This boy I love

Is 33 today. He deserves an epic tome of a post rhapsodizing about his wonderfulness. And I will write one. Soon. For now I'll tell you this: he loves me, his children, and dogs. He enjoys teaching, reading J.D. Salinger, Boethius, and Augustine, and smoking a pipe. He is a vegetarian who likes guns and wears a bow-tie. He is a flier of kites. Happy birthday, dear husband, happy birthday to you. (I wish I could get you that Triumph motorcycle. Maybe next year.)

One month

And three days, but you'll forgive me the delay. Helena has changed her mind about a few things: she now likes the swing and the pacifier, and tolerates the sling. She has mixed feelings about the Miracle Blanket. She starts off with a quizzical expression which quickly leads to one of extreme indignation when she discovers that her arms are tightly swaddled to her sides which means her hands are down there somewhere too. Now, the faint of heart might unswaddle her at this point, but I have discovered that the loud protest only lasts 5 minutes and then leads to 5 and sometimes 6 HOURS of uninterrupted night sleep for Helena. And, perhaps more importantly, me. She really prefers, as you see from the photo, to be on her stomach, which is, of course, a big no-no. With Harper, I adhered to the Back-to-Sleep mantra so strictly that she got a flat head. I am pretty much mantra-free at this point. Harper (her head did round out nicely once she could roll over on her own) held Helena for the first time this week.We are all about ready to re-enter the world. We have pretty much been wearing our pajamas for 34 days. We do change them occasionally. Harper has grown so weary of being inside that she has taken to dressing up her stuffed animals to "take them places." Yesterday I was surprised to find out that there is something of a familial structure to her menagerie. "Just the kids are going to the dinosaur museum today," she announced as she put a lovely frock on her brontosaurus and gave him a good brushing, "and the grown ups are staying home." I asked who the grown ups were, and she said Wolfie (who is actually a lamb) and Brown Bear, who are the largest of her animals. I thought that made good sense. She has been keen on this idea of going places by herself for a few months now. At one point she had a grand plan that at some undisclosed point in the near future I would drop her off at a bus stop and she would get on the bus and go to karate school. All by herself. On this she was emphatic. She would also be wearing a gi. She had not yet decided what color her belt would be.

Hudson has, for some mysterious reason, decided that when Daddy goes to work, there are horses involved. As soon as the husband walks out the door, Hudson launches into a dramatic monologue that sounds a little like this, "Daddy work gerbuhhhgaghdkifin gububb HORSES!! alllajoutuchudrim lackshimi!! Daddy, ababidododjerrubuduh and the HORSES!!!...." Is Daddy a cowboy? A rodeo clown in a really nice suit? A jockey? We don't know, but I'm sure it does not involve any motions for summary judgements or depositions.

All of my children just pooped within 3 minutes of one another. So.

Abstaining from complaining

The other title choice was "Content for Lent." I couldn't decide which was cheesier. They are both pretty awful. A Lenten fast is supposed to involve the abstention from something we enjoy. I decided that I must really enjoy whining and complaining because I do it on a daily, hourly, and sometimes minute to minute basis. So, here is what will happen if a person (for example, me) decides to give up whining and complaining for Lent:

On Thursday night, I filled up the bathtub to give Harper and Hudson their bath and noticed the water looked rusty. So rusty that I decided not to give them a bath. How dirty can they be, really, when we've been home all day? I also decided that I would wait until morning to take a shower myself, because I noticed the rusty water also had a Smell, and it was decidedly not pleasant. A little later, during her night feedings, Helena rather uncharacteristically spit up. All over me and herself. Twice. We smelled good. Friday morning as I'm changing her on the changing table, she spits up again and it goes all over her hair. And as I am washing my hands I realize the rusty water has slowed to a trickle. That's right.
We.
Have.
No.
Water.
Not even rusty water.

I desperately need a bath. Helena desperately needs a bath. Hudson, after enjoying his bowl of oatmeal, desperately needs a bath. So does his high chair. Now, this is the THIRD time since Helena was born (4 weeks ago tomorrow) that our water has been turned off, but the apartment complex had given us fair warning the other two times. I called the office and they claimed this outage was the fault of a water main break a block or so away, and that the city had NO IDEA when the water would be back on. You know, with three small children, there is an immediate need for water. Lots of water. Toilets to be flushed, faces and bottoms to be wiped, and hands to be washed, and washed and washed again. Hudson, inexplicably, had three monstrous Bad Diapers by early afternoon. Helena continued to spit up and poo at intervals of approximately 8.6 minutes. The internet was down, which had nothing to do with the water, but meant that even when I got a minute I couldn't blog or check email to get everyone to feel sorry for me. Hudson only napped 45 minutes (it's usually 2-3 hours). Harper didn't nap. When the husband got home at 5:45 bearing the wondrous gift of 9 gallons of water, you can imagine the Mood that Welcomed Him Home. More Roseanne than Mrs. Cleaver, I'm sorry to say. He was very sympathetic and took over so I could take a very, very cold "shower" with a gallon jug of water. As soon as I finished my invigorating splash off, the water came back on. That's funny, huh?

