These Things Are Too Grumpy

Way past just the risk of everyone thinking we are overly amused by Leo's way with words, I still have to say how much I loved (and how accurate it felt for a kid over his head in weeds) the untainted description: grumpy.

Also, the Batman shirt was on for maybe 4 days in a row. Not all the time for all 4 days. But certainly part of the time all 4 days. Picking battles.

Further Fun With Words

This morning, first thing:

ME: Hey! You woke up! (Give or take an exclamation point. It was early, ok?)

LEO: Daddy, my hand...

ME: Yeah?

LEO: My hand is spicy.

(His hand had fallen asleep and was buzzing/fizzing or, more accurately, spicy.)

Instinctive Word Invention

(We interrupt this cliffhanger for a brief commercial break. I'm sure Holly will finish the story sometime sort of soon.Hey, don't kill the messenger.)

LEO: Daddy...

ME: Yeah?

LEO: My....my....(thinks about it for a pretty long time)...my knee pit is itchy.

Knee pit. That's way better than calling it "the back of my knee" like I've always done.

Penelope's Birth Story, Part 2: Mother Knows Best

5:45 pm: I wake abruptly from my nap. Oh boy, the label on the Castor Oil bottle was wrong. I guess 12 hours actually means 45 minutes. Really?? That quick? Maybe it has something to do with having not eaten much all day? I don't know, but here we go. I spend a good 45 minutes of quality time in the bathroom. And let's just say: I wasn't doing my makeup. As strange as this sounds, at least I'm finally feeling the welcome ache of labor pains I've been longing for. Or are the pains just the unsavory effects of the Castor Oil? I can't really differentiate at this point, but I'm hoping for the former. In any event, I have never been so grateful to be stuck in the bathroom. I just really wish I'd installed that darn magazine rack that's been sitting in my basement for 6 months.

6:30 pm: My contractions are 10 minutes apart and it's official: I'm in labor. What a thrill! I call my mother and ask if she can come over, pick up Leo from my neighbor's house, bathe him and put him to bed. Which is what I want to do every night, but tonight I have a pretty decent excuse. I'm afraid if I try to do any of Leo's bedtime routine on my own it won't be pretty, since my new best friend Castor Oil is still hard at work. Thankfully, my mom lives nearby so this isn't a problem. I lay down on my bed and begin taking inventory of my body–reviewing some of the stuff Paul & I learned in our Bradley Method classes, though mostly I just want the free back rub. The labor pains aren't too uncomfortable at this point, so I don't worry about technique and focus quite yet. In fact, the pains feel more comforting and reassuring than anything else, so I lay there in bed feeling happy that things are progressing. After all, 9 months and 8 days is a long time to wait. Imagine those poor elephants...

7:00 pm: My contractions have progressed from dull aches to more intense and very regular little bombs. I start clocking them more diligently– about 8 minutes apart. I should call Paul. No, I'll text him.

ME: (type, type, type) What time do you play your set? It has begun. Come home as soon as you're done.

PAUL: What? Are you in labor?

ME:

(type, type, type)

Yeah, I think so. But no big deal. Play your show and come home. I love you.

PAUL: I go on at 8. But I will skip the show. I'M COMING HOME.

ME:

(type, type, type)

No, no. It's just the beginning. Play your show.

PAUL: Are you crazy?

ME:

(type, type, type)

Maybe, but I'm fine. Play your show. I'll call you if there's a problem.

7:45 pm: With Leo in bed and my mom by my side, I'm feeling pretty good. The strange thing is, my contractions have ramped up quite significantly but they still don't feel unbearable. I start wondering if this whole Castor Oil thing makes you FEEL like you're in labor more than actually PUTTING you into labor. I can't tell, but having my contractions almost 3 minutes apart now, I calmly decide I need to make a couple phone calls. My mom, on the other hand is LOSING HER MIND, worrying that I'm progressing as quickly as I am but not doing anything about it. She is strongly encouraging me to go to the hospital (turns out mother knows best. who knew?), but I really don't feel that it's quite so urgent. I mean, everything I learned in my classes reassured me that I will KNOW when it's time to go:

– I won't be able to talk through contractions.

