I had a birthday recently and I slept in till 8:30 a.m.! Yeah, that’s sleeping in around here. Sad, isn’t it? And when I awoke the smell of fried potatoes was drifting into my room. The boys both came in about then and yelled Happy Birthday and proceeded to ask me questions like, “When is your party?” “Are you making a cake?” and “Can you buy me a present for your birthday?”

Yes, it is true that the more birthdays I have, the less I feel like they are really about me. I’d just as soon buy the kids presents for my birthday because doing things like that makes me happy. And they’d like that too. Besides that, they don’t accept my answer to “What do you want for your birthday mom?”

I told Ethan I wanted no fighting and to be obeyed without whining for my birthday and he said, “Mo-om! That’s not a real present.”

Wanna make a bet little buddy? That’s as good as gold to me. But then I remembered my mom saying she wanted the same types of things for her birthday and me rolling my eyes over it.

Anyhow, after the scrumptious breakfast Hubby made me, I was given the most heavenly back massage ever. Followed by the house becoming miraculously tidy without my lifting a finger. And then, oh then… without me saying a word or giving a sideways glance, Hubby, amazing husband that he is, did TWO loads of laundry. Well, he didn’t fold the laundry, but he put the loads into and took them out of the washer and dryer without prompting of any sort on my part. *pause for breath*

Yes, it was truly wonderful.

Later that day, shortly before we left I heard Hubby whipping up something in the kitchen and though I was curious as of to what it might be, I didn’t peek at the recipe he was looking at. He finished whatever it was, the babysitter showed up and then he whisked me off to the big city. We walked around downtown while searching for a restaurant I had hinted I would like to try. We ended up walking past it probably 4 times because it was halfway underground and the sign was right at eye level unlike all the other signs which we were looking up at. In the end we found it after calling a friend for directions, and we sat and enjoyed some authentic Indian cuisine.

Upon coming home I was treated to an amazing English Sticky Toffee Pudding. It’s not quite the texture of bread pudding and not quite the texture of cake. But it was delicious and the Toffee sauce was to die for.
So all in all, a positively delightful birthday from my family!

Vanessa is now 5 1/2 months old. I can’t believe it.

I savored every second of her newborn age. I remember deeply inhaling her intoxicating newborn scent every time I held her close. I loved the feel of her floppy body, perfectly molded against my chest as she slept. I giggled at each grunt and squeak and toot she made as she awoke every morning, soaking her mattress in slobber as she desperately tried to latch onto her mattress.

And now all of that is gone.

Well, she still toots every morning while stretching. But the newborn smell is gone, she can push away from my chest when she doesn’t want to snuggle and she now wakes up quietly cooing to herself, amazed at each new day.

But though the newborn stage is gone, a new one has brought different joys.

I laugh whenever I see her pants on the floor, kicked off at some point while she was rolling around on the the carpet.

I beam with every attempt she makes to communicate with me. She stares intently into my eyes, slobbering as she babbles.

Her morning smile starts my day off happy every time, and I love that my attempts to tickle her are successful. There’s nothing like baby giggles.

I know soon enough she’ll be on to new things, and I’ll miss what she’s up to now.  Just the other morning as she greeted me for the day I picked her up and said, “You are heavier today!”  Though I said it with a smile, my heart felt a twinge of sadness and I found myself willing time to slow. I believe that concerning my children, I’ll be wondering for the rest of my life, “How did they grow up so fast?”

When my 5 year old son comes to me with a question, I usually give him one of three answers: “NO!”, “Go ask your father” or “I don’t know”.

He’ll usually accept either of the first two answers well enough, but the third is an answer he doesn’t like at all. It does not satisfy his plea. It says to him, you’ll have to wait a little longer to find out. And the boy does not do well with waiting, for anything. Especially when he knows I must already know what decisive answer I am going to give him. He thinks I’m just withholding it for my own tormentive pleasure.

These conversations usually end like so:

“I don’t know” I say for the fourth time, exasperated
“Yes you do,” Ethan insists, then pausing, "You know everything!” he finishes with a wink and a grin.

