Growing, growing

They're always growing, these kids, even though I tell them all the time they better damn well stop it. Sophia is suddenly a lovely, ELEVEN year old lady. I don't even know how that happened.

(Ok, I know how it happened, but I live in denial.)





And this little guy is over 2 months old now. He's smiling, cooing, wiggling, and completely nosy.





It really makes my heart go all gooey and sappy, the way the older kids love the baby. I went into having a new baby with no expectations that they'd be thrilled with it, but they've really surprised me. Then again, he's not old enough to get into their things yet, so I guess I'll just enjoy it for now.

That newborn haze

I think I forgot how all-consuming the newborn thing is. I mean, there's the complete lack of time to get anything non-baby done (because, say, a certain someone has decided that he wants to nurse a little here and there, but CONSTANTLY) but there's also that instinct to cuddle down with a little head under your chin, inhaling their smell of newness and something that is part you and part uniquely them. Time is such a stretchy thing with a newborn.

So we've got guests coming tomorrow and I'm thinking the house will not be clean and also that I'm not going to be much in the way of entertainment, but I guess that's how it goes and I'm really trying not to feel the least bit bad about that. Because I've got some really more important things to do. Like smell some baby hair.

Miles Thoreau is here.

Born on September 7th at 8:40pm. He weighed 8 lbs 9 oz, and arrived after about an hour of really hard labor, so quickly the doctor didn't make it to the room in time and I think we panicked the nurse a little. (And when I broke down and asked for an epidural, there wasn't time for one!) Oh well.

He's perfect and healthy and we're smitten.

Friday Moment

Getting there

Almost 35 weeks now, so yesterday I decided it was probably time to wash some baby clothes. It seemed like I was going to be pregnant forever somehow, and now it seems like it's going so quickly. I guess that's Life, actually.

Now, to get this house in shape.

Tarred

On Tuesday, we had people putting a new roof on the house. I had anticipated Roof Day with no small amount of dread, because our dogs are the kind of dogs who bark when anyone approaches the house. Not that they would ever do anything about any of those people approaching the house, but they like to maintain an appropriate amount of false swagger, I suppose. The recent addition of a very small dog and a few people in the house next door, and thus the backyard that borders our own and is only separated by a chain-link fence, still sends them into a fury of outraged hysterics, two months on. So I doubted a day filled with strange people on top of the house pounding away was going to be pleasant for them, or for me, who would be trapped with them. And I didn't have enough advanced warning to beg the veterinarian for some canine valium or anything.

But, to my surprise, they really didn't do badly at all. They barked at first, and they raced up and down the stairs for awhile trying to figure out why they could hear strange men's voices but not see strange men, but eventually they settled down for the most part. I was elated.

And then. Then in the early evening when the roofers had gone I let the dogs out in the backyard again. They ran, they sniffed, they frolicked. All cool. I saw Nox, our lab, twist in the grass on his back, looking like an ecstatically happy canine, glad (I assumed) to see his own patch of yard after a day of imposed exile.

When I let them back in I noticed him rubbing his head against the table legs, then running in to the living room and scraping his sides against the couch, which was odd. But, well, Nox IS odd, so I didn't think that much about it. Then Sophia went to pet him and shrieked, "Nox is covered in something sticky!!"

Indeed he was. We were baffled. I had the kids take him back out and try to hose him off. He went utterly apeshit about it, breaking away and nearly hanging himself in the screen door as he tried to get back in. And still he was sticky.

I went out to investigate and, turns out, the idiot found a spot of tar in the grass where the roofers had been and rolled in it. And he was really thorough. He has clumps of fur tarred together all down his back, on his cheeks, in the thick hair of his throat. It's awful.

The roofers came back the next morning to do the garage, and they gave me a small amount of some special cleaner they had, but I'm afraid to use it on him. I don't want to burn his skin or anything. I don't know... maybe I could spot clean the worst spots with a rag and then rinse really well with water? If he wasn't so damned big and impossible for me to manhandle, I would have already tried this, but I'm just not sure it's a good idea.

Anyway, I feel equal parts sympathy and exasperation for the lovable imbecile. I'd like to think he's learned some sort of lesson, but realistically I doubt it.

I like to think he at least looks slightly embarrassed, anyway.

Squeaks

Last Thursday, soon after the kids had come home from school, I looked out our dining room window and saw a group (actually, appropriately, a murder) of crows swooping around and pecking some small animal. I yelled for Sophia to run out and shoo them away. Turns out, it was a baby squirrel they were attacking, and another was struggling in the flower bed a few feet away.

