We leaf.

Looking forward to it

I think that all women can look forward to giving birth,

so that's why I decided to train as a HypnoBirthing childbirth educator. Soon I'll be offering classes in my area and I'm really looking forward to it!!!

The Mongan Method of HypnoBirthing is what I used for the birth of both my girls. It's a method of preparation for birth that teaches (really really teaches) you how to use deep relaxation and guided imagery to have an easy, comfortable (and often quick) birth. A major element of it is that fear causes tension which then leads to pain in your labor. The flip side of this principle is what I experienced: using this self-hypnosis I was quickly able to make myself comfortable (over and over, even with interruptions), allow my body to work efficiently and didn't need anything else for pain (the closest I came was feeling somewhat uncomfortable). I left my last birth thinking "I was really good at that! I won't mind doing that again!" I want to help other women feel similarly--and at the same time give their babies a gentle birth!

Of course, there's much more that HypnoBirthing teaches. It's a five week course (2.5 hours each session). It leaves you with so many tools and really empowers the woman's companion to feel like he can really help her as she goes through this major event.




I'm trying to come up with website name--any suggestions? LookingForwardtoBirth is the best I've got so far

What we are and what we are NOT. more info

Self-image is very important.
How to define yourself and see yourself is something we seem to be focusing on a lot lately.

Cases in point:

1. Allianna is NOT a princess.

"I am NOT a princess!"

Exasperatedly denied while presenting herself like this:

Don't even bother with the "m'lady" routine. She will not be amused. But her parents will be, so they'll keep it up for a good five minutes any time the shining purple appears. Aaahhh fun.

2. Simon IS Darth Vader.

Very Seriously.

IS he?

He's scary. He's serious.

What calls it into question?

The pink beads? . . . the backwards i'm-a-summer-reader conductor's hat? . . . the cougar seal?

3. Nimbus is depressed.

This one just has "IZ I next?" written all over it.

Notice the other cat hanging from the noose.

On that note, g'night y'all.

More info--the next day. Simon has a deep love for "mama kitty" who's the one hanging. He also has a deep love for flying things. So he combined the two, giving his kitty a spin on the hook that is normally reserved for his circling biplane. Nimbus, however, has no way of knowing that this is a good thing.

Well-rounded

Since we like books and we like prizes, we've been doing a lot more reading and library visiting with our summer days to take advantage of the library programs. Fancy Nancy has been unique in appealing to all five of our tastes (Mark can't stand most of the illustrations/plots that amuse me and I find the jr. nonfiction seashell and Star Wars dictionaries to be real yawners).

Simon channeled all of this Fancy Nance exposure into some creative 'dos for the girls this afternoon.

Afterwards he commented, "Wouldn't it be great if I could still do this for them when they're teenagers?" I told him I thought it would be pretty great, and all the girls would too.

ps. Mark Windexed our mirror YESTERDAY.

Hours

This is why we have hours of summertime. To catch The Big Bopper and his sixteen friends.

Duck duck duck duck duck . . . gator.

All of the Taye cousins a few weeks ago in North Carolina.

Allianna and Tessa go for their gator faces, while Jack decides he's going to go gator on Abigaelle after one too many of her superhugs. Simon, Zazel, and Alli are ready to "get this party started."

And with that the second annual Unbirthday is thrown for all the grandkids by Grandma.


With the notable addition of crab races . . . . when in Rome (or OBX), eh?

Getting seized by summer

In an attempt to have some summer fun before we get seized by heat and humidity, we have gone on two outings recently.

Since Mark's committed to spending most of the rest of the summer slaving over mice in an air-conditioned lab, we took our "last chance to go camping" on a very rainy weekend.

