month twelve (and thirteen) in review

Henry, this past month, you turned one.

I had planned to do a spectacular photo montage set to music with various pictures from your first year - but since we were on a cross-country road trip 3,000-miles from home, that plan never came to fruition.

I had also planned to bake you the a five-tiered cake that is customary in your father's family in honor of the first birthday ... but that didn't happen, either (Note the date stamp. That was for your siblings birthday in 2005).


I know, I know. Whaddup?!


In lieu of those things, I have merged a lot of photos from your 12th month in with a lot of photos from your 13th month while humming Celine Dion's Miracle.


And I made you a flag cake that your brother was gracious enough to share with you, on the Fourth of July. For some reason, he thought the cake, which was decorated in strawberries that he had helped to pick out, belonged to him. But he did let you have a piece which was very, very nice. Considering it was YOUR birthday cake.


Oh, baby Henry. You are my miracle.


You are growing by leaps and bounds and it is bittersweet to see how much you have changed in less than 400 days.


Although you are not (completely) walking yet, you do get around rather quickly by what I consider to be running with your hands on the ground.

You like to climb on top of anything ...

... and crawl under anything that doesn't move.


You are taking a few hesitant steps...


And will spend minutes putting objects in to and taking them out of, a cup.

You are fascinated by looking at your siblings upside down (while standing on the train table)...


And you are enamored with gravity and how strawberries and Cheerios when thrown, land on the floor. This is an incredibly curious thing that you feel compelled to repeat with anything you can get your hands on.


You love ice cream...

And I love watching you eat it.


You love going for rides on various toys...


And you equally love pushing your siblings around the house. As for me, I love it that all of you push each other around because it hurts my back to bend down for the several hours a day that the lot of you little people enjoy participating in this particular activity.


As much as you adore your siblings, they adore you.


They are such big helpers, too.


Even when you sit in the middle of their toys, with your palms upturned and bust them for eating all your teething biscuits, they are quite smitten with their baby brudder.


Because of our recent travels and long summer days, we have had our share of struggles with your sleep schedule. But within the past week, I've been very strict. There was a lot of crying the first few days, but by the third day, you were taking a 45-minute morning nap beginning at 8:30 AM and a 45-minute to 2-hour afternoon nap beginning at 1:00 PM. You also go to bed with no resistance at night and sleep for anywhere from 10 to 12 hours. Your father will bring you to bed so I can nurse you, and then you'll usually doze off for at least another hour. It's a good thing you are finally sleeping, because I was starting to lose my mind a little.

And oh! Look how peaceful you are when you are sleeping!!


I am still nursing you and have no intention to stop until you are ready. Or, until you turn two. Whichever comes first. Although, if you continue with the Cirque du Soleil routine wherein you attempt 360 degree spins from my nipple, I might reconsider. Sorry, no picture for that. But imagine you, upside down, with your feet over the top of my head.


I held off on having your hair cut until you turned one, because I just couldn't get myself to cross over to what I consider to be the beginning of toddlerhood.


But toddlerhood, come it will. I can see that you are growing in to a perfect little boy, Henry. You delight in pushing toy trucks, trains, or equipment with wheels around the house.


And catching piggy back rides on your Daddy's shoulders.


Sure, every so often you are the embodiment of a frustrated one-year-old, and there was that time I wanted to catapult you in to the Duck Pond in the Boston Public Garden...


But mostly? You are pure magic...


And I want you to stay my baby so I can hold you in my arms, forever.

eating at one

I'm working on a rather lengthy 12 (and 13) month in review post for Henry, but because my goal is to be off the computer every night by no later than 10:30 and the in review post that I'm working on will never be finished in 25 minutes, this is a little something I thought I'd share, in the meantime.

One thing is for sure about one-year-olds: they know what they like and what they don't like. Take for instance, Henry.

Henry likes watermelon.

Henry likes watermelon a lot.


Notice, Mom, all that seems to remain is the rind. Surely we have more.

Henry doesn't like when we run out of watermelon.

It tends to make him a little unhappy.

OK, it tends to make him a lot unhappy.

Henry doesn't like when chocolate chip is out of his reach.

Henry doesn't like when brownies are out of his reach, either.

Henry is always happy when he's eating ice cream.


Until it's all gone.

But wait one minute, I'm certain there were TWO cartons in the freezer!!

better than a pep rally

We went to church today.

It's been several months since we've attended church because the children get sick (almost) every time we go. But it was a good decision to attend this morning, because I don't think we've ever been in need of a church sermon as much as we were today.

