Happy St. Valentine's Day!

Myself and the two children celebrated today by going grocery shopping for the first time without my mother's help, to TWO different stores!!

We survived (wa-hoo!). Of course, what's the worst that could happen?

Oh, yes.

That.

And it did.

It happened.

Somewhere between the two stores (that happen to rhyme with Bosco and Star-jet, respectively), Little Miss decided to make up for her recent lack of bowel activity. As in, lack of activity, I mean that we've been starting to worry after about 5 days of only wet diapers.
So she finally let it all come out. She was a mess. I mean, all over. I'll have to remember to put her car seat cushion in the laundry, actually. Blech. And since the weather is so lovely today, I didn't bring a blanket to wrap her in, so I had nothing civilized within which to transport her from the car to the Star-jet restroom. Guess what else? Yesterday, while gallivanting around the city as a family, we realized there were no baby wipes in the diaper bag. Well, we actually fixed that problem yesterday by stopping to buy a new box. However, we brought that new box of baby wipes inside the house upon our return home yesterday afternoon. So they weren't in the diaper bag! All I can say is that it's a good thing I was at Star-jet...

I somehow led Tigger by the hand (no easy feat these days) into the store and up into a cart. Meanwhile, I had Ninna-in-arms, with a jungle-animal-print changing pad wrapped around her. We went "shopping" for wipes and a new outfit for Ninna (I was doing this all one-handed, since I wasn't about to put her into the Sleepy Wrap!). As we went, I heard and felt further emissions into her diaper region. I say "region," because there definitely wasn't any more holding room in her diaper! I discreetly checked my shirt a few times, to make sure the output hadn't seeped through the changing pad onto me. I finally managed to shove our shopping cart into the narrow ladies' restroom, completely ignoring the sign that restricts bringing in "unpaid merchandise."

And that was half the battle. Tigger was so patient; it probably took me a good 10 minutes to get Ninna changed--there was nothing solid in that diaper, and I had to be extra careful not to let it all pour onto the changing pad as I removed the diaper, then her clothes. Tigger sat in the front of the cart the whole time, watching people come in and out, checking himself out in the mirror, and wincing every time the hand dryer starting roaring.

Yes, Ninna will be getting a bath tonight!!

In unrelated news, I also bought another box of diapers for her, and a training potty for Tigger. No, I'm not preoccupied with toilet issues, I swear. :P

Time Warp! 2 kids now...

I haven't written out Tigger's entire birth story yet. It's in the making, but not complete. And here, already, is the birth story of our second child. But it took a lot longer for Tigger to be born. So I'm justified. (Right?)

Baby Colette Moninne (Mo-NEEN) was born at home in the water early on Wednesday morning, January 19th at 12:49am after about 5 hours of labor, start-to-finish. 8lb 9oz, 19-1/2 inches.



Tigger slept through the whole thing, and awoke the next morning to a new baby sister!

Yes, this was a planned home birth. I love my midwife, Rebecca--she was awesome throughout all the prenatal care, the labor and delivery, and then the postnatal care, which was more adventurous than any of us would have liked.
I'd been having strong BH contractions for about 2 weeks, so from about 7:45pm when they felt a little stronger than usual, I didn't think too much about it--maybe I'm a little dehydrated, I did quite a bit today so maybe I'm more tired, etc--but Rebecca counts this time as "early labor."
I suspected that subsequent contractions were "the real thing" around 9:45pm, but since my experience with Tigger was long, slow, back labor, I was still waiting for the really difficult and painful contractions to start when Rebecca and my doula arrived around 11:45pm! I didn't believe I was in full-blown labor, even when she told me I could get into the birthing pool, and that I was "about to have a baby." Besides, my water never broke. Colette might have been born in her amniotic sac, if Rebecca hadn't needed to break through it to help her shoulders jiggle through.
I think I went through transition in the birthing pool (even with Tigger, it was the one contraction I couldn't bring myself to greet with a welcoming breath). Then I told Rebecca I was going to poop in her tub.
"That's okay," she replied. "But I think that's just the baby coming."
I gave a push and when I reached down, I could feel the amniotic sac coming forth like a bubble. Which freaked me out, actually. With the next contraction, I could feel her head. It was happening so fast. Rebecca, my doula, and Doodle all assured me that I could slow it down by blowing through a few contractions. That was the scariest part--I just wanted her out, Rebecca reminded me I didn't want her out too fast so that I wouldn't tear, and of course, I didn't want her to retreat backwards (is that even possible?). I also didn't want her where she was, because that, too, was highly uncomfortable!! I panicked and screeched that I was going to die. I didn't, though :). Her head came out, then the contractions stopped. Rebecca saw that the cord was around her neck, so she told me to stand (I had been half-kneeling up to this point). Rebecca went around the tub behind me and that's when she broke the sac and pulled Colette down a little bit to elicit another contraction, then helped her shoulders get through. The cord started pulsing again soon after she was released, but she was a little blue right at the beginning. Being born in the water, though, she was much cleaner than Tigger was when I first held him.