I paid for our campsite while sheets of rain fell outside; we had a brief hour (miracle!) respite from the rain to get the tent up. We didn't do any roasting, but moved our picnic inside:

This is where they started sleeping. We love our huge--and very rain-proof--tent! This was its maiden voyage; we heard tremendous deafening thunder and were woken by lightning all night, but didn't get wet! We had a bright green tree frog hiding under our rain tarp in the morning--guess he liked it too. :)

We weren't satisfied with just amphibians and raccoons, so the next morning we went on a soggy hunt for:

Mark plans to make a painting of this tree.

I felt like we were living in a dinosaur painting.




Mark, the alligator-whisperer, finally detected this:
It was a good personality test for our kids: Simon ran about 50 yards away and hid on the other side of the road, Allianna parked herself with a scowl in the stroller, and Mary Tessa trotted towards it. Until the gator lunged. For a turtle, but still, I grabbed Tessa and moved back. Mark was nearly weaping tears of joy and after we saw the gator put away 3 fish/turtles in classic gulpgulpgulp fashion he declared, "This makes it all worth it."

For me to be happy, camping needs to include hiking trails. We got lost, the thunder cloud found us, Simon hiked like a trooper even though he was scared and Mark and I carried girls and mud-laden strollers.

We prayed under this tree for the rain to slow up enough for us to make it back to the van. In about 5 minutes it did and we were happy to get the kids in dry clothes and food and away from hypothermia. Can you get chilled to the bone in Texas? Also, this happens to be our only picture with Mark in it. I am a terrible photographer and make him keep the camera in his hands. But it was fun and we want to go again tomorrow, just sans tent and rain.


For our second outing, we went to see our (mediocre) Astros play our Padres (go Padres!)--it was a win/win experience cheering for everyone.

Simon declaring with a satisfied air, "These are pretty good seats."



Mary Tessa trying to blind the batter with her blues.

All's good when you have licorice and peanuts.

We're off to the beaches of North Carolina next week!

Nobody peed their pants.

Mary Tessa pushed the shopping cart into a cardboard display and made it fall on an elderly lady.

I ripped off part of my thumbnail picking up a can.

There were at least 47 Chinese fire drills held in our car cart. More car evacuating than product selecting.

Two girls ate five packs of fruit snacks.

Tessa ran towards a car in the parking lot and I had to yell and she cried all through the parking lot as I held her and her dolly in a vice grip while pushing 319 lbs of cart.

And to think that this was the day I decided to try coupons.

Busted.

Mark comes home from work while the rest of us are sitting at dinner and is bemoaning to me that he went to a study group and they were all throwing around the "F"-word a lot. One of those conversations that you think you're having over the top of the kids' heads.

Allianna, to me: What is the "F"-word?

E: I'll let your dad answer that. [He brought it up after all!] Mark?

M: It's the very worst word you can say. You don't need to know it. It's very bad.



S: Is it "faint"? [phonics training is working at kindergarten!]

A: Is it "fan"?

They rapidly suggest lots of other "F"-words.

E: If you know it, it's not the word. You don't know this word.

A, contemplating: The "s"-word is "stupid".

E: That's one of them.

A: I know what the "B"-word is.

Not to be outdone, S: I know the "H-word". [walks over to Mom and whispers in her ear] It's hate. One time at pre-K [last year] Amirah yelled at lunch that someone used the "h"-word!

A: I know what the "B-word" is. I know it. It's "BUST-ed". "Buuus-TED."

S: Yeah, you're right. It is "Busted."

A: Busted. Busted. BUH-sted. [she likes the way it rolls off her tongue. she uses it in regular life almost as well as an adult uses the "d"-word. ]


Which fortunately didn't come up tonight.

Bright and lovely.

Mother's day was filled with things bright and lovely around here.

I woke up to a surprise installation art this morning (so THAT was why I had to go off by myself for two hours yesterday!). Bright, and quite lovely!!!!!

This one has "I [heart] M-O-M" dangling from its shwoops.

On Thursday I attended a Mom Makeover at Simon's kindergarten class. He's now seriously considering going to "doing make-up school" and is trying to decide which of his friends he'll room with.

