for which I had no energy to do. I thought- you’re just going to have to pull her out of me—and that’s exactly what it felt like was happening.

Again, I had the presence of mind to open my eyes and look down to see my second daughter crossing the threshold from my womb to this world. She was much more purple and covered in far more vernix than her sister, but she was mine and had a lusty cry and was beautiful. It was 9:24am, and Andrea Danae was born. Born down the hall from where her siblings had arrived and she entered the world so differently, it makes me wonder what else in her life will stand out so differently. It was weird to feel so privately in love, in the midst of such a crowded and busy room.

So, there I was, safely delivered of twins, naturally, and not even an IV in my arm.

Then, things started getting a little hairier. The placenta started coming out and it seemed they were having a hard time determining if all of it had come out. I was losing a lot of blood and while the midwife was doing her best to remain calm, I could tell it wasn’t all normal. I was given a shot of pitocin, then methargine, and then an IV was started so I could get pitocin intravenously. A regular external mashing of my uterus began, attempting to get it to clamp down and shrink up. It was awful.

Eventually, things were calmed down and cleaned up enough so that I could be moved to a recovery room.

I don’t remember a whole lot about those few hours afterwards. I think I tried to nurse my girls. I do remember that I was dizzy, very dizzy. At one point, I tried to sit up so that I could go to the bathroom and just sitting up in the bed had my ears ringing and my vision blackening out.

Over the next couple days it got slowly better but even when I was discharged my hematocrit was only 6.5.

It took me months, lots of iron, and eventually a d&c to get it stable and me back to normal.

The original title of the post I’d made back in 2008 was Two Beauties and a Beast. That’s still pretty accurate. Daphne and Andrea are beautiful inside and out and that dark phase after their births and before I recovered was certainly a beast.

I don’t know what waits for them in life. I don’t know what their beautiful moments will be and I don’t know what their beasty moments will be. But I do know, as much as it’s possible, I will be there to fight for them so that they can become who they’re meant to be.

Their birth taught me that I can’t get through this life on my own, but that I’m stronger than I think. And, if I have people who love me to support me, and a heaping helping from heaven, that impossible things become real.

Happy Birthday, my darlings. This story if for you with love Daphne, and for you with love Andrea.

The Happy Tornado

The Happy Tornado
By, Dylan Diener, age 6
Dictated to mom.

Once upon a time, there was a tornado at a school. And the tornado went down on the school. It wrecked the school a little bit. But it didn’t really do it.

It went down to the ground really fast.

The kids inside the school heard bump bump bump, jump jump jump. It was a tornado that had a smile on his face.

One of the kids smiled back.

All of the teachers protected themselves and the kids.

One day the tornado went away.

When it did and the school said, “hooray.” And they had a concert in the gym.

The end.

Once, Twice, Three Times a Pink Eye

Triple ugh. In 24hrs we've managed to contract 3 cases of conjunctivitis...otherwise known as, the dreaded Pink Eye.

Yesterday, it was just Daphne, and while I tried awful hard to keep the germs contained- we are just at a stage of life where germs are rampant and shared freely.

So, this morning when Dylan woke up with that funky hue in his eyes, and a little crud around the edges- I knew what it was.

He was trying to play it cool. "I guess I'll just have to go downstairs, be on the sofa, and watch TV all day. I know I have to not give it to my sissies." Hard to hide the smile in that.

"Ah, bad news kiddo. Having Pink Eye is like having a cold, and there's no reason not to go to school."

"Oh."

I had to pull on all my reserves to get him to the bus on time. I had a very rough night with Daphne, who for some reason, is now terrified of the crack between her bed and the wall. It made her shudder when she finally pointed out the source of her fear. I ended up sleeping on the crack to keep her safe and afford us a few hours of cramped sleep. Unfortunately, sister Andrea thought she might be scared, too, and came to join us. Add to that-- a new case of Pink Eye brewing in Andrea's eyes- and I'm sharing pillow space with them and they're grabbing my face and coughing on me-- well, let's just say I'm a little tired this morning.

I was home cheering my small triumph. I got Dylan to the bus stop in time and I could go back to the house and deal with my shrieking girls. (one fit rolling into another rolling into another-- it was LOUD)

When about 15 minutes later-- I'm guessing about 30 seconds after the teacher read the note I sent-- ("Dylan has Pink Eye, but it's viral, so nothing to be done. Call me if needed") the phone rang. It was the school.