I lost a lot of blood, but Rebecca gave me methergine orally, and later pitocin by injection, to help contract the uterus. I stabilized by around 5 in the morning on Wednesday. However, I started losing a lot more blood on Thursday, and she came over Thursday evening around 10pm in response to a call from us updating her on my heart rate of 138 at rest, and uncontrollable headache. After she checked my blood count, it was decided that I should go to the ER. Some huge clots were removed from my uterus by manual extraction (ouch!), and I was admitted with a diagnosis of acute endometritis. The only pain I had, though, was a severe headache (which they ultimately diagnosed as a migraine); this was kind of weird because an inflamed uterus is supposed to be extremely tender, even if just touched lightly. However, 48 hours of heavy antibiotics, plus a blood transfusion, put me on my feet again. So whatever it was, I'm alive and grateful for the important role that modern medicine can play. I discharged Sunday afternoon to home, and since then I've been feeling better and better.

Colette is a very quiet, calm baby. We've been very blessed through this ordeal with that, as well as with wonderful neighbors and friends. They let me keep her with me when I was admitted to the hospital, but I needed to have another adult in the room with us at all times, in case something were to happen to me and I couldn't take care of her. So Doodle got neighbors to stay with Tigger overnight, and his boss spent some significant daytime hours with me while he went home to relieve the neighbors. My Mom changed her flight so that she arrived Saturday morning, and she stayed until February 7th.

Colette is a 14th century French saint who reformed the Poor Clares; there is actually still a branch (?) of the Poor Clares known as the Colettines. She was known to love animals, and is sometimes pictured with a lamb or a bird. My husband especially loves that piece of trivia. :)
My husband's name is Colin, my middle name is Colleen, and her godparents are from Louisiana and have French heritage. So we thought the first name really fit well.
Moninne is the nickname of an Irish saint, St. Brinne (BRIN-yeh) who is said to have been baptized & confirmed by St. Patrick. Mo-ninna actually means "my daughter" or "my little girl" in Irish. Depending on which legend you read, she got the name "Moninne" when she cured a dumb man and the first word he uttered was "Ninna Ninna," or it came about because her first word as a baby was "Ninna."

So from here on out, she will be referred to on this blog as Ninna (NEE-na).

Counting Down

As the gestational weeks fly by, and we pass the 30-week mark, I have a sense of urgency with regard to spending quality time with my Tigger. I realize that he won't be ignored once his sister is born, but I also realize that the days of "him and me" will be gone forever.

Add to this the fact that the cold weather is threatening to stick around pretty soon, so our days of easy outdoor access are limited.

This feeling of urgency has also been encouraged by the daunting thought of taking more than one child out to do grocery shopping and other errands. Especially after speaking to friends with several young children, I find new resolve to appreciate my relative ease-of-mobility at this stage of life.

And finally, the desire to make the best of this time has also been encouraged by Tigger himself, and his rapid development of playfulness and communication of late.

He plays more interactively every week, and can tell me more certainly how he would like activities to be run. We've enjoyed many little outings in the past few weeks... a rainy trip to Costco where we found all the puddles in the parking lot between the car and the store,... multiple trips to the dog park where he's learning to jump off of some tree stumps, as well as play with other dogs... a trip to the zoo,... a trip to the aquarium,... not to mention all the fun we've been having on sunny days in our own backyard, kicking a soccer ball around, repeatedly setting up his football so he can perform "kick-off," and playing fetch with our own dog.

Yesterday, my plan was to initiate him into the joys of jumping into autumn foliage. It was a worthwhile endeavor on the practical side of things, too, since the tree out front has ejected all of its lovely ornamentation onto our lawn. I had forgotten the wonderful smell that rises from the ground when one gathers the dry, papery, fallen leaves together, as well as the more pronounced whiffs of the season when bending down every so often to remove whole pieces pierced through by the rake's prongs.

