their birthday

I'm grateful for my boys, who turned one and four on the same day. November 20 has become one of the best days of my life two times over, and is appropriately just before Thanksgiving every year :)

Dirt --> Food

This past spring we were pleasantly surprised to find out we'd been able to nab a plot in the community garden we used to live near. The days when we stepped outside our back door and into an urban farming paradise are over, but we can still have a plot over there and (sadly) drive there from the southeast side of our city instead.

A bystander

Our first harvest: a radish

Garden picnic, one of maybe four we had this summer

The plan was to have a family garden night where we would all meet there after Jono got off work, have a picnic supper and weed for awhile. That did happen a handful of times, but it was bloody hot this year, and for the most part Jono found himself running over there at dusk after the boys were in bed to keep up with the bumper tomato, pepper and squash harvest we received.

Jude picks the first carrots to come ripe

Some of the of grape tomatoes we planted (too many)

Theo polished these off single-handedly as baby food

We canned salsa together, and Jono outdid himself canning marinara sauce, tomato sauce and tomato juice to take care of the excess. I made two huge batches of curried squash soup (from that cookbook you gave me, Ant B!) and froze it in old apple sauce jars. We pawned veggies off on anyone who stopped by. In the end we successfully let almost nothing go to waste, and we feel pretty good about how it went.

Hot peppers for the salsa, mostly grown by Jono's dad and Jan

A cauldron of bubbling, spicy goodness

Grape tomatoes in the process of becoming tomato sauce

Curried Squash Soup

Maybe fewer tomatoes next year. And less squash. And only one cucumber plant, not four. And perhaps potatoes, more carrots, green beans and garlic. (I'll take this list off-line now.)

In case you're interested, here's the curried squash soup recipe I used, from my "Pumpkins and Squash" cookbook (by Kathleen Stang).

4T butter
1 medium onion, thinly sliced
1 to 2 teaspoons garam masala
2 teaspoons curry powder
2 cans chicken broth (or one box)
4 cups sliced crookneck or other summer squash
1/2 cup plain yogurt or sour cream for serving
1/4 cup toasted almonds or pistachios chopped for serving

Heat butter in skillet over medium heat. Add onion and sauté for ten minutes or until golden brown. Stir in garam masala and curry powder and cook one minute more. Stir in the broth, add the squash, and bring mixture to a boil. Reduce heat to low and cook for ten minutes or until squash is tender. Transfer 1/3 of soup to blender and purée until smooth. Repeat twice with remaining soup. If necessary, reheat soup.

Serve hot with a dollop of plain yogurt and a sprinkle of nuts (or chives, to make it look fancy).

Yum.

Easter and My Birthday

Playing catch-up: first egg hunt, and my birthday.

I turned 32 on April 11. Jude helped with the festivities!

Tea Party (the good kind)

Sometimes Jude and I have tea parties in the morning.  We have a good time dunking the tea bag, putting a wee bit of honey in our tiny cups, and then sipping our apple-cinnamon chamomile tea.  It's lovely, and Jude likes that it's a special thing between him and mama, of which there have been fewer since Theo arrived.

 

My mom brought the tea set home from China for me. It has pictures of tiny Chinese children playing games and having picnics together, and it's perfect for mornings at home with a little boy.

One of these days I'll try to whip up some scones. Just kidding. Not happening.

two at once

My two precious boys

This blog, it still exists.  I actually did three posts today, so scroll down a few to read the oldest to newest, if you're into chronology. 

I am not a natural multi-tasker.  So even in a "normal situation", having two kids to chase around was going to be a new frontier for me.  I thought I might start blogging more once I became a SAHM.  This strikes me as hilarious now.  Down the road maybe...

My first few weeks alone with the boys was like The Crucible, burning all of my old, selfish habits into ashes to bring out new ones that would better serve my family.  That's kind of dramatic, but it felt that way.

