The Birthday Girl

I thought I'd share some pictures of the birthday girl throughout the years. I am so irritated though because I can't find any digital copies of her birth pictures. They're not in my external hard drive for some reason and though I might have them on a CD somewhere I am not even going to look since my optical drive is broken (thanks, Hank).

Anyway, I'll share what I can easily find.

Elisabeth's baptism. She was eight days old.



November 2005, just under one month old here. That's the breaker of the optical drive holding her.



December 2005. Two months old. Her first smile caught on camera!


March 25, 2006. Five months old.



Elisabeth sampling carrots in May of 2006. She's seven months old.



Here she is in August of 2006 at 10 months old.



Elisabeth's second birthday. October 2007.



And, man, how time flies. Here she is about a month ago with her new baby sister.

Elisabeth's Birth Story, Four Years Later

Since this blog's inception I've put off telling Elisabeth's birth story because there is so much more to it than just her birth. But I've decided to post it this year because, one, I try and treat my kids equally and I've posted their birth stories here and secondly because this really has turned into a virtual family scrapbook that I know I will save for my kids. As hard as the story can be to tell, Elisabeth's entry into this world should be a part of the record.

I still remember the day vividly. It started on a Friday, a full twenty-four hours before Elisabeth's birth. It was a crisp, October day when I started having intermittent contractions. At that point I was twelve days past my estimated due date. That Friday afternoon I hoped against hope these contractions might take off. I called my mom and complained to her (again) about how late I was and how I was never going into labor. I did tell her, though, about my intermittent contractions and I was to later find out she started emailing people and telling them she thought that night might be the night. I went outside and talked to neighbors. I cooked, I cleaned.

And then evening hit. The wind grew blustery. I grew frustrated at my lack of increased contracting. I quickly realized I could focus on nothing else and decided to go out for a walk. The night air was crisp and the sky was dark. I can't remember who called who, but at some point, very early in the walk, I talked to Mom. I am sure I was testy with her since she was all too optimistic that this was it-- full-blown labor-- and suggesting maybe she should drive up to begin the wait she'd been planning for weeks. I remember standing under the streetlight on the corner of Courtland and Elkhart and saying good-bye and hanging up my cell phone. I can't remember if I told her I loved her. I suppose it doesn't matter. I know she knew. With that I walked home and went to bed, determined to ignore the contractions that refused to escalate into full-blown labor.

It was a restless sleep. Some contractions woke me, some didn't. At some point in the evening, Hank awoke. Joe left to settle him back into his own bed. Every time Joe would rise to come back to his own beg, Hank would wake and whimper, so Joe stayed put. The night had an air of restlessness and discomfort about it.

A little after 1 a.m. on Saturday, October 15 I heard the phone ring. It didn't occur to me that a call at that time of night had to equal bad news; it didn't send the same pangs of dread and fear shooting through my being that it now does. I tried to answer it, but missed the call. I stumbled downstairs into the kitchen to check the caller ID. It was Bob, my stepdad's cell number. Maybe it was because at that point in my life death had never touched me too closely or maybe it was because I was still half asleep, but I immediately assumed it was Mom calling to see if I was ready to head to the hospital. I was annoyed. Irritated. I called her house and left what I remember thinking was a kind message, given the circumstances, but I'm sure my voice was laced with annoyance.

Really, though, it was Bob calling. He was in a car with my dad headed to Milwaukee. Mom was on her way, though she was taking a different mode of transportation: a Flight for Life helicopter. I found this out a few mere moments after leaving my message for Mom.

The rest of that night was a blur. Waking Joe. Driving to St. Luke's Hospital. Realizing my contractions were intensifying, but trying to ignore them. Brain hemorrhage. Stroke. Unconscious. Consults with neurosurgeons. Decisions, decisions. Joe arriving at some point. Finally we were ushered into Mom's hospital room. All present stared in abject horror. Disbelief. Wanting to be anywhere else, but yet, not wanting to be anywhere else.