Tigger was only marginally interested in the raking task itself, but he thought the "one - two - three - JUMP!" was hilarious when I demonstrated it. So hilarious, in fact, that he was thrilled to watch ME do it over and over again.

"You're turn! You do one-two-three-jump," I tried to prompt him.
Shaking his head, he repeatedly responded, "Ma-ma-ma-ma," while pointing to the huge pile of leaves.
"You want Mama to do it again?"
"Heh?!" he answered every time, which is his particular signification for "yes."
It must have been a funny sight, were any of the neighbors watching, to see a 7-month pregnant mother jumping repeatedly into a pile of leaves, while her toddler stood by and laughed with delight.

That's one thing I won't be doing for too much longer!

Voluntary Dependence

Words are the actualization of thoughts.

Which is one reason I haven't posted lately. The thoughts I've been having are, in some ways, too heavy for words.

With both abundant gratitude and great trepidation, I have been contemplating this temporal life, marriage, family, and the tender thread of Faith that keeps me connected to my Creator, the Father of all. We are all human, none of us exempt from temptation or immune from the snares of the Devil.

During our marriage preparation class, one guest presenter made a statement I will never forget. "Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce," she stated. "Let's split the room down the middle. Those on this side, look at the other side.... Whose marriages will last?"
I was bothered by her matter-of-fact, "it's inevitable" attitude; it still makes me cringe. After all, weren't we there to gather tools from these presenters to increase our likelihood of success? Didn't they offer the best recommendations to be had?
There is a grain of truth to her point. No bride walks down the aisle anticipating a future separation. No young man buys an engagement ring while planning a future affair. We have no way to predict the hardships that await, the temptations in our path. So much depends on our voluntary dependence on grace. And, for that matter, our realization of that true dependence we have on God. There is no formula to follow except that of "trust always," and "pray unceasingly." Even then, one spouse may fall away. And the other is left to "trust" and "pray."

Unfair?
Yes.
Unbelievable?
Almost always.

But it has happened, over and over, these past several years. I have watched as long-time married couples have gone from union to individuals. It is painful to witness, like a body being dismembered.
"When you're with them, it's like you're with one person," I said to my husband of a strong marriage.
Yet I could have said this about a few marriages that have since seen storms too difficult to weather. Marriages that have given life to beautiful children, who are heartbroken and deeply troubled by these unhappy events.

It gives me pause. I am only two years into my marriage. Why should I think I'm exempt? I'm just another young bride, confident that her knight will never leave her.

"We must remember to always pray for our husbands," my older sister, Meg, reminds me. It is so true.

And so I clutch that thread of Faith, take nothing for granted, and voluntarily depend on my Father to lead me through the temptations of this world.

A Hurdle Jumped

Last week, Doodle and I attended a formal dinner, leaving Tigger with an unrelated babysitter for the first time. The anxiety I experienced during the day before the event was little less than consuming.

I wondered how to leave the house without scarring my little boy for life.

I worried that he would refuse to go to bed, not having had anyone aside from his parents ever put him to bed for the night.

I fretted that the dog's puppy-like behavior would demand more of the sitter's attention than my son's easy-going playfulness.

In fact, I half-hoped my husband would call from work and say he was super busy, and that we'd have to cancel.

In the end, of course, the evening went very smoothly. We said goodbye to Tigger, who shook his head "no" when asked if he'd like some goodbye kisses. After all, he was busy playing with a plasitc container he had pulled out of our recycling bin!

I texted our babysitter twice in the three hours we were gone, asking if everything was okay.
"Ya, everything's great," was the first response.
"Ya," came the second.

When we arrived home, Tigger was in bed, and the babysitter was sitting on the living room couch with the cat curled up next to her and the dog lying at her feet.

It was a hurdle for me. Not for my son.
Not even for my husband. Except that now he's excited that I'll agree to more frequent date nights in the near future--before the next little one is born!

My Little Girl

I actually wrote this back in May, right after we found out we were expecting #2.
Now we know she's a girl. :)
I'm so excited to meet her.


A Mother’s Day Reflection

“Children are a gift from God,”
The old man quoted Psalms.
I’d heard it growing up, of course,
Now hear it as a Mom.

My day is short—so much to do!
I wonder at his tone.
He speaks like one who’s been there, and,
He’s sad those days are gone.