Here are some things I learned to do:

1. I nursed and wiped a butt simultaneously.
2. I nursed, pulled up Thomas the Train undies, and wiped up spit-up within three seconds of each other.
3. I nursed and played "Old MacDonald" on the harmonica.  I corrected my wrong notes when asked to do so by Jude, and lactated without pause.
4. I nursed and had hundreds of non-stop conversations with Jude, since it was his habit the first four weeks to talk from about 8:30 am until 1:30 pm (naptime) without taking a breath (he was feeling insecure, I think).
5. I nursed and fielded requests to be bonked with a "boopis hammer" made of tinker toys.
6. I held both boys as they screamed, and pictured myself in a padded room as Mona added to the chaos of sound by howling to be let outside.

I bragged to Jono about my ability to nurse and wipe a butt at the same time when he got home from work because I needed to find my glory somewhere.

I also learned to contain my panic when I was peed and spit up upon at the same time, or when poop came flying toward my chest.  I trained myself not to mind so much when a hot torrent of spit-up cascaded down inside my shirt, or down my pants. (The warmth of it actually reminds of one of my favorite scenes in Dumb and Dumber where the two guys are riding a scooter together. You know the one.)  I learned that when I start forcing a pacifier into Theo's mouth a little too zealously, it's time to pass him off to his dad.

The first Pacifier Forcing Incident, Theo had been fussing all day, and it was now late and dark.  He had a food allergy to dairy and soy that we didn't know about yet, so he'd had a stomachache for almost two months and we were thinking it was reflux/colic.  I came storming down the stairs, babe in arms, and caught Jono with a tortilla chip halfway to his mouth.  His eyes were wide and the chip stayed suspended there as I told him how Theo needed to be held by someone other than me.  I passed him off and stormed back upstairs where I hid in my bed.

Back to the food allergy, though.  My baby boy had a few relatively minor issues that kept cropping up during his first three months.  In addition to the soy/dairy thing, he also had thrush, an umbilical hernia and feeding issues that required an insane amount of pumping.  During that time, I would show up at my parents' house like a hurricane, the three of us sucking everyone around us into the vortex of fussy-baby Hades.  My brother Grant would roll out of bed and stand in the kitchen watching me fry an egg while rocking a crying Theo in the car seat with my foot, frantically answering Jude's 200th question, and he would shake his head and say, "Your life...".  I would say in a steely, fakely optimistic voice that it would get better soon.  Wouldn't it?

The worst day was the one where I was forced to be naked downstairs holding Theo for about four hours. He was taking a little nap and I foolishly thought I could squeeze in a shower. I shut off the water to hear him screaming, so I practically did a swan dive down the stairs in my haste to get him. Then he wouldn't let me put him down for the rest the afternoon, so there I was, bare bum to the world, or anyone who cared to walk by our house that day and glance into one of our windows.

We've turned a corner now, but we're still a little out of breath. I do love my precious boys, and I do love being home with them.  I'm hoping posting will become a little more frequent now, but no promises.  Thanks for sticking around :)

theo

Somebody decided to crash his brother's birthday party.

This is Theo Willem Klooster.  He came a little earlier than expected on November 20, Jude's third birthday, at 9:36 pm.  He weighed in at 5 pounds, 11 ounces and was 18 inches long.

Theo means "God's gift", and he is. 

We chose Willem because we liked it, but also to honor my Grandma Dieken, whose dad's name was Vilhelm - the Danish version of Willem.  We also like that Willem is Dutch, a large part of Theo's ancestry.

This is how Theo got here.

The last guests from Jude's 3rd birthday party, my parents, had just left around 3:30.  As they were going out the door I said to my mom, "He's coming soon.  I'm restless and I can't sleep.  He'll be early, I think."

An hour later my water broke.  I'd laid down for a short nap, and when I got out of bed at 4:30, gravity did its work and I knew he was on his way. 

I started packing my hospital bag.  After tossing a few things I planned to take on the bed, I went downstairs and interrupted Jono's phone conversation with his brother, Jesse.  I said, "You should get off the phone soon.  We need to talk." 

For the next half-hour we ran around the house getting ourselves ready for the hospital and Jude ready for Grandma's house.  My doctor was on vacation so I called Rose, the on-call nurse.  She said "As long as your contractions stay about ten minutes apart, you can stay home for an hour or two." 