Personally, I think accenting the shadow under the eye is an underutilized trick. Hair, make-up, back massage, nails and jewelry and then I was worthy of Allianna's "bright and lovely" overtures as heard here:

Letting your sister take your lickin'

Simon is a sweet brother. Mary had already finished her allotment of popsicles and he hadn't, so he let her have every other lick of his. Just plain sweet. Patient and kind. Generous and selfless. I could go on. I love that boy.

Public Service Announcement: Leave mothers alone

To all those service people who don't get it:

Please don't single out for suggestions, selective enforcement of rules, "hope you don't mind I tell you what to do" statements, mothers in the company of multiple children under age 5.

Situations where this would apply would be:

• Seeing a woman: 1) 20 minutes late to her child's swim class (due to inept car repair men) 2) herding child A "I don't hold hands in the parking lot even though I'm two" 10 yards ahead and child B "I'm afraid of having to go underwater" 5 yards behind and deciding to tell HER she can't use towels. Good moment to selectively enforce. Harangue. Not the mid-50s lap-swimmer, or various gentlemen. By all means, let THEM be. Get that woman who hasn't spent a complete minute either keeping a child from death's door or negotiating with them to please do (or do not do) something in years. SHE needs some intervention. Get her! If she happens to slip away, go for:
  
• the woman who's toddler's playing in lockers while she dries the eldest's swimsuit (who's waiting by himself out in the hall because he's too old and wrong gender) and she keeps the four year old emotionally satisfied as to why why why why something? It's five minutes from her kids' bedtime and they're in a rush to go get the hungry husband from work, so by all means, STOP HER and let her know how you've corrected her children.
  

They are in a state of constant hostage negotiation and are already being suitably harangued on every hand by their crew of children. Did you know it takes them 15 minutes of negotiations that would make even hardened SWAT members weep just to get those children legally restrained in a car? Do you know how many sets of rules such a woman keeps constantly in mind????? Traffic regulations, teaching every imaginable element of manners and social convention, nutrition requirements, child medicine dosage levels, elementary school attendance policies, schedules of 5 separate humans, carseat installation, intricate workings of various businesses just hoping to slip HER mind (car repair, door-to-door roofers, all dem bills).

*** ALL WE'RE ASKING FOR HERE IS CLEMENCY. LEAVE US ALONE. HELP, SMILE, OR STAY OUT OF THE WAY. WE'RE A TICKING TIME BOMB AND WE'RE LIKELY TO BE TICKING FOR THE NEXT 12 YEARS. PARDON EVERYTHING. ***

And don't think that I just sat down and wrote this peacefully in "my office" without 20 interruptions, including demanding that someone not put their underwear on someone else's head.


PS/ She's probably running on nothing but animal crackers for the last four hours.

What are the best things you've had to ask your two-year old to do lately?

Folky

This song is giving me new dreams of a family folk ensemble. If I can just get the other two to learn their parts. Even if it never makes it bigger than the living room.

Dad, I played mandolin by the bathtub tonight. It lifted my mood and I reminisced with the kids about you.



And finally, here is Hug descending a staircase:

Lucky!

Today Simon found a FOUR-LEAF CLOVER at the park! On very St. Patrick's Day!


When I was about 11, my friend Natalie and I spent about three months straight looking for four-leaf clovers in her yard. Never found one.

Did I also mention that Simon found a $100 bill at the park last time his papa was visiting? I need to take that boy to the park more often. Or maybe a casino. . .

Like nobody's business.

Sometimes heaven smiles on you and sends a little something unexpected. Something angelic. Two years ago when I was recovering from surgery it was so nice to have an angel baby who just wanted to calmly snuggle with me and help me heal all day. I was worried about taking care of her and it turned out she took care of me. Well, Mary Tessa has turned angel baby on me again. Before I even had a chance to think about it, worry about it, plot for it, she . . .




potty-trained herself.