I look upon my little son
Who stares at the old man.
This little one, his perfect form,
A gift from heaven’s Hand.

A strong compulsion beckons me
To squeeze him. So I do,
Then look at the old man and nod,
“Sir, I believe so, too.”

Suddenly all my concerns
Of dirty floors and dust
Disappear, as in their place
I feel my Lord’s sweet trust.

He’s given me a precious gift
To cherish, love and lead
He’s deigned that I—this broken soul—
Provide his every need.

Humbled by this noble task
I turn to go inside.
My fingers stroke my middle where
Another gift now hides.

Furry Friends

Tigger is becoming attached to stuffed animals.

Two stuffed animals in particular.

One is a teddy bear from...are you ready to follow this one?...
the girlfriend of a former member of Doodle's old grad school lab in North Carolina, whom we met when we were in Houston for Doodle's dissertation defense.
Her name is Sue, and she's a pediatric nurse.
Tigger was only two and a half months old at the time. But the teddy bear is a classic looking teddy, with a bib that proudly proclaims, "My First Green Teddy."
So we're all hip about the environment, too, I suppose. (How is a teddy bear "green," I wonder?)

His other favorite is a small creature that looks sort of like a baby lion with a cloth diaper on, except he has spotting like a giraffe. We named him Girrion (jer-I'-yen) from the very beginning. This was also an early gift, from my best friend's mother-in-law; she sent it along with an outfit when Tigger was first born.

For about the last two weeks, it's the same every morning. We hear him wake up and start calling out. One of us enters the room. Tigger is in his crib, either sitting or standing, but always with Teddy in one arm and Girrion in the other. And we have to lift all three of them out of the crib, or else he becomes very upset.

He allows us to seat them, side by side, next to the toaster in the kitchen while he sits in his highchair to eat breakfast. After that, he forgets about them for most of the day. But come nap-time, and then later at bedtime, it is much easier to set him in his crib if you've tucked Girrion under his arm and set Teddy close by.

I mused to Doodle the other night, "I wonder what he thinks about them. I wonder if he just likes how soft they are, or if he thinks they have personhood."

Either way, it's really precious to see him clutching them first thing in the morning.

Random Declarations

For Mrs. Bear.

And because I also think these are fun to do!


5 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT SEPHORA:


1. I chose my blogger name because I love the name of Moses' wife (of the Old Testament) the way it's spelled and pronounced on the movie "The Ten Commandments" (as opposed to the spelling and pronunciation on the movie "The Prince of Egypt"). My blogger name has nothing to do with a certain line of cosmetics.


2. My tendency to multi-task can sometimes get carried away. Yesterday, my dear Doodle came home earlier than I expected, and caught me halfway finished mowing the front lawn. I suppose I count on knowing he'll come home at a certain (later) time, so that I can "wrap things up." Because inside our home, there were a number of tell-tale signs of multi-tasking:

~a basket of clean but unfolded laundry sitting next to our bed.

~an unmade bed, because the cat decided early in the day to make it his napping spot, and I didn't have the heart to move him. Yet.

~little piles of dirt and pet hair in the living and dining room, not yet collected by the dustpan.

~dishes soaking in the sink.

~all the shower contents (shampoo, razors, etc) sitting atop the closed toilet lid, not yet returned to their places in the newly-scrubbed shower.

~a can of cat food sitting on the kitchen counter.


3. My favorite color is still purple, and my favorite flower (and scent) is still lilacs. These have been such for a long time.


4. I dislike slowing the car down on a main thoroughfare while trying to locate the exact building that I'm looking for. Usually, I end up driving past my destination a few times until I'm sure I know where to turn in. If I don't see it the first or second time, it is likely that I will give up or find an alternative destination. This happens often when I'm looking for a post office.


5. Autumn is my favorite season.

Time for a Recipe

This is not my own.

Oh, no.

I am nowhere NEAR that level of domestic woman.

But it is a favorite in our house, so I thought I'd share. We usually have it with scrambled eggs mixed with some kind of meat, smoothies, and coffee (or tea, if you're my husband). Basically, it's our special-occasion substitute for toast!

And the season is upon us!


Apple Oven Pancake
From Williams-Sonoma “Essentials of Breakfast & Brunch”

My own 2 cents added in italics, from many early-morning learning experiences!!

