To My Precious Fourth Child

Dear Theodore,

Today, just a week or so shy of you turning three months, something clicked for you with sleeping.  Until this point, to go to sleep we would rock, bounce, nurse (me more than your dad), pat, whatever it took for you to go to sleep.  You'd fall asleep in our arms somehow, or in a chest nap, and then we'd transfer you to a swing or rock n play or something when you were really really out.  Attempt the transfer too soon, when you're not REALLY out, and it would re-set the whole process.

But today, you weren't settling when I was bouncing you.  You weren't interested in nursing.  You were just getting more irritated.  So I swaddled you, laid you down in your crib, and left the room to go help the twins.  You didn't make a peep.  After 10 minutes I went in to check, and you were completely asleep.  It was like you'd just wanted to be left alone to go to sleep.

I thought it might be a fluke, but tried again for your afternoon nap.  Sure enough, you did the same thing again.  And then again for bed time tonight.  Just completely out with no fussing at all.

On one hand, I have been SO ready for this moment.  When some time opens up in the evenings to feel a little human again. When I don't have to spend at least 15 minutes getting you down for a nap.  When you'd be ready to fall asleep on your own.

And yet...

I am so not ready for this moment.

You are the last baby we're planning on having. When Emily was born, I was so thrown off by the identity shift of being a mom, and the disorienting exhaustion of having a newborn.  I wanted so badly to have a semblance of my old life back.  And when it's your first baby, and you're planning on having more babies, you don't really grasp the precious fleeting nature of those newborn days.  When the twins were born, we were in complete survival mode.  I cherished the snuggles as much as I could.  But also cherished any second I could sleep.  Because from about 20 weeks of pregnancy until those boys were over 9 months ol\d, I didn't get more than 4 hours of consecutive sleep.

So as best we could, we've tried to embrace your newborn-ness.  Relishing the snuggles and chest naps.  I haven't minded when you'd want to nurse becuase it meant that I mostly got to sit still, even watch a few shows, and retreat from the chaos that echos around the rest of the house. 

And now that you're probably moving into a new pattern of sleeping, I know our time with a newborn is most likely over.  I feel relief and excitement to return to a manageable, sane pace of life.  But also very, very sad.

Today there was a full solar eclipse in North America and everyone went nuts for it.  The experience was definitely really cool, but what made it amazing is the fact that it only happens once a century.  So people were going bonkers to experience three minutes of something that they will most likely never experience again.  Our whole family drove 40 minutes to Elmhurst so that your dad could wait in line out side of a random toy store that was scheduled to get a delivery of eclipse glasses on saturday.  We didn't get any (and now that you hopefully know your dad a little better, you can see how out of character it is for him).  Today I took you and Emily to the library and waited in line with at least 600 other people (no exaggeration) to get a pari of glasses.  Just so we would be able to experience this once in a life time phenomenon.   It strikes me that every phase of parenting is it's own solar eclipse.  A unique and sacred time in your lives that will never happen again.

There are many things you don't get as a fourth child (lots of one on one attention, most mile stones documented, new things, your well child doctors appointments scheduled on time, etc.).  But there are many things you do get such as the smothering affecion of your siblings.  And perhaps most significantly: parents that know we're living through a solar eclipse.  And no matter how inconvenient, exasperating, or exhausting the particular phase of life you are in is, we want to soak in every second of it that we can.

We love you, Teddy.  And even though as I type this, I miss you sleeping on my chest while I watch Parks and Recreation, I can not wait to see the man you become.

Love always, Mom

Gabriel James

When you were born, you were 6lbs, 8oz.  Which isn't that small for a newborn, but compared to Andrew, who came it at 8lbs 4 oz, you seemed tiny.  You were alert and looking around, content in your crib.  Andrew was not.  As a baby he wanted to be held, bounced, and fed almost constantly, so you were, in comparison, the easiest baby ever.  As I figured out how to breast feed the two of you, and in the haze of twin new born existence, and given that I had a c-section, I don't think you got enough to eat in the first few days of your life.  I know you didn't, because you went to the NICU after a nurse noticed you having a shuttering response when you were unswaddled. You glucose was low, and they wanted to start an IV right away.

