Holidays and Cute Boys

The boys are super cute and great. And for the most part, at the age where they will let me dress them up, wrap them in lights, and take lots and lots of pictures. Don't believe me? See below...

Halloween with a Fireman and Pumpkin

Tate actually hated the lights. I took a good twenty shots and this is the only one that came close to coming out. But, it reminds me of the cover of Step-Brothers, so I used it.  :)

Pictures' Worth of Words

I owe you pictures, and I owe you updates.

We are all awesome. Being a family of four is fitting us like we were made for it. Tate is in love with his brother, and Arthur is amazing and rock-tastic. Although, ask Dave his opinions on having an infant in the house after Arthur has been fighting sleep when I am at work, and you may get a slightly different answer.

A lot of people say Arthur looks like Tate. Some days I see it, some days I don't. Regardless, he is developing such a fun personality. In honor of that personality, we will play a little game in which the captions of the following pictures will represent what Arthur is thinking/feeling based on his face. :) Feel free to add your interpretations...

"oh Mom, really with the camera? Again?"

 

 

"goooood morning."

 

 

"oh wait. I think I've gotta poop..."

"get outta here, Tate."

 

 

"seriously, this is my photo shoot."

 

 

"my brother is trying to hug me...again. Help."

 

 

I just love this picture. One, because Tate really wanted to be in the pictures with "Brother", and second, because he was so proud that he turned three...and he could maneuver his fingers like that.

 

 

I promise, promise, promise to do better updating. Life is really fun and we want to share it with you. Plus, after a recent gathering with my favorite female cousins, I am aware that there are  those of you who follow the blog. Nice. For you, I will do better, hopefully...

 

 



Arthur's Arrival

First, this is a happy story, no matter how you perceive what I am about to share; this is a happy story.

Arthur is here! His due date was September 24, and I had done everything I could to learn everything I could, about having a baby at home with midwives. Tate was born via c-section due to being breech, and I knew the likely hood of having or being pressured into a repeat c-section were significant should we deliver in a hospital. I knew I didn't want to go down that route.

When we found out we were expecting, I made a compromise with Dave, we would go to see the doctor and go see the midwives. He agreed. At our doctor's appointment, when I shared with her my desire to VBAC (vaginal birth after c-section) she was hesitant, listing off a plethora of interventions and monitoring that must accompany my 'trial of labor' in the hospital; yet stating I was a good candidate. When I mentioned I was  also looking at a home birth, she shut me down. She said, and I quote: "You can't. We can't monitor you at home and you'll rupture, and you'll die and your baby will die." She turned to Dave, "and you will be a widow." Dave told me later he could see the doctor  had lost. Our appointment with the midwives a few days later went completely different and after lots and lots of discussion, in addition to lots and lots and lots of information sharing (I'll own it, by me) we decided to prepare to give birth at home.

I was pumped. I had visions of a water birth in our living room. I had visions of making a birthday cake for the baby to distract from contractions. I had visions of music playing throughout the house to sooth and calm me. I had visions of wonderful. For months we planned and prepared for birthing at home. We shared our plan with others, and while there was hesitations and questions, for the most part we felt supported and confident.

Throughout my pregnancy I search for information. Information about anything related to birth, babies, labor; literally, everything and anything. It was with this mindset we decided to get an ultrasound at 32 weeks. We had not had one done since 8 weeks and I was dying to see what our baby looked like. The midwives recommended a nurse practitioner who was very supportive of midwives and a more "natural" approach to birth. We arrived at our appointment pretty excited, with a soon-to-be-big brother ready to see pictures of the baby. It was fairly routine as the ultrasound tech obtained all the measurement and diagnostic information they needed. And p.s. a million props to ultrasound techs because I have no idea how you can see and interpret what you do. You are kind of rockstars. Our ultrasound tech, Mindy, had made mention of the placenta "branching out" in a certain spot. She didn't sound concerned and told us she didn't want to worry us, but was going to bring in a doctor for a second opinion on what may be an explanation for a placenta wandering as mine appeared to be doing. The doctor came in, with his Texan drawl and looked at the ultrasound. He started talking about something called vasa previa and velementous incertion, and then he left to get a book with pictures to better explain. Once back in the room, Dr. Texas Drawl explained that my baby's placenta and umbilical cord were not connecting where the cord was the thickest, and that left veins "unsupported" throughout the placenta. One of those veins they suspected was positioned over my cervix, leaving no safe exit for baby. He recommended a scheduled c-section. I cried. And then I felt silly for crying. The baby and I were both healthy. We had a plan to keep him out of danger and a way to get him out. I had had a c-section and it was not the worst thing at all. All of this I knew, all of this I vocalized, but I still cried.