Ingredients:
4 T unsalted butter, separated into 2 T and 2 T
4 c diced peeled tart apples such as Granny Smith (about 3 large apples)
2 T firmly packed light brown sugar
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 t ground cinnamon (I just sprinkle til it looks like a nice color!)
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 c whole milk (I only ever have 2% on hand; it works fine)
1 c all-purpose flour
1 t vanilla extract
1/8 t salt (I think you can officially call this a “pinch,” which is how I add it—who wants to measure out 1/8 teaspoon of salt in the morning??)
Confectioner’s sugar for dusting

Directions:
Position a rack in the lower third of the oven, and preheat to 425∞F.

In a large frying pan over med-high heat, melt 2 T of the butter. Add the apples and cook, turning as needed, just until tender, 5-7 minutes. Sprinkle evenly with the brown sugar, lemon juice, and cinnamon and stir to combine. Remove from heat.

(While the apples are cooking) Place a large baking dish (9x13 or 12inch diameter) in the oven to heat for 5 minutes (and set a timer!!). Remove the dish from the oven, add the remaining 2 T of butter, and (keeping in mind that it’s hot and you STILL need a pot holder) tilt the dish to coat the bottom and sides with the butter.

Spoon the apples over the bottom of the dish in an even layer.

In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, flour, vanilla, and salt until blended. (Usually I do this first, after I dice but before I cook the apples.) Carefully pour the batter over the hot fruit.

(Keep in mind that the baking dish is STILL hot, and you STILL need a pot holder to put it into the oven!)
Bake until puffed and golden brown, 20-25 minutes. Remove from the oven. Using a fine-mesh sieve, dust the top with confectioner’s sugar. Serve at once (with real maple syrup!).

"And I thought I loved you then..."

If you've never heard Brad Paisley's song, "Then," please open it up and listen.

It's one of my current favorites.

He acknowledges the excitement and the intensity of love felt at the start of a couple's relationship, but then also describes how it deepens and grows. The song tells of how a married man becomes more in love with his wife over time.

It's a favorite of mine because it echoes how I feel about my husband.
(You're about to learn a little more about my Doodle.)



When I first met him, I couldn't believe that anyone could be so "right" for me. Not only did he have all the attributes I was looking for in a man, he also seemed to have a sense of the person I was striving to be. Nothing I said surprised him; none of my imperfections upset him. He took me at face value, but also gave me the benefit of the doubt where my foibles were concerned.

Little did I know then that this is how he meets everyone--he accepts them where they are, recognizes the best in them immediately, and chooses to relate to that "best" person. My husband can meet and talk to almost anybody. His sincerity is completely disarming, and it puts others at ease. Children and animals are drawn to him like a magnet; his intuitive way of meeting others wherever they are extends even to the little ones.

At the same time, he's not naive. He recognizes when people aren't living up to their potential, and he's an excellent judge of character.

This sincerity of heart allows my Doodle to really enjoy life, and to have a childlike Faith. There is no guile in him; no energy is wasted on pretending to be more or less than he is. He is always ready to have fun, and he takes delight in the beauty of natural occurrences.

As a scientist, his humility and sense of wonder recognizes God, our Creator, in the workings of microscopic proteins in cells. As a father, he truly enjoys making up games that our Tigger will laugh at, and loves teaching him little bits and pieces about the world around us.

In the evenings when our son is asleep, Doodle asks me about what Tigger did that day. We marvel together at his newest little accomplishments, and share amazement at the way God created His little beings to grow.

There is no way I could have seen the extent of Doodle's love of life, and awe of creation, from the beginning of our relationship.



Anyone who has met my husband knows that he loves animals, and that he especially loves birds. He knows more about birds than anyone I've ever met. He is the only person I know who recognizes--and can name--a bird he's never seen before. We have several bird feeders in our backyard, and a few on our front porch. It takes several hours every week to keep them fresh and full, but he doesn't mind. His quiet time in the morning is spent with a mug of hot tea and his binoculars, watching the birds at the feeders. If I come stand by him, he'll make a few quiet remarks about what he's observed so far that day. Knowing that he can find such peace from this favorite activity gives me so much joy.




Did I mention that he is artistic?
There is almost nothing I feel confident arranging in--or on the walls of--our home, without his input. Not that he would ever criticize my choices, but I just respect his detail-oriented opinion much more than my random tendencies. He has a perceptive eye for everything from decor and landscape to fashion and photography.