I won't ever forget the 10-15 minutes between when they tested your glucose the first time (by pricking the bottom of your foot), feeding you a bottle, then re-testing it.  The nurse expressing concern that the number wasn't higher.  Me sitting in the hospital room with my mom, not sure what to do.  I can picture you laying on your side, crying out a small little cry that was high pitched.  It was just one cry and then you fell back asleep.  I remember feeding Andy, being confused about what side to try with you all, him not being content, my mom saying "save that side for Gabe".  I remember you would fall asleep eating, and I was never sure if I should wake you up or let you be done.  I remember feeling exhausted, overwhelmed, broken apart from the surgery of c-section, missing Dan, who was at a wedding.  And I remember the doctor coming in and telling me they were taking you to the NICU.  I started crying immediately and she was trying desperately to reassure me that it would be ok.  They handed you to me to kiss you goodbye, and all I wanted to do was hold you as close as possible and make it all ok.  Even right now, you're sleeping soundly in the other room and I want to go pick you up.

Once you were in the NICU, it was fairly straight forward.  The only glitch was that they had to put your IV in your head, so it was a bit alarming to see you there with a giant IV sticking out of your tiny head.  You did great.  You got better fast.  It gave me an excuse to tell them to give Andy a bottle (which he took, and, in fairness was probably starving too).  I remember holding you there as you slept, crying, and picturing you as a rambunctious little boy.  I prayed and prayed.  All I wanted was for you to have the chance to grow up and play and be a little boy.

Well, lets just say that God has answered that prayer.  You are now 18 months 2 years (I'm bad at finishing posts) and more rambunctious, playful, loud, dynamic little boy than I can handle.  Whatever you do, you do it with gusto.  You learned to jump, but calling it jumping feels like a gross understatement.  You launch yourself off of a step, or couch, or table, with all the force you can muster, landing on two feet with an audible "GAAAAAHHH", much like a professional tennis playing after hitting a ball. You are huge.  Literally off the charts by every measure.  You are just THICK.  I wouldn't say fat, because you don't look over weight.  You are just one solid chunk of muscle.

You eat so much.  I rarely feel like I can feed you enough, but if I go back through what you have already eaten that meal, I think "HOW IN THE WORLD IS THIS NOT ENOUGH YET?!  HOW MANY CHEESE STICKS CAN YOU EAT?!"

When you laugh, you throw your head back and burst into a solid fit of laughter.  Everything with you is more.  Your joy is huge.  Your anger is intense.  You feel guilt and go and hide your face in a pillow so you don't have to look at us.   You run everywhere, and walk no where.  Obstacles are to be jumped off of or demolished immediately.

As we've brought home Teddy, you ask for him all the time.  When I bring him in a room you exclaim "Baby Teddy!  Hold Baby Teddy!"  You give him kisses.

You are constantly narrating what's going on for us.  You have so much to say, just not all the words to say it.  Yet.  Although you are getting there and once you do, I have a feeling you'll share your father's desire to share whatever captures your interest with whoever is around.  This goes for positive and negative things.  The other day, Dan told you to take something into the playroom that you didn't want to take there.  You knew you had to obey, so you did, and then proceeded to stand on the edge of the playroom, right on the border to the kitchen and yell at him about it.

If we make something into a game, it grabs your interest immediately.  Dan put up the little basketball hoop in the play room and I can't believe how long you will stand in front of it, line up a shot, and then just shoot.  Basket after basket.  You want to get better at a skill and practice it until you've mastered it.  Now when it's time to go to bed, Dan will say "Gabe, make one more shot, and then we're done".  And you love it.  You giggle as you run off after the ball, try to make a shot, and then when you do, you smile huge and run upstairs.

You are kind and sincere.  You don't think to deceive or be anything other than your authentic self.  And I love that I know you're not playing a game with me.  You are named after the angel who told Mary and others about the coming of Jesus.  I pray that you will always be telling other people about what excites you, and that first and foremost that will be the love and grace of God.  I pray that your strength and integrity will earn the trust of those around you.  And I pray that your zeal and intensity for life with lead you into adventures.

Emily Joy. You're 4 and You Are...

Hilarious.
Joyful.
So imaginative:
You spend almost every second of rest time making up elaborate stories with your dinosaurs and animals.  I have no idea what's going on in there, but it involves squares of toilet paper made into maps, every dinosaur in a family with it's own species, many different lands, adn lots and lots of conversation between characters.

