A decade happened

Ok, I will participate in the delusion that decades go from 0 to 9 instead of 1 to 0. I will pretend there was a year 0, just for you. (Actually, I am ok with counting decades from 0 to 9 because that way they all have the same 10s digit and it looks nice and can be referred to more easily. It just makes me kind of sad for the first decade AD in which there were only 9 years, since there was no year 0).

Since I have blogged all of 2 times this year, I have been given the task of writing the end-of-year, end-of-decade summary post. Sharayah gave me the idea of listing of some of the major events over the last 10 years. We were married this entire decade, you guys!

2010: I finished my Master's at TU and Sharayah finished her Bachelor's at ORU. We gallivanted all over the country visiting possible PhD schools where I'd been accepted. We moved from Tulsa to Delaware to start my PhD program there. We tried to buy 4 houses but ended up in an apartment that we really liked. We went to NYC for the Thanksgiving parade and stayed up all night on the streets.

2011: We started this blog. We became ping pong masters (actually, only Sharayah did). We lost Amber. I first started seriously studying graph theory and which graphs are determined by their spectrum. Sharayah started her medical transcription job.

2012: We got the seedlings for the two trees we planted (which are still growing in our yard! We had them in planters in Delaware and moved them with us to Missouri, where we planted them in our back yard. Sharayah's is about 8 feet tall now.). We (and the tiny trees) survived our first hurricane (which was just a lot of wind and rain where we were, no property damage). I taught my first full class as the official instructor.

2013: We went on our amazing 5-year-anniversary cruise. We went on our 26-hour road trip to Wyoming for a 2-week summer math conference that I attended. We got super sick for weeks when we got home, so we ate a lot of TV dinners and watched Merlin. We wrote a ton of blog posts. At the very end of the year, we created something life-changing.

2014: We pretended for a long time that everything was still the same. Eventually we revealed grainy pictures of the life-changing thing we made. We waited a lot for the life-changing thing. We prepared ourselves (as if that's something you can do). We wrote a ton of blog posts again. I finished most of the research for my dissertation (though I hadn't written it yet). Lucas was born.

2015: We continued life with a baby. We wrote far fewer blog posts. I finished my dissertation in the wee hours of the night between diaper changes. I got my PhD and we moved to Missouri for my new teaching job at MBU. We bought a house and moved in. Time continued moving quickly.

2016: My parents took us (and their other kids and kids' spouses) on a cruise. Big Bear got his name. Work kept me super busy the first couple years in the evenings doing lesson planning. The blog posts started being mostly only from Sharayah.

2017: Finley was born. Life became that much more chaotic and busy. I only wrote 2 blog posts (so I guess I beat that this year!). We barely slept for months courtesy of Finley. He was an easier baby in almost every way, but night sleep was awful for a long time. We went to Branson 3 times. We watched Lucas turn from a baby into a big kid overnight. It's hard to describe a lot of the complex emotions that go through my head while being a dad (whereas normally I'm so good with emotion...?) I love that Lucas and Finley are friends, and I think kids should have siblings when possible, but I spent a lot of time in 2017 (and from time to time since then) feeling like we robbed Lucas of something by bringing someone else in to take some of our attention. But, we adjusted to life as a family of 4.

2018: We went to Disney for our 10-year anniversary. The kids don't remember it. We started and didn't finish a cool series of anniversary blogs posts. I bricked my phone changing the battery. The boys grew into something resembling friendship. Finley adored Lucas and Lucas tolerated Finley. We decided two kids was not so difficult. Maybe we could handle another.

2019: Sebastian was born. Two kids is not chaos. Three kids is chaos. There are just kids all over the place. We went to Branson and slept Lucas and Finley in the same room. We just pulled the big mattress off the bed onto the floor and had them both sleep there. Watching the two of them talk and go to sleep in the same room on the monitor caused very strange feelings. We know I'm not good at describing emotions. I honestly couldn't tell you what I felt but it was a mix of a lot of things. I was really happy for their friendship and proud for some reason that they took to it pretty well. I also had those really sad end-of-an-era feelings. Lucas started informal homeschooling (he won't even be old enough for kindergarten until next year) and has done really well. I can't believe the things he knows and understands at such a young age. Finley still emulates Lucas at every turn but has also developed his own likes and personality. Sebi finally started crawling forward today (usually he just uses a combination of rolling and crawling backwards to get around, or not get around, as the case may be). He also sat up from lying down on his own, but it may have been a fluke. Then, finally, I wrote a blog post.

It's been quite a decade. Some years are stuffed full of lots of memories. Some years we were just kind of cruising along, living. I am filled with gratitude that my life is full of so much love. I can't imagine life without my family. Being a dad is incredibly difficult and time-consuming. Sometimes I feel like my responsibilities are eating me alive. But I wouldn't trade it. Life with Sharayah and the people we make is the best life there is. Here's to the 2020s being just as action-packed (although maybe I'll try to actually blog more than 3 times per year again).

the spirit of Christmas

It was one of those days.

I had a horrible headache all day and was just miserable.
Kids were obstinate and demanding so much attention that I felt like I couldn't give.
I drained the entire pot of spaghetti down the sink. Literally, the entire thing.
I completely forgot about our 6 pm Celebration of Lights holiday stroll plans until 5:30 pm. And then it was a mad rush of waking napping babies; bundling up tiny, overly energetic people into double pants and double socks and mittens and hats and shoes and winter coats; and getting everyone into the car.
We needed cash for tickets and... we had $1. Of course. So we stopped at an ATM, got some cash, and were off.