I know you're trembling, you're in shock. Please don't hate us. I mean I've heard of child-led weaning, but child-led potty-training? It was wild! It was crazy! It was fun and easy! I had not even given potty-training 0.5 seconds of thought. Now that I think about it, Tessa had been giving it thought for at least a year--as soon as she could stand and hover a foot away from anyone using the toilet. (Not Mark, he needs waaaaaay more privacy; but the rest of us, we choose our battles and you know how it is.) She logged lots of hours of observation. Before she logged. Ha ha.

I remember having to elaborately command, bribe, coach, dictate, coerce, and exert all my faculties to help Simon learn. "Okay Si, step here, no scoot over an inch, now sit for 20 more seconds, let's sing a song, let's read while you're on the potty, I'll buy you a convertible, you won't die in the toilet bowl, see your chart!, pee 15 more times and do a poop and we'll buy you car/happymeal/house", and on and on and on to a degree in Bathroom Hostage Negotiation. With Mary Tessa, she and I were already washing our hands at the bathroom sink and discussing something else before I realized she'd done everything and I'd said and done nothing. Instead of Simon's 632 step instruction book on the whole process, Mary was already at Just Go To the Bathroom. Done and done. Quick and easy. Simple. and a Miracle.

Thank you Heaven. This has been an unbelievable gift.

Turning two in style!

noh moh

hoping for a strike

The Tess (her personal catch-phrase:"Tessa did it!") happened to hear a rockin version of "Hit the Road Jack" last week. Did you know that Ray Charles' version is much better than anything you ever heard at the baseball stadium? As such, I'm recommending MT's new mo-town station for your listening pleasure. The Mo's around here were sure rockin to it this afternoon. In the meantime, here's a taste of Tessa singing her fav-o-rite song.

Bippin.

i don't know if i'm just at peace, but there's not a lot of blog posting going on in my brain lately.


we did wake up Christmas morning.




it was terrific.
mary tessa's bowels gifted her with a diarrhea-free day (bookended by 10 days of "not so much").

i started on a "i'm not going to eat sugar until my birthday" kick, giving a nod to my high-school days when i'd go off sugar or chocolate with my best friend mel. it's just fun to think "I haven't had sugar for 13 days" just like those safety signs in factories. funny thing is, when i talked to mel a few days later she said she'd been looking for someone for a few months to do it. karma, mel.

not caramel.

speaking of forbidden sweet things, i stopped nursing tess cold-turkey on saturday. the first day was somewhat okay, considering she was used to nursing about 4 times/day and to sleep. she slept but then woke up early. both of us were sobbing away at 5am sunday morning while mark and i told her that "mom's medicine makes it yucky." because soon it likely will. tomorrow i go to my bi-annual cancer checkup and will probably have my radioactive iodine treatment soon.

and nobody likes radioactive milk.
but i'm not opposed to serving bluebell ice cream for breakfast.

thanks to a few well-read friends of friends who posted their favorite books of 2009 i have a great reading list going, including Escape by Carolyn Jessop, The Red Tent by Anita Diamant, and Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder.

allianna and i have been waging the Battle of the Pants. she abhors the things. and will spend hours daily raging against them, writhing on the floor. she also cannot tolerate a coat. or a jacket. or a sweater, no matter how feminine. the only desire of her heart is dresses. she was born in the wrong century. she would refuse to even allow a coat or--shudder--socks/closed-toe shoes in the car when we went places. i've taken to making her carry her coat in her arms when we're in public, so that 1. people don't judge me a bad parent 2. strangers can see how sassy she is when they tell her she should put on her coat. because it has been getting below freezing (gasp!) here. though i can't prove it thermometrically, i'm beginning to believe she's just hotter than the rest of us. so today she played outside in short-sleeves and something knee-length while the weather was low 50s and i'm just going to leave it to her to come in if she's cold. if i can't steer the ship i'm just going to get out of the way.

and go read one of my good books.

on her most bundled-up day in months

and those are the things bipping around in my head.