"Dylan told me his sister has Pink Eye, too?"

"Yes."

"Then he's contagious and we can't have him at school. He'll need to be under a doctor's care and/or medication to return to school."

"His dad's a doctor. He says it's viral. He doesn't need antibiotics."

Silence.

"He can't be here. Not when he's contagious. You'll have to wait until his symptoms clear before he can come back, unless he's under a doctor's care. School policy."

I sigh. Actually, I'd read over the handbook again this morning and nothing is stated about that. I also consulted several websites which indicated there was no reason to keep him home (just have him be careful to wash his hands a lot). Clearly, his own father's medical degree, the facts about how viruses work as opposed to bacterial infections, and the fact that he could miss weeks if we wait for the symptoms to clear- isn't getting through.

"Okay. I'll come pick him up then."

It was cordial-enough when I picked him up, and if I didn't have the girls with me, I might have sat down with the nurse to discuss the finer points. But I didn't. Probably better that way.

So, we're home now. Anticipating an early lunch and nap.

Daddy will bring home an official note stating what I'd already told the nurse, but with his official MD signature on the line.

There are times in life when I feel completely unheard and impotent. This was one. But what bothers me more is how this is affecting families in the school.

How many other parents have been called for the same thing? How many parents understand the difference between viral and bacterial Pink Eye? How many had to cut out of work early, losing a piece of their paychecks, to pick up a child that didn't need to be picked up? How many felt like they had to make a doctor's appointment? How many ended up with a prescription for an antibiotic because that's what the doctor assumed they were seeking- or because the parents felt this is what the school was saying? (can't come to school unless taking medicine for it)

It's sad and it makes me mad.

Alas. We're sending Dylan back to school tomorrow with an official "doctor's" note.

Has this happened to you? Have any of you been able to convince the school that your child really is well enough to stay? Any brilliant ideas for keeping this from happening again?

Hoping your families are healthy and happy.

Lynn

For more information on conjunctivitis/Pink Eye see: http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/1191370-overview

FYI: Adenovirus is the same virus that can cause the comon cold, for which children are not mandated to stay out of school.

The Big and the Little of It.

Just a quick post to let you know how our little ones are ceasing to be little. I like to do this now and then just to remind me of how far we've come (physically).

Up first, Dylan.

Birth: 6lbs, 5oz          Now: 46lbs, 10oz         

Change: 40lb,5oz heavier/approximately 8x his birth weight

Birth: 18.5in               Now: 46in

Change: 27.5in taller/approximately 2.5x his birth height

Now stands at the 55th percentile for weight and 59th percentile for height

Then Daphne.

Birth: 4lbs, 12oz        Now: 27lbs
Change: 22lbs,4oz heavier/approximately 5x her birth weight

Birth: 17.5in               Now: 36.25in
Change: 18.75in taller/approximately 2x her birth height

Now stands at the 14th percentile for weight and the 34th percentile for height

And last but not least in any way, except physically, Andrea Danae

Birth: 4lbs,10oz           Now: 26lbs
Change: 21lbs,6oz heavier/approximately 5x her birth weight

Birth: 17.5in                 Now: 36in
Change: 18.5in taller/approximately 2x her birth weight

Now stands at the 7th percentile for weight and the 28th percentile for height

I think it's cool to see how far they've come in a fact-based way. Of note, Daphne is still, it's been this way since birth, slightly ahead of Andrea.

Six years ago...

My Aunt Kathie has this tradition of telling her children their birth stories on their birthdays. And the first time I witnessed one of these tellings I was so touched. What a gift, to hear again, of the special way that "you" entered the world. I decided right then that I would continue this tradition with my children- whenever they should come.

And, because I love a good birth story, and I know there are others that do, too... I decided that this year- I'd post my childrens' stories.

And since today is Dylan's birthday- I will share his birth story, with you.

You might guess that this story begins on March 5th, but you'd be wrong. His story begins on the 4th. And if we're being very specific- a few days before that.

