A few of you noticed my remark about this being our last newborn. The underlying question being, “How do you know?”
I don’t know how we know. We just know. You know?
I thought this would be a good topic for a post because it stems from the most recent question being posed to us by friends, and of course, complete strangers.
It usually goes something like this…
“What a beautiful baby girl! She’s so new! And how great that you get to experience a girl after two boys!
So do you plan on having any more?”
I know I’m just as guilty of asking that question, but seriously. She’s not even a month old yet. It’s right up there with the question I get when I tell people the boys are 20 months apart, “Was that planned?”
Karen and I were talking about this last night (their two are the same age spacing). They brought supper over last night and our kids all played downstairs while we had uninterrupted adult conversation. It was wonderful. But back to the question at hand…
My response has been that I don’t want to be pregnant again. What? You’re surprised? I think I griped enough for three pregnant women during this pregnancy. Feeling Emily move inside was the most INCREDIBLE feeling, but apart from that I was pretty uncomfortable. Not as bad as some women, but bad enough to not want to go through it again. Or put Matthew through it again.
If we want to have a fourth someday, we will adopt. Some families in our church have adopted from China, and I think that’s cool. We have more of a burden for local kids, so we would probably start in Canada first. I have talked to a couple of people who have adopted toddlers and their stories have inspired me. To know that there are kids just like mine who don’t have a permanent home breaks my heart. So much so that we may have to do something about it when and if the time comes that we want a fourth.
In the meantime, we just give what we can to organizations that help kids. Our kids are too small to think about adding one more toddler right now. Though when my three are older, and if God leads, that is the course we will take.
But for now we will remain a party of five. And a party it is. An amazing one. Best party I’ve ever been to.
Karen and I were talking the other day about how we hadn’t posted much on our Recipe For Disaster site for way too long. The main reason being that summer doesn’t seem to be a time to try many new recipes. You throw some kind of meat on the barbeque and eat a lot of finger food (do potato chips count as “finger food”?).
Add to that the fact that Karen was working MORE than full time hours, as well as balancing being a mom to 2 kids under the age of four. My excuse? Being pregnant and a little uncomfortable. And maybe a little grumpy.
The day I gave birth to Emily, some of the girls came to visit (Amanda, Adele, Tianna and Erin). They brought treats and magazines. One of which was Fine Cooking’s Chocolate magazine:
I love, love, LOVE it! Not only does it have the most amazing chocolate recipes, it also has tips for baking with chocolate, etc. I like to cook, but I lurve to bake. I have pored over the pages of this magazine many times in the past few weeks.
I tried my first recipe from there this weekend (the fudgy brownies) and they are un-be-lievable. Seriously.
I plan on trying more of these recipes – at least one a week. That and some new supper recipes from the Real Simple magazine they also brought to me.
So, for those of you who have given up checking our recipe site, there is hope. I am back in action and I’m sure Karen will be too. She’s the true supermom. I just may buy her a cape for Christmas.
Enjoy!
We have been fighting a cold over here at the Dutch Blitz headquarters. Graham and Nathan got it first and then it spread to the rest of us…sort of.
Matthew was told about Cold-FX by our friend who is a pharmacist. He is now a solid believer, and at the first throat scratch/sniffle he starts taking his daily dosage. It hasn’t gone beyond the throat scratch for him and he’s pretty grateful.
When I was pregnant, all I could take for a cold was Tylenol and Vitamin C. While I enjoy the candy taste of the chewable Vitamin C, I don’t think it does much to alleviate the symptoms. Now that Emily has arrived and is no longer inside of me, I can take…Tylenol and Vitamin C. This is due to the fact that I am presently a big milk cow. One day I will be able to try the famed Cold-FX, but today is not that day. I can’t take any other cold medication either, but I’m doing my best to suck it up.
The worst part of it all is that Miss Emily got a cold too, green boogs and all. Lame, lame, LAME! She’s been super stuffy and had a few really rough nights of sleep. Which means that I did too. She was still stuffy during the day yesterday, but napped pretty well. My wonderful hubby sent me to bed last night at 9 and told me that he would give her a bottle at her next feeding so that I could get a longer chunk of sleep. Can you see why I love this man?
He brought her to me FOUR HOURS LATER. Cue the Hallelujah chorus. Four hours feels like twelve when you’re nursing a newborn. Funny thing was, he hadn’t even fed her a bottle. She had just slept on his chest for four hours while he slept on the couch. She did pretty good the rest of the night too. Today feels like a new day.
Everyone seems to be feeling better today. The boys’ noses seem less runny, as does mine, and Emily is sleeping peacefully in her chair right next to me. Life is good. Real good.