Finally a kind nurse approached me. She looked at me and told me that St. Luke's did not deliver babies. I remember nodding. The nurse fidgeted. "Um," she began uncomfortably. "You might want to say good-bye." I nodded. Clearly if I left I'd say-- oh! And then it hit me; she meant I might want to say good-bye.

I remember everyone leaving the room. I remember standing there and not knowing what to say. You know when you're watching a movie and there's some tragic scene where someone has to say good-bye to someone they love and they always say just the right thing that you know they'll remember forever and ever? Well, it wasn't like that at all. I don't remember what I said. I called Joe in to be with me. I remember saying a prayer. I remember Joe baptizing her (we found out later she'd been baptized as a baby but, at the time, I thought she had not been). And then we left.

We drove over to St. Mary's, clear on the other side of the city, and found out I was, in fact, in labor (which I knew). Labor was miserable. I had had a previous c-section with Hank and I had wanted to try for a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarian) but all I kept thinking about was getting back to St. Luke's. Well, if I have them do a c-section, it will be over faster I thought to myself. But if you have a c-section you and the baby will have to stay in the hospital longer I argued back.

It turned out I didn't have a choice in the matter. I was vigilantly monitored and at some point that afternoon my choice was taken away from me; off to the operating room we went because of some sort of fetal distress observed on the monitors I wasn't watching. I was calm. Unlike with Hank, I wasn't very worried. Elisabeth's heartbeat was strong and I could sense there wasn't a strong sense of urgency in the medical staff attending to me like there had been during Hank's birth. I had the c-section and at 1:36 or 1:37 p.m. (I can't remember which) Elisabeth was born.

She was completely wonderful from moment one. Her cry was hearty and she was the absolute perfect anecdote to what was a very trying time. She went to recovery with me and I was able to poke and prod, count fingers and toes, nurse and coo over such a perfect baby girl. There Joe and I decided to change her middle name from a family surname we loved to Mom's middle name before she'd married, which was Jane. I am still so thankful we made that last minute change. Elisabeth Jane.

I realize upon writing this I seem to have focused more on the sad than the happy. I mean what I've said in past years: Elisabeth's birth was a happy, joyous occasion. I felt the same feelings of elation upon holding her in my arms than I did with my other kids. In that room where I first held her, there was no dark cloud. The horrific events of the night before melted away with each suck and coo that came out of that swaddled little bundle of pink.

So, that's it. The story of Elisabeth's birth and the story of Mom's death, so intertwined and intermingled they are impossible for me to separate. The bad comes with the good. Just as there is no way for me to tell the story of Mom's death without including the happy details of Elisabeth's birth, there is also no way to tell the complete story of Elisabeth's birth without remembering the sad events that also took place.

It's easy to assume that thinking of Elisabeth's birth makes me sad and melancholy. You would be wrong. Thinking of Mom reminds me of birth and the gift of life, and that even life really, really stinks, God is gracious enough to give us good things, and not because we deserve it, but because He loves us.

Tonight we will celebrate our four-year-old's birth with grilled cheese sandwiches and broccoli (the birthday girl's request) and cake and just like in that recovery room four years earlier, we will delight in the gift that is a bubbly, stubburn, loving, redheaded little pistol. And we'll love every minute of it.

My Penance

As I listen to Hank crying and carrying on about his punishment for his latest bout of naughtiness I have to wonder, who is being punished more? Him, for being sent to the basement to *gasp* fold laundry or me for having to listen to and see the wailing and theatrics that are emanating from his mouth and eyes, I am certain, purely for my benefit.

Never mind. It was a rhetorical question; I know the answer.

Texting

If I start raving about something chances are the rest of the world has been excited about whatever it is for years. The latest example? Text messaging. I always thought texting was stupid. Why not just call the person? Why not just send an email?