Sensitive, Intuitive, and kind:
Fun story: One afternoon, we were all playing in the living room, and Dan made a comment that I was annoyed at or frustrated by, or something.  I left the living room somewhat upset (though I probably thought I was covering it up).  You made a pizza out of magnatiles and brought it over to him and said "Daddy.  This is a special pizza.  It's for special pizza day.  Do you know why we have special pizza day?  It's to make mommy happy.  And right now, you are not saying things that make mommy happy."  You proceeded to bring me a slice of the special pizza in the kitchen. Later, at dinner, Dan said something silly that I probably thought was dumb, but innocuous (like "well, what do doctors know?!") and I rolled my eyes. You leaned over to him with a serious look and said "Daddy...did you forget what I said about the pizza?"

This evening, you gave Dan a big hug and said "Oh daddy.  You're the best daddy a daughter could ever have."

You spontaneously give the baby in my tummy hugs.

Methodical and focused:
Your teachers (Mrs. Boredewick and Mrs. Steenken) told me that you always gravitate towards the activities that are set up for building and making things.  You will work on a picture or project for a long time.  And you always have a vision for what you want your end product to be.  You have more vision than I do for what a picture should be.

Also, in your parent teacher conferences, they went through a check list of developmental goals they have for their students.  You hit every single one of them.  Your teachers couldn't believe your vocabulary.  I can't either.

Actually playing with your twin brothers:
It took you almost a year to be able to reliably know which one is which (sorry...they were bald...).  And now you actually enjoy playing games with them.  You climb into their crib with them when they're playing in there and "organize" a game where you all jump, and then fall down.  And they love playing with you.

Love helping:
You love doing anything with me - cooking, art work, getting your food or juice, helping feed your brothers, chasing them when we're outside so I don't loose them.  You're such a fun companion to have around, doing projects with your dad.  You're even decent at cleaning up when I give you good directions.

Tough as nails:
About once a week, you'll fall, or get tackled by a brother, or something, and Dan and I will look at eachother, holding our breathe, anticipating the wail.  And you'll just pop back up, smiling, and say "It's ok.  I'm tough."

Culddly:
Almost every morning, you come out of your room, a bit groggy, and just collapse into my lap.  It's the sweetest, most wonderful moment.

Completely insane when you wake up in the middle of the night:
Seriously.  There's no amount of logic or reasoning, or calming down.  It's like we have to ride a wave of crazy for about 15 minutes.  Then something completely switches and you're fine.

Speaking of sleeping, you are currently sleeping in a zoo of stuffed animals:
3 bunnies, 2 owls (From Kiki and Mrs. Nancy), a Texas long horn (from Aunt Sally), a puffin (from Dan's trip to Iceland), and, of course, a T-Rex (from Kiki)

Saying really funny things:
Often when you say something that doesn't quite make sense, you follow it up with "Just trying to kid!" or "Just trying to joke!"

You were trying to tear a square of toilet paper off and said "I can't observe where the line is".

Andrew John, you are 18 months and you

Are Affectionate

Love all things music:

Music comes on and you can not help but dance.  Either you're bobbing up and down, or swining your right arm, or both.  Sometimes you just start jumping.  Your entire face lights up.  Your eyes get big, your smile takes up your whole face (you inherited that from me), and you look around just assuming everyone else would join in.  And why wouldn't they?  Your unihibited joy is contaigous.

Are Kind and considerate:

I know it seems like a stretch to say that an 18 month old is considerate, but you really are.  You see someone start to put on shoes and immediately bring them more shoes to put on.  They aren't usually the right ones, but it doesn't matter.  It's a thoughtful gesture.  You bring things to Gabe - like if you have an extra pacifier, you'll go give him one.  You often reach out from your high chair to share whatever you're eating.

But most obviously, and what I am excited to see grow in you, is the way you delight in other people's joy.  For example: when your dad is throwing you all in the air.  He'll pick you up, throw you around, and you'll laugh and laugh and laugh.  Gabe will rush over wanting (demanding?) a turn.  And when he starts to giggle and laugh, you just love it.  You really like when other people are having fun.  Dad was tickling Gabe last night, pretending to be a claw (like the kind in the machines that grab toys out).  He was laughing so hard.  You rushed over and started mimicking what dad was doing, taking your little hand and tickling your brother.  You just love when other people are laughing.