Everyone's moods were high and excited. The sense of adventure and fun was upon us. Despite being late, we still managed to find a parking spot. People were everywhere. Lights were everywhere. It was Christmas everywhere.

We made it all the way through the entrance line before Jason discovered his cash was no longer in his pocket. Somewhere in the long walk between the car and the park, through multiple parking lots and even a street crossing, with the blustery winter winds blowing every which way, the money had managed to slip out of his pocket. And just like that, everyone's high moods crashed.

The time it would take to get everyone back to the car and get to another ATM would eat up our already limited time before an already late bedtime for the kids. It just wasn't going to happen. So I knelt down next to the boys and explained that we didn't have the money to get in to see the lights tonight and that we would try to come again tomorrow night and Finley didn't understand why we had to go and Lucas was so disappointed he started crying, and I just felt the frustrations from the whole day piling on top of me in one overwhelming landslide.

And then the Spirit of Christmas arrived. We don't know her name. She knew nothing about us. All she said was, "I've got you covered," and handed cash to the worker at the gate. She told Lucas to dry his tears so he could see the lights. And she was gone.

The lights were beautiful. The cookies were delicious. The boys' joy was infectious. It was a grand night and I will remember it for a good long time. But the thing I'll remember the most is the feeling of gratitude for the woman who made our whole experience possible tonight. The spirit of Christmas is alive and well here.

Thank you, anonymous woman, for giving my boys a real life example of what Christmas looks like inside of a person.

held

I was putting Lucas and Finley to bed tonight and we were singing our goodnight songs while lying on the floor. Finley was snuggled on top of me and Lucas was tucked under my arm. Mid-song Lucas said to me, "Everyone in this room is being held, but no one is holding you." I laughed and said, "That's because I'm too big for you guys to hold." He didn't say anything so I started singing again. A few moments later I feel him readjusting his position and then a little arm slips under my back. "Now you are being held too, Mommy."

Reason #7,351 why I treasure being a mom to these boys.

 ❤️😭❤️

the influenced instagram-er

Is one who uses Instagram called an Instagram-er? Instagram-ee? Gram-er? Graham cracker? I don't know. This is not my area of expertise. [Instagram is not my area of expertise, that is. Coming up with possible-but-not-at-all-likely names for things is definitely my area of expertise, just so we are clear.] I am not at all clear about the rules and expectations and social protocol that goes along with having an Instagram account, so I tried to avoid it as long as possible. This is how I deal with things, social media platforms and life in general.

Eventually, however, my curiosity and desire to stalk people in as many ways as possible always overcomes my fear of not knowing what I'm doing. So I made an account. Like, a long time ago. But I still had All The Questions. Just to name a few...

• Is it basically the same as Facebook? What are the important differences?
• Is it more about the pictures or the stories? How do you know whether to Instagram a picture or Instagram story a picture? 
• What direction am I supposed to swipe for what?
• Will I just be looking at the same things I already see on Facebook? 
• If I see the same picture on two different social media accounts, am I expected to like/heart it on both accounts? What does it say if I don't? What does it say if I do?
• Is it more for "life highlights" or "daily life" updates?
• What is worse, having an account and over posting or having an account with just one picture for the last three years?
• What does it say if you follow someone but they don't follow you back?
• If someone follows you, is it rude to not follow them back?
• How many hashtags are you supposed to use? What if you #dontusehashtags because you think they #seriouslymakenosense and #seemtohavezeropurpose? Does this make you an Instagram outcast?
• All those dancing stickers and words and polls and music playing in a story... WHAT IS THAT BUSINESS?

I tell you, I can overthink the twitch of a donkey's ear.

So, one of my "before I turn 33" goals was to "follow" someone on Instagram. Mission accomplished. My "before I turn 34" goal is now to post a picture on my account. [By the by, is it called "Instagram-ing a picture"? Or just "posting to Instagram"? Or maybe "Insta-posting"? "Gram-ing?"]

Unrelated note: turning 34 sounds SO OLD. 

But, here's the problem. How can I possibly post a picture on my account, make that huge leap of faith into the great Instagram-ing unknown, with so many unanswered questions? I am not comfortable with unknowns or unexpected expectations, even if they are laughably unimportant details. I might make a huge social media faux pas and be forced to abandon my 'gram-ing before I even have the chance to truly begin. So, what does one slightly over-dramatic, mountain-out-of-mole-hill maker do in this situation?

You take a lesson from the penguins.

Have you ever heard those tales about groups of penguins electing one unfortunate penguin to be the water-tester? Just one little shove and in he goes. Water clear? Penguin alive? Okay then! Everyone in! [I kinda doubt that penguins actually deliberately do this, though I am not surprised that their constant shoving on the edge of the ice inevitably leads to one of the penguins being offered up as an nonvoluntary tribute...]

In my less waddle-y situation, Instagram is my leopard seal infested waters and Jason is my unsuspecting penguin. Oh how I love this man. As a very weird, very belated birthday present to me, I asked him to make an Instagram account and post one picture every single day. No need to follow anyone. No need to accept any follows except mine. No need to caption, filter, or even necessarily be the one to take the picture. All I asked for was a picture a day.

And let me tell you, one of the best/funniest/most out of character things Jason has ever said to me was, "Well, you'll just have to check my Instagram."

He has been diligently posting his daily pictures and they make me so happy. His rules are that if he has taken a picture that day, he has to post one of them. But if he hasn't taken any that day, he'll just use one of the pictures I've taken that day. I think it's fair. Most days he forgets to take a picture of his own, but seeing which picture he's chosen from my pictures for the day is just as pleasing as seeing one he's taken himself.