Speaking of detail-oriented, Doodle is the best gift-giver I've ever met. He picked out my engagement ring; it was perfect. I didn't see my wedding band until he put it on my finger during our exchange of rings; again, beautiful. Everything he's ever given me has been perfectly suited to my style, my personality, and my taste.
But this talent of his extends beyond gifts to me; I now consult him when I'm giving gifts to my friends--these are people I've known for years! Maybe it ties into his knack for really connecting with people that he meets. Whatever it is, it is another area where he amazes me.


Sincere, humble, joyful, peaceful, artistic, thoughtful,... and loving. Man, can my Doodle love! He knows how to make me feel special, how to make me smile, how to tease me just enough to be playful but not too much to be hurtful. He somehow knows just how to make me happy.

The other day, before I left for work, I told him that I'd like one of our crosses hung centrally above the kitchen windows.
When I came home from work that day, I found:
~the living room walls tastefully decorated by our framed pictures
~the stereo system set up, music pouring from the speakers
~the fireplace mantle clear of excess items
~the fish tank set up in the dining room
~the dining room furniture re-arranged
~another picture frame hung on Tigger's bedroom wall

...and the specified cross was hung centrally above our kitchen windows!!


Finally, he is a man of principle. He is not outspoken, nor does he engage in debate unless absolutely necessary. However, he lives by the principles he knows to be true--without wavering.

As each year passes, I realize more and more that my Doodle is the stronghold God has given me to cling to while I struggle with my imperfections on this journey of life.



"What I don't see is how I'm ever gonna love you more; ...but I've said that before."

Risibility

I didn't learn until I was in college that the reason humans laugh is because we're rational.

Apparently, it takes some logical brains to decipher whether something is humorous.

I remember reading one author in particular (don't ask me to remember which one) who explained that humor is recognition of the absurd. This makes sense to me; people with a highly developed sense of humor generally have the knack for quick analysis of a situation in all its complicated, potential absurdities.

My little Tigger laughs everyday. I'd like to say I do, as well, but he definitely does; and if I definitely do, it's because his is contagious. He expresses his rational soul on a regular basis. It's like his little innocent being understands what it means to be human in the fullest sense.

St. Iranaeus said, "Man fully alive is the glory of God." In other words, the more we actualize or participate in the life God created us to live, the more He is glorified. God created us after His image, higher than the animals, with a rational soul. So the more we are true to ourselves (aka: act like the rational beings we are), the more we are glorifying God.
This leads me to conclude that joyful laughter glorifies God.

A corollary to this conclusion might be that children glorify God, but that's more of a first principle, don't you think?

I think it's marvelous that my Tigger laughs everyday. Perhaps his sense of humor is not the most sophisticated, but the more he learns, the more he develops into the man God created him to be. For now, his laughter has enough meaning to convince me of the active presence of his rational soul.

And it reminds me to actualize mine, to the glory of God.

Fall Shedding

Doodle assures me that I'm not crazy.

That yes, it is possible to have thoroughly swept the floor three times today, yet still acquire a huge pile of hair the fourth time.

We have a dog and a cat.
Both black.

So actually, I shouldn't say I know for sure who to blame more. But the hairs that I gather up into the dustpan are long, and a bit bristly. And whenever the dog shakes, I see little tufts of these long hairs on the wood floor, in a circle around him. And whenever the dog lies down, I can tell where he's been by the scattered black hairs left behind.
In all fairness, the cat is also black. And he goes everywhere in the house. And I find black hair everywhere--even where the dog hasn't been.

However, I told Doodle this evening, "The next dog we get should be a Labradoodle, or even just a Poodle."

His suggestion: "Those Mexican hairless dogs are becoming wildly popular."

"Um, no, thank you," I replied. "I don't want an ugly dog; just one that doesn't shed." (Apologies to anyone who owns a Mexican hairless dog or thinks they are good-looking animals. Personally, I think they look naked.)

Then I turned to the dog. "I love you, Caomhan, but you just shed too much. Do you want to learn a new trick? Maybe how to collect all your fur-droppings into a neat pile for me to sweep up?"

Doodle laughed. Then he taught me something I didn't know before. Dogs shed extra in the spring and the fall. Isn't that amazing? Even domesticated dogs. It's a seasonal change of coats. So maybe this craziness is only temporary.

Like the loving husband he is, Doodle proceeded to take the dog out back tonight and brush him with the Furminator.