Ever since I got my iPhone I've fallen in love with texting which, if you think it through, is really saying something since I can send and receive email on my iPhone. But texting is different. It pops right up and greets you with a friendly little chime. It's a nice, easy way to send a quick thought to someone (or to get ahold of a husband in meetings or wherever and unable to answer his phone).

So, texting. It was the thing to do five years ago (or more). And I am just now realizing how great it is.

French Press

I'm back to using a French press. I was given one eons ago, way back when we still lived in Janesville and Joe was in law school and I was working full-time. I never used it. I was an exhausted new mother of one and I preferred to mainline coffee in the fastest, easiest way possible, and that way was never a French press.

It was purged at some point between Janesville and Milwaukee.

Lately though, I think my taste buds are changing. I do love waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, but lately I've been able to pick up hints of that awful this-pot-has-been-on-the-burner-too-long taste, even when it has only been sitting for thirty minutes or so. And that second cup of coffee? Blech. By the time my first cup is gone, the second cup definitely has that somewhat burned, yucky flavor.

So, with some of my birthday gift certificate* (again, thanks Bob and Alex; I'm still using it!) I bought another Bodum French press. It's a small one (32 ounces, I think?), but it's perfect for me during the week and even ideal for Joe and me on the weekends when we both have a tendency to drink too much coffee without some policing.

I wish it could be instantly made when I wake up, but the difference in taste is worth the wait.



*By the way, my other splurge was for a new, larger electric frying pan that I love, love, love-- so thank you!

Lost Teeth

A few nights ago Hank lost one of his top front teeth and last night he lost his other top front tooth. He looks so cute!

Ugh

I love my kids. But is it OK to admit I don't always like my kids? I mean, they're my kids and I would jump in front of a bus for them and all that, but man alive, sometimes they're really, really annoying!

House Follow-Up

You snooze you lose, right? The other offer was accepted. Our realtor is still in contact with the listing agent and if the deal falls through we have decided we will write an offer, but it looks like we missed out.

Sumo Wrestling

Our history lesson the other day tied into the origins of sumo wrestling and our text's activity guide suggested a sumo wrestling match.







Our ring was much smaller than regulation size, we threw pretend salt instead of real salt and neither child had any idea how to wrestle properly, but they had a great afternoon and even fattened up again later in the evening to show Joe the activity when he got home.

Packers Versus Favre

No, Packers versus the Vikings, I mean. But really, is anyone even paying attention to anyone else on the Vikings besides Favre? I sure hope the Packers are paying attention to Adrian Peterson. And have been tightening up their offensive line.

Only six hours until kick-off for the grudge match to top all grudge matches. I'm already nervous.

Halloween

I was up in the attic sorting clothes for the kids and so, while I was up there, I dragged the Halloween decorations down. It's only October 3. I feel like it's too early to have them up, but I must confess I enjoy the soft glow of the strand of orange lights in the dining room. So, is it too early?

Jumping!

As I said in my blog post this past April, Madeleine has finally found an activity that she loves to put her whole self into. She is now at the stables no less than three or four hours at a pop, she reads about horses, she talks incessantly about horses, she wants to watch TV shows and movies about horses, her room has horse stuff all over it... you get the idea. She's obsessed.

So obsessed that all she asked for, and received, for her birthday last year was entry in a week long riding camp this past August. Her trainer for the week was not the same cautious woman who teaches her regular classes. This trainer didn't want to have the kids working on only their flat work all week, no, she wanted to get the kids jumping. So, she did. Madeleine started jumping low verticals and small x jumps (two poles crossed like an x). But after camp that was it, she was back to her regular trainer in classes designed only for flat work.

However, a few weeks ago her trainer talked to us about moving Madeleine up to a combined class: a half hour of flat work and a half hour of jumping. The kids and I all headed up for her first official jumping lesson two weeks ago, video camera in hand, and watched Madeleine work Cocoa Puff over all the beginner jumps. I didn't take any pictures because I was busy filming for Joe, but my lingering thought from watching Madeleine while she is riding is how mature she looks. Here is this thin nine-year-old girl controlling this 1,200 pound animal-- and she looks like she knows what she's doing while she does so.