So what have I learned from shoving my penguin off the ice cliff? Well, I have learned that there are not as many leopard seals as I feared. I mean, if Jason can survive the waters, surely I can too. I do believe one day I will put on my Stop-Overthinking-It pants and Just-Do-It attitude and post a picture to my Instagram account. Sometime before I turn 34. I mean, that gives me a good 7 months to contemplate the hazards and connotations of pressing that little heart button on someone else's post, which is, of course, my "before I turn 35" goal.

Until then, I will revel in Jason's private social media status [oxymoron?], follow one randomly selected Facebook friend at a time [if you have kids, you get priority since cute kids are pretty much my jam], and watch John Crist's neverending Instagram stories. It's all about the baby steps into the shallow end of the ocean, you guys.

I may not be an Instagram influencer, but I've influenced an Instagram-er and I think Instagram is a better place because of it.

what's going down over at Jason's Instagram 😍

not yet four

The boys and I were out on a walk today because it was the first beautiful day of fall weather. Lucas and Finley were walking ahead of me and I was following with Sebastian in the double stroller [because if I decide to just carry the baby in a carrier, inevitably either Lucas or Finley will declare they cannot go one more step and it's all downhill from there...]. It was near the end of our walk and I was trying to keep Sebastian from falling asleep so I could put him down for his nap once we got home. All of my poking and harassing wasn't working so I had to take him out of the stroller and just carry him.

So now I am pushing an empty double stroller with one arm, holding Sebastian with my other arm, and trying to keep up with my two kazoo-blowing, bucket-swinging, stick-wielding adventurers who are wandering ahead of me "collecting nature." We all come up to a driveway where a woman is pulling her trash can in from the curb. She looks at Lucas and Finley and then at me and the stroller and says, "I sure hope you don't have a fourth one in there!" As I push the stroller past her, she peers inside the empty baby seat and gives a big relieved, "Whew!"

And I, being excellent at small talk and unexpected interactions with people, just said the first thing that popped in my head: "No, I wish!"

And you know what? It wasn't untrue.

gray on top, green on bottom

just an old man with his bucket hat

me time

Ah, the great 1:15 pm stampede upstairs for nap time/quiet time/me time. It's one of my favorite times of day. There is relief [FINALLY]. There is excitement [I might get some time alone!]. There is intrigue [Who will actually stay in their room the whole time and sleep/play like they're supposed to?]. There is crushing disappointment [Why do you not want to nap? Why will you not stay in bed? Why do you need to poop NOW?]. It's a wonderful time.

As soon as it hits 1:15, I scoop up Sebastian under one arm and some stuffed animals under the other arm. I grab my phone and the baby monitor in one hand and two boys' worth of snacks in the other hand. I ask Lucas if he needs to go to the bathroom and call for Finley to start heading upstairs. When met with silence, I wait the Good and Patient Parent's amount of time [approximately 15 seconds] before asking Lucas again if he needs to go to the bathroom and call for Finley again to start heading upstairs. When met with more silence, I wait the Not-As-Good-and-Patient Parent's amount of time [approximately 2 seconds] before threatening the consumption of aforementioned snacks if I don't immediately hear some responses and/or pitter-pattering of feet heading my way. By this point, Sebi's alter ego, Mr. Squirmo Pants, is emerging and he's getting fussy either about A) being held the way he's being held or B) being hungry or C) being sleepy.

Finally, after toilets have been flushed and hands have been washed and animals have somehow been found and then lost again and both boys have forgotten what we're supposed to be doing several times over, we are all en route up the stairs. Finley gets through the bottom gate first and commences his slow and not at all steady ascent, arms filled with a panda, a fox, a turtle, and his snack bowl. Lucas dangerously squeezes past him on the second step in his unannounced race to be the first to the top, dropping one of his six stuffed animals every third step, with the unspoken expectation that I somehow manage to gather them for him during my climb. Sebastian is doing frog kicks into Finley's back as I try to herd Finley up the stairs just a wee bit faster than tortoise. By now, Lucas is announcing his triumphant victory and reminding us of the consequences of whoever loses the stair race [generally in the form of declaring him or her as some inedible eggplant dish]. Seventeen years later, Finley and the rest of us arrive at the top of the stairs.

I drop Lucas and his bowl of snacks off in our guest/play/pink room. Door closed. One down.

I sit with Finley as he eats his two animal crackers. I sing him a medley of Jesus Loves Me, Jesus Loves the Little Children, and Row, Row, Row Your Boat. He drinks some water. He flings himself into bed. I give him a dozen and a half instructions on what is expected of him during this nap time. Door closed. Two down.

I nurse Sebi, change his diaper, swaddle him, and plop him into his crib. Door closed. Three down.

And then I wait.

I wait for Lucas to announce he can't find one of his animals or that he needs help with his sticker book or that he needs to go to the bathroom. I wait for Finley to climb out of bed several times or need help finding one of his animals or need another drink of water or, worst case scenario, refuse to go to sleep at all. I wait for Sebastian to start crying because he's still hungry or he has a burp or he needs to spit up. I just sit on the edge of my bed and wait. It's the waiting game of all waiting games.

And today? I won the game.

Lucas didn't need anything.
Finley didn't need anything.
Sebastian didn't need anything.

Game. Set. Match.

And my reward? I got to sit here and write this post. It seems a little circular, to want them all to go down so I can write a post about them all going down, but... that's the beauty of me time. I get to do whatever I want. ;) It is absolutely lovely.

Oh! Also! I wanted to write a post today so I could remember the following story:
Finley dove into bed and whomped his head good on the bottom of the top bunk, and he, of course, started wailing and wailing. His wailing made Sebastian wail and wail. Finley, mid-sobs, managed to say, "It's, it's okay, Sebi. Don't cry. Me is, me is okay, Sebi. It's okay now." And it was the sweetest thing alive.