– I will feel overwhelmed by the smallest thing.

– I won't be able to walk around during a contraction.

None of these things are true at this point, so I'm pretty confident I have time. Nonetheless, I call Paul just to make sure he knows what is happening and to help my mom calm down a bit. You'd think she was the one in labor. Ok, not really, but she was seriously stressed.

8:00 pm: My phone call with Paul:

ME: Hey. So, when do you actually go on stage?

PAUL: Hi. In 5 minutes. Are you okay?

ME: Well, I think so. It's just that my contractions are like 3 minutes apart but I don't feel like they said I would. I feel pretty good.

PAUL: THREE MINUTES? Aren't we supposed to go to the hospital at FIVE minutes??

ME: Uh, yeah. Generally speaking. But I really feel ok. I'm thinking maybe this is just the Castor Oil. I don't know. I feel fine. I think it will be ok.

PAUL: I'm coming home.

ME: No, seriously, play your show. I'll be fine. Just come home RIGHT afterwards.

PAUL: Don't be a hero, Holly. I'm coming home. Ryan said he can play the show. I'm coming home.

ME: Listen, let me call Diane and if she says we need to go to the hospital right now, I'll call you back and you can come home. But I really think I'll be fine while you play.

PAUL: ARE YOU SURE?

ME: Yes.

PAUL: Ok, let me know. I will have my phone on stage with me and I will answer if you call. I love you.

ME: Love you too. Good luck.

I immediately call my midwife, Diane. I love Diane. She has been a constant and stable force during this pregnancy. Encouraging me to stand firm with my plan to have the baby naturally, but also helping me to feel ok about changing my mind if things get too hard, or if there are complications. I am looking forward to her calming influence and able hands in the hospital room with me. She answers my call and definitely sounds perplexed by how well I'm feeling, while hearing that my contractions are so close together. She says under "normal" (I never seem to fall under the "normal" category) circumstances she would tell me to come to the hospital NOW. But since I seem to be ok (i.e. talking calmly with her during several contractions over the course of our 10 minute conversation, and not being ticked off that my husband is playing a show while I'm in labor), she agrees to meet me and Paul at the hospital at 9:30 pm. Just one hour. Good plan. 9:30. See you there.

Stay tuned for the third and final chapter...

(Find Part 1 of Penelope's Birth Story here: Part 1: It's About Time)

Hoppin' Down The Bunny Trail

Easter in one of my very favorite holidays. I remember as a child waking up Easter morning, filled with anticipation, and finding a basket bursting with colored eggs, mouth-watering candy and chocolates, and some new little trinket. My mother always cared about the details, and she never disappointed. To this day, Easter egg hunts are always a big highlight for me, and it was a real treat to have my sister Laura and her kids in town this year to celebrate. We had a lunch and egg hunt at my parent's house on Saturday.

Here are some scenes:

On Sunday, we had dinner at the Jacobsens. Of course, Charlotte never disappoints when it comes to food (or anything else for that matter) and we had such a nice time with the family. We also celebrated Paul's and Andy's birthdays, which of course meant two different cakes. I'm just disappointed we didn't take photos of all the amazing food.

My two happy boys.

When I was a girl my mother would spend days and days making new matching Easter dresses for all 6 of her daughters. I remember feeling so special in my new dress each Easter, so I decided to do the same for Penelope this year. At the suggestion of my sweet friend Sue, I embarked on a little lace dress project idea she found here. So, when I was in NYC earlier this month, I hit a few fabric shops and came home with a big bag of lace. After some trial and error, the dress finally turned out and I was quite pleased with the finished product. Penny was the perfect finishing touch.

Grandpa Ted has this creepy Yoda mask and Leo is obsessed with it. I could barely keep it off of him long of enough to get any normal photos. Funny little Leo.