Without going in to all the gory details, this morning - before 9:00 AM - Charlie and I both declared that our marriage had suddenly morphed in to something hardly recognizable anymore. We couldn't pinpoint the exact reason we were short with each other, and why we felt so frustrated with everything at that particular moment, but the weight of our responsibilities was suddenly too much.

We were angry.

We were vocal.

I noticed that the windows were open and we were speaking IN LOUD TONES but it didn't matter. Who in our neighborhood wouldn't understand that the family with lots and lots of small children and a hacking dog needs to have a good shoutfest every so often?

We have issues. Most of them (if not all) surrounding the offspring that we wanted and prayed for since the start of our marriage. You know, those little things we call children.

Children that don't sleep well. Children that don't nap well. Children that don't poop well. Children that wake up in the middle of the night and decide to wake up their siblings and they all jump out of bed and unload their chest of drawers and try on new clothes and then come wake up their parents to start the day and the parents crawl out of bed before seeing the clock and realizing that it is only 3:45 AM.

Children that destroy things. Children that make new messes faster than we can clean the last one up. Children that grow fast and need new beds and new clothes and new shoes. Children that don't eat. Children that talk back. Children that tease. Children that whine. Children that scream and scream and scream. Children that run away in the parking lot. Children that open the deadbolt on the front door and wander out in to the yard. Children that overflow the bathroom sink. Children that wash their dishes and have a teaparty with water from the toilet.

Children that generate 20 loads of laundry a week because they like to change their own clothes five times a day - and throw their barely worn clothes in a hamper with dirty bar mops. Children that take up almost all of our free time as a couple. Children that take up almost all of our free time for ourselves. Children that take up almost all of our expendable income. Children that have firmly planted themselves in our home and are here to stay.

Children.

When Charlie told me that all he wanted was for the weekend to be over so that he could get back to work, it struck me. That's not the way it should be. Heaven knows, I don't want the weekend to be over because then it will just be me and the CHILDREN.

I didn't know where we were going this morning when I got the children dressed and put on my tevas. I didn't know where we would end up when I grabbed the diaper bag and ordered every one to get in to the car. I didn't know where we spend the morning as we pulled out of the driveway and left our neighborhood.

But as soon as we saw the church and realized that it was Sunday, we knew.

We arrived more than an hour before the sermon was scheduled to begin, but since the nursery school was staffed, we dropped off our children and headed for the sanctuary. Because we were early and there were people setting up the stage for the service, we felt a little awkward sitting in the back, or inconspicously off to the side, as we normally do. But once we made eye contact with the singers who were doing sound-checks, we moved down to the front and sat in the center of the row.

For what seemed like a long while, we sat and talked. We watched people file in and take up the chairs around us. We listened to the prerecorded music that is piped in until the band takes the stage. And during this time, we both came to the conclusion that our marriage is sinking fast.

If we don't do something to stay afloat, we are both going to drown.

Finally, our church's praise band took the stage. They are such an awesome band every time I hear them, I feel the worries of the world that I carry around in my heart, slough away. And because their talent is so powerful, and the slideshows that they flash on the screen to accompany their music are so beautiful, every time I hear them, I am moved to tears.

So there I was, sitting in the third row - center - bawling. Thinking about my family, thinking about all the things that I wish were different. Looking at the photographs on the big screens of waves crashing on the beach and thunderclouds moving through the desert. Thinking about my sisters and my father and my dog. Thinking about my role as a friend, mother, daughter and wife. Thinking that although people might think that I'm amazing or inspirational, on the inside I feel like I am failing colossally.

Within five minutes of the minister taking the podium, I knew that God had led us to church today. We didn't know where we were going to end up when we pulled out of our driveway, but as soon as the sermon began, we knew that this is where we supposed to be.

I've always been a somewhat spiritual person, but ever since we've had children, I have become even more so. I hang on to spirituality and prayer like a life line. I've never been one to quote Bible verses and have always felt awkward when someone does. But I think that's because I grew up in a Catholic family and that wasn't something that anyone in my family ever did.

I don't think we even owned a Bible.

But today, when our pastor was reading verses from the Bible, it struck me. Today, when I felt like my marriage was on the verge of collapse and my children were running me in to an early grave, what I heard was exactly what I needed to hear.

All I kept thinking was "Wow, that sounds like a pretty accurate description of what I'm going through right now. And that, too. And that. And that. And ... hey ... how in the world ... this is pretty damn good ... who wrote this book, anyway?"