The day of the 4th, I was supposed to call the midwife back and let her know if the small leaks I was having had gotten worse. Unfortunately, this leaking had bad timing. We were due for a house guest (think it was MCC, so we didn't know him) that weekend. My house was still a mess. So in the morning hours I was scrambling to get things up to satisfactory- perfection had already lost out to this pending baby. Right before noon, I'd gone down to the basement for something, and on each step down the stairs- I felt a little more slip out. It didn't get better on the way up. I knew this was bad. I also had about an hour of housework left. (I think in retrospect, I was seriously nesting, though it sounds like I was putting housework ahead of my baby.)

The phone rang. It was the midwife. She was nice, but firm. Get your backside to the office now. She didn't say it in those words, she's much nicer. But I understood. No more messing around- this means baby.

They did a scan and could see that Dylan's fluid (amniotic) levels were getting a little low-- too low to be good. The midwife said to me-- "I want to see this baby out in 24 hours." Yes, ma'am. No problem. Only trouble was- I wasn't in labor. No pains, twinges, tightness, anything. Nothing to suggest this kid's womb was ready for expulsion.

I called Danny. He was online right then, one mouse click away from solidifying his ski trip plans-- we'd talked about it- it was 5 weeks before the baby would come- possibly 7- one last hurrah for him before the baby-- I'd be okay. My call changed all that.

I called all the top of the list folks to make sure they had a head's up on the situation. All responses were the same- but don't you have 5 weeks left? Yeah, tell that to my uterus.

When I walked onto the Labor & Delivery floor- Danny was already there, chatting with the nurses & midwife. I felt like the odd girl out.

I was ushered into room 301 (ironically- the same room his sister would be born in, 3 years later), told to strip & don the scratchy cotton gown- you know the ones- in that oh so flattering shade of blah. I beached myself onto the bed and then was hooked up to a vast assortment of tubes and beeping things. And my birthing enemy pitocin was pushed into my veins. We waited and waited. Nothing.

My birth plans were shot. And since I'd already raised the white flag of surrender- I just decided to go with the flow. After all, my baby apparently needed out very soon, and my body was not cooperating. I loved my baby too much to let my stubborn body get in the way- so I went along. Come midnight- nothing had happened. They turned off the pitocin and let me "sleep". But by then, my mind was the Indy 500 of worries and wonderings.

Morning came. I chose the breakfast that looked like it had the most sustaining power, and when I'd finished- the button for pitocin was clicked on, again.

By noon, still nothing (this is the 5th now, in case you're lost). So, in addition to "pit", I now had a little gem called cytotec placed-- this is not a liquidy thing for one's I-V, not a tablet to be swallowed- unless you're using it for ulcers- no, this thing gets shoved...well...where it'll help. It's the landlord that tells the apartment it's time to kick out the tennant. Within 40 minutes, something was happening. But within another hour- it wasn't. So, more cytotec. This time, we were playing labor for real.

The next hours are a blur. Somewhere around 4pm or so I begged for an epidural. I was in agony. Apparently, not all that uncommon when one is under the influence of "pit". Unfortunately (depending on how you look at it) the epidural level had to stay constant because my baby was in distress. So- the pit kept increasing and the epidural didn't- within an hour- I was back to agony. I could be wrong on the time frames here- it really was a blur.

Then somewhere around 8:30pm, I remember the midwife leaning over into my ear and saying, "when you feel the next contraction, grab your thighs and bear down here." I distinctly remember translating that to- oh, she means it's time to push.

I drug myself out of the fog and braced myself for the mystery of pushing. We've all seen it on TV, read it in books, and heard the talk-- but this was my body and I was completely unprepared.

The good news is, it only took me about thirty minutes of pushing to get Dylan out. I've heard horror stories of hours and hours of pushing.

There was a moment, when he was crowning, that I guess I'd nearly given up. The midwife yelled for someone to get a mirror-- I needed to be reminded of what I was working towards.

After his head popped out, I remember looking at my partly deflated belly and thinking- oh wow- I really am having a baby- something is coming out of me- my child is coming out of me... it was surreal.

Then, at 9:18pm, he was here. Danny caught him.

But the sound in the room was awful because there was no crying. I looked at my baby- and my baby was purple. Danny scooped him over to the warming table and they started to give him oxygen.

The midwife said, "it'd probably help if the baby could hear you" (or something like that). I didn't know what to say- I didn't even know if it was a boy or girl (we chose not to find out). I asked. Danny had assumed that it was a girl (from months and months back) and didn't bother to look. He peeked and said, "huh, it's a boy."