My children are not the type who would ever just let it end there. So I had them stay quietly on the little porch nearby so they could shoo the crows again if they came back, but be out of the way enough for the mama squirrel to come get her babies. We heard her calling... (did YOU know that squirrels could make a sound like a whining dog, or a loud bird? I didn't until that day.) And she did end up rescuing one of the babies. But the other, well he tried to climb a fence, fell, then headed toward the road. And when Sophia went to check on him, he started following her, another thing I didn't think a squirrel would do. I warned her to stay back and not touch him, and we truly tried to avoid him while keeping him out of the road, but he just wouldn't head back to where his mother was, and finally Sophia picked him up. I did a little online research and saw that the scent of human is not necessarily a problem for squirrel mothers, so we tried to put him down in the area she would come back to, but he didn't stay put there really, and she never came. So I had a dilemma.

I didn't really want to play squirrel rescuer, to be honest. But the kids were just SO worried about him and so in love with his small self already that I couldn't NOT. I called our vet, and they said they would take him but it would have to be the next morning because they were closing. So we cut holes in an old shoe box, put some towels in there, and "Squeaks" spent the night in Benjamin's room. He was so affectionate. It was odd to me. He survived another moment of peril when Nox got into the room and discovered him, too. That's one lucky squirrel.

So the next morning we drove to the vet and the kids handed over the little squirrel they'd fallen in love with. The nice lady who took him explained that they would look him over for injuries (his nose had been bloodied a little, either by a fall or the crows, but otherwise he seemed very healthy) and evaluate if he was ready to get along on his own or not. Then, when he was ready, he'd be released.

It is exactly what is best for a wild animal, and Squeaks is definitely a wild animal, no matter how much he seemed like a hamster. But that didn't make it easy for my soft-hearted children, who loved him, and they cried the whole ride home. In fact, they cried for a good solid hour. I told them how proud I was of them, both for taking such good care of Squeaks and for doing the right thing for him even when it was hard.

It's a tough lesson, though. Happily, almost a week later, they're feeling happier about the whole thing, and catching glimpses of Squeak's brother or sister running around out there, which makes us think Squeaks has an excellent chance at being very successful in the wild himself.

Nox

I'll be honest: I wasn't totally sold on Nox when we brought him home. I wasn't thrilled with puppy-hood. He required a lot of time and attention that I wasn't excited to put forth and the kids weren't focused enough to provide on their own. (No matter how much they promised so they could have that adorable puppy sitting in the SPCA.) But aside from the normal, but by no means excessive, puppy things like having accidents and chewing on the couch cushions, he is such a good dog. Now that he's left the puppy stage, he's a joy. He was born to be a companion dog. He follows me almost everywhere, including the bathroom. At times it feels like having a furry toddler in the house.

And it's hard to have a bad day when he smiles up at me like this all the time.

The movie theater that was in the mall here closed for remodeling in the fall (I think) and it still hasn't reopened yet. But, as with many things that seem at first to be nothing but an inconvenience, it has definitely been a blessing in disguise. We're a family that loves going to the movies. That's not going to change, although with the cost of tickets these days I'm sure we'll have to be more careful about it. But the truly wonderful thing about this time without the big complex nearby is that we found something even better.

In the town of Lowville, which is maybe a 30 minute drive for us, there's an old theater that was at one time an opera house, a USO club, and a silent movie house. They show one or two movies a weekend, and the ticket and food prices are much lower than most cinemas as well. Plus, it's just so damn charming and lovely. And who doesn't love to support such a great, local, family-owned business, anyway?

Right across the street is a diner called Jeb's, where the food is good and the milkshakes even better (say the hellmonkeys). So we will often pass a wonderful Friday evening with a dinner there and then walk across the street to see a film. And we might not have discovered this option if the theater by us hadn't closed. But it did close, and we did discover it, and although I'm sure we will see movies at the newer place when it reopens, you can be sure we will always pick the Town Hall Theater in Lowville first.

There is so much charm to be found in the little places of this area, and having moved around a good bit, I feel that is true for everywhere. You just have to be willing to look for it. Sometimes it takes a closing to move us out of our comfort zone in order to find it, but it is always so worth it when we do.

Can we have some spring, please?

I call this his "don't talk to me until I've eaten my hotcakes" face, and I'm pretty sure that's exactly the look on my own before I've had a cup of coffee every morning. It's been a long end-of-winter. February and March are always kind of long up here. So ready for spring, so not going to get it. But today it's in the 50s and the sun is shining and for the first time I actually believe it's coming.

Old Long Since (Auld Lang Syne)

Happy New Year!

These are my two favorite images I took in 2010. I actually had them made into canvases to give my parents for Christmas, and I'm going to order some for us soon as well.

2010 saw my husband come home safely from Afghanistan, and my children healthy and happy. Thanks, 2010. I have high hopes for 2011, but no matter what I know it will mostly be what I make it. Here's hoping you have a lot to work with this year, too.