I love my crew. And my 30 minutes of peace and quiet. Cheers to the days where I get both!

apple slices up on top

Lunchtime is always the same around here. Lucas gets a bowl with a peanut butter sandwich cut into halves with apple slices, peel on. Finley gets a bowl with a peanut butter sandwich cut into fourths with apple slices, peel off. Sebastian gets milk. Jason gets whatever is the easiest lunch option he can think up. And I get a plate of something that the boys immediately deem is the only thing they've ever wanted to eat ever.

Today I was distracted and accidentally put Lucas's lunch bowl at Finley's spot at the table and Finley's bowl at Lucas's. The boys sat down at the table and started eating. As usual they both started on their apples first. They were each about halfway through their first slice of apple when Lucas suddenly announced, "Finley, I think our bowls are switched. You have my lunch and I have your lunch."

Now, since they had already started eating the other's lunch, and in fact were still holding each other's half eaten apple in their hands, it was a toss up about what reaction would happen next. A wailing fit would not have surprised me too much ("HE'S EATING MY APPLE!!"). A whiny request for me to do some overly complicated fix would have been unreasonable but also not unexpected. A "Why did you give us the wrong bowl? (Finley echo: "Why give bowl?") How could you not tell? (Finley echo: "How not tell?")" would have been acceptable.

But no. Instead, Lucas handed his bowl to Finley. Finley slid his bowl over to Lucas. They both held out their half-eaten apple slice to the other, exchanged them, and commenced eating the apple slice already half eaten by the other.

Brotherhood at its brother-iest.

reminders

Some days end with what feels like two straight hours of disobedience, defiance, and discipline, and stress and frustrations and doubts about all of it. It was an evening that left me feeling like the whole day was awful.

But then I found this picture that I took early this morning, as we went back to the fish hatchery (for the second time this vacation) to throw pellets at trout. And I remembered: the day wasn't all bad.

The boys kept wanting everyone to hold hands. We fed the fish. We had our first family car wash experience. The boys "scored 8 points!" gleefully running around a whiffle ball field. Lucas and I had a lot of fun at the pool while Finley took his nap without waking up in the middle of it crying. I took a short nap with both boys cuddling up next to me. We had pizza for dinner. It was a good day.

Sometimes I'll ask Lucas how his day was and all he can remember is each time he cried that day and what triggered it. I hear his answer and immediately think, "Seriously? But there were so many good things! How can you only remember the two events that took up 15 minutes out of your entire day??" And I'll proceed to remind him of the picture he drew that he declared was the funniest ever or the hour he spent outside chasing the lawnmower or the games of follow the leader that left him out of breath with laughter.

He's 4 and I'm 33 and sometimes we're not so different. Sometimes we just need a reminder of what we've forgotten, that the good almost always outweighs the bad, and that it's up to us what we choose to focus on.

Tomorrow is a new day. A new day to choose joy. A new day to choose patience. A new day to choose gratitude.

Tomorrow is a new day, but really, today wasn't half bad.

how it happened a third time

We did another thing. My target audience (Sharayah) liked the last two times I described us doing the thing, so I did it a third time.

Tuesday, April 30
Sharayah had been telling me for a couple weeks she thought Sebastian might come early. She kept saying the phrase "early labor" kept playing in her mind. Technically we were already full-term, but not yet at the due-date (May 3). Sharayah had tricked me into thinking it was time to go at least twice in the past week or so.

I was done with work for the spring semester except for one last thing. I had to go to the graduation ceremony that night at 6. I know graduation is a special thing and all, but I had been hoping she would start labor before I left so I wouldn't have to go. I didn't even want to sit through my own graduation. They're just so long. At any rate, we hadn't noticed any signs of anything happening, so it looked like I would be going. I got all suited up (faculty wear our graduation regalia as well, so I had my full doctoral robes) and headed out. The arena is about 25 minutes away from home. We figured nothing would be going on, but I kept my phone in my hand so I'd feel it vibrate if Sharayah called.

About 20 minutes in, during a prayer, I felt my phone vibrating. I couldn't answer, so I texted to see if I needed to leave. She said she had some bleeding and couldn't feel the baby move [kp edit: I said I wasn't sure when he last moved, which was completely normal to me since he'd been chilling in there the past couple of weeks with the more subtle movements, and so I was going to try to feel him move, as a reassurance. Clearly, this part of my message did not reassure him. {luB edit: You're right, the phrase "I don't know when he last moved" did not reassure me.}]. Not exactly the way I wanted to get out of graduation. I headed out, hoping not to create too much of a distraction though I was in the third row, and started home. There was torrential rain, so I couldn't call and talk to anyone at home to see what was going on. All I knew was that she had called the midwife, Jessica, and something might be wrong. It was a long 25 minutes.

When I got home, it seemed like things were calmer. Jessica was on her way to check on things, but Sharayah thought everything was ok. She had felt movement and none of the more serious warning signs that could accompany bleeding were there. Our awesome midwife drove to our house to check on Sharayah since it was night and she knew we had kids in bed. She said everything was fine, but labor would probably start soon. We packed our bag (I've mentioned before that we always wait to do this to get the babies to come sooner) and settled in to try to get some sleep. That very stressful hour was probably not worth missing graduation.