And so our plans changed. I began researching natural c-sections, which are being performed and studied significantly in England. Essentially, a natural c-section slows down the surgery, allowing parents to see their baby being born, delayed cord clamping, and baby placed immediately on mom's chest for skin to skin. When I brought this up to Dr. Texas and his nurse practitioner, I expected to be laughed at. But they didn't. They were wonderful and were accommodating to all my "crunchy" requests. And for six and a half weeks, we prepared to meet our new baby and spend as much quality time as a family of three.

September 13th. I was nervous. I had had a c-section with Tate so it wasn't the unknown that scared me, it was knowing what I was up for; with recovery, caring for new baby and balancing the other two boys in my life. Plus, the waiting, the two hours before the surgery of monitoring, totally blows.

Savy and Tate were in the pre-op room with me. One was more helpful than the other.  :)

 

 

I left Tate with my sister, and could hear him crying as I climbed up on the operating table. I felt sad for my boy. He was so confused as to what was happening. Besides Dave, Laura was the best person he could have been with.

 

We were able to see Arthur being born. The hospital staff had brought in a mirror so we could watch. It. Was. Awesome. As planned, Arthur was taken from the sterile operating field, to the "baby nurse" who would then bring him to me. Before Arthur made it back over to me, Dr. Texas began talking about my placenta, and how it was everywhere. I heard him use the words, "have to take it out". He asked me if we were planning on having more children (we were). I saw as he was showing me in the mirror, how my placenta had veins everywhere and telling me that separating it from my uterus would be impossible. I was trying to grasp all he was saying, while sneaking peeks at my new son across the room, and process all of it when Dr. Texas leaned his face over the curtain and said, "Darling, I'm at a loss of what to do".

 

"Do it then."

 

I called Dave over to me. I told him he had to say no to every intervention they would ask Arthur to participate in. I told him to hold him, constantly. I told him to bring Arthur to me so I could kiss him. I told him they were going to put me out. And I told him I loved him.

 

 

I was able to see this before I went to sleep. Arthur knew he was not alone in this new scary world.

 

My c-section had been scheduled for noon. I woke up in the ICU at 4:30. Some of that immediate time I remember and some is fuzzy. I do remember Dave showing up really quickly. A doctor came in with a female colleague and I saw them fiddling with their phones, then the female left. The doctor showed me his phone, and on the screen was my sweet new baby boy, in real time.

 

 

To have people care about our situation this much, to go above and beyond and do something so kind, brought tears to my eyes.

 

 

It felt like forever before they took the tube out of my throat, but it was probably only 15 minutes. I was told not to talk, so of course I asked every question running through my head. Dave confirmed I had a hysterectomy, and shared that my overzealous placenta also decided to accost my bladder as well, which resulted in part of my bladder being removed and bladder reconstruction. Awesome. Dave told me how scared he had been. How much blood I had lost. What it was like being so close to the OR and witnessing all the commotion. He told me Arthur was perfect, that Tate loved him already, and everyone was just waiting for Mama. I was informed I would have to stay in the ICU overnight to be monitored. Laura and Lindsey came down to see me. My girls. The only better sight would have been seeing Arthur. They provided a second best. They brought me my phone, loaded with pictures of my boys.

 

 

Arthur, ready for the Packer game. Obviously, he's Dave's son.

 

 

Brothers...they make my heart melt.

 

 

It was almost 24 hours until I got to see Arthur. He was born at 12:11pm on Thursday, and at 10:30am on Friday, I was moved to the same room as my baby.

 

 

Our first picture together.

 

 

It was as if we had never been apart.

 

We stripped down to be skin to skin. Arthur latched on like a champ (and has been going strong every since). Dave and I talked and talked, and the filling in of the gaps of the last day's events kept coming. All I needed was my "medium boy". Lindsey brought Tate back to us a little while later.

 

 

The moment I saw Tate, all my fears about having enough love for both my boys evaporated, instantly.

Tate loved Arthur just as much as anyone.

We stayed in bed together all afternoon. Clearly my boys were tired.  :)

Even Tate wanted in on the skin to skin. He is an amazing big brother.

 

 

Lindsey and Laura were irreplaceable. We could never have planned for the situation we were given, and I don't know how we would have made it through without them. If there would be anyone I would entrust my family with, it is my sister and my best friend. They cared for Arthur, Tate,and Dave as I would have, and knowing they were there when I was not, was a comfort I cannot put into words. Lindsey was taking pictures throughout that day and sent me some over the next few days so I could see what everyone was up to while I was healing.

 

 

Skin to skin with Daddy

 

counting fingers...