Enjoy doing your own thing

I'll often see you sitting in a pile of books, just looking at them, babbling to yourself.  You like playing with everyone, for sure, but you also tend to occupy yourself easily.

Raise your eyebrows and make your mouth into an "O" and make a breath in and out quickly, loudly, and exaggerated when you're running around. 
I mention this because it is hilarious.  It's like I asked you to act like you were running hard, and you do. But you're not tired at all.

Have started really bonding with your big sister:

You ask for her, get excited when she walks in the room, and love saying "sissy!  sissy!" She loves it too.

Have a frustrating habbit of throwing things you like out of reach and immediately bursting into tears:

You throw toys over gates.  You drop your pacifiers into the abyss between your crib and the wall.  You drop your water off of your high chair.  WHY, FOOL?!

Today you were sick

Both you and Gabe were up from 3-5am last night with stomach stuff.  I'd like to say that I know you'll thank me later for scrubbing throw up off of your sheets before I put them in the wash at 4:45 in the morning, but I know better than to think that adolescents actually appreciate their parents.  But before your nap, you were fussy.  Dad was home so I got the rare opportunity to snuggle and rock some before putting you in your crib.  You were pretty fussy leading up to it, but as soon as I sat down, it was like you were in a trance.  You just snuggled up to me and laid in my arms while I rocked and sang "come thou fount".  Eventually you fell asleep.  It's been so long since you fell asleep in my arms.  And any time it happens, I know it could be one of the last times.  It was such a rare, beautiful moment, and I actually got to sit and enjoy it.  I couldn't pull myself away.

A deep, very deep, sense of gratitude filled my heart and seeped into my soul.  I am so grateful that I get to be your mom.  And I know that in what feels like no time, you won't want my arms for comfort.  My presence and snuggling with me won't be best physical representation of God's delight in you.  But for now, it is.  And I'll keep trying to be the best vessel I can be for the love of God that will.

So Cute
Your hair is blonde, whispy, with one curl at the nape of your neck. I never want to cut your hair for fear that you'll loose that curl.  Your eyes are a beautiful blue eyes that match your brothers.  sometimes it feels like that's one of the only things about you two that match.  The last few months have marked you all growing from babies into toddlers.  My little boys.  Which is ok - you are two distinct, amazing little boys.

Clever

You are the first to figure out something new: puzzles, how to climb something, how to open a door, how to fall out of your crib, whatever.  You see the possibility of what's on the other side of something and want desperately to get there.  You also have figured out how to be sneaky - you know we're not always watching. And you are constantly trying to figure out the line.  If I say "don't throw something", you'll look at me with a mischevious little grin, keep eye contact the whole time, and slowly drop it as if to say "So what exactly do you mean by throw...".  Or I'll say don't hit or don't touch, and you'll slowly reach out your finger while staring at me.  You're our builder, loving to systematically stack and connect into patterns.

Thursday, December 15, 2016

Made:

Buckeyes with Emily.  
She absolutely loved dipping the peanut butter balls into melted chocolate, and was much better at doing so than I thought she would be.  Note to self: give her more opportunities for independence.

Listened:

Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard on How I Built This.  After listening to it, I am 90% certain the next jacket I purchase will be a Patagonia one.  Which may very well be the reason he did the show in the first place, to get suckers like me to buy their stuff.  But I want to believe that he's authentic in his approach and commitment to a better way of designing and consuming clothing.

Conversation with Emily before bed:

Em: (can't remember exactly waht she was talking about, but it was nothing related to bed time or anything like that), and that's the last thing I'm going to say.  Becuase I am super tired.

Me: Ok, well, I love you

Em starts suckign her thumb and nodding

Me: Aren't you going to say 'I love you, too'?

Em: No, I already told you that that was the last thing I was going to say.  I can't say anything else because I am SUPER TIRED!

Me: I know - but it's still nice to say "I Love you, too" when someone says 'I love you'

Em: But I CAN'T say I  LOVE YOU!  Becuase I already told you the last thing I was saying!

Me: PLEASE say I love you, too! (start tickling, silly kisses, etc.)

Em: (after a lot of giggles) I love you

Me: I love you!

I walk out but hear her talking.  A few minutes later I hear her saying "PLEASE!!" so I go back into her room

Me: Em, were you calling for me?  Or pretending?

Em: I was calling for you!

Me: Why?