Post-Holiday

We had a good holiday, and I hope everyone else did, too. I cooked a big dinner and we STILL have ham left. Clint put a facebook status up yesterday that said, "Sophia is mowing down her books, Benjamin is mowing down his video games, and Brittany is mowing down a well-deserved nap," and I think that about covers the state of us post-holiday. I've always liked this week between Christmas and New Year. It feels so relaxed. I always had toys and then new books to read when I was younger, and no school, and now I'm an adult and my kids are on break from school, we're eating leftovers, watching new movies and reading new books, and napping. Amen to napping.

Friday - {This Moment}

Clint's big present this year. SWOON.

Tis the Season

A season for snow, hand knits, and lights from the tree making me happy. I think I'll be finishing up almost all the gift shopping today, and although I'm pretty happy with what we've done in that area this year, it still feels like too much somehow. Do others feels that way? Like the search for gifts to give, and particularly I'm thinking about shopping for our children here, can be painful to both the spirit and the wallet sometimes? I don't know. I want to get them something with joy. I like finding the right gift. I guess I wish we had started things differently when they were younger. Like, I think Santa should bring one present. Going over The Lists and trying to figure out what can be afforded, and equally, and so on just isn't what I want for the season, but somehow we just got into that pattern.

But it's not all bad. I say all that but our family is still on the smaller side of the gift-giving extravaganzas I've seen or heard about. By necessity, sure, but also by choice. I find I like the smaller things we do so much more. Going to get our tree, baking cookies, making cranberry tea on the stovetop, bringing out the familiar ornaments and holiday books, the cards and wrapping paper the kids draw and make... these things are the holiday season more than the gift-giving, and I hope my kids get that and carry that forward into their adult lives. I think they will.

Friday - {This Moment}

You may not know this about me, but I have an entourage. Also, Mukluks, which is good because it's freezing here.

Making Merry

We went and picked out our tree over the weekend. This is actually our first real Christmas tree. I've always wanted one, but we just never tried it until now, and my family always just went with the artificial kind so I had no prior experience. So far, I'm in love with it and can't imagine not having a real tree after this.




making my turkey brine



We had a lovely Thanksgiving here. It was just us, and it was a quiet, warm, and good-smelling day that I enjoyed thoroughly. I roasted my first turkey (my, this is a year of holiday firsts, isn't it?) and was beyond thrilled with how it turned out due to brining. Seriously the best turkey I've ever had, and I don't think that's because I am particularly skillful... it's the magic of brining!






Lots of sitting in front of the wood stove around here. We've had our first snow and all the white-laden tree branches just fill me with delight. I am a true Northerner at heart; I was never particularly happy when we lived down south. I love the snow, the winter, I love pulling on woolen things and the deep quiet of a snowfall at night. So far this is shaping up to be the best holiday season yet, and I couldn't be happier or more grateful for any of it.

Double Digits

My eldest baby is now 10 years old. I don't know how that happened already, but there it is. And there she is, and she is magical and I am so astonished and grateful to be her mother.

Happy Veterans' Day

in Afghanistan


We sure do love our soldier. And we thank everyone who has ever served, along with all the families who wait for them to come home.

To The Bone

Life right now feels a lot like Nox with his bone. It's good. I am more content than I can ever remember being, my entire life. Oh, nothing is perfect. I'm not saying I'm totally satisfied with everything, either. For instance, my house needs a major overhaul. I'm talking going room to room with a trash bag and a donation box overhaul. I wish I was getting more writing done. More laundry, too, come to that. Clint will be leaving for Missouri in January for his Captain's Career Course while the kids I stay here, and I'm not looking forward to another 6 months without him. And he's in the Army, so there's a guaranteed supply of more of that to come.

But it's good, it's so good. Every evening we sit in our little living room around the fire going in the wood stove and my little holiday lights I love so much they stay around all year twinkle and the kids have their warm slippers on and play chess on the floor. I have a mug of something warm and a dog or two pressed to my side or against my feet and my husband in the chair beside me and it is all so good I want to chew my life down to the bone and then keep on going.

I just have a feeling like I have left discontent behind. Not that I won't ever be sad or frustrated or scared or anything, because I will be. More that somewhere along the years from high school to now, from old home to the new home we've made together, my mindset has shifted from the place that says, "And if I could just have/do/accomplish..." to one that says, "I have everything important to my happiness." Everything else is icing.

Or a good, juicy bone.

Staples

(photo taken with my phone)


On Friday afternoon we ended up going to the ER and Benjamin ended up with three staples in his head. He was given three balloons by the kind doctor.

See, he was standing on a kitchen chair (yes, that's why you don't stand on kitchen chairs) and they were messing around, and he lost his balance and fell, clipping the edge of a cabinet as he did so.

He also got a splinter in his finger yesterday from carrying wood and has been trying to get a very loose and sore tooth to come out all weekend.

The kid is a mess. I think he needs extra snuggling time in front of the wood stove tonight. And tea, maybe. And a book.

I'm rather looking forward to it, too.