I hope yours is just as good…or even better.
During the summer we spent a lot of time at the beach. By “a lot” I mean we went there every morning and almost every afternoon. When the weather turns hotter than hot here in August, I am forever grateful that we live a short drive from a big lake.
As soon as we would get to the beach, Graham would make a beeline for the water. He would be in the water for about 99% of the time we were there. Splashing, using his floaty, and having a grand ole time.
When summer ended, we thought it would be good to get him started in swimming lessons. He was already completely comfortable in the water. We knew it would be busy with the arrival of child number 3 (now known as Emily), but worried that if we waited until the spring, his water confidence may no longer exist. So, five weeks ago, he started in the Red Cross swimming program.
Yesterday afternoon was his last class. In 10 short lessons he has gone from just liking the water to being able to float on both his back and his front. He also goes under the water, and can do a few strokes. I’m such a proud Mama, watching him swim.
There are a bunch of other things that he has learned. Because he learned them so well, he passed his Sea Turtle level.
He starts “Salamanders” in 2 weeks. Way to go, sweetie!
Little Miss Emily is a hit wherever we go. People love newborn babies and ogle at her. They ask her name and how we are doing. Then they ask the dreaded question:
“How are you sleeping?”
The truth? We are up every few hours so that she can nurse and I can go deeper into sleep deprivation. I’m seriously in the red right now. I have a nap almost every day (thanks, Honey!) but it just helps to keep me somewhat functioning.
My usual response is that she’s sleeping like a newborn, and people give you that nod and the “poor you” look. Then there are the other few that like to tell you how their baby slept in 8-hour stretches from Day One.
Bully for you.
I’m not complaining. I know that it is temporary and she will be sleeping longer stretches in no time. It’s also the last time I will have a newborn, so I am truly treasuring this experience. There’s just something about that sleeping question that makes you feel like you are doing something wrong.
Which got me to pondering the phrase that people use when they have had a fantastic sleep. The say that they “slept like a baby.” They obviously weren’t referring to a newborn baby. Maybe they meant an older baby?
Or maybe they’re referring to the quality of sleep, as opposed to the quantity. Because when a baby is sleeping, it is the most peaceful sight on Earth. On top of that, nothing seems to disturb a newborn baby’s sleep. Emily will be sleeping in her chair in the living room, with her brothers running willy nilly around her and she doesn’t even stir.
Doesn’t she look peaceful to you?
Kaili posted the story of her and Rob, and challenged us to post our love stories. I posted mine last November, but thought it would be a great idea to post it again for a couple of reasons. First, I can’t link to that post because I deleted my old site. I do, however, have a backup of all of those archives, so it was easy to find. Second, I had far fewer readers a year ago and thought that my new buddies may want to hear the story.
A long time ago (7 years ago next month), in a land far, far away (Vancouver/Burnaby) lived a woman who was fast approaching the age where you had to leave College & Career and start going to Gateway.
I was 24, and living in Vancouver with Karen. We had a sweet apartment on West 12th Avenue in Vancouver. I was an articling CA student, and Karen was working as an X-Ray tech at St. Paul’s. She had gotten engaged to Travis in October, I believe, because on that October road trip to Calgary, there was much talk of her wedding, and looking at Bridal magazines.
We both attended Willingdon church (as did Travis), and a bunch of our friends. And a host of Karen’s relatives-she has a big family.
I had talked to Matthew (he was Matt back then) a few times, and thought he was a nice guy. One Sunday, I arrived at church and was looking to sit with my friends Brandon & Christina. They were nowhere to be seen, so I asked Matt if I could sit with him & his sister Jennifer.
We flirted a bit, but it was toned down on my part, as I had just met Jennifer that morning, and didn’t want to offend “the sister”. You don’t want a guy’s sister to think you’re a dork & tell him to just never mind. He asked what I was doing that afternoon. “Having a nap”, was my reply. Isn’t that what everyone does on a Sunday afternoon?
I asked him his plans for the afternoon. “I’m doing some baking”, he replied. Oh, really? I thought. A tall, good looking Dutch man who bakes. Cool, thought I. “Do you share your baking?” I so boldly asked, when Jennifer was talking to a friend. “Yes”, was his reply. But no actual invitation was forthcoming.
If you have met Matthew, you know that he is a quiet guy. And was painfully shy growing up. And as I have since learned, has a favourite time to do everything. It’s called LATER.
So I went home. Alone. And the whole drive home, “CALL HIM” was repeating over & over in my head. Now, I was a firm believer in not calling guys (unless they were buddies). But this voice kept saying “CALL HIM”. Maybe God? I think so.