We puttered for awhile longer.  I told Jono I was glad to be going into labor, but worried he would be small because it was three weeks before his due date.  I wiped down the counters and put away the birthday cake.  I e-mailed my boss telling him I still planned to meet my deadline for the publication in mid-December, but that he'd have to find someone else to put together his year-end campaign letter. 

We all sat around the kitchen table and talked while Jude had a bowl of cereal.  I'd been having a few mild contractions, but then had my first slightly more intense one at that point, around 6:00.  It was still nothing to worry about.

We left to take care of business around 6:30, dropping Mona off at Joel and Jessie's and Jude off at Grandma Lehman's.  I had another contraction on the curb outside her place - they were still coming about 8 to 10 minutes apart. 

We were kind of on our way to the hospital by 7:00, but we were hungry.  So we stopped at a pizza place downtown.  It sounds less-than-kosher, but I had to lay napkins down where I planned to sit and thought, "Sorry pizza guys."  I had a decent contraction there, too, and had to stop talking to Jono so that I could concentrate on getting through it.  But Jude had taken his sweet time to get here, and we thought with Theo things might be similar.  (Ha ha!)  I wasn't letting myself hope for more.

We got to St. Mary's at 8:00.  I had a contraction in the parking garage, but was easily able to walk from there to the main entrance and take the elevator to the ninth floor.  I was getting sleepy, and lethargically answered the nurse's questions before they led us into triage.  I got into the infamous hospital mu-mu, and tried not to feel disturbed by the steady leaking of my water onto the bed.  An older, seasoned nurse asked me the usual questions about whether or not I'd shot up on anything during the pregnancy, or if I was homeless.  She checked my vitals and Theo's.  All was well. 

I had a few contractions in triage, and experienced my first walloping one there at about 8:30.  Memories of how these things had felt during my labor with Jude came back strongly and I tried to gear myself up mentally to get through quite a few hours of having them roll over my body relentlessly.  I experienced a little dread, but things appeared to be moving along quickly now, and I had another intense contraction a few minutes later. 

Then another, and another, each one a minute or two behind the other. 

I still wasn't in the delivery room, and my labor nurse, Colleen, had come in and noticed contractions were almost on top of each other.  She led us on a shortcut through the nurse's station to our room, but before I went in I had to stop and get through an especially intense contraction in the doorway.  I was hanging from Jono's neck for this one, and I think I almost pulled him to the floor (I was not especially petite at this point).

We finally made it to the bed.  Colleen asked if I wanted an IV, or if I was interested in an epidural.  I replied that I'd like to go without one, if possible.  She checked my cervix, and told me I was dilated to 8-9 centimeters.  I couldn't believe it.  "How soon until I can push?" I asked.  She answered that I needed to be 10 centimeters first.  Then she left the bedside to get some delivery things ready.  While she was over there I felt an undeniable need to get going on this pushing thing. 

"Can I push?!"  I yelled at her.  "I need to push!" 

I don't remember if she answered because I was busy pushing, with or without her permission.  There was no stopping it.  I half heard her get out her walkie-talkie (or whatever it is they use to alert one another of things) and say, "I  need a delivery table and a doctor in here... right now."

The first push was a push I was trying to stop, so it didn't do much.

I had started on my second push as the doctor ran into the room.  I felt the shape of his head leave my body.

The third push brought his shoulders, torso, and legs.  I felt all of this very distinctly, and it hurt, but not in a crazy, out-of-control way. 

I gave birth to Theo on the bed (forget the delivery table), at 9:36 pm, about an hour and a half after we had gotten to the hospital.  Praise God.  I was filled with shock and gratitude at the speed of the process.

Luckily someone was there to catch him - an attending physician who was the only doctor there and available at that point.  I peeked down between my legs and saw her hands holding him, and putting the suction tool into his mouth.  He cried right away, a squeaky little wail.  I reached for him, and they put him on my stomach.  He was very, very small.  Jono cut the cord, and they whisked him away for a few minutes to wipe him down and put him in a hat and blanket. 