It was a great day.

Penelope's Birth Story, Part 1: It's About Time

I know, I know. I've been promising to post this for almost a year now. So now that I've officially lost my entire readership of nearly 10 people, here I am.

I've felt a compulsion the last few weeks to finally get this off my chest. Not that I haven't told the story before, but because I think I'm finally in a place where I can share it with the blogging world and feel proud of it. But more importantly, I need to write it for Penny. She's turning one next week and what better way to celebrate her life than to tell the story of how she entered the world. And let's be honest, she's really gotten the blog-post-shaft during her first year of life. I think there are maybe 5 photos of her on here. Maybe. Poor little Penelope.

Part 1: It's about time

May 5, 2010: I am 8 days overdue with my first little girl and I am done being pregnant. D.O.N.E. I have experienced this before with Leo who was 10 days overdue, and it's just as miserable as it was the first time. My feet are swollen. My legs are swollen. My hands are swollen. My face is swollen. My ribs feel like they've been beaten and cracked by a kung fu master. My belly is so hard and so tight and so big, I can barely move without feeling like it will tear in two at any moment. And my girly-parts feel as if they will drop to the floor with the rest of my innards with each step I take. Pregnancy is a miraculous condition to be in. Absolutely. But I will tell you right now, it is not a glamorous or a comfortable one.

11:00 am: I go to see my midwife. We discuss my options and since I'm trying to avoid being induced, I opt to have my membranes stripped and tell her I want to take Castor Oil. Castor Oil, she warns me, only works for 50% of women. That's good enough odds for me. Along with the 50% effectiveness of having my membranes stripped, I feel confidant that I will have my baby that day. So we make a plan: I will go home. Get my life in order. Take Castor Oil around 5 pm. Take a nap. Put Leo to bed. Paul will play his 8 pm show at the State Room. Paul will come home. And I will go into labor around midnight. My midwife is on-call that night at the hospital, so it's perfect. The plan is foolproof.

1:00 pm: I'm feeling a little crampy, and not wanting my body to stop whatever it's doing, I decide to help it along and mow the lawn. The only problem is, with the 40 pound ball on the front of my body, I can't seem to start the mower. So I call Paul on his work phone. No answer. Call his cell. No answer. Try the mower again. Still not starting. I need it to start. Call Paul again. He picks up!

Paul: Hey, are you okay??

Me: Yeah, fine. How do you start the mower?

Paul: What?

Me: How do you start the lawn mower? I'm doing everything I usually do but it just won't start.

Paul: You seriously called me 3 times because you can't start the mower? I was in a meeting with a client and I left to answer because I thought you were in labor.

Me: Oh, sorry. No, not yet. I just really want to mow the lawn.

Success. The mower starts and as I begin making a wild maze on our front lawn, my neighbors begin to congregate, asking me if I need some help. Warning me I could go into labor. Yes, people, that's the plan. Don't want any help. I just want this baby to come.

5:00 pm: I decide to take Leo to my neighbor's house to play while I take a nap. With Leo happily at play, I open my bottle of Castor Oil and carefully measure the ounce of thick liquid my midwife directed me to take. I add it to a glass of orange juice and gulp it down, with a little prayer and a lot of hope. I read the label and am a bit disappointed to learn that it could take anywhere from 12 to 24 hours to start working. I cross my fingers and toes and tuck myself into bed. I really hope this works.

Stay tuned for Part 2.

*photo by Jed Wells

(Find Part 2 of Penelope's Birth Story here: Part 2: Mother Knows Best)

Quote of the day

LEO (asking me to carry something up the stairs for him): "Mommy, take this for me. I can't even hold it every single day without fail."

What?

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's... Leo!

Our little Leo just turned "fthfree". That chubby little guy that didn't bother crawling until 11 months.

Didn't bother walking until 14 months.