Madeleine has always looked forward to her riding lessons more than anything else during the week, but now that she's jumping I think she's looking forward to them even more.

A typical day

So today went like this:

7:10 a.m. - 8:15 a.m. oversleep, race to get kids out the door and forget Madeleine's first piano lesson of the fall.

8:16 a.m.- 10:30 a.m. drive to preschool, drop Elisabeth off, drive home, nurse Caroline, finish writing grocery list, greet Dad as he arrived for two seconds and then race out the door with Caroline.

10:31-11:30 a.m. get gas, realize en route to Pick-n-Save that there's not enough time to get through my entire grocery list so I tear through the store to get us through lunch, head into Stone Creek coffee for a latte and drive up to the Audubon to get Elisabeth.

11:31 a.m. - 1 p.m. Talk to Elisabeth about what metamorphosis is, arrive home, make lunch, eat lunch, start dinner, put dinner in crockpot, nurse Caroline and leave for grocery store. Again.

1:01 p.m. to 2:13 p.m. drive to Pick-n-Save, buy lots of groceries and happily note the total amount spent wasn't as much as I thought it might be.

2:14 p.m.-3:40 p.m. drive home, unload groceries, nurse Caroline, talk to Dad, realize Madeleine is going to be late for her riding lesson, tell Madeleine to hurry and get ready for riding, argue with Madeleine about why she can't wear her nice, new jeans to riding, help Madeleine put on her half chaps and shoo her out the door with Dad.

3:41 p.m.- 6:37 p.m. log onto computer, check blogs and Facebook, go to Target's website and buy gray sweats for Madeleine and a black sweater for Elisabeth for their Halloween costumes, nurse Caroline, see neighbors walk up driveway, answer door, shoo Elisabeth out to play with neighbors, prepare acorn squash to go with dinner, wash dishes, mash up acorn squash, pour a glass of wine, sit down at computer and compose blog post.

And now Joe is home. Madeleine and Dad should be home from the stables any minute. Time to go enjoy my wine with my family and then eat dinner. I'm hungry!

Forgotten Thoughts

When I woke this morning it was to the unusual sound of quiet. Perfect, still quiet. I lay there in stunned amazement and didn't move. I just soaked up the quiet and enjoyed being able to connect thoughts and ideas without being interrupted every two and a half seconds. It was glorious.

And as I laid there thinking I had lots of interesting thoughts, many of which probably would have been interesting blog posts had they been able to be fleshed out. And now, a few hours later with kids running around screaming, doors slamming and the phone ringing? I can't even remember the thoughts I thought just a few short hours ago.

Joe sometimes gets frustrated with me when I'm really concentrating on something because I get really, really annoyed when someone interrupts me. And this is why; if I can't be allowed the time to connect my thoughts, or to absorb them fully, they're gone. And maybe they're not important in the scheme of life, but they were important enough to me in those too brief moments of quiet to think them, so I feel like it's sort of a shame that they're gone.

Ack. Whatever. Off to tame the beasts, once again.

One Month

One month has gone by already since Caroline was born? I almost don't believe it. Here she is, in all her one-month-old cuteness.

Harry Potter

"Mom," Madeleine began a few minutes ago, "Is Filtch a squib?"

"Huh?"

"You know, Filch. From Harry Potter."

"What's a squib?'

Madeleine let out an exasperated sigh. "A squib is someone born to a wizard family with no magical powers." You can almost hear the "duh, Mom" that she wanted to include at the end of the sentence.

"Oh."

Pause.

"So, Mom, is Filch a squib?" Madeleine asked once more.

"Oh, I don't remember. Which one is Filch?"