I stayed inside, excited about another revelation: Fall is here!!

The Department

...of Motor Vehicles, and the Drivers' License building.

That's where we spent half of our morning. It actually didn't take too long to register the car at the DMV.
The drivers licensing process, though--my goodness. At least we had all the right documents!

First, there was the line when we first walked in the door, where people waited to find and fill out whichever application fit their need. Since we had already downloaded and printed our appropriate applications from the internet, we slipped by there without hiccups.

The purpose of the second line was to get a number. But this wasn't just a pull-tab machine we waited to see. At the front of this line was a man whose job was to discover our business and then make sure we had all the right documents. I actually think this is a great idea; presumably, with this mechanism in place, people don't waste half their morning waiting for their number to be called, just to be told that they can't do what they've come to do. After he paper-clipped our relevant documents together with a (pull-tab) number on top, we got to sit in the plastic chairs!! (Every DMV building has the same plastic chairs.) There, we watched red digital numbers flash on a small screen. Actually, I helped Tigger bounce on and off the chairs and run up and down the rows, while Doo kept an eye on the numbers.

Since there are so many different people waiting, with so many different reasons for being there, the numbers don't seem to have any consistent order or pattern. It's like winning a raffle when your number flashes in red up on the black rectangle!

Doo and I went to separate windows to hand in our individual paperwork and get a "kiosk number" in order to take the written (open book) exam. Fortunately, I finished my exam by the time Doo was ready to start his, and the Tigger hand-off went very smoothly.

After the exam, there is one more line to wait in: here, the desk clerk hands you a temporary paper license and informs you that the real one will arrive by mail in 4 to 6 weeks.
What?! Is this piece of paper going to work at the liquor store? Or do I need to carry around my birth certificate, marriage license, and social security card for the next month?

:)

Sort of anticlimactic.

But now it's done. Tonight we'll put our new orange and blue plate on the back of the Sonata, proudly displaying our residency in the state that boasts of Arches National Park.

And in about a month we'll again have drivers' licenses that fit into our wallets.

Multi-use

Tigger has been introducing me to the variety of ways that everyday items can be utilized.

For example...

It's a tire lever, used to change tires on the bike and stroller.
OR, it's a nifty hook for pulling all of the dirty clothes out of the laundry basket.

It's an empty waste basket.
OR, it's a household "shopping cart," perfect for pushing around the wood floors and collecting toys.

It's a fly swatter.
OR, it's a really neat toy that bends when you shake it hard.

It's a pot lid.
OR, it's a great metal noisemaker when you throw it on the floor. Again, and again, and again.

It's a dog leash.
OR, it itself is a pet--to be dragged around for a "walk" and checked on every few steps.

It's an unpacked box of books.
OR, it's a jungle gym, perfect for climbing.

Hairy Muffin

My little boy's hair has a very fine texture, but it grows quickly.

When he was about 7 months old, I noticed that it was creeping over his ears and winging out on either side of his head. When I pointed this out to my husband, Doo replied, "Oh, it's fine. We don't need to worry about it yet." I considered this a legitimate response, and finally agreed; he's a baby, not a PFC.


(See those wisps of hair over the ears? At the time, it was very noticeable. Really.)

Imagine my surprise when, a few weeks later, I came home from work to find my little baby's hair much shorter along the sides! My husband had taken his clipper set and gone to work. It actually looked rather cute.
But I voiced my primary "first-time mommy" concern: Did you save a lock of hair?
Doo shook his head, No; I mainly just trimmed the sides. There weren't any strands long enough to save.



I was a little disappointed, but happy to hear that the child still had some "original hair" up top, hanging down over his brow. When we get around to cutting those, I thought, I'll save a nice little bunch.

About 3 months later, the day came. My husband announced his intention to give our son another haircut, and I promptly trimmed a bit of the hair that was now hanging over his eyebrows. I stowed it safely in a plastic sandwich bag to deal with later. For the time being, it got tossed on the kitchen counter.

I forgot about it.

Until the next day.

Doo called from work. He does this often; sometimes he has a question, sometimes he needs me to tell me something or have me go pick something up, and sometimes he just phones to see how we're doing. This call was of the third category, a casual check-in.

So I reciprocated, So, how is everything there?

Oh, it's okay, he replied. Except I couldn't eat that strawberry muffin you put in my lunch today.

Oh, yeah? Why's that? I asked.

It was full of hair! I think you put the muffin in Tigger's hair bag.

