Right here. Right now.

Are we near the end of this pregnancy?  Who knows.  None of my previous babies made it this far into the pregnancy.  Today I'm 39 weeks and 3 days.  Judah was 38 weeks and Cora was just 35.  Physically I'm OK.  In fact, I'm better that I ever was with either of the two before in terms of how well I feel on a day to day basis, but I am tired of keeping the house/fridge/car/laundry in a constant state of readiness. 

Each day brings "practice labor" and I'm ready to be done practicing and move on to the real thing.  I know, he's still growing/baking/packing on the lbs and I SHOULD remember that it is easier to take care of him on the inside than on the outside, but OH I am so ready to hold this little guy.  I am SO ready for the kids to meet him and SO ready for the family time that follows the birth of a child around here.  Inlaws and friends visit and Matt is home from work for weeks on end.  It's hard and good and wonderful and tiring, all at once.  I love it.

I've always been one to look ahead to the next thing, the next day, the next event, the next wonder, missing what is right under my nose.  And what is right underneath my nose is so delicious and in need of Mama, even if Mama's mind is drifting ahead to the future.

Judah's vocabulary grows and grows, even if most of what he talks about centers around Lightning McQueen and Thomas the Tank Engine and all his (Thomas's) friends (I try not to feel like his TV habit is a total parenting fail after making it 2 yrs with no TV for my oldest.  Sigh).  He loves to snuggle with me in the morning and puts his face just next to my face and smiles his little smile that crinkles his eyes into half moons.

Then we read "'Dog Go' by P.E. Basement". Every morning.  Until a car outside distracts him and then he's off to the window, telling me what he sees.  He wants to wrestle and play rough with Cora and she has no desire to.  None.  And it usually makes her start howling and tattling.  Judah doesn't understand that at all.  He's just being a rough an tumble boy!  We practice gentleness a lot. And in truth, he's still so very small and has so much to learn.

Cora wants to be big and yet get equal treatment to her younger brother, who is still learning the rules she master long ago, all the time.  We have lots of conversations about either being the big girl, or the baby, but not both.

I remind her of the benefits of being oldest, but she quickly forgets, reverting to baby talk she never used, even as a baby, but Judah did, and sometimes throws fits just to match her brother's fit.  Lord, give me patience.  The sassiness wears me out!

We talk a lot about her heart and her attitude and finding beauty there, rather than in princess clothes and sparkly shoes.(Although she has those too.) She cranks out around 30 drawings per day of people and places and friends and parties and fairies etc. My art stack grows and grows! ( Don't worry. I save the favorites.) Her questions are deep and somber and often out of the blue. She loves in a different way than my boy and her love is quiet and sweet and tenderhearted, not the run-by strangle hugs that Judah gives. It's easy to lose that quiet love in the wild wrestling of a two year old boy whose joyful exuberance is often louder than she has any desire to be. So we find time in the quiet moments together.

It will all change soon. A little one will be between Matt and I in the bed again, taking all our extra moments.  And while I love change, I love these moments too. And I get to practice being right here. Right now. For a little bit longer.

Snapshots of an evening - with words

A friend and neighbor of mine, Alana Rasbach, does the most wonderful documentary style photography, capturing a family at home, or a birth.  Her images are beautiful.  I strive to do the same with my own family, except I am never in the photos, so I sometimes have to capture it with words.  This is set of snapshots that sum up an evening in the life of us, in this season, with words.

4pm: Finds me in comfy clothes, nearly 38 weeks pregnant, waddling around the kitchen getting dinner started for my family who are always ready for dinner at 5pm.  My bare feet on a never quite clean floor, apron wrapped around my huge belly, while Cora "cooks" in her little kitchen or sits at her small blue table pouring over a book or random catalog that has come in the mail.  Judah, bare bottomed in the last stages of potty training, is "helping" me, standing next to me on a tall step stool and saying "wassat, Mama?" amid a flurry of chopping and stirring and mixing.  Music plays in the background, symphonic classical, or oldies, or family folk favorites, depending on who makes the request first.

4:30pm Dinner cooks in the oven and the kids hear the roar of Matt's motorcycle on our street, causing a riot of running feet and squealing children who shout, "Papa! Papa!  I hear him!".  Little faces peer out of the door's sidelights, waiting for him to come up the steps.  The door opens and the giggles and squeals start again.  Hugging his legs and scrambling for kisses while Papa tries to get in the door properly.  Stories and tickles and hugs and "Hi, Papa, Hi!" over and over again from the children as they fill him in on the day.  I stay out of the rabble and Matt comes to find me and kiss me hello.