These are just some of the notes that I was able to furiously jot down, through my tears.

Parents lead and children follow.

Children, obey your parents in the Lord for this is right. Ephesians 6:1

Children grow, then they go. Prioritize your family. A healthy relationship between the parents must be the first priority.

For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and will be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh. Genesis 2:24

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her. (Even when they are being totally bitchy and you wish they'd just GO away). Ephesians 5:25 (& Jen 8/3/08.)

Practice loving discipline because otherwise, children can morph in to little sinners that will divide and conquer.

A refusal to correct is a refusal to love; love your children by discipling them. Proverbs 13:24

Children are not wired to be in charge. If they were, we would eat cupcakes every night for dinner and candy every morning for breakfast.

God had made these children, they are made in His image, not yours.

Train a child in the way he should go. Proverbs 22:6

Discipline is for the future, not punishment for the past.

Prepare for the journey and know that you might get lost a time or two. Or twenty two hundred. Children are on loan from the Lord.

Children are a gift from the Lord. Psalm 127:3

As soon as you figure it out, it changes. There are seasons in life. The house. The kids. The marriage. The career. It isn't all going to be perfect. Let go and relax. And enjoy.

There were nods and murmurings throughout the congregation. I looked at my husband and it struck me that all of these challenges that we are facing with juggling our lives and marriage and career and family - we are not alone.

We are not alone in trying to be the best parent and spouses that we can be.

We are not alone in feeling that everything is too much for us to handle at times.

We are not alone in feeling that we could be better.

We are not alone in feeling that the responsibility of raising children that make a positive contribution to society is entirely upon our shoulders.

We are not alone when we shrug off the credit paid for the things our children do right, and severely blame ourselves for the things that they do wrong.

With very rare exception, every couple that we know who have gone through a divorce have done so once they have had children. Of course the parents will tell the children as they grow older that it was not "their" fault that mommy and daddy split up.

But quite often, I believe it is.

Not the actual child's fault perhaps, but the introduction of children in to a marriage and the subsequent inability of the parents to successfully manage the change. They are unable to keep the focus, the priority, on the marriage. Because there are only so many hours in a day and so much laundry to do and bills to pay and blogs to read and shows to watch - the marriage is put on the backburner, indefinitely.

Romance fades away.

Communication begins to falter.

And before you know it, you are talking two different languages and unable to get along.

To me, that's what it's about. It's about knowing how to manage your married life once you have children. It's about keeping the focus on your marriage, regardless of what obstacles or challenges your offspring - or life - may throw in your way.

Charlie and I: We are on the same team. But we have got to work harder on our zone defense. We have got to work better on our communication skills and treating each other with respect (that applies to me, mostly).

It may not be easy to be tactful with your spouse when they give your baby a sippy cup full of whole milk just before bedtime when it feels like you've got ripe cantaloupes on your chest, but it's important that you are. It's especially important that you don't say something like "How 'bout I knee you in the crotch so that you have a good understanding of what this feels like?"

For us, we are making the commitment to spend some time together, every night. We are going to read the book, The Five Love Languages together, and we are going to be more in love than we were when we united in marriage, 14 years ago, this week.

I predict there will be a lot of kissing.

confessions of a triplet mother

Charlie took the children out to lunch and then to a matinée to see the new Pixar film Wall-E, today. Henry and I had three hours together.

Three hours.

In the middle of the day.

Instead of taking a leisurely stroll on the beach, or completing the grocery shopping, or taking a nap, or painting the exterior ... I cleaned the house from top to bottom while Henry crawled around after me.

The whole time, all 180 minutes of it, I was absolutely giddy with happiness.

I can't effectively express the sense of satisfaction it gave me to tidy up a room, leave that room, and walk back in to that room 10 minutes later and it was still neat. For three full hours, I had nothing to do but whatever my heart desired. Which, today, it was all about cleaning the house.

I was so obsessed excited that I pulled out the Q-tips and scoured the tracks for our closet doors. Where does all this goop come from?


The moment I finished cleaning and was putting away all of my supplies and preparing to sit down and read Henry a book ... the front door burst open and in came Charlie with the wrecking crew children in tow.

Sure, it was good to see that they all arrived home safely ... but try as I might, I couldn't suppress the "Oh damn!" that slipped out as soon as I heard them arrive.

As suspected, within 30 minutes, the house was a disaster.

I was breaking up fights, sending children in to time out, and my ear drums started to bleed from all the whining. The only thing that kept me from going ABSOLUTELY NUTS is that I caught a glimpse of the calendar and remembered that Montessori starts next month.