Madeleine looks at me for a moment, inwardly rolling her eyes, I'm sure, and then dives back into the second book in the Harry Potter series.

I haven't read these books since Madeleine was Caroline's age. If she's going to keep asking me questions about the books, I'm in trouble.

Decisions, decisions...

I stink at making decisions. I really do. When someone asks me what I'd like to eat, drink or whatever, I generally give some nonspecific answer because, usually, I really just don't care. Wine or beer, Coke or Sprite, La Croix or an Izze; I never have much of a strong preference.

This problem gets worse when we're talking about big ticket items. Like houses. Today, specifically, we're talking about houses.

I love our house. It's small, there's nothing particularly special about it, it seems like it's always a mess with five-- and soon to be six-- of us dropping a coat here or a book there but for whatever reason, I love it. It's home. And in a lot of ways I don't want to move anywhere; it's a lot of work, it's expensive and, besides, we're already home.

But then I think about our situation pragmatically and I know we'd be much more comfortable with another bedroom. And a family room. And maybe even an eat-in kitchen. So, we go house hunting and, invariably, we see a house we like yet Joe and I dawdle and ponder and, ultimately, never make a decision and see the house get sold to someone more capable of saying, "Yes, I want this house."

Today we saw a house. It's not a perfect house, but the soul of a really great house is there, it just needs some love and attention. It's in one of my favorite neighborhoods in our town. It's being sold well below market value. It has all the space we need. Yet again, we waver. It needs a LOT of work Joe and I say to each other. And it's true, it does. But look at this gorgeous red brick, Joe, and look-- real shutters! I say back. And Joe agrees, those things are lovely. But do we want to spend the next two or three years pulling up carpeting, patching ceilings and walls, ripping down outdated wallpaper and updating kitchen counters and bathroom fixtures? Maybe.

We have to be decisive now. There is already one offer in on this house. There's a deal to be had, a bigger house out there for us and, unfortunately for us, a major decision to be made.

Loud Girl

The other day Elisabeth was playing with some of her friends outside. She was trying to explain something to her group of friends and, as she is wont to do, the further along in her explanation she got, the higher her voice rose in volume and octave. Finally one observant friend asked her, "Elisabeth, why do you always yell everything?"

Elisabeth contemplated the question and then, without missing a beat, parroted something she's heard adults say about her multiple times "Oh, because I'm a loud girl," was the matter-of-fact reply.

Yes, indeed, she is. And also, apparently, unfazed and unembarrassed about the fact.

Mary, Queen of Scots

Last week in history we discussed Mary, Queen of Scots. Out of all we learned and discussed (her childhood, her rise to power, her familial ties to Queen Elizabeth I, her captivity, etc.) the thing that fascinated Madeleine and Hank more than anything else was her marriage to Lord Darnley and his death. They loved the excitement of a building being blown up. They loved the intrigue of his body being found strangled. And they loved the mystery surrounding his death and the idea that so many blamed his wife.

So, when it came time to choose something we'd learned about in history to summarize and illustrate, both big kids chose the untimely death of Lord Darnley.

The following pictures show them ever so happily illustrating the explosion referenced above.

Caroline: Three Weeks Old

Happy Birthday, Joe!

Today is Joe's birthday, but we celebrated yesterday. Apparently I had too much fun chatting with our families, sipping a New Glarus beer and grumbling about the Packers pathetic performance to take pictures.

I don't know, though, if pictures would have properly captured the relaxed, fun atmosphere of the day. We spent the afternoon with Joe's parents, my dad (poor Diana was sick), Bob, his girlfriend and her daughter and my sister and her fiance munching on cheese and crackers and chips and salsa and sipping beer while cheering the Packers onto victory. Well, most of us anyway. Bob and Blake were brave enough to show up for the birthday celebration wearing their Bears hat and sweatshirt respectively, but after giving them a hard time, the rest of us, all Packer fans, managed to avert our eyes from the offending logos.