WHAT??!! Oh, gross.

Neither of us could stop laughing.

Yeah, I'm sorry. I had to throw it out.

Hey, that's okay.

A few months later, we cut my son's hair for the third time. With the electric clippers, there wasn't enough length to save any.

I'm still not sure if I'll bother to save a lock of Tiernan's hair from his fourth haircut.

Eh.

Renewal, and Reasons to Remember

Hopefully this is the post that announces, "I'm baaaack!!!"

I have my doubts.

But I also have some motivation. After lurking at the blogs of various friends, and especially at the site of one member of my family, I have felt the urge to keep my own record again.

I don't know who to credit with the quotation, "The days are long but the years are short;" however, I know I didn't believe it until I had my first child. In the past 16 months of his life so far...


-My DH (whom I refer to as Doodle, or Doo) wrote and defended his thesis, then

-He graduated with his PhD, which allowed him some time to


-Demonstrate what a devoted and loving father he was born to be.





-We've moved 3 times, twice across state lines.






-I've held 4 different part-time jobs outside of the home, as well as one ever-evolving stay-at-home responsibility.

-My son has gone from a helpless infant to a trotting toddler, capable of letting our dog know when he's overstepped his boundaries.


-My son has had 3 haircuts, and needs another (more on that in another post).


-We found out that we're expecting baby #2!

And these are all events that have happened within our young, small, nuclear family. If I include extended family, I have to mention the loss from one death, the gains from two weddings, one college graduation, and many more moves and transitions--physical, emotional, and spiritual--than I can recall.

The thing is, I want to remember. I want to be able to look back and relive the excitement I felt when we discovered we'd be moving west to Utah. I want to remember our family reunion in May of 2010 when we all stayed at the beach house and I announced that the ninth grandchild was on the way. Right now I can tell you that my son starting walking when he was ten and a half months old, but after I've had one or two more children, will I keep all those milestones straight?

When Our Lady experienced the miracle of the Nativity, she "treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart." Luke 2:19
Now that I am a mother, these personal events are my own treasures, and I feel compelled to keep them safe for my children in the future. Someday, if they choose, they can see what their lives mean through my eyes.

Even if no one else cares, I have plenty to record.

Many reasons to hold onto these memories.

And, please God, the grace to do so with honesty, love, and the good of my family at heart.

Early mornings

Our morning routine begins when my DH, Doodle, wakes up early and takes our energetic dog, Caomhan, for a walk. This has been especially enjoyable for Doodle during the last month or so, since he is a serious bird-watcher, and it has been the season for Spring Migration. For the past few weeks, he has been returning to the house each day with a different exciting report of various warblers, passing through the state of North Carolina, on their way to points north.

Then Spring Migration was over. Suddenly. Last week.

This removes a huge motivating factor in Doodle's routine to wake up early. Nevermind walking the energetic dog. Add to that the fact that now, he has less than a month before his dissertation defense (and he is still writing his dissertation). This means late nights, followed by very UNrefreshing mornings, as he faces each day with dread and stress.

So last week, I spontaneously took the opportunity--3 times!--to wake up early and take our energetic dog out for a run, while Doodle gratefully stayed in bed with our little son. It was fun to do our usual route (which I walk regularly with him each afternoon), without the heat and weight of the baby on my chest. We also finished in half the time it takes to walk when I'm carrying the baby. Caomhan happily trotted along, and seemed genuinely fatigued when we got back home.

And this is what I found upon re-entering our bedroom, one morning last week:

Sleepy Wrap

Doodle wanted to make sure he felt completely comfortable using the Sleepy Wrap...



...before he put our most Precious Cargo into it:

Delayed Announcement

I don't currently have access to the internet at home, and it's difficult enough to attempt upkeep of a blog with internet access at work! Now that I'm not working (as of Good Friday, hurray!) it's even harder!

But our precious son, Tiernan Lorenzo, hereafter referred to as "Tigger," was born April 14th at 2:12am, weighing in at 8lb, 4oz.

Behold, the cuteness:







And what's even better is that today he was baptized. So for now, he's our little saint :) . "No malice for several years yet," assured Fr. Check.

39 weeks and counting... !

I think this baby is taking his/her time. The baby's head still isn't engaged in my pelvis, so I deferred the internal exam this week.
Maybe by my next appointment, I'll feel a little closer to birth-day!

Thanks for all the prayers!