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May 2011
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July 2011

EZRA: Mommy! Mommy! AMY: What is it, buddy? EZRA: Um. Two minutes later... EZRA: Mommy! Mommmmmmmmy! AMY: Yes. I am here. What? EZRA: Um. Where Daddy go? AMY: Daddy went to work. EZRA: No. Daddy went poop. EZRA: *laughs hysterically* AMY: Rimshot! One minute later... EZRA: Mommy! Mommy! Mommmmmmmmy! AMY: Mmm-hmm? EZRA: Ummmmmm. Thirty seconds later... EZRA: Mommy! Mommmmmmy! Mommmmmmmmmmmmy! AMY: YES. EZRA. MY STILL-CHERISHED MIDDLE CHILD NUGGET OF PERFECTION. OMG. HOW MAY I HELP YOU? EZRA: Um. My butt. EZRA: *collapses into giggles* AMY: What...about your butt? EZRA: My butt! Look at my butt! My butt right here! AMY: Awesome. Five minutes later... EZRA: Mommy! MOMMMMMMMY! I ALSO HAVE PENIS! Read more →

The first question everybody asks is always about sleep. How's the sleep thing? Does he sleep? Are you getting any sleep? Sleep sleep sleepy sleep sleeeeeep. (Translation: It's terrible, right? Tell us just exactly terrible it is so we may cluck our tongues and cackle and tell you about the baby we know that didn't sleep through the night until he was seven...teen, ha ha ha ho.) I usually keep it kind of vague, like: "He's pretty good, considering." Or: "It could be worse, honestly." And then I throw myself at the nearest solid-wood surface in a frantic full-body knocking-like motion, convinced that I have just jinxed the most marvelous surprise of this third-time parenting go-round: That I have, so far, temporarily or otherwise, a baby who... You know... At night... For not insignificant stretches of time... In a row... During hours that I also can partake in the same activity that dare not speak its name and even while there's still a milk-dispensing interruption or two in there it's nothing like last time but I know it can and probably will change the second I acknowledge it so EVERYBODY BE COOL AND SHUT UP ABOUT IT MOVE ALONG NOTHING... Read more →

Current stats: 7 pounds, 12 ounces In other words: HOORAY BOOBS Likes: Sleeping, eating, rocking, Mamaroo-ing, Mei-Tai-ing, car rides, butt pats, boobs, the top part of Mama's index finger, obscure expensive pacifiers from Sweden, spitting out said obscure expensive pacifiers from Sweden onto the floor, staring at things, scowling at things, looking vaguely alarmed and/or highly skeptical at things, being delicious, general turtle-face-making. Dislikes: Diaper changes, hiccups. He is awesome. And I think we will keep him. Read more →

and i can hit the "upload photo" button way easier than the shift key. noah graduated from preschool yesterday. he got a little diploma and everything. but he was rather unimpressed with it. ezra ate three slices of watermelon, two cupcakes and a brownie at the post-ceremony party. he is the little hungry caterpillar mixed with the white house party crashers in toddler form. ike is not pictured, because all he did was sleep. as usual. speaking of sleep, this keeps happening: noah's love for his new baby really is charming... ...yet also rather terrifying because he weighs like, six times as much as the helpless object of his I WANT TO SQUEEZE HIM AND LOVE HIM AND CALL HIM GEORGE-level affection. but! those photos remind me that i can't believe i forgot to show you this: what? jealousy? regression issues? ME? WHAT? No. (but also yes, maybe, just a littttttttle bit.) and finally, because i know YOU PEOPLE and what you really want, here are the most recent photos of ike, the perpetually-concerned-looking baby bug: those last two were taken like, just now, as he finally opened his eyes and gave me some indication that i might be able... Read more →

Belt Test, Round Two, The Sequel, The New Class, The Beltening! The boards of destiny. This time, our young grasshopper would be expected to break one in half with his FIST. Now, while I generally like to believe that there is nothing my firstborn cannot do, as he is brilliant and awesome IF A TAD CHALLENGING AT TIMES, even I had to question the physics of this task. Noah's fist is the size of a small plum. Ezra had complete confidence in his big brother, though, and was on hand to take supplemental photographs. Mostly of his thumbs and the floor. Ike slept through the whole thing. Round kick! And reverse! Gleeful joy after kicking the target clean out of Mr. Justin's hands, requiring Mr. Justin to do five pushups. Um. Yes. There is a lot of yelling at these things. Ike also slept through this part. Mid-board-breaking attempt. Success! DADDY DADDY DADDY I DID IT DADDY! (Thanks to Mr. Justin for remembering the existence of MOM, who was also RIGHT THERE, WHATEVER, at least.) The first moments with his very own yellow belt. Do not mess with this one. Also, please stop taking pictures and help him assemble his... Read more →