I made a couple different kinds of chili over the weekend and reheated them in crock pots before leaving for church in the morning. Before the game I whipped up some easy corn bread and that was the extent of my culinary efforts. I was actually able to sit and relax instead of cooking prior to the meal. It was a nice change of pace. Joe's mom was nice enough to bring down an apple upside down cake (Joe's favorite) and I whipped up a mocha torte so we'd have enough cake with the larger crowd.

And the best part? The birthday boy proclaimed the day a success. Happy birthday, Joe!

Medical Adventures: The Photo

Here is Elisabeth showing off her splint in all its glory.




If you missed it, the post detailing the necessity of the splint was posted the other day.

Elisabeth Decoded

Look carefully at the following pictures. Do you see the dirt all over her face (you can make the picture larger by clicking it)? Notice the outfit. These pictures sum up Elisabeth perfectly.

Medical Adventures

Tuesday morning found us waking up north of Green Bay at Joe's parents' house. We woke relatively early given the late night before and hit the road by 9 a.m. We were back in Milwaukee by 11:30 a.m. and Joe made short work of heading into the office. I had planned a relatively easy day knowing we'd all be tired; a few quick errands and an extended visit to the library, per Madeleine's request.

By noon there was a problem. Hank and Elisabeth had gone in the basement to wrestle and play. I heard lots of shrieks and giggles and went about the business of unpacking, checking messages and getting lunch ready. But then I heard a different kind of shriek. This one wasn't in good cheer and shortly after Elisabeth came upstairs with tears in her eyes and clutching her left wrist. I tried to touch it and to have her move it, but doing so only resulted in tears of pain from Elisabeth. Now, from a lot of three-year-olds this may not mean much. If Hank, for instance, was to cry like that I would assume he'd maybe stubbed his toe, but Elisabeth? She's one tough cookie and tears from her are always the real deal.

I called her doctor. He suggested giving her a Tylenol, putting ice on the wrist and reassessing around 2 p.m. So, that's what we did. At 2 p.m. she was still in just as much pain so off to the doctor we went. Her pediatrician assessed the wrist and gave us the unfortunate news that it needed to be x-rayed. Across town. Way, way across town. So we loaded into the van, drove through some of Milwaukee's less than choice neighborhoods (i.e. the ones that are always on the nightly news b/c of some shooting or another) and then proceeded to spend the next three hours waiting to have Elisabeth's wrist x-rayed.

By 5:30 we were on our way home when I received a call from Elisabeth's doctor. The x-rays were negative, thankfully; Elisabeth had just suffered a sprain. She is now the proud owner of a splint that she refuses to take off her wrist and functions pretty well despite having the use of only one hand.

Joe and I have taken to calling Elisabeth our hospital child. She has visited the emergency room or urgent care no less than three times. Madeleine has gone zero and Hank only once (and Caroline I'm not even going to count yet). I'm not saying it won't happen, but clearly Elisabeth has a greater proclivity for getting hurt.

The upshot of all of this? While sitting in the waiting room for three hours with all four kids it hit me: if I could get through that with four kids then I can get through anything with four kids. So that's good. I guess.

Packers Versus Da Bears

The game wasn't the offensive shootout I expected, but still, there's something deliciously fun about beating the Bears at Lambeau.

Hank waiting for kick-off.



Caroline and me waiting for kick-off.



Happy Packer fans after the game.



More than the victory, even, I am beyond thrilled that football season has started again. Joe and I spent the entire drive home this morning discussing the ins and outs of the game. Finally-- new plays to dissect and new players to critique! Why is football season so short anyway?

Zappos

I don't usually single a business out for having good service because I generally expect most businesses to provide decent service and so, by and large, I'm much more likely to note and comment on poor business practices than good ones.

However, I was so recently impressed with Zappos that I decided to spread the word. Until a few weeks ago I had heard of Zappos but never ordered anything through their website since I like to try on shoes before buying them. However, I had a terrible time finding hiking boots that would fit Elisabeth's tiny feet and so I decided to check Zappos' website.