I needed encouragement, so I called Jazz because I knew what she would say. I was right. “CALL HIM!” she told me. “AND tell me what happens”.
Now, he hadn’t given me his phone number. But I knew it was on a C&C bulletin. Which was in our recycling. So I dumped the bag of papers on the floor and finally found the phone number. Picture it. Me wading through recycled paper, in order to get his number.
OK then, here goes. I called and got his answering machine. So I left a friendly message wondering if he was still willing to share his baking.
Leaving a message. Means the ball is in his court, and I had to WAIT. Worrying; did I sound like a pathetic LOSER???? Except, he called back in like 5 minutes. And told me that he just “happened” to be making LASAGNA for supper. And would I like to join him? Sure, said I, and I’ll bring a salad.
I love to cook & bake now, but at that point, my “salads” consisted of lettuce, with some dressing. That would not do, so I ran out & bought a colourful variety of vegetables. And made a pretty skookum salad.
Off I went to his place way out in New West. A good 40-minute drive. We ate, we talked, we laughed. At no point was it uncomfortable. I told him that I had gone to my work Christmas party on Friday night. His was coming up, and he asked if I’d join him. “Like, as your date?” was my smooth reply. How cool am I?
By the time I left, we had made plans for his party, to go see Toy Story 2, and to sit together for a concert my friend Riley Armstrong was putting on the upcoming Wednesday at C&C.
I got home around 11 that night to see Karen sitting up waiting for me. “So, how did it go?” she asked. “This one is different”, was my reply. Not that there had been many “ones”, but there had definitely been a few duds floating around.
My step mom Shona came to visit the next weekend. She told me I was going to marry him. “When is Karen getting married?” she asked. “June” was my reply. “You’ll be getting married in May”. Now, this woman hears from God. Often, and clearly. Who am I to argue?
He came home for Christmas, and I came up on Boxing Day. We told his family of our plans to wed. His parents had dated a lengthy six weeks before their engagement, so our 4-week stint didn’t faze them. Their advice? Better get a ring, because 5 months will go by fast.
So, we went to K-Dot and found me a ring. But I had to wait; he wanted to do it right. And do it right he did. We had a nice supper up at the ski hill, and then we went down to the lake. We got engaged on the dock at Rotary Beach.
We received a bit of static from the folks in our circle of friends and acquaintances. Karen was a true friend and just told me she was concerned with the speed at which we were going. I explained that I knew it was fast, but we “just knew” So, why wait?
We got married on May 20, 2000. It was a cloudy day, but that was good for pictures. It went off without any major problems, and I ended the day married to my sweetheart. He is an amazing man of quiet strength. I love him, respect him, and cherish him. I thank God daily, almost hourly, that I get to be his wife. I have been blessed beyond all measure.
When I was pregnant with Graham, we did the usual steps for preparation. We got the baby’s room ready, complete with a crib handmade by Grandpa D. We stocked up on all of the necessary supplies – Q-Tips, Penaten, Vaseline, wipes, diapers, etc. We were good to go.
We had bought both Huggies and Pampers when they were on sale, and figured both would work well. That was simply not the case.
EVERY time we put him in a Huggies, he leaked out into his sleeper or clothes. After 10 or so tries we gave up and stuck with Pampers. When he was older, we were told about the Teddy’s Choice no-name brand. They were half the cost and just as absorbent. We made the switch.
When Nathan came along, we pulled out the remainder of those original Huggies. We had the exact same problem. Every time he wore them, he peed through. We went straight to Teddy’s Choice, and gave the Huggies to someone else who had no problems with them. We thought that maybe Huggies just didn’t work for boys.
My sister Mel has a daughter Haylei, and had a big box of leftover size 1 Huggies that she shipped off to us last month. I figured that since they worked for Haylei (a girl), they might do the trick if we had a girl. Which we did. I bought a box of Teddy’s Choice for backup, just to be safe.
Miss Emily is long and skinny, so the size 1 diapers were too big. We bought some Pampers Newborn size to tide us over. I used the last one today and thought we’d try putting her in one of the Huggies diapers. What do you think happened? You guess it – SHE PEED THROUGH.
This is the first time she has done so, which proves to me that Huggies really do suck. Either that, or they have some kind of side deal with a laundry detergent company. They make sure that their diapers leak, we have to do more laundry, and Tide gets to reap the benefits.
To all of you moms (and future moms) out there, consider yourself warned. Steer clear of the Huggies conspiracy. If you don’t have the same issues as we do, we’ve got a huge stash we can send your way.
For those of you not purchasing diapers and who just come here to see my cute kids, here’s a shot of our princess to make your day:
