Whac-a-Mole

I do not, and let me repeat that, I do not like my kids playing with battery operated electric toys. They don't inspire creativity, they make annoying noises, they are fake, and I don't buy them. The few phones and ambulances that Jacob and Cambria own live here because some friend or relative gifted my children with them and I typically don't throw gifts away. (I'm so nice.)

However, I broke my own rules the other night when JD found Whac-a-Mole at Goodwill.

Look at the little guy. He's just so cute. Plus, his batteries were included, and the whole box was only $1.38. Well, you can't buy batteries that cheap- I'm almost saving money by buying it, right? So Whac-a-Mole went home with us, against my better judgement.

What I didn't anticipate was the interest all of the adults had in the little game last weekend. Those are not all children's heads you see above!

Still not a fan of plastic toys, though.

Skiing with the Fam

Next year, it's my turn, JD!

This was JD's first year skiing- he loved it.

Not Daniel's first year, though.

Those guys just love the jumps. (EEEK!!!)

I buy some things just because of the name.

We're Wired

All five of us!

(what we're eating this week)

Monday: Taco Stuffed Potatoes (this idea from my friend Deeann who should author her own food blog)

Tuesday: Bruschetta Minute Steaks (Iowa beef from my little brother's fair projects!)

Wednesday: Chicken Enchiladas and Rice Salad

Thursday: Beef Stew and Homemade Bread

Friday: Ski trip, so I think we'll let Subway cook for that event!

Saturday: Blueberry Pancakes & Brunch for my house full of people left over from the ski trip

Sunday: Parmesan Chicken & Broccoli/Garlic Pasta

Remember. . .

. . .you are not managing an inconvenience. You are raising a human being.

Kittie Franz

I am so blessed!

I was pretty shocked to find this room full of friends and even my mom, sisters, and sisters-in law when I thought I was just having a lunch date with two girlfriends! It took me quite a while to even string coherent sentences together - I was so floored! What a beautiful shower my friends put together to celebrate Gabe's arrival. . . I am so thankful for the amazing, generous people God has placed in my life.

(I stole the picture from Rebecca Paulsen~ more of her amazing photography to come!)

The Cousins (wishing they were skiing, too)

Gabe's Birth

. heading for the birth center in the laughed - at wheelchair .
. the world's best labor coach- he rocked .

. Gabe .

You know how sometimes you just have a gut feeling about something? This is how I felt about this pregnancy ending. I felt such an urgency to schedule an induction because I thought it would go really fast once it started. However, having no medical reason to do it was a small problem. My doctor agreed to schedule breaking my water on Gabe's due date, January twelfth at 7 am.

My mom and sisters came to watch the kids on Monday evening and I tried to have fun with them and ignore all of the contractions I was having. I thought about calling Daniel home from work and just going to the hospital at 10 pm on Monday night, but it just seemed kinda antsy since we were already going in at 7 am! I went to bed to try to relax, hating that he wasn't with me and hoping that he could stay in town and not get sent up to the U on a transfer. I prayed that God would give me wisdom to know when to call him as I laid there in bed, trying to sleep through increasing contractions.

Daniel was supposed to get off early- at 5 am- and I kept telling myself I could make it until five. :-) At four am I gave up and called him. He had just gotten back from local transfer (ptl he wasn't stuck in Iowa City) at three and said he would be home right away. I called my doctor and she said to head up to the birthing center asap - even though my contractions were still 5 minutes apart, they were intense enough that I *knew* I needed to get going.

Daniel flew into the driveway and started the car so it would warm up (and then proceeded to lock the keys in it- ha ha- good thing we have spares!) We threw our stuff in the car and left! He kept telling me "I don't want to deliver this baby on the road! Put your seat back farther!" It was pretty funny, because between these crazy INTENSE contractions, I was totally fine. I have always made fun of women who had to be wheeled into the birth center in wheelchairs, and I told Daniel I didn't want him to leave me, so how about we just find a close parking spot and go in together. He had a better awareness of what stage I was at and he kinda laughed at me and said that wouldn't be a good idea. Sooo. . . yep, I became one of the "wheeled in women."

Daniel called my sisters and warned them that if they wanted to be in on the birth as we had planned, they had better come asap. That was fun for me to hear him say- no matter how fast your labor is going, you still feel like it is taking a long time!

I was still pretty with it and really not in too much pain at all, but I was extremely weak- probably from being awake all night. . . so. . . (just take a deep breath, all of you do - it - naturals) I chickened out and got a *small* helping of Nubain :-). It did nothing to help pain wise, but gave me a lot more strength and I needed strength for how fast it was going! Daniel was amazing. I always have such a hard time with hyperventilating and even though I could write the textbook on why it happens and how to avoid it, I cannot remember what to do when I am in that transition point of labor! He's like, " Ok, just breathe with me. Breathe *exactly* how I tell you to breathe, and then you will be fine." Sooo. . . I did. And it helped. I told him I couldn't remember how, he had to tell me every single contraction. Ha ha- he did! At one point I looked down at his thumb and it was totally blue. (Heh heh- from me squeezing it.) I was like- sorry. He just laughed.