The initial purchase was uneventful enough; I found the shoes I wanted, entered the necessary information and clicked submit. Elisabeth's shoes arrived quickly and I was happy to note the shipping was free.

However, the shoes were too large. So I buckled in for what I assumed would be a huge hassle and called Zappos' toll-free line. I was shocked when an actual person answered the phone instead of a recording, and even more shocked to hear that an exchange would be no trouble and wouldn't cost me a dime. Without even getting the pair back they had originally sent me, they sent out Elisabeth's new shoes and they immediately emailed me a shipping label so that I wouldn't have to pay for the return shipping on the shoes I had initially received.

So much for needing to try shoes on; Zappos' return policy is so easy and hassle-free that I'll definitely order from them again.

Remembering

This morning started out for me very much like this same day eight years ago. I woke up to a bright, clear September day not expecting anything particularly interesting to happen. Like in 2001, I started my day slowly; then preparing for work and packing up a toddler for daycare, today squeezing in a shower and caring for a newborn. Eight years ago I turned on the TV while I ate breakfast and saw the damage left by the first of the airplanes to hit the World Trade Center. Today I did not turn on the TV or even the radio as I usually do and so, as a result, it took me awhile to realize today was September 11.

It's funny, because I can hardly remember what happened last week with much clarity but I, like so many other Americans, can remember the events of September 11, 2001 very vividly. I remember being at my office after dropping Madeleine off at daycare and hearing there was a fourth airplane missing and that perhaps the capitol, where my employer worked, was the target. I remember leaving work and picking Madeleine up and taking her home. I didn't think there was any real danger in Janesville, Wisconsin of all places, but still, I wanted my family close. I remember finally getting ahold of Joe, then a law student. He came home early that day too. Most of all I remember staring at the TV, so horrifyingly mesmerizing, for the entire day.

Today is nothing like that horrible day eight years ago. I have three more kids today than I did then, the three oldest who are with my dad and Diana today, not with me, and that's OK; I'm not rushing off to pick them up. I went grocery shopping. I paid bills. I did laundry and didn't turn on the TV once.

And yet, still, I remember. I have thought about the day eight years ago often today. And while our lives have changed considerably in eight years, I appreciate the fact that my memories of such an important day have not.

Elisabeth's First Day of Preschool

Since the day Hank finished up at our local Nature Preschool we've been itching to go back. Hank had such a fantastic year and this preschool is everything that I think preschool should be, with the emphasis being on playing and learning outdoors and not worrying about letters and numbers and all the various "schoolish" tasks that older children are capable of mastering quickly when they're a bit older (and I won't even get into how Hank just sort of absorbed it all even though it was never officially "taught" at this same preschool by just seeing and hearing it around him).

Well, now it's Elisabeth's turn to harvest a garden, make salsa, search for animal tracks in the snow, catch butterflies and all the other fun and exciting things her brother did three short years ago and yesterday was her first day.

I don't know if Elisabeth was really nervous; she barely seemed fazed by the events of the day, but she does look a touch nervous in this first picture, no?





And, naturally, Madeleine insisted on getting in on the picture taking as well.



Once we got there, Madeleine and Hank shifted into hyper-gear and insisted on helping Elisabeth do everything. This resulted in no small amount of objection from the small, yet independent, Elisabeth Jane, and finally Joe and I were forced to intervene and tell the big kids to back off. Notice, though, how in both of the following pictures, the first of Elisabeth walking up to the front door through the front play space and the second of her hanging her backpack up in her newly found cubby, Elisabeth's "helpers" are never far off.





How did Elisabeth handle the big day? Well, she barely had time to bother to say good-bye to anyone and barely turned her head when we all left the classroom. Her teachers gave us a more hearty good-bye than our daughter did. And at pick-up Elisabeth was full of good cheer and stories about her fun morning. Hank asked her if she'd had a super fun time and Elisabeth answered, "No! It was REALLY fun!" So, there you have it.