I kept asking Jono when I could have him, because I wanted to do skin-to-skin with him and nurse him as soon as possible.  They gave him back to me and I held him to my chest, still covered in vernix, while the doctor held the umbilical cord that was still attached to me.  I clung to him and cried. 

We were like that for awhile, waiting for another doctor to arrive and supervise the delivery of the placenta and the stitches they said I needed.  They called the wrong guy first, so he came and went quickly.  He looked at me and said, "I don't know why they called me."  I didn't care either way, I just wanted someone to help me out.  There I sat, spread-eagled, while they called the proper on-call doctor. She was there in five minutes.  I pushed out the placenta, recieved my stitch (I only needed one), and got ready to nurse Theo.

My little five-pounder has his daddy's nose, we think, and his mama's face shape and hairline.  His ears are impossibly small.  The eyes, mouth and chin are to be determined.  He has a bit more hair than Jude did, and it's darker. 

Jude dropped by with Grandma Lehman the next day to meet Theo. Knowing how he loves miniature things, the first thing I did to sell him on his new baby brother was to show him Theo's toes. He was delighted to see them, and counted them immediately. Since then his interactions with Theo have mainly been asking to hold him (this lasts about .5 seconds) and sniffing or stroking the top of his head. He shows a lot of concern when Theo cries ("Is my baby brudder okay?") and loves it when he squeaks ("He made a squeak just like a mousie!")

Theo is precious beyond words.  I spent our first and second nights together falling in love with him.  We are home now, and he is ten days old.  He has put on weight and is now six pounds!  I feel really good, and am still amazed by how well  (and how easily) a natural birth can go, compared to my first experience.  One hour of hard labor, three pushes, and I had my boy.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone :)

thursday coffee

Jude and I went on a little date this morning to one of my favorite spots, The Sparrows Coffee Tea and Newsstand. 

We shared a cookie and some milk.  Mama had a mocha with a fancy white leaf etched into the foam.  (Jude said, "Look at that white leaf!" as soon as he saw it.). 

And we took these:

As the due date approaches for the birth of our second son, I am treasuring these times with him.  Normally at 10:30 am on a Thursday, I would be sitting in front of a glowing computer screen responding to e-mails or entering data.  But now, I get to sit across from him at a little round table.

We whispered about stickers, the bagel being eaten by the girl at the next table ("I'm going to eat her bagel!" he announced loudly, and she smirked), weird faces we could make in photos, and our handprints in the window condensation.  We watched a few stray flakes fall from a November sky.

His hair is starting to thicken and grow over his ears, making him look rakish and a little naughty.  He is a riot, and aside from Jono, he's the only guy I'd choose to get Thursday coffee with right now.

Thanks for making my morning, little man. 

It's a ROCK

Jude started drawing people recently.  In this one, he first drew me (the circle inside the circle) and then Daddy (the circle around the circle that is me).  My head is actually inside of Daddy's head, which I found interesting. 

My hair is a blob to the far right of my scalp, and I have two to three eyes.  Daddy has no hair, but he does have eyes (far right).  

I don't know who is represented with the other circle, but whoever it is has earmuffs on, I think.

Here's another.

This was his second stab at portraiture.  It's me again, but with a red mohawk.  I love it.

Right before he drew this one he'd drawn a different one, but he wasn't happy with it.  First he announced he was about to draw me.  When he'd finished a jagged circle for my face, I asked, "Is that my head, Jude?"  He took a step back and said in frustration, "No, it's a ROCK."

Ever since then, if he draws a circle that he thinks is less than perfect, it is not someone's head.  It's a rock.  Remember that. 

The End

My new to-do list

Apparently this is what I shall be up to in the days ahead.  (It was made by Jono.)

Change

So tough.

Change. It's a beautiful word.

I took a phone call from my husband this past Monday.  You know what he said?  I'll tell you.

"I got the job."

Well, first he dilly-dallied around for awhile, asked me how my day at the office was going, blah, blah, blah (I could hear the good mood in his voice, and I know what a tease he is)... but then those words popped out, and I said, "You rascal, I knew it."

When we were hanging up, I said, "I love you.  But I loved you before, too."  He laughed.