I can’t tell you how many times he’s used that last line and I’ve thought to myself, “If the kid really sees me as being so omniscient, why in the heck doesn’t he obey me more than 10% of the time? Or accept all of the decisive answers I give him?”

Like the time I didn’t know my own friends name.

Me: “Sweetheart, her name is just Melanie.”
Ethan: No mom, it’s Watermelanie

Seriously folks. He insisted her name was Watermelanie. He loved watermelon. A lot. Anything with the sound “melon” in it had to be prefaced by “water”, so great was his love for the fruit.

And then of course he won’t watch football with his daddy but he will watch flootball. And don’t try to tell him there is no L in there. You’re wrong. Dead wrong, okay?

Oh, and piggie back rides? There’s no such thing. They’re Monkey rides and they always have been. How that got started I really don’t know (though the term monkey ride is far more accurate), but we think it’s funny.

So, though I don’t know everything, I do know this. My little boy is one smart cookie.
If he realizes that maybe I really don’t know the answer to his question yet, a little flattery (you know everything) might be effective in helping me decide. Too bad for him it only works on his little brother.

A Birth Story – Excerpts from a journal entry about the birth of Ethan

“Yesterday became one of the most momentous days of my life. I was awakened at 10:30 a.m. by a cramping sensation. I figured if I relieved myself it would go away. It did, but 10 minutes later it returned. I began timing the return of these sensations and realized I was in the early stage of labor.

…At around 1 pm my contractions started coming no longer than 5 minutes apart. I had a doctors appointment scheduled at 2p.m. so I called them and asked if they still wanted me to come in or just go to the hospital. They told me to get to the hospital.

When we got there they found me to be 3cm dialated. They had me walk the halls a bit to see if I would progress…
….The contractions were becoming much more intense. The pain was all in my hips, lower back and thighs. I felt that maybe I would get through labor naturally because though the contractions hurt, there were breaks between them. However, they continued to worsen and I began losing my composure. I had the shakes, my face was pale and I didn’t have the patience to listen to my husband trying to direct my breathing. I decided on getting an epidural…
   …The epidural only numbed me on one side though, so I could still feel the contractions in my right hip…

Shortly after the epidural was given they found I had dialated to an 8. From there the contractions got even stronger. At 10p.m. the nurse checked me and sure enough I was dialated to a 10. So at 10:30 p.m. I began the fatiguing job of pushing. Though I could feel contractions on just one side, they became powerfully painful again. Luckily though, I was told to push through each contractions which made for good distraction….

….With just the first few pushes I brought the babies head down into view. The nurse said I was a great pusher. However for the next 2 hours there seemed to be no progress. At around 12:20 the Dr. said I would push for 25 more minutes and if nothing progressed, forceps would have to be used…
…around 12:45 when no progress had been made, forceps were inserted. And at 12:50 a.m. on January 25, our first child and son came into the world. The doctor spent the next 45 minutes sewing me up. I tore in about 4 different spots around the v*ginal wall and also tore end to end. It’s called a 4th degree tear, and I can say that recovery from that takes much longer than labor. I also broke my tailbone. Ethan's head was 37 cm around.”

I spent the next 6 months sitting on one butt cheek wherever I went, and my scar tissue stung for 9 months afterward. Percoset was my best friend in the first month of recovery. I wouldn’t wish a 4th degree tear on even my worst enemy.

Funny enough, my two additional children have both been over 10 pounds but I didn’t receive near the tearing with them that I did with my first and smallest.Ethan  was 8 pounds 8 ounces at birth. Caleb was 10 pounds even and Vanessa was 10 pounds 2 ounces.

Earlier this morning

Ethan: Mom, Pinkie is floating at the top of the fish tank.

Me: (in a comforting tone) Oh…well, Pinkie died sweetie. His spirit went up to Heaven. But he was a really old fish and I’m sure he’s happier now okay?

Ethan: Oh. Hey, can I help flush him down the toilet?!?