The first thing I managed to freak out about was the fact that Ike would not latch on in the recovery room. So, 20 freak-out-free minutes, I made it this time. A personal best! Poor third baby, already doomed to live with non-stop comparing to his older brothers, BOTH of whom latched on and sucked during our first breastfeeding attempt. Ezra hit the ground (and the boob) snarfing like a champ, and while Noah and I would struggle mightily later on (UNDERSTATEMENT), everything seemed just fine during our first go at it in the recovery room. Not Ike, though. He was not too impressed with the boob. It mostly just got in the way of his indignant, rage-filled screaming over everything that had just happened to him. He'd been all cozy and floaty and warm, right when someone opened a side door and yanked him out. WHAT THE HELL, YOU GUYS. The nurse assured me his disinterest was normal and that it might take a few tries, and sent him off for his bath and check-up while I tried to keep up the "third-time mother everything is cool nothing rattles me" schtick I'd had going all morning. I tried again... Read more →

Okay, blah, fine. Birth stories and hospital/breastfeeding drama are all well and good, but AMY! THE SWING! WHAT ABOUT THE SWING, AMY? The swing was still in pieces on the day Ike was born, which was also coincidentally the day we discovered that indeed, Ike was easily comforted by swinging/swaying/rocking movements. Jason commented on this and I said NOTHING, though I did shoot him a DRAMATIC PRAIRIE DOG look. He got the point. "I'll fix the swing." He went up in the attic but alas! The missing connector piece was nowhere to be found. He waited until the next day to confess this to me, via text message from the aisles of Target, where he was contemplating buying a new swing. "WAIT WAIT Internet can help! Commenters offered to send part!" I texted back. But it was too late. My husband -- who does not generally get too worked up or involved over baby gear* -- had spotted A Swing. The Swing. It rocks! Sways! Bounces! Simulates the ocean waves while offering a wide variety of white-noise options! It's oblong and minimalist and all kinds of SPACE-AGEY. It's like somebody attached a cradle seat to an iPad and taught it... Read more →

No. I didn't want another c-section, originally. In fact, I SO didn't want another c-section after Ezra's birth that for awhile I seriously ranked that as a reason why I was done having children: No more c-sections. In particular, no more scheduled c-sections. My emergency c-section with Noah was what it was. It was necessary, no doubt about it. I am not built for delivering 10-pound babies. Especially 10-pound posterior babies with the cord wrapped around their necks. But at least I was able to give it the old college try, you know? I labored, I pushed, I hit the wall and we got him out in under 10 minutes. Bam. Done. My recovery time was nothing -- the opposite of what "they" say an emergency section is like. My scheduled c-section with Ezra was...well, it kind of sucked, in retrospect. The lead-up time to the surgery meant I had plenty of hours to work myself up into a good, lather-y panic about the MAJOR ABDOMINAL SURGERY I was about to undergo. And when it turned out that NONE of my previous complications repeated themselves and Ezra popped out as a 7 pound, 7 ounce little peanut, I was immediately... Read more →

Oh, where to even begin? I suppose I should start at the beginning, with the birth story, or highlights from our roller-coaster-y hospital stay, or what happened when Noah and Ezra met their new brother for the first time. Or I should tell you how the sibling thing is working out at home, or how breastfeeding is going this time around, or about Ike's first doctor visit today. I should. I will. I definitely will. But today, right now... I can't think about anything else except how round his head is, how crazy long his fingers and toes are, or about how perfect his little mouth is and how delicious he smells. Or about how it's possible for someone to be the most beautiful little person you've ever seen, even at times when they look alarmingly similar to Wallace Shawn in The Princess Bride. I spent a lot of this pregnancy exceedingly worried about things. How would I cope with three children, three boys? How was I going to handle a newborn again, with all the pooping and crying and not sleeping and sore boobs and aching incisions and just...everything. Would my father's death hang extra heavy in the bleary... Read more →