Speaking of funny, my use of quotes around "shower" reminded me that Jamie linked to a blog dedicated to the misuse of quotation marks. It is hilarious. I wonder if she could leave the link in the comments so we can all enjoy it?

And a couple of photos to show some of the many things in which I should find great contentment. The second one is the ONLY shot I have of all three kids together. Great, huh? Christmas card worthy. But instead of whining about my lack of photography skills, I'm going to read the manual that came with my camera, as my friend Robin, Master Photographer, suggested in her recent blog series on taking a good photograph. If only I knew where to find it.

In which Helena finds her voice, Harper suggests a little natural family planning, and Hudson vacuums

Helena is extremely pleasant for approximately 23 hours a day. Mostly still just sleeping and eating and then, more sleeping. Around 5 days ago she decided that she needed to do a little crying. It is loud. So loud, in fact, that when she tried it out at 3:30 am she actually managed to summon a feral cat who crouched outside our bedroom window and joined Helena in her lament. When they get worked up, it's uncanny how much cat can sound like a baby. In fact I was so groggy I got a little confused and was concerned at one point that Helena was actually out in the shrubbery. A few other details I'll chronicle here in case this ends up becoming her baby book. So far she isn't crazy about the sling, the swing, the pacifier, the Miracle Blanket, or sleeping on her back. She likes being held, sleeping on her tummy, eating her hands, being swaddled NOT in the Miracle Blanket (I am not giving up on it because it cost $30--it looks like a baby straight jacket), and Daddy rubbing her back while she reclines in the Boppy.

Two days ago at breakfast, Harper said this: "If we took one baby away, we would only have two children in our family." She then cut her eyes to the right where her brother sat happily eating his oatmeal, oblivious that in this little equation, he had just been canceled out. I commended her on her math skills, but assured her that none of our babies were going anywhere. Then she segued into this:
Harper: Mommy, WHAT is making you have a baby so much?
me: (panic, panic, is she asking what I think she is asking??! I won't answer her and she will forget the question!)
Harper: (not bothered at all by my silent panic, eyeing my English muffin with Great Suspicion) You need to stop eating so much. So you will STOP having so many babies.

And we moved on.

The firefly has landed

Actually 'alighted' might be a better term. She is teeny. And it makes a pun. We have actually been home a week. Here are some stats:

Hours of labor: approximately 4 1/2--we arrived at the hospital at 11:15 pm and Helena was born at 3:45 am.

Hours of labor without epidural: approximately 2. I am officially a w.i.m.p.

Last meal before labor began: La Madeline petite Caesar salad and potato soup. I do NOT recommend this particular combination because tangy Caesar dressing will not serve you well when you are trying not to throw up during your contractions. Enough said.

Number of minutes spent pushing: approximately ZERO. It was a little surprising for everyone, including my doctor, who barely had time to perch on the end of the bed to catch her.

Percentile of Helena's teeny head: tenth (same as Harper and Hudson--we are a wee headed family, apparently)

Number of total hours spent in hospital: 36

So far Helena is proving to be that Mythical Creature known as The Easy Baby. The husband and I had heard told of these magical sleeping infants and had yet to experience one ourselves. It's probably a good thing because if Harper had been this easy, our heads would have swelled to epic proportions and we would have thought it had something to do with our Superior Parenting and would have been unbearable to be around. She sleeps around 23 hours a day, is nursing really well, and doesn't seem to be at all bothered by the general hullabaloo going on around her. Harper and Hudson are both adapting well. When he first saw her, Hudson got a big smile, held out his chubby hands palms up and proclaimed, "I HOLD it! I HOLD it?" then he went happily back to lining up his fleet of matchbox cars. About twice a day he will notice her and repeat the initial request. We have yet to comply, but he doesn't really seem to mind. Harper was giddy with excitement the first couple of days. She would wake up and sprint into our room to see what Helena was up to. Some of the enthusiasm has waned, but she has been really willing to help, and said last night, "I like Helena! I REALLY like Helena.. I like her so much I even LOVE her!" Effusive praise indeed.

Today is my first day to be all by myself. My mom has been here, bless her, helping in the big and small ways that she always does. It's going pretty well so far, and I actually have all 3 of them sleeping in unison which means I should definitely follow suit. Let's see if I can attach pictures first. Here she is sunbathing to help resolve a little jaundice:

Helena Jane is here!

Helena Jane is here and she weighs 6 pounds and 12 ounces.

February 3, 2009, Perhaps?

Helena is on her way. We are at the hospital. Getting an IV. Epidural is needed. Will post more. ( Actually, I am sitting here while they put the IV in my wife's arm so I don't VOMIT at the sight. Much Pain is here too. I figured I would guest post as she is not available for comment (oh there is some commentary; but not appropriate for the PG rating).