And is now running away from us as fast as his little legs will take him. Literally. He thinks it's pretty darn funny to run down the entire length of our street 5 or 6 times a day laughing and yelling, "mommy! mommy! catch me!" Hilarious.

And of course, he's usually wearing a cape.

Which is why we decided to embrace Leo's inner-Super and throw him a Superhero party.

If you know me well, you know that I get really great ideas the night before some big event, and I'm up until all hours of the night (let's be honest - morning) carrying out my spontaneous- albeit genius- plans. With Leo's party, I actually started an entire week before the big day. Unfortunately, with all that extra time I had, my plans got more and more involved each day. But man, was it worth it.

To see this:

And this:

And this:

We invited all of Leo's cousins that live in Salt Lake, and since there are only six, I decided to make capes for them and Paul made the masks.

We wanted to make sure Leo felt extra special, so Paul designed a Super Leo logo and I made him a birthday t-shirt. We were really pleased with the way it turned out, and more importantly, so was Leo.

I had a pretty good idea to set up a photo booth for the kids to show off their capes, and then Paul had the genius idea to turn my boring photo booth into the next-best-thing to Dave Eggers' flying booth at the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Store (for those of you who aren't familiar, you should really check it out next time you're in NYC. It'll be well worth your while).

Here are some scenes of the Little Supers making their flying debut:

After flying lessons, we headed upstairs to refuel on some sugar and snacks.

How else do you think Supers maintain such a high energy level??

Thanks to more-than-generous cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents, Leo made out like a bandit with gifts. Unfortunately, once he got Thor from his grandma, he didn't really seem to notice any of the other gifts.

Correction: Anything else at all.

It was a great day. Leo was happy and so were we. Even Penny found a new favorite thing.

It's so much fun to celebrate our little ones in a big way. On the hard days, I have to remind myself that they won't be little forever, and I'll most likely miss it like crazy.

I'd be crazy not to.

Happy birthday, Leo. We love you, our funny little dude.

*Thanks to Grandpa Ted for taking all the birthday photos!

happy birthday to the zinho

(this photo courtesy of Rachel Romney Preslar, taken at last month's Firestorm Bike Ride up Emigration Canyon)

3 years old. What a fun kid, getting smarter every day, so interested in everything, so fun to be around. What a blessing Leo has been to us, every single day since we knew we were gonna have him. The best.

Holly put together some really wild superhero stuff for our cake/ice cream party with the family tonight, but I will let her post that. (This is Paul, by the way.)

Some photos, not of the festivities, though you can see the superhero shirt we created in one of them. The last is my favorite.

So Maybe We Need To Be Better At Family Home Evening

(looking at the gigantic painting of Jesus descending from the clouds, surrounded by trumpeting angels)

LEO: Look! Jesus! And the fairies!

L-

ME: (writing Leo's name in crayon on a napkin) Leo, what comes after L?

HIM: M.

ME: (trying to figure out if it is a) the unbelievably early manifestation of my nerdy wordplay/smart aleck/subversive loophole gene, or b) just really sad the time it took for me to realize he was talking about the alphabet and I was just missing it.) Oh yeah. M.

More of the Zinho

I hopped online to post something, realized we had no new pictures in iPhoto, and then got an email from Charlotte of these little gems. Perfect timing.

Dirt eater. Or extra from The Walking Dead.

With a giant bird on rollerskates. Not pictured: cellophane flowers of yellow and green.

All that's missing from this awesome picture is getting to hear the adorably wrong way he pronounces "orangutan."

More Fall

We took a little walk/hike around East Canyon one late afternoon/early evening (you can see the light leaving us). Leo was snacking on some apple slices, if you're wondering what he's holding.

John & Blakely stopped by. One of them is in Leo's Top 3. We'll let them fight over which one.

Leo stopped moving just long enough to give his little sister a smooch.

Leo prepared to fit into the uber-precious indie rock scene. That or he was making fun of Sufjan Stevens. Not sure which.

And Leo took about a bazillion self portraits, preparing himself for a really well-curated Facebook page photo section.