This two-year unemployed, underemployed, back-to-school stint is almost over, just in time. 

Starting Monday, October 31, I will be going down to part-time work. I'll get to keep the part of my job I enjoy most: writing and editing a publication for the non-profit I've worked for since 2005.

I already have our first day-at-home planned. We're going out for breakfast. We're going to the zoo. I have a project list I plan to tackle while Jude is taking his afternoon nap. I have our first Real Meal from Scratch planned for that night.

I even agreed to iron Jono's work clothes for him.  I don't think I've ironed a man's dress shirt in my life.

Pardon my euphoria, but I won't be able to help the big fat smile I'll have on my face for the next week.  Or possibly month.  Yay.

Congratulations, Jono, and thanks.  (Love, your family)

P.S. A high five for Grandma Lehman, who donated nine hours a week of free childcare to us for two years.  You're awesome.  Enjoy your new "free" Fridays :)

M.I.A. / Y2K

We've been kind of M.I.A. lately. Energy has been focused mostly on our work, getting Jude to and from his caregivers, family stuff, and getting enough sleep so that we can function properly.

Oh, and I've had a little side project I've been working on. It involves these picures of my innards, and its name at the moment is Baby K2. Kind of like Y2K, in the sense that we're expecting something big.

K2 at 8 weeks (lower left of black oval)

At 8 weeks, K2 looked like an amoeba with tiny legs and arms pulled in close to its body. We saw the flicker of a heartbeat. Even as a blob, it was a tiny bit cute.

I'm 14 weeks now, and have already gotten two ultrasounds because of what happened last time with the blighted ovum thing + a little spotting episode. Of course I was freaking out about the latter, but it helped that I'd been warned it might happen from something they saw in the first ultrasound, and could be harmless.

K2 at 12 weeks

Here you can see the shape of K2's head, and the outline of a forehead and nose. In the actual image I was able to find an arm, bent at the elbow, and hand up near the side of the face. The heart was still beating. This fact amazes me more now than it did the first time around.

The feelings I had being wheeled in to the ultrasound room, versus being wheeled out, couldn't have been more in contrast with one another.

We are happy, and hopeful.

awakening

The Little Fam - Christmas 2010
(I am so grateful)

It's the end of the year, and I've been doing some reflecting. There has been no New Year's Resolution-making. That's self reflection, and as important as that can be, it isn't the sort of thing I've been doing lately. I'd like to read more and be more crafty, but at the moment those things seem insignificant.

In some ways this year and part of last year were filled with loss. But I think we're coming out on the other end now, stronger and loving each other more. These were gains.

I don't want to dwell on the losses, but I can't ignore them. Most of it has happened over the past three months, but since last summer, 2009, we've experienced job loss, two cars gone bad, loss of a friend, pregnancy loss, the passing on of Jono's grandpa, lots of sickness thanks to daycare, and some (major) compromise of our ideals for how we'd like to raise our family.

The gains, on the other hand, were qualification for a government program or two (ha), learning how to be gentle with each other, and the trust we needed to generate for one another and for God. Also, a certain reverence for the concept of a part-time stay at home parent. If we ever have this good fortune again, we will never take it for granted.

I am looking forward to a new year. I'm not going to stop eating ice cream, so that's one thing to be happy about. What I'm anticipating is a light that is coming, and it's so bright I can't see what's in front of me. I don't want to see it, I just want to get through it.

Happy New Year. It's going to be good.

Thanks for reading.

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitable earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any -- lifted from the no
of all nothing -- human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

- e.e. cummings

Best. Snowman. Ever.

Merry Christmas!
Holland, Michigan - 2010

Some Bragging and a Few Confessions

So to balance out last week's Naughty Post, I'll warn you - I'm totally going to brag in this one. And I am 100% biased so pay no mind. My boy falls well within the range of normal, but to me, he's awesome. (THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE TO ANY MOTHER.) Plus I never did post a two-years update on his recent achievements, so here it is:

Flat-out Brags (and A Few Confessions):

• Brag: He said "Mississippi" perfectly as we crossed that river on the way home from Iowa for Thanksgiving.