My doctor broke my water, my sisters walked in the door at about 6:30, and baby Gabe was born at 6:56, four minutes before his scheduled induction! I was soooo glad we hadn't waited to come in untiil seven. :-)

Nothing like the awe and relief and joy and thankfulness to God to hear those first cries and know that you are holding such a miracle. It's overwhelming to be given the gift of this little child- we know that God is the Giver.

He's Here!

{Gabe}

Gabriel James Novak

January 12, 2010

6:56 am

7 lb. 12 oz. 21 inches

Thank You, Jesus!

One tree wouldn't be bad. . .

Love looking out my kitchen window to this! (It may be up for a loooong time. . .)

And then there was the time we stole the tree. . .

We have weird traditions around here.

One of them is that we never get our tree at the same place.

The other is that we are always trying to hurry to something else. Every year I sort of hope we can break the tradition of "rushing" but usually it is a choice of rush. . . or no tree.

One year we tried to get our tree before the annual Holiday Stroll; we planned to make the Stroll a date since it was so cold and JD was just a baby. We were so late in getting our tree home that we had to call our sitter and ask her to wait for us.

One of the years that was the least rushed was the year we decided to just skip the whole tree farm / hot chocolate / cut the perfect tree option and opt for true convenience: Menard's. Actually, it was pretty . . . fun. (And not too sad of a tree, I might add.)

The best story, though, was the year that we tried to get the tree before Daniel was scheduled to go in for overtime at the fire department. (You'd think that we would learn that the whole tree cutting thing takes more time than we allot for.) We started out slow, then became intentional {quick glances at watches} then hasty, then a little nervous, {seriously, can you make that tree needle shaker thing go faster?} and then we threw our tree in the back of the truck and tore out for home so that Daniel wouldn't be late.

Halfway home, Daniel looked at me and said, "Did you pay for the tree?"

Ummmm. No. "I thought you paid for it."

"No, I didn't pay for it. How could we forget that?"

Well, there was no time for turning around and being sacrificially honest ("Well, chief, I totally didn't show up because I had to pay for my Christmas tree") so we called the tree farm and told them we would send a check in the mail. It wasn't funny then, but it sure is now.

This year, the only tree so far is a fake one on the back porch. It will hold us over until we find the perfect day --no time constraints-- to go get our tree.

I'm thinking some day in the middle of January will work out fine.

One way. . .

to warm up your hands after a cold morning outside in the snow. . .
would be washing dishes for your mom.

How nice is he?

Petroleum Pickle

Even though I really want to forget this incident right now, I realize that someday in the very distant future, I may want to look back and laugh. (Obviously, you can see that Cambria is quite upset by the situation-- not.)

So we have this little bedtime battle thing with Cambria. She thinks she needs the amount of sleep required by a college student cramming for exams. You will think she is sound asleep, only to hear little feet pattering on the floor and the sound of. . .

Monday night: pages turning in books (investigation reveals a cozy library session with bedside lamp turned on)

Tuesday night: drawers opening (impromptu fashion show)

Wednesday night: quiet plastic clinks from a dark corner of living room (sneaking down to play with farm animals, thinking we won't hear her)

Thursday night: 156 ridiculously unnecessary potty trips ("but Mommy, I no go potty in my panties!" - this is called the child's trump card)

Friday night: giggles from room (up in JD's bed, trying to sneak his stuffed animals down to her bottom bunk while he is asleep)

Saturday night: library session in our room with our bedside lamps turned on in our bed

Sunday night: I need drink, I scared, I hungry, I thirsty, (etcetera, etcetera)

And yes, to those of you who have some great quick solution, I have been extremely consistant, firm, disciplined appropriately, sought advice-- pretty much everything I could think of. It is draining to spend all day with your little people and then all night, too. (Not that this is going to change for me anytime, soon, but hey, might as well up with a helpless baby instead of a defiant toddler!)

And then came the night of the vaseline. I thought she was asleep. She should have been. It was 9:45 pm and had been absolutely quiet for some time.

Little feet on the stairs.

"Hi, Mommy." totally cheerful

I look down at her. The front of her purple pajama top (appropriately emblazoned with owls- hey, maybe that's the problem) is smeared with vaseline. Her hands are coated with it. Her blonde hair is filled with the entire container (I checked) and standing on greasy ends.

I cried.

I put her in the tub, investigated the damage upstairs (miraculously minimal) and proceed to try to shampoo out the mess. Three complete washes and I can tell that I am going to need something other than shampoo. I toweled her hair off, protected her pillowcase and put her in bed, planning to tackle the problem in the morning when I could be calm and rational. (I did calmly throw the owl pajama top in the trash without even a smidge of guilt for not trying to salvage it.)

The next day provided some much needed comic relief for Daniel when he got to see the petroleum princess- he howled with laughter, and I had to admit, it was funny. She spent the day with a kercheif over her head. She hated it. I liked that. I didn't have time to deal with the mess until late that night; I started with the first suggestion someone had given me after I humbled myself and put up a public plea for help on Facebook. Cornstarch did the trick, bonded to the vaseline, and we washed it right out with shampoo.

It's just never dull, being a mom. Nope, not around here.

Trans-Siberian Orchestra

This is me and Daniel

and Lydia and Tim

and people for the next six blocks, apparently unsteady on their feet after a night with TSO and the lights and lasers!