 

Comfy, safe, and warm

 

This is a bittersweet moment. I love all the boys together, but I know this is when I was still in surgery, and Dave was facing a lot of unknowns. Still, I love this picture. My husband and father of our children.

 

We spent 5 long days in the hospital. It was difficult. We were all getting restless and wanting to return home, but recovery was slow. The day we were released, I had inquired about taking my placenta home, as we wanted to plant a tree for Arthur over it. Apparently, my placenta was kind of a big deal, as numerous medical professionals shared they had never seen anything like it. Due to preservatives it was treated with, we were not able to take the placenta home, but we were given pictures of the wicked thing. I'll share those by request...   :)



 

We are now home, learning how to be a family of four and healing a bit more everyday. For the most part it is going well, with every day starting with a big brother smooching on his little brother.

I won't say I didn't get the birth I wanted. That's absolutely not true. The birth I wanted ended with my baby being safely on the outside. Did I get the birth I had planned? Absolutely not. But that's not the point. The point is Arthur. And he's here, healthy and safe with us.

Chocolate Covered Anything

Seriously, how is this girl not my best friend?

 

 

These Cake Batter Energy Bars might possibly be the best thing in recent dessert news. I found this recipe after stumbling upon the website Chocolate Covered Katie: the Healthy Dessert Blog.

 

I'll say it again, why is this girl not my best friend?

Family Night

We are back! A new laptop and the proper editing software makes blogging about our experiencing oh-so-much easier.
Dave was able to obtain tickets to Family Night at Lambeau, where fans cheer as offence and defence face off against each other. We thought this would be a wonderful opportunity to introduce Tate to a "Packer Game" to see how he would do in that type of setting. We made it to half time...

After waiting in line for brats and watermelon in the 400 degree heat...

Tate and Lambeau Field

He suddenly became shy once we were in the stadium...

...until the time called for a silly picture. Then we were all good.



Tate and Dave

In February I began a new job. A full time job. At night. Not really ever the type of work schedule I would have thought I would engage in, especially when I have a small little family I adore spending time with, but this is where I find myself, nonetheless. Due to the nature of how our schedule as a family now works out, Dave and Tate spend a fairly significant amount of "man time" together. It is so apparent to me how meaningful this is. The growing bond between the boys is so great, it is almost visible. "Daddy" is usually the answer, or question, to most everything in Tate's world. I don't have enough words to express how lucky both Tate and I are, to have Dave, influence, teach, and model how to be a compassionate, loving, and "all around manly" man.

 Tate went around and gathered the lax boys' helmets, lining them up, oh-so-perfectly. Tate adores lacrosse, and loves watching Dave coach. He pulled Dave aside, specifically to show him his work.

 

Tate is a MAN. 

MAN criteria:

* don't wear a shirt

* place your hands behind your head in the car

* be just like Daddy

"Why you crying, Daddy?"

"It's okay to cry when you're sad, Buddy."

"Daddy, you need a hug?"

"Yeah, Buddy."

Tate and Bru

Just when I am at the point where I have absolutely zero patience for our half Devil, half Black lab dog, Tate goes and does something like this.

 He calls Bru his "Fire Dog". That's when she will allow him to place his fireman helmet on her head for like, 3.6 seconds. 

Looking at this picture, Bru looks slightly scared...maybe because she knows karma, for her, comes in the form of a 2 1/2 year old boy.

Scavenger Hunt

It has been about a year since we first took Tate to the nature reserve. As it worked out this time, I had the day off and Dave had been invited to a lacrosse boy's Eagle Scout ceremony, so we decided to make an adventure out of it. I had seen a variety of ideas for scavenger hunts that are completed on a walk, or at the mall, or the grocery store; where ever is needed to keep a little one interested. I decided since Tate and I would have about an hour to kill while Dave was at the ceremony, we would have our own nature scavenger hunt. We made a list that included words and pictures, for easy identification. The following were on our list (due largely in part because Mama could draw them):
* rock
* straight stick
* caterpillar
* bug
* wiggly stick
* leaf
* water
* really tall tree

Checking the list.

There was a pier that Tate was not even phased by last time we visited. This time, I had to use some extra creativity to get him off the pier. He kept looking into the water to see the "big fish, Mama!"

This was the face I got on one of the occasions I mentioned for us to "go back on land and find your treasures!"

I read this face as: "Yeah, I'm not going over there."

Mine and Tate's ideas of what constituted a "rock" were some what different, but major props to my son for staying true to the list. He only kept a rock (and he kept plenty) if it fit in the rock drawing on his list.

Making sure the leaf passes inspection. It too was match to scale against the list's drawing.

While we did not get everything on our list, Tate seemed to be into the whole, "let's find stuff on a list" idea, and would ask to go on a "cavenger hunt"  for the next few day...