Thirty-one days from now. 732 hours. Not like I'm counting, or anything. Because I'm sure I'll miss them terribly for those three hours a day. (Although probably not the first or second day.) (Or anytime within the first month).


But ... for three hours a day, I'll be free.

FREE!

Thank God Almighty, I'll be free!

Am I the only one that can hear "Gloria! Gloria in Excelsis Deo!"?

favorite thing friday

Every so often, Charlie will come home from the store with "something" that he thinks is so absolutely cool that he just had to have it. Two and a half out of ten times, he's right on the mark and whatever purchase he made is so great ... we'll look at each other and ask "How did we live with out this item in our lives, before?" A few months ago, my husband made one of those 2.5 out of 10 purchases.

It's a Nordicware two-burner reversible griddle.


You can buy one online, or pick one up at Costco for $25.00.

Although we have an electric griddle that works fine, what I love about this griddle is that it is very easy to clean, it neatly stores with our cookie sheets, it has a perfectly flat cooking surface for a variety of foods that makes it a million times better than a frying pan, we can cook large quantities, and we use it all the time.

As, in ... DAILY.

Our kitchen is instantly transformed in to a bistro when we bring this thing out.

We make french toast...


Grilled cheese, quesadillas and tuna melts...


And if we flip it over, we could use the opposite side for burgers, chicken, or fish.


Mostly though, we use it to make pancakes.


We eat a lot of pancakes at our house.


Yesterday, my friend Jessica sent me an e-mail asking if I knew how to make pancakes that weren't black on the outside and raw on the inside. And because I am married to such a phenomenal, outgoing, peace-loving cook, Charlie jumped at the chance to share his pancake recipe and cooking technique. Right after he ingested a couple cups of coffee.


To make Charlie's pancakes, you will need:

1½ cups flour (we use whole wheat or All Purpose)
3½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
1¼ cups milk
1 teaspoon of vanilla
1 egg
Butter for greasing the griddle.

(Notice I've discovered more than one use for the butter crock.)

Mix everything together.


To add a twist to the recipe, you can either mash a banana and add that to the batter ... throw in a cup of blueberries ... or add a dash of cinnamon before cooking. As far as I'm concerned, cinnamon makes everything a little better.

If we could infuse cinnamon in to the global drinking water supply, I'm convinced the world would be a happier place.


If you wanted to make waffles (you'd need a waffle iron, of course), just add 2 tablespoons of vegetable oil to the batter recipe, above.

We use a laddle and pour approximately ¼ cup of batter for each pancake on to the griddle, which has been greased with butter. Sometimes we'll make "silver-dollar" sized pancakes for the children which require ~ two tablespoons worth of batter.

Now, Jessica.

The key to cooking pancakes that are not burned on the outside and raw on the inside is to cook them on medium to low heat. Whatever you do, don't rush the pancakes.


Once the pancakes start to bubble, they are ready to be flipped.


Bubbles. You are looking for an even distribution of bubbles. And then ... FLIP.

They should be golden brown on the side you flipped. You'll only need to cook them, once flipped for another three or so minutes and BAM, they're done.


Although we will serve our pancakes with maple syrup (or it's derivative that is mixed with high fructose corn syrup, cellulose gum, caramel color, salt, sodium benzoate, sorbic acid, artificial flavors and sodium hexametaphosphate and comes under the label of AUNT JEMIMA) one of my favorite ways to "finish" a pancake is something we picked up from our good friends Paul and Jill 10 years ago while we were on a camping trip in Death Valley.

It was a real turning point for us to see people cooking GOOD food in the wilderness. Because whenever our friends broke out a griddle and whipped cream, we pledged to ourselves and the Universe that we would never eat dried out granola bars and dehydrated meatloaf and mashed potatoes around the campfire, again. The very next time we ventured in to the great outdoors and slept in a tent, we made ice cream and flaming organic peach crêpes.

Now I never thought that peanut butter would taste good on pancakes ... but this concoction is heavenly. Just smother the top of your pancake with peanut butter ...


And then, break out a can of whipped cream.


Spray the whipped cream generously on the top of the pancakes, add a dash of cinnamon (unless it's in the batter because although cinnamon is divine, too much of a good thing ain't so good) and a fresh sprig of flowers.


Our children love peanut butter and whipped cream pancakes. They can't eat them fast enough.


And I love fresh flowers.

In a world that is often filled with toddler chaos, a little dash of color on a plate makes it seem so ... so ... classy.


And you know we're all about class around here.