Em: Becuase I needed to tell you that I didn't say 'I love you, too'  I just said 'I Love you'.  I ALMOST got the whole thing out, but not all the way.  Becuase I'm too tired.  And that's the last thing I'm going to say.

Thursday, December 8th

Woke up to:

Emily, 2 inches from my face, "Mommy!  This morning I'm an elk! (makes a shrill elk bugling sound)"

Ate:

Breakfast Burrittos for dinner.  Eggs, bell peppers, cheese, and sausage.  

For the past few years, family dinners here have not been the ritual I would love for them to be.  Understandable, given the fact that meals are basically the final scene of Jurassic Park around here:

Emily finishing off her bowl of mac & cheese sort of reminds me of the end of Jurassic Park where the T-Rex roars as the "when dinosaurs ruled the earth" banner is falling around it... terrible, yet in a way, awe-inspiring...

A photo posted by @dnicholas on Aug 1, 2014 at 6:11pm PDT

Take that picture, times it by 2 (because twins...) and remember that the adorable little toddler in that picture is now a 3 year old who *actually* wants to be a dinosaur.

Which is why working through Dinner: A Love Story has been a gift from Heaven.  Jenny Rosentrach writes chapters specifically for young families, inviting you to give yourself a little grace, while inspiring and coaching the reader through how to actually enjoy family dinners. I find that I need to stop and celebrate successes of dinner time, instead of expecting the experience of dinner time to be the idyllic picture of wholesome family time that I'm sure it will become soon. (sarcasm / sad trombone sound effect / downcast eyes emoji).

Were breakfast burritos fancy? No.  Did everyone eat at least some component of them, all together, at the same time?  Yes.  I'm going to go ahead and list us at a solid level 3.

Read

You Are Special by Max Lucado (to Emily for bedtime.  But...also to myself.  For life)

Punchinello laughed, "Oh, me special? How can I be special? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. I make silly mistakes all the time and I am not a beautiful Wemmick like some of the others. How could I matter to you?" Eli looked at Punchinello and put his hands on those little wooden shoulders of his and spoke very slowly, "Because Punchinello... you are mine. That's why you matter to me."

Listened

Megyn Kelly's interview on Fresh Air.

I loved the balance between the two women.  In a politically polarized time, I found it quite refreshing to listen to a liberal host interview a conservative news anchor.  Megyn Kelly is strong, nuanced, and intelligent.  And, of course, Terry Gross is unparalleled in her skill as an interviewer.  Here was one of my favorite excperts:

(On how Trump's rhetoric represents a backlash to the notion of "PC culture")

There are a lot of people in our society who have had it with PC culture ... and I, Terry, am one of those people. I think we have gone too far into the PC culture, but there's a limit to how far we can take that. 

...My general sense is [Trump voters] feel they've been lectured to enough on how they're supposed to speak and how things that were very innocuous or innocent over the past several years were spun back to them ... and so when Trump came up as this PC-buster they said, "Yes! He's our champion." He was given a permission slip for everything he said and did because of that. The gradations of what was appropriate or not seemed to get completely lost. ...

But I would submit to you that Trump's history of comments on women go well beyond the line, if you look at them in their entirety, past the normal backlash to PC culture.

Wednesday, December 7th, 2016

Watched

This video. Three times.  And cried like a baby each time.

Gosh I love Star Wars

Read

"To Be Virgin" by Loretta Ross-Gotta from "Watch For the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas"

Favorite quote:

"The gift of greatest efficacy and power that we can offer God and creation is not our skills, gifts, abilities, and possessions.  The wise men had their gold, frankincense, and myrrh, Paul and Peter had their preaching.  Mary offered only space, love, belief.  What is it that delivers Christ into the world  - preaching, art writing, scholarship, social justice?  Those are all gifts well worth sharing.  But preachers lose their charisma, scholarship grows pedantic, social justice alone cannot save us.  In the end, when all other human gifts have met their inevitable limitation, it is the recollected one, the bold virgin with a heart in love with God who makes a sanctuary of her life, who delivers Christ who then delivers us...What if, instead of doing something, we were to be something special?  Be a womb.  Be a dwelling for God.  Be surprised."

Cherished

Emily trying to put the star on top of the tree.

...she needed a little help

I mean seriously.  Those two.  Heart eyes.

More heart eyes.