4:45pm Little ones run back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, setting the table as best they can, carrying heavy dishes one at a time and arguing over who gets to carry what and Judah ends up climbing in his chair to wait for dinner there, impatient for food with cries of "I hungry, Mama!".

5pm Dinner on table, we pray and eat and talk and joke with each other.  Things like "No cars at the table." and "Use your fork." and "No forks in your drink." and "What do you say when you burp?" punctuate the conversation again and again.  Cora snuggles close to me on the bench, eating all her veggies and leaving the meat, while Judah eats all the meat and leaves the veggies.  Judah likes to make his Papa laugh with silly antics and words, while Cora, our thoughtful girl, tells stories about her day and asks questions she has been pondering.  Matt and I sit close and talk about the day, over the continual rabble.  Clean up and chores follow.

6:30pm We all troupe upstairs for bedtime.  Teeth brushing in the bathroom with me saying, "Say Ah.  Say Eee.  Stick your tongue out. Spit!" to the youngest who still gets a followup brushing by mama.  Everybody goes potty and puts on jammies and then meet on our bed for nightly "Hop on Pop.", a wild wrestling and jumping on Matt with pillow fights, tickles, giggles, and nearly falling off the bed only to be saved by Papa grabbing a foot, while I sit safe in the recliner, watching the fun and feeling our unborn son wiggle with the noise.

6:45 Matt reads the chronicles of Narnia to a solomn eyed girl in the crook of his arm while I sit and rock in the recliner with Judah, whispering the words of his favorite picture book in his ear and he snuggles in close, looking up at me with his sweet smile and eyes that crinkle into little half moons when he grins.  He is too wiggly for Narnia still.

7pm Prayers at the end of the day, sips of water, kisses for everyone, kids climb in their beds and snuggle down bunny and puppy, respectively.  A final tickle and kiss and small chubby arms wrapped tight around our necks.  "Good night.  I love you.  Sweet dreams." and then we switch rooms and say it again to the other child.  Pleas for one more snuggle are kindly declined and we head downstairs.

Easter Pictures - the week after

Easter was gray, cold and rainy, but the week after was glorious and full of Spring.  So I postponed photos until the sun was out. Get ready.  There are lots.  I can't choose.  I love the personality in each of my kids that comes out in these photos.

Nearly there

The days are full of busy and ignoring the aches and pains of 37 weeks pregnant while guiding small people toward kindness and sharing and helping and not making mama pull her hair out.  The nights are tossed and turned and tangled sheets and trips to the bathroom and too hot for snuggles, shooing visiting children back to their own beds at 9 and 10 and 11pm and 12 and 2 and 4 am.  The light sleeping oldest girl hears me stir and comes to beg for a snuggle.  Or to sleep on my floor, or in the big blue chair.  I nearly stepped on her last night, wrapped in a discarded comforter and at the foot of our bed.

Each night wondering if this is the night.  Timing pre-labor contractions to see if they are getting closer or just for practice.  Washing things.  Sorting things.  Packing a bag.  Making sure we are stocked up on things the family will need while I am gone.  Praying for short labor.  Please, let it be shorter this time.  Under 24 hrs.  For the love.

Pondering names.  Reveling in my last days with the soon to be usurped baby of the family.  Each little word and wiggle and sleepy smile seems sweeter.  Every time he throws that chubby arm around my neck or wants to 'rock rock rock' in the big blue chair before nap, even though my lap has no room left for him.  Dancing himself dizzy while playing the flute and then taking a moment to shake his backside to the same song.  Pondering things with concerted effort, furrowed brow, and chubby cheeks, stacking and lining things up all over the house, even on his dinner plate.  He has no idea what is coming.

Cora is more prepared for what is about to happen.  She remembers..  She has gotten over the disappointment of no sister to come and sweetly talks to my belly so he will remember her voice.  Her newfound freedoms with mama so tired have led to more trouble (self haircut!), but I try to remember she is only 4 and that is not so big, in spite of her attempts to resemble a teenager in attitude.  Her dear (and precocious) questions about this baby and how (exactly?!) he will make his entrance into the world and won't it hurt?.  Her sweet worries about me being gone and will I be OK.  Every day asking if it is today and I tell her I don't know.

We have surrendered to the quiet of not going anywhere, no long errands, few playdates, getting ready.  Closing in as a family so we can care for each other and get ready.  We are nearly there.