Wednesday, May 1
I woke up the next morning and Sharayah had this really serene look on her face. I asked if it was the day, and she gave a calm nod. Apparently her contractions had started between 4 or 5. This would probably be the day. They were only "pansy" contractions (her words, not mine) so far. We went about our day semi-normally. We started trying to prepare the boys for us to miss nap/quiet time (about 1pm). My parents were in town to watch the kids, so we talked the kids through doing their nap or quiet time with them instead of us. Things progressed very slowly. Contractions never seemed to settle into any kind of regular rhythm, and they were still not strong. We went for a walk and she had them every two minutes for about 40 minutes, but they were only 30 seconds long. At other times they were a minute long and 4 to 5 minutes apart. Sometimes they seemed to escalate, but other times they tapered off.

This went on all day and we actually were home to put Finley down for his nap and put Lucas in quiet time. Then we played a board game with my parents to continue waiting. After Lucas came out (around 2:30) but before Finley woke up, the contractions finally seemed to intensify. Sharayah actually had trouble concentrating on the game during contractions. We finally decided to go to the birth center around 3:30. So we didn't miss nap time, but we would miss the boys' bed time.

It's a 5- to 10-minute drive depending on traffic, but from the time we got in the car until we arrived, there were no contractions. It was very puzzling. We waited in the car for a while and still had none. I think Sharayah was getting annoyed by now [kp edit: I WAS VERY ANNOYED]. Was there a baby coming or not? We finally went in and went to the birth room (same one as when Finley was born). I guess she finally had another little contraction. One of the nurses remarked that as we had come in, Sharayah had "seemed awfully happy" to actually be in labor. We got ourselves emotionally prepared to be sent back home to wait for things to pick up again.

They told us we might as well wait a little while to see if contractions started back up. Our midwife, Kari, saw a few other patients (for regular check-ups, we were the only birth happening at the moment) and contractions seemed to pick back up to the lackluster, not at all intense contractions from before [kp edit: a direct quote from Kari's notes at this time - "She does not need to frown or breathe through contractions. She is chatting and playing a game on her phone." I know it sounds ridiculous to be annoyed by it, BUT THIS DID NOT SEEM LIKE LABOR.] A little after 5 pm, Kari thought she might send us home, but just to be sure she checked Sharayah's dilation. She was at 8 cm, which was a complete surprise to us and Kari. Apparently she was just having a stealthy labor so far [kp edit: ninja baby!]. Things weren't moving fast, but evidently they were moving.

Over the next couple hours, the intense contractions finally returned. After such a long day of uncertainty and myriad versions of contractions, the strong ones came on and started to wear on Sharayah [kp edit: "Bring on the real contractions for Pete's sake! Oh. Huh. These are more work. Dislike."]. She got in the tub for a while, and had a lot of tough contractions without feeling like it was pushing time yet. She started getting really tired and just wanting to get on with it. Even after all this time, her water still hadn't broken. There were no concerns about safety, but it did seem like it could be a lot more time of these intense contractions until the water broke. Kari checked on things and said as soon as the water broke it would probably be a matter of minutes until the baby came.

If you know Sharayah, you know she doesn't like medical things and she likes to give birth without any interventions. After many more of these really hard contractions and no water breaking, Sharayah wasn't sure how long she could go without any end in sight. So finally at 7:14 pm, she decided to let them break the water. We had to get out of the tub for that, so we went to the bed and tried to make Sharayah comfortable.

As soon as the water broke, contractions became super intense and it was time to push right away. I could tell Sharayah was worn out, but I kept trying to encourage her that we were almost there. Her little baby was almost out, and she'd get to hold him soon. She was an awesome pusher [kp edit: I need a t-shirt that says this, thanks]. Soon, only 19 minutes after the water broke, Sebastian was born. I thought Sharayah might cry [kp edit: You are correct, sir. But emphasize the might. I am not a crier. My streak stands.]. We were so happy to see our new little guy after wondering all day whether things would ever get moving. It was 7:33 pm.

So, approximately 15 hours after the first contraction [kp edit: such a deceptive number since the first 13 hours were basically normal life annoyingly interrupted by indigestion...], water finally breaking followed immediately by less than a half hour of pushing, we had miracle number three. It was a night and day of uncertainty, but we got our little guy, safe and sound.

Lucas and Finley have handled the transition really well. Lucas has pretty much gone about his business as if nothing has changed. Finley, on the other hand, immediately decided he was a big boy and could do everything on his own. Instantly he doesn't want to be carried or hold hands when walking. Anytime we ask if he wants us to help him with something, he shouts "Me, me!" and does it on his own. He is, however, completely enamored with Sebastian. He loves to look at him, tickle him (his version of tickling is just to very calmly, gently wiggle his chubby fingers on or near the baby and say "tick-a, tick-a" in a tiny little voice), try to hold him, or just say "hi" to him 20 times a day. Lucas and Finley have been playing together almost constantly without too much need for breaking up disagreements. My parents went back home and left us outnumbered, but so far it's actually been easier than when we switched from one kid to two.

Our newest creation.

Dear Sebastian,
Thanks for joining us. You've made things a lot more interesting around here. You and your brothers now outnumber us, so one of us is always watching at least two of you. It's really fun so far to see how you are like Lucas, how you are like Finley, and how you are completely different. We hope you'll all be best buds. I've told your brothers, and I'll tell you, being your dad is the best job I've ever had. The hours are long, the pay is terrible, but my coworker (your mom) is the best and my customers (that's you guys) are adorable. I love you more than life, and sleep, and eating without having to make sure no babies are crying.
Love,
Dad

PS. Please stop poopin' on me.

