One year ago today

My alarm went off this morning at 4:58 I got up, went straight to my camera and up the stairs to Duke's bed where I took his first birthday minute picture.

Then since I was up I thought I might as well make myself useful.
All morning I juxtaposed what I did against what I was doing a year earlier.

This year I was mixing a birthday cake. Last year I snuggled a warm, wet sugar lump of baby.
This year I licked a chocolatey whisk clean.  Last year, surrounded by support-women I made my way on wobbly legs from the birthing tub to my bedroom while waiting for a stubborn placenta.
This year I hopped in the shower, rushing to hop out again before the cake finished baking.  Last year I stepped in slow and careful.  My midwife waited on the opposite side of the curtain while I washed up in case I lacked the strength to hold myself upright long enough to get clean.
Last year Moo was the first to venture into my room wide eyed and curious to meet her baby brother.  This year she was first again, only this time she found me blow drying my hair rather than sitting in bed eating toast.
Last year Enzo crawled into my bed beside me for a snuggle and nearly sang with delight when I hugged him close "You don't have a puff!" This year he wandered in to my room after Moo and announced that he was up before she was he just came down an sat on the sofa rather than come in to find me.
This year my Duke spent the morning dragging his blanket around and demanding the attention of his father.  Last year he slept and snuggled delighted all with his soft fuzzy newborn-ness.

 A year is not long,

but then again, it is.

Enzo's Dental Milestone

Enzo was eating an apple. He said one of teeth hurt so I asked him to point out which and nudged it with my finger.  Sure enough, loose.

"I have a LOOOSE TOOOTH!?" he exclaimed and laughed with delight at the idea.

At this point Moo reported that she had a lost tooth as well.  She pointed to one near the back.  Then she left the room for a few minutes. When she came back she assured me that her loose tooth was gone now.  Apparently, while she was out of the room the tooth came out and was picked up by the tooth-fairy.

I walked her up to quiet time and came back down to sit with Enz while he finished his lunch.  Every time you think he's finished he asks for more.  He eats and eats until I refuse to supply any additional food. This makes his meal times considerably longer than Moo's.  While  he ate he discoursed on the exciting events taking place in his mouth.

"Just you and me know about my looose toooth.  Right mom?" (He likes to savor the o sounds in "loose" and "tooth") I reminded him that Moo was here when we discovered it so she knew as well.  "But Ziz doesn't know and Duke is too little to know." He smiled about his secret.

 We decided that he'd call and tell the Mr the good news as soon as he was finished eating.  "Then maybe he'll call Zizza's teacher and tell her so Zizza will know," Secrecy was apparently losing it's appeal. I told him that would probably not happen. He'd just have to wait and  tell Ziz when she came home from school.

There he sat at the table eating a piece of bread and jam with a fork.  Minuscule bite by minuscule bite he ate it.   All the while discussing his grown up-ness, loose toothery and etc.  It was the second time in as many weeks I've heard one of my children remark to themselves "I am getting SO big," with the same mixture of pride, dismay and bafflement I feel over the whole thing.  The first one was Ziz.  Sadly I didn't get her's written down quick enough to remember the catalyst of her wonder at her own maturity. (Note to self; write things)

When he eventually finished eating, Enzo did call the Mr to tell him of the wiggling tooth. He ended up leaving a voice mail.  That evening he told his father "I talked to your machine today." He supplied no other context.  The Mr got a sort of confused look on his face for a minute while he thought about what machine his young son could possibly have conversed with. Once explanations were made, we all enjoyed yet another loose tooth demonstration.

It's been days now and no more mention has been made of the escape artist struggling against my boy's gums. I expect quiet on that front for another few months until it reaches the really floppy stage when string and door knobs start to get involved.  I'll keep you posted.

In a bit more of a timely manner

Last week at a church function I saw a woman wearing a match to that awful awful maternity dress that a year ago was the only thing I could wear.

 At 36 weeks. Nothing fit any more and I spent the majority of my time wearing the Mr's t-shirts and gym shorts.  If I had to leave the house for any reason I would squeeze into a slightly more presentable maternity something or other and keep my self on high alert lest my top should betray me and pull a Gus Gus.

These were the circumstances that led me to buying the dress.  I didn't even like it all that much but it was the only thing I could find. So I wore that every time I left the house for what turned out to be six weeks.

Man I hate that dress.

Apparently the woman I saw last week had a better relationship with hers.  There she was wearing it, not even pregnant.  Her baby was a little younger than my Duke.  I'd guess he was about 8 months, but that's neither here nor there.
I saw that woman and her dress and felt an overwhelming relief that I haven't had need to wear mine in eleven months now.  Eleven glorious months of never wearing that dress again.  It's a beautiful thing.

Just look what I have to show for it! The boy is walking, though he still prefers a crawl for speed. He's become insistent on bringing his blankie with him when he gets out of bed and he's been experimenting here and there with thumb sucking. He did that in the womb, I'm pretty sure, and once soon after birth but not again until recent weeks. Odd.

He's also had a bit of a language explosion. He's been saying "mama" and "dada" for quite a while now along with "hi."  Then he started imitating syllabic patterns like crazy. He even tacked on the s sound at the end of his attempt as "There he is!" when we were playing peek-a-boo. Yesterday he said banana. Just to make sure I was really hearing what I though I was hearing I got him to say it three or four more times before I gave him one.