A boy. My son. "Dylan," I said (we never settled on a girl's name, but we both agreed on Dylan). "It's Mommy. I need you to cry honey. Cry, baby, please." Again-- that moment was too full of emotion to remember the words exactly- but he heard me, the midwife was right (again). And he started to wail. It was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.

I started blubbering, too.

Soon after, he was put in my arms.

My baby. My son. Dylan Edward Diener. Born March 5, 2005. 9:18pm. 6lbs 5 oz. 18.5 in.

Happy Birthday, Dylan. I love you more everyday.

Happy Birthday to Great Grandma Diener

A birthday greeting for great grandma.

A splashin' good time

Here's a link to the post on our trip to the Double JJ Resort we took this last weekend. Pictures and video coming shortly.

Enjoy!

An ABC Panini, and oh yes, you'll like it

A is for Apples. But you might have read that somewhere before.

B is for Black Bean & Salsa Bread and Bacon. (insert Homer Simpson, mmmm...bacon)

C is for Chicken and Cheddar Cheese.


Put them together and what have you got?
A delectable panini that is hard to beat.

I used leftover crusty bread from a meal we had the other night. If you live near me- Meijer's makes an awesome black bean & salsa bread. But if you're feeling a little more Martha Stewart, I'm sure you could find a recipe and make some. Then I sliced an apple very thin (variety of apple is your choice). And I used leftover chicken, slicing just enough off for my little sandwich. We had some pre-cooked bacon in the fridge, and that worked great. I put 2 slices on mine but you can easily get away with less. Let your conscience be your guide (or your skinny pants).

Then I sprinkled a smattering of cheddar cheese (reduced fat variety)- enough to hold the ingredients on the bread- but not dripping and gooey.

The last step was to squish it in my panini maker (a Christmas gift that needs occasional use to justify its counter space). And then I dunked my sandwich in some leftover potato soup.

Yum. Yum. Yum!


I'm the only one who ate it, but both my thumbs are up for this one (well they were, it's hard to type with your thumbs up).

How Dylan Was Named

For the name origination curious...

One of our pastors requested the story of our child's name for the Wednesday night activity. So this is what I sent back.

Hope you enjoy it. I'll be posting Daphne's & Andrea's story, too.

How Dylan Was Named

Now that take's the cake!

Do you know that sound Oprah makes when she's really excited? That sort of opera-ish, high-pitched warble?

Yeah, well. I just made it.


I am both glad and sad that the birthday cake hit of all time, is only two pieces away from disappearing. (My waist is glad, my palate sad.)

If you haven't tried this recipe for Chocolate Cherry Cheesecake, and you love any one of the items in that name, you simply must. Drive, bike, run, hitch a ride on the back of a buggy- just do what you have to, to get the ingredients and fix yourself this amazing dessert.

Oh, and the birthday boy gives it rave reviews, too.

Happy Birthday, Danny.

This one's for you.

Love you, Babe.

Lunches with Great Grandma

They started a few years ago, when Dylan was just a little peanut in an infant carrier and Grandma knew I needed to get out. About 1-2 times a month, Grandma Diener (Great Grandma to my kids) invites me and whatever children are in our house over to hers, for lunch. Every now and then, I've been able to talk her into letting me bring something for lunch or into a lunch out, but the standard is lunch at her place.

You have no idea how much I look forward to these lunches. It's worth every bit of the struggle to get squirmy kids packed up and buckled in for the 17 minute drive to her house. Why? Not only do I look forward to Grandma and her cooking, but I enjoy her dearly, and my kids do, too.

The lunches last as long as she's in Indiana. But come the end of December, and this year, mid-January, our lunches go into hibernation and wait for return with the spring.

It is one thing to have a good friend in your life. It is one thing to have someone who loves you and lets you know you're loved. It is one thing to know you've been blessed with a good family, and not by your own design. (I married Danny- what came with him is just the bonus.) But when all these things are in the same person? Well, if the lump in my throat and the tears blurring my vision are indicator- it is a very rare and wonderful thing.

Before Grandma takes off to resume her status as Texas Snow Bird, I thought I'd take pictures at our latest lunch with her.

We're going to miss you Grandma. Take care, stay warm, and we'll see you when the daffodils bloom.

Grandma always made you feel she had been waiting to see just you all day and now the day was complete.
--
Marcy DeMaree