Sebi's skinny feet next to Finley's chunky ones

ins and outs of four-soon-to-be-five

I wish to document everything. Which is a stressful desire. But I don't want to forget anything. Which is a stressful expectation. Sometimes I do well with lists and journaling and emailing and video-taking and everything feels right with the world. Other times I find my documentation woefully falling through the cracks and I get stuck in a rut of refusing to document anything ever again because what's-the-point-when-I've-missed-a-huge-chunk-of-time-already-and-let-me-just-curl-up-in-a-ball-and-try-to-convince-myself-life-will-go-on. Yes, my brain is dramatic about documenting life.

One of my documenting outlets is to jot down random things in a file on my phone. It pleases me to no end when I finally decide to read through the file and find so many lovely, often context free, gems of life that I probably would have forgotten if not for writing it down. Another perk is that they make for, what I think is, an excellent lazy-man blog post.

So, as hopefully my last post before the arrival of wee one numero 3, here is a glimpse of some more documented life before things get even crazier. And I will begin yet another file of entertaining tidbits.

****************

Lucas, noticing his heart beating after running amok for ten minutes: "I think my heart is doing a tango dance."

Me, reading ports of call to Jason: "San Juan, Puerto Rico, and then Basseterre, St. Kitts, and then-"
Lucas: "You mean, St. Kitts and Nevis."
Me: "What?"
Lucas: "It's not St. Kitts. It's St. Kitts and NEVIS."

Jason: "If I can't find monkeys, do you want poop?"

Me: "That jacket has gross stuff on it too."
Jason: "I  have kids who leak gross stuff on me. What can I do about it?"
Me: "Wash your clothes sometimes."

Lucas, seeing a mermaid: "I saw... a marine girl."

Jason, trying to entertain both boys: "Can you come help?! Lucas needs help with Legos and Finley is getting into everything! I don't know how you do it by yourself!"

Lucas: "When I'm 5, I just might make breakfast for you."

Jason, contemplating his life filled with little half-Asian boys: "There are just all of these people walking around with girls. How do they get girls?"

Me: "Do you think most people have to wander around their house looking for their bra pads?"
Jason: "No, because most people don't let their boys use them as yarmulkes."

Lucas, after going to the bathroom: "And THAT was the pee that I've held since the day before yesterday!"

Jason: "Don't put your face so close to the toilet."
Lucas: "Why not?"
Jason: "Your face has your mouth and nose on it and the toilet is dirty."
Lucas: "But... My mouth eats food and my nose has boogers so they're already dirty."

Lucas: "I'm going to be the next Dr. Seuss!"

Jason: "That's no place to keep nature!"

Lucas: "If I had $300,000... I would buy... presents for you and Daddy and Finley and a lot of other people."

Me: "So! What should we have for Easter dinner?"
Lucas: "We could eat some rabbit."
Me: "Rabbit? It might be really hard to catch the rabbits in our backyard. They're pretty fast."
Lucas: "Well... We don't have to catch them. Maybe we can just eat their meat."

Lucas: "Will tortellini make me big and strong?"

Jason: "I just think it's funny how you're creative."
Me: "That is funny. But how I am creative?"
Jason: "You made the bunny cake."
Me: "...because it's Easter. So, bunny. That's not creative."
Jason: "Yeah but, it was a bunny."

Lucas, running into the bathroom yelling: "Mommy Mommy Mommy! Bad news! Bad news! You have to help Finley!"
Me, trying to pull my pants up quickly: "Okay. Tell me what's wrong. What happened?"
Lucas: "It's such bad news! Finley is being squeezed by a boa constrictor!!"
Me: "Seriously? I thought it was something bad that had really happened, Lucas."
Lucas: "Well, I didn't say it was an EMERGENCY."

The unexpected drawback of getting your son Day of the Week underwear: every time he wants to verify what pretend day it is, he pulls down his pants to check the day. Moral of the story: Don't ask him what day it is in public.

My life the past few weeks:
Me: *goes pee* *brushes teeth* *sits on bed* "Ugh, I need to pee again."
Jason: "Babe, seriously?"
Me: "This is all your fault."

Layers

Lucas and Finley are almost ready to have a complete conversation. Finley only says about 35 words (at least, only 35 words where it's clear what he is saying and we know he knows what it means), but he has been very enthusiastic about trying to combine them in different ways to express his meaning. He was slow to start talking, but once he decided that words were good carriers for messages, he has been trying to say as much as he can with the few words he has. Lucas is also really interested in trying to parse Finley's gibberish. He's always making (sometimes outlandish, sometimes surprisingly accurate) interpretations for Finley. It's as though they're playing some sort of encryption golf, where on person has to encode as long a message as possible in as few words as possible, and the other person has to reconstruct the message.

It's not always easy. Yesterday, Finley was carrying a green car and a blue car around when I noticed he needed a diaper change. I put him on the mat and he evidently dropped the blue one. He was looking at the green one for a minute or so, when suddenly he said, "Boo, bees! (blue, please!)" I would know either of those words from him separately, but together I was a little puzzled at first. Uh, why is he saying... that? Since I didn't give him the blue car, he grew more insistent: "Blue, please. Blue, please, blue please. BLUE PLEASE. BLUE PLEASE! BLUE PLEASE BLUE PLEASE BLUE PLEASE!!" Why is he shouting that? Then I realized what two words he was actually saying, remembered he recently had a blue car, and gave it to him.

We're really hoping Lucas and Finley become good buddies for each other in the coming months. They get along fine now, but they are going to be getting less interaction from us for a while, so hopefully they will entertain each other. They've already made some progress in that direction. Lucas reads books to Finley. They play with cars together. They hide in tents together. Finley still wants everything exactly his way and doesn't know why that isn't what everyone else wants. Lucas often wants to do things without a baby stomping around, knocking everything down, and mixing everything up. But in between all of that, the number of times we suddenly realize that neither of us is watching either of them, and we walk into the other room to see them entertaining each other one way or other, has been steadily increasing. It's always really sweet and encouraging.