First Day of School

Yesterday we started school and despite one crabby six-year-old and one ten day old baby who hit the first day of a growth spurt and wanted to nurse every five seconds, it actually went pretty well. The kids seem happy to be back in a routine and interested in what they were learning. I'm sure things will change in the next few weeks, but it was a decent start to the school year.

My fourth grader!



My first/second grader!



The whole gang.

Caroline's Baptism, II

A follow-up in which I post better pictures. Thanks Dad and Diana!

Caroline's Baptism

I'm hoping some of the other photographers present at Caroline's baptism got some better shots than what I have. In each of mine someone in the picture has a wonky look on their face. Usually multiple people. Please, people, send me your .jpeg and .tif files-- I desperately want them!

In the interim, however, I'll share some of what I have.

Joe and me with Caroline following the service. The gown Caroline is wearing is the same gown worn by my great-grandmother, my maternal grandmother and now all four of my kids. While my mom and I did not wear it, others in our generations did, so the gown is on its fifth generation now. Of course, you can't really see the gown in any of my pictures because no one-- including me-- thought to get a close-up of just Caroline. Ugh!



Our whole crew.



Our family with Caroline's godparents.



Madeleine and Caroline with the cakes made by a very talented friend of ours from our congregation for Caroline's reception following the service.



I think most everyone who attended the service was able to join us for some cake, punch and coffee and I'm more than certain that at least fifty percent of our congregation held Caroline at some point. Madeleine kept asking when it would be her turn and grumbled how everyone else got to hold Caroline for too long. It was a fun celebration.

A much smaller crew including grandparents, godparents and a few friends joined us at home for a relaxing lunch that I failed to really record, photographically-speaking, except for the beautiful flowers Diana brought and the leftover cake.



As a side note, there are a million little things that happen through the course of life that make me miss my mom and it's usually the dumb little things, not the big important things. For instance, you'd think a big important day like Caroline's birth or her baptism would make my mom's absence hit home and it does, in a way, but you know what's really made her absence hit home today? The lack of pictures that I have from Caroline's baptism. Weird.

Anyway, it was a beautiful, happy day and such a joy to witness Caroline receive the blessings of baptism in the presence of family and so many good friends.

Doting Big Sister

Madeleine just adores her new baby sister. Can you tell?

Funny kid quotes from yesterday and today

* After observing Hank crumbling up goldfish crackers and sprinkling them on his waffles I asked him what he was doing. His response? "What, Mom! I'm trying new things!"

* I was telling Joe a story about a friend who was interested in buying a microdermabrasion cream and concluded that I wasn't going to buy it for various reasons. From the other side of the table Madeleine said, in all seriousness, "Mom, you'll regret not buying it when you're a wrinkled old prune."

* Today Hank was going over his bike ramp and hit his, erm, nether regions a little harder than expected. His immediate comment, "OW! My crouch!"

More Caroline

My four(!) crazy kiddos this past Monday, the day we left the hospital. This was a sad day; I'm one of those that loves the hospital and all those nice nurses and food brought in periodically and not being responsible for much of anything besides feeling better.



Plus we had a great view of Lake Michigan.



Caroline getting dressed to come home (the outfit is a premie size-- she's so tiny!).



These signs greeted us when we pulled in our driveway.



One from Madeleine...



one from Hank...



and one from Elisabeth.



Caroline is doing so well and we love having her home. I'm ridiculously exhausted, which is a whole other post in which I laugh at myself because I thought I remembered how tiring it was having a newborn, but I didn't remember. I really, really didn't. We're also being ridiculously spoiled by so many good friends; I'm sure I won't have to cook for a week or two and I am so, SO thankful to have the luxury of not having to worry about what is for supper every day and instead learning how to parent four (!!!) children.