Jude in Iowa with my cousins' kids, Asher and Devin

• Brag: He can pull off a purple shirt with green overalls better than anyone I know.

• Brag: He pronounces the Danish words for Grandpa and Grandma perfectly during our stay at my grandparents' house. My grandma is Danish and that's who they are to Jude (Bedstemor and Bedstefor)

Jude with his Bedstemor

• Brag: He is very tidy. When he was a baby, if a microscopic drop of rice cereal landed on his tray rather than in his mouth, he would meticulously dab at it with his finger until it disappeared. Once I watched him throw a ball behind one of our stereo speakers, slide the speaker to the side to get it, then carefully slide it back into place (why thank you son). The other day he and Jono were playing "Daddy Get You", where Jono chases Jude around the house and tackles him. Jude suddenly halted mid-flight near the dining room table, alarmed by the sight of a chair that wasn't pushed all the way in after we had eaten. He carefully slid it back into place, then continued his rampage around the house.
  

• Brag: He counted to ten for the first time three days before his birthday. Technically this lets me tell him, far off in the future, that he could count when he was one. Sorta.

I got this off the internet

• Confession: He's obsessed with boobies. He walks up to me and honks them whenever he wants, then proudly says "Boobie". He also pats them appreciatively and says, "Pillow". Cute now, but will need to curb it in the future.
  

• Brag: He likes to compare body parts. When I'm getting him ready for bed, he points out my freckles, then points to the freckle he has on his foot. (He says "fweckle" while he does this. For heavens' sake Jude.) He likes to show me his Boopus and then make me show him mine. He points out my chest and then asks Daddy why he doesn't have those. He looks for them on himself as well and is disappointed.

• Brag: When he's mildly bored he likes to name all of the animals and people he knows. He'll rattle off ten to twenty names, including the uncles he rarely sees (Tyler, Bett, Gant, Joel, Jessie, Ella, Mona, Giraffe, El-phant, Doggy, Kitty, Gamma, Bapa...)

Probably dismantling a parental conspiracy...

• Brag: Nothing gets by him. NOTHING. We will need to learn a second language soon.

• Confession: One time I asked him for a kiss and he said sweetly, "Okay Mommy." Then when I leaned in he smacked me on the cheek. I'm telling myself he was not being cruel, it's just that he has a warped sense of humor and was feeling spontaneous. Right?

• Brag: He sings now, kind of, though not in tune.

• Brag: His memory is scarily accurate and long-lived. We walked by an ice cream shop one evening that we had gone to months before in the summer, only in the daylight. He attempted to climb the stairs under cover of darkness saying, "ice keam, ice keam, ice keam" frantically. We saw five minutes of G-Rap's Santa Claus parade over a week ago and he was still talking about it as we decorated the tree. "Santa Kaus? Reindea'? Machin' Band? Too loud. I waved."

• Confession: He is extremely contrary right now. He's like one of those independent voters who hate whichever political party is in power at any given time, or a hipster that only thought Indian headbands were cool when he was the sole person wearing one.

"Eyes"

• Brag: He's beginning to know some of his colors. He can point out blue, green, yellow, and sometimes red. He likes to color, but only if I sit by him and continually draw "eyes". He likes to tell me exactly where to put my two little dots, and he doesn't have time for me to draw the rest of the face before he wants another pair of just eyes somewhere else on the page. Our artwork lately looks like a 50's housewife's apron.

• Brag: Alongside the naughty, he can be heart-breakingly sweet. He gives kisses and asks for hugs voluntarily, says, "Bye Daddy. I love you." when Jono leaves, asks if you're okay if it looks like you fell down or are fake-crying about something, and asks his toy dinosaurs the same question if he drops them. He always reaches for me, then lays his head on my shoulder whenever I sing to him before bed.

• Just weird: His favorite book right now is "Go Dog, Go!" When we get to the page where three dogs are having a party in a boat, he always points to the dog playing checkers and says, "No doggy! No! Don't do dat." I tell him the doggy isn't doing anything wrong. He looks at me incredulously and doesn't believe it.

So there's the two-year update, heavy on the trumping up of Jude. The grandparents won't mind.