Each little fellow we make opens up a whole new layer of love in our home. You always think you are already loving as much as you possibly can. Then another person comes along that you love with your whole self, somehow without taking anything away from the other people you love with your whole self. Our little family keeps growing together and growing larger. We're now above average (well, curiosity got me and I googled it. Apparently the average number of children has been below 2 since 1978, so we were already above average...). It's a lot of love, joy, and sleeplessness for one house. We can't wait (well, maybe a little longer) to add the next layer.

the third one

So here we are. That is, here I am with my soon-to-be-evacuated-in-less-than-six-weeks freeloader kumquat. I figure it's time to devote one post to this squirmer, and what better time to do it than at the point where you simultaneously want him out out out as much as you want him to stay in longer because tooooo sooon noooot ready. That point of pregnancy is apparently at 34 weeks. Because here we are.

So! Here are some pregnancy stats!

Overall: Excellent. Really, nothing to truly complain about. I'm enjoying this pregnancy a good bit, just in comparison to Finley's go around. Last time was much more symptom-y and this time, with the exception of the food aversions and slight fatigue early on, I have felt great and normal most days. Even the dreaded glucose test went as well as can be expected, in so many ways, and was definitely the "best" one to date. I have a lot to be grateful for.

Time: Baby boy #3, week 34.4. This marks 1,919 consecutive days of either growing a person inside of me or nursing a person outside of me or simultaneously both. Seeing as Jason and I have been married for 3,971 days, that is nearly half of our married life. Poor Jason.

Weight: At our week 31 appointment, I was up 16 pounds. This is pretty much on par with my weight gain with Finley, though I am starting 2 pounds heavier than I did with Finley, so... Basically I feel like a whale and since I carry most [all?] of the weight in my stomach, I feel like I look like a whale. Or like this orangutan.

When I compared myself to this orangutan, all Jason had to say is, "You don't know that orangutan is even pregnant." 😐

Height: Still the same. Still waiting on my growth spurt.

Length: Of what?

Problematic pregnancy side effects: Sometimes I need a good shove to sit up in bed. If I try to sit straight up from lying down without turning onto my side or getting a hand from Jason, I now experience the phenomenon Jason refers to as "turtling." Basically, picture a turtle who has fallen on his back and is struggling to right himself. I now wake up at least once a night to go to the bathroom. My stomach enters the room a good 0.4 seconds before the rest of me. Reading books with the boys in my lap is downright uncomfortable.

Movement: This baby is a mover and shaker. Or more like somersault-er and roil-er. At our last appointment he was not head down so I've really been giving him pep talks to get a move on it, to quit partying in there and get [head] down to business. I don't know if he's listening. I think he has his music on too loud.

Foods: I'm all about the fruit right now, particularly oranges. Lucas and Finley also happen to be all about the fruit as well, particularly oranges. Boundaries have been drawn. Discontentment has been expressed on both sides. We manage to still love each other.

Things I'm looking forward to: Not poking my stomach with counter corners. Lying down on my stomach. Bending over to pick something up instead of squatting. Seventeen less bathroom trips each day. Having the boys use me as a jungle gym without grunting and groaning about the all the knees and elbows digging into me. Eating a meal without wondering if I'm going to regret it. And, most of all, HAVING A SQUISHY BABY TO CUDDLE.

Baby preparation: We bought a new onesie for him, does this count? He will have a clothing item all of his own that does not have Lucas or Finley liquids embedded in the threads. I think that's prime living for the third child! We have literally done nothing else in tangible getting-ready tasks. The problem is, I'm not entirely sure what all we actually need to do. It feels wrong but maybe that's just the natural progression of things as you have each new kid. I guess we will find out once he pops his head out what we've overlooked. Whoops.

So, there you have it. Things really have been flying along. We are counting down the days until Jason's summer break [because who doesn't like Dado home ALL THE TIME FOR THREE MONTHS 🎉], but then we realize once again that his Summer Break Relaxation Break countdown is the same exact countdown as the Three Kiddo Craziness countdown. His last work-related task is on April 30th and the kumquat is due May 3rd. That's a tight squeeze right there. I can't believe we have less than 6 weeks left...

the man who makes all this possible

if you give a boy a camera...

Today, something incredible happened and I absolutely have to document it with a post.

       

Lucas has an old point and shoot camera that he fills with crooked, washed out, super close up pictures of feet and random parts of the ceiling and piles of toys on the floor. There are pictures of backs of heads, garbage cans, and unrecognizable shapes that may or may not be parts of people. There are pictures of pictures, pictures of corners of pictures, and pictures of half of me taking pictures. I have a folder on my computer called Lucas's Artography that is filled with literally thousands of Lucas's artistic/accidental/purposefully wonky captures. It's a treasure trove of What Is This?/Should I Even Take Up Space On My Computer With This One. I love it so much.

Tonight Lucas rediscovered his camera, after months of neglect on my part to recharge its battery. Whoops. So, I'm in the kitchen and I hear Lucas say, "Finley, go over to the blue chair." It was said in his classic Oldest Brother tone of voice - the very bossy, kinda demanding tone of voice that Finn doesn't always respond well to. But as I look over and am about to tell Lucas to perhaps ask Finley in a nicer way, in order to increase his chances of Finley listening to him, I see Finley walking over to the blue chair, turning around, and... posing as Lucas clicks off a picture of him. 

What.