Touch-a-Truck

We went to Touch-a-Truck again this year, much to the delight of a certain 2 1/2 year old. And let's face it, the delight of a 29 1/2 year old as well. Dave's office is located downtown, about a block away from where this takes place. He was good enough to call us to let us know Touch-a-Truck was happening. I kid, but I am really grateful he called as I had been wondering if the city was going to be putting it on again. You may remember we were introduced to the event last year, and again as you may remember, both boys thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

This is the back of an 'ATF Truck', which stands for Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms; as in the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, (and since 911) and Explosives. This was by far one of Tate's favorite trucks, due mostly to the fact that he was able to wear a helmet.

 This is in the back of a sheriff's squad car. He kept asking me to "go away, Mama. Shut the door". I kept telling him, "this is your only time in the back of one of these. Ever."

This would be in the front of the sheriff's squad. Much better. Although about 13 years premature, but hey, it's better than the backseat.

"Don't take my lacrosse stick, Mama!"

Tate has totally fallen in love with lacrosse. The other day, he was almost inconsolable after Dave left for an away game that we were not attending. He. Was. Distraught. He really loves it. He has his own lacrosse stick, which he is constantly inquiring about; where it is, who's car it is in, if we have any lax balls. Due to the crazy-ness of our schedules lately, and some unfortunate weather, last week was the first time Tate and I were able to make it to a game. Two games, in fact. So when I told Tate that we would go see Daddy's team play this afternoon, he was beyond excited.

There were four other young gentlemen, within the ages of 5-12, who were playing their own "game" of lacrosse with a tennis ball. It was like Christmas came early for my son. I attempted to remind him about personal space, to remind him that these kids were already playing a game, and gently remind him that he may be a bit too little. For he looked so tiny compared to the four boys, my mama eyes were observing. 

"No, I big, Mama." my sweet boy attempted to convince me, as he stood on his tip-toes.

Thankfully, it was warm out and Tate needed a water break, otherwise I do not know how I would have gotten him away from the mini lacrosse game. Actually, I do know. I would have picked him up, with his verbally protesting that he should be able to continue to play. As was the case five minutes later.

And note, apparently firemen play lacrosse.

Humans of New York

I promise you, soon we will be back to posting pictures along with stories of the Tater-Man and Savy. Officially right now, my laptop is out of commission as it is in desperate need of a new battery. So instead of leaving you lonely and hanging, I will continue to post other websites I find fun. This one, at least has pictures you can look at. It is called, Humans of New York. It is no surprise how much I love photography, so I was thrilled to stumble upon this project. Essentially, this photographer, Brandon Stanton, set out to "construct a photographic census of the city of New York". The pictures are wonderful. They make me laugh. They inspire me. They are beautiful. And they afford me the opportunity to see a stranger, an individual in a way I may not if I were simply passing them on the street.


Some examples with descriptions/stories from the photographer:

 

This guy was huge, mohawked and tattooed. A real intimidating character - then he smiled.

 

I found this man on 7th Avenue in Park Slope. He was leaning heavily on his cane, looking down, wearing a grimaced face. I felt bad for him, so I smiled and waved when I walked past. His face changed completely. He lit up, smiled wide, and gave me a cheery greeting. There was nothing forced about it. He seemed like a man who went through life looking for the smallest excuses to be happy.

I walked 50 feet down the sidewalk, turned around, and walked back to him. “I want to take your photo,” I told him, “because of how big you smiled when I walked by.”

He said: “Well I saw someone smiling at me who I didn’t even know. So I thought: ‘By God! I Better do something!’”

  

I love that there are cultures where a father and son can walk arm-in-arm without a hint of self-consciousness.

 

There Were Three in the Bed and the Little One Said...

Think what you want of our situation, thankful it is ours and you only have to read about it.

Tate likes to sleep in our bed. He usually wakes up around midnight or so and crawls in between us. It has gotten to the point, where in the morning, neither Dave nor I remember this happening. It is a little bit like Christmas, waking up to an additional person in bed. Ok, maybe not like Christmas, but still...he's cute and he's right there, perfect for smooching. 

At times, I think Dave and I both have mixed feelings about this pattern, but I try to remind myself that our son will not be 16 years old and still crawling into bed with us. If that is the case, I will then be posting a completely different blog post. For now, this is how it is, and if I wake up at say, 3am and Tate happens to have stayed in his own bed, I feel slightly deflated and so alone in bed with just one other person. But then I roll over and go blissfully back to sleep without anyone's arms, hands, feet or head pushing, poking or assaulting me; and with my pillow all to myself. Which leads to why I found this picture so right on amusing.