 Turns out, he was just practicing the word. He didn't actually want the banana.

 Today he said Moo's name. Called up the stairs to her all sweet and loving, then practiced it a bunch more times once she came down.

I keep telling him he's tiny but he just won't believe me.

Comunicable

Duke eats better if it's off my spoon, and my plate, and if he's in my lap.  If I weren't working so hard to fatten that baby up you can bet we'd be working on meal time boundaries.  Sitting in his own chair, eating off his own spoon and so on but when you weigh just over 16 lbs every bite counts so I hold him and I let him eat oatmeal off my spoon for breakfast.

I am working on a wedding gown.  Adding lacey elbow sleeves to a previously strapless gown.  Fittings mostly consist of me shifting pining and tweaking the neckline, making sure things lie close to the body, nothing gaping, nothing bunching.  This translates to a lot of face to face close proximity time with the bride.  I'll bet her fiance would be jealous if he knew.

Yesterday morning at a stop light I rested  the side of my head in my hand and discovered a  crusty flaky something in the curve of my ear. Closer examination revealed it to be oatmeal.

Thanks Duke.

It had me worried for a second though, unidentified dry flaky oatmeal in such proximity to the ear canal would likely give anyone pause.  Then I thought of the dress fitting I conducted less than an hour earlier, all the time I spent with my ear in front of that girl's face.

I wonder if she noticed.

I wonder if she worried it was catching.

my sweet sweet babies

Our current church schedule along with the developmental stages of the children have recently come together to reintroduce to me the wonder known as "The Sunday Afternoon Nap." It is a joy, that nap.

 Today as I drifted slowly back to consciousness at the conclusion of my delicious napping I heard thumping in the kitchen. I went to investigate and was met with disappointed groans. "Oh Mama, we were making a surprise for you!" I put on my best surprised happy face as I surveyed the scene. Water running into an already brimful sink, Enz atop the step stool gingerly running a soapy brush over a sopping wet jug. Ziz was beside him at this point, I guessed she was on rinse duty. I was wrong though.

 "Enzo's washing the dishes and I'm making COOKIES!" Zizza told me. "Whaaa?" came my eloquent response as I fought hard to maintain that surprised happy face. Sure enough, the old red and white cook book was open to chocolate chip cookies. A peek into the bowl of the mixer showed she'd already measured out butter and shortening. I double checked the recipe she was using, it called for 1/2 cup of each. Her measurements looked pretty accurate. I decided to let the cookie situation play out, and directed my attention to Enzo, only intervening with Zizza's project when she directly asked for help.

A closer inspection of the sink revealed hunks of shortening floating in what was supposed to be wash water. There were some things in the drain board I'd washed earlier and I double timed to put those away before Enzo could finish brushing that jug. A few shortening bathed dishes piled on top of their clean fellows in the drain board was the last thing my kitchen needed. 

Once that danger had passed I drained the sink and refilled it for him with (mostly) shorting free water. Enz moved on and began brushing a spatula and soon there was a pile of shortening streaked dishes glistening greasily in the drain board. Meanwhile, Ziz was ready to start scooping her cookies.

 Aside from one instance of confusion between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, the cookies had been mixed without a hitch. The measuring confusion occurred in the matter of the vanilla, and we all know (don't we?) that cookies are all the better for a little extra vanilla, so all was well.

"At least we surprised Pop," Zizza later consoled herself and Enzo. "Oh, girl" I assured her.  "You surprised me too. I was surprised in the middle of your project instead of the end, but I was surprised all right."

When was the last time you were surprised?  

He's a stand-up guy! (10 months)

Since he's just 5 days away from 11 months I decided it was time to write a little something about 10 months.

At ten months he pulls to stand and then lets go. He's a very confident stander anymore.

At ten months his little body remembered how to gain weight. Almost a full pound in five weeks or so between his 9 month check-up and a repeat visit to be weighed. That was a lucky thing as there were threats of blood tests on the horizon if he continued to remain runty.

At ten months he continues to be a sweet and happy sunshine of a boy. He cuddles his siblings, he calls out a joyous greeting when he hears his pop come home from work. He will not stay put and play in the other room while I'm in the kitchen. Happiness, it seems, is thrusting your face into the sliver of space between your mama's legs and the kitchen cabinet while she's fixing your dinner. Yes, with the exception of one nasty diaper rash, ten months has been a good time for our Duke.

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 Oh friends, thinking of my cold, lonely, shivering little blog makes me so sad. Or stressed...  Really a combination of stress, regret and longing.  I sometimes wonder if I should take an official blogging break but I don't want a break.  I want to blog.

My plan is to press forward sporadically posting until I figure out how to do it regularly again.

In the mean time, here is a list of things I am doing.
Eliminating processed foods- I've been thinking about it for a long time, I'm just now finally doing something about it.
Trying to convince my baby to gain weight- Good news; he ate three meals today!
Running- Did 3 miles one time 2 weeks ago.  That was awesome.  Maybe I should try it again sometime.
Taking kids to lessons- Cello, Let's play music, dance. This is only going to get worse.
Calling babysitters- Three is too many siblings to tote along to lessons.
Reading books- compulsively
Baking bread- See item 1
Going bare faced- I miss makeup like I miss blogging.
Daydreaming- about the clothes I'll make for myself if I ever manage to sew again
Staying up too late- Like now.  I think I'll quit that.