As soon as the picture is taken, Finley walks back over to Lucas, who shows him the picture on the camera. The two of them show their approval of their shot, and then Lucas issues his next command. "Finley, go over to the big chair." Finley goes to the specified place, turns around, poses for the picture, and comes back to Lucas to assess their shot. 

What.

They do this over and over and over. Go to the green chair. The ball. The slide. The table. The black chair. The piano. The rails. It was absolutely amazing. They were so focused and serious and adorable and working as a well-oiled photography team. It was hilarious. And so sweet. And I am so gushy about it because watching them play like this made me feel all the feels. All of them. 

I love being their mom. I love watching them grow and learn and love. I cannot describe how fulfilling it is to be their mom. Sometimes I start to get lost in the raising of them and I forget to simply cherish them. And then nights like tonight happen and I'm oh so clearly reminded of how amazingly blessed I am to get to be around these munchkins every single day. They are so special and unique, and they're mine. Life is so good.

I feel this post would be incomplete without some of the actual pictures that Lucas took of model Finley. So without further ado...

so natural

just passing by

leg popped

who, me?

just a boy and his bear and his toys

your classic don't-make-eye-contact shot

even a professional can't always nail the focus and timing

you can hire this model for two "bapple" slices

How amazing are those, right? They make a great team.

And lastly, a video. Of some of the going-ons. It is my favorite video of all time. You should go watch it. It's a must see.

the milk and bean connection

Nineteen months. For nineteen months, Finley nursed between two and a baker's dozen times a day. For nineteen months, Finley and I would stare at each other in an unspoken contest of "No, I love you more." I can't speak for the bonding that occurs for the baby, but the bonding that occurs for the mom during these moments is one-of-a-kind. I count myself as immeasurably blessed that I was able to nurse Lucas for twenty-seven months [until I was 3 months pregnant with Finley] and Finley for nineteen months [until I was 6 months pregnant with this kumquat].

I knew when we were planning on our third wee one that most likely this would mean not nursing Finley for a full two years like I wanted to. I know that some moms are able to keep their supply up and their baby interested in the ever changing tastes of the milk during pregnancy, but I knew that was not a guarantee. I knew it was likely that this pregnancy would be a natural catalyst for weaning Finley. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but this was definitely one of the big "well, maybe we should hold off for a while longer then" issues for me. But we decided to go with it anyway and I just knew I needed to treasure each nursing session throughout this pregnancy as I would never know which time would be the last. 

The last time he would pat my chest approvingly as he happily sucked away.

The last time he would try to grab my hair dangling in his face.

The last time he would curl his ice cold hands in the oh so warm space between our bellies. 

The last time he would enthusiastically clap after drinking his fill.
The last time he would somehow manage to giggle and grin all without losing his latch.

The last time.

And yet the last time came and I can't say I was 100% ready for it. In some ways I was ready. Because, just realistically, the further along I got in this pregnancy and the bigger my stomach grew and the older/stronger/wigglier Finley became, the more difficult/bothersome/tiring it was to get those daily nursing sessions in. So yes, in some ways, I was ready to be done and I had to fight the guiltiness that came with feeling ready. But honestly? I didn't want to be done. I wanted to give him two years of me and him moments. I wanted him to be my baby for just that much longer. I wanted to delay this seemingly irrational "he no longer needs me" melancholy.

I know it's silly to feel like he no longer needs me. I know he hasn't "needed" the milk for a while. And I fully know, trust me, that he does indeed need me in every other way [he needs me to put on his hat right now, dance with him right now, pick up that piece of fuzz right now before it moves again, make him his lunch bowl before he starves to death, etc]. But it's all part of this mom business, this weird moment of grieving that your baby cannot be attached to you [both literally and figuratively] as much as you want for as long as you want. They need to grow. They have to grow. And there's nothing you can do about it but mourn in the moment and learn to embrace the never-stopping future.

So for now I'll allow myself a good cry, some irrational thoughts, and some extra chocolate. And then I have a little less than three months until the new little kumquat arrives in all his squishy, milk-sucking, literally-needs-all-the-things baby glory and I'll strap in for the crazy ride of three little boys.

We were discussing things we needed to do before May at dinner the other day [ie. everything] and this gem of an exchange happened:

Me: "I need to make big batches of black beans and put them in the freezer for when the baby comes."

Lucas: "Yeah, and when the baby comes, you need to make BIG batches of milk in your boobs!"

I have taken care of the big batches of beans [thank you, instant pot] and our freezer is a bean haven just waiting to be plundered post-baby. And now, thanks to Finley, I will begin work on the big batches of milk for the kumquat in May. So life strolls along as it should.

my little milk baby [he brought this upon himself, promise]

new year, new post

I have simple desires and I'm not a very ambitious person. While this admittedly sometimes has a negative side [ie. the daily state of my house], it really works for me when it comes to the first day of a new year and all of the ever optimistic resolution making that often goes along with it. Some may call it aiming low - I call it setting myself up for success.

Goals/resolutions/fingers-crossed hopes for 2019:

• Cook some napa cabbage
• Lotion my hands more
• Easily slide another human being out of my uterus
• Write another post before May
• Teach a 4-year-old to wipe his own bottom
• Eat at a new restaurant
• Read 100 mediocre books
• More spaghetti nights
• Let Jason dust the house once this year
• Teach 1-year-old to say something. Anything. 
• Resist buying more wrapping paper

Stretch goals for 2019:

• Transition from hand washing dishes to using a dishwasher
• Trick my kids into liking eggs
• Increase my showered-to-unshowered days ratio
• Embrace the present
• Focus on gratitude

goodbye 2018 - hello year of how-is-it-almost-2020