fatty

In case you didn't already know, fat baby bodies are God's gift to the world.

And you thought it was George Clooney.

Well, he is delectable, but friends, have you kissed any baby fat lately?

Let me tell you what I have on my hands here.

When I go to get Frankie out of his crib in the morning he greets me with a huge body smile and shakes the bars of his crib like a little gorilla.  His pajamas stretch tight across his belly. And when I pick him up, he kicks his legs like mad and then clamps onto me and buries his chubby face into my neck.

I don't mind the slobber. It's Frankie's way of claiming me as his own.

Next it's down the hall to retrieve the Bird.  She pops up when the door opens and instantly starts an indiscernible dialogue about who knows what. Usually something about books and babies and jammies. I lift her up and stand for just one moment alone with her in the sunlight that streams in through her windows.  She allows me to stroke her hair as long as she is sure that I'm paying complete attention to what she is saying.

I love to tickle her cheek along her jawline. It's just a circle the disappears into her neck.  Particularly kissable.

The Boy hasn't an ounce of fat on his entire body.  It's sad.  He's all elbows and scabby knees.  When I try to hold him in my lap his bum bones dig into my leg.  He feels like a robotic octopus.

I reminds me that the fat is fleeting and I better get my fill.

Wish my own fat was fleeting.

Thanks to everyone for your kind comments over the past few days.  I read them all. More than once. And I carry them around in my head during the day.  They make laundry bearable.

you wanna piece of me?

 
I will say this: It's good to be needed.


But my word.


The phone rang yesterday. The home phone. No one important ever calls us on our home phone because we never answer it. We are annoying that way.  


So I'm really not sure why I answered it this time but I did.  The conversation went something like this:

Hello? (Breathless after loading two babies and groceries out of the car)

Hi! Mrs. Meeker? This is Carole from Best Carpet Cleaning. Can I have a moment of your time? 

(Pregnant pause)

Well Carole, no. You cannot, because I haven't peed since ten this morning and the eggs are getting warm in the car. So sorry. I gotta go.

Okay... well...okay. Maybe another time?

Probably not.

Okaaayyyy. Well goodbye then.

Bye.

Rude. I know. But people! Lemme tell ya.


When you are a mother of three kids, two of which can't even get their bodies into or out of the car, you don't have time to talk to carpet people. You don't even have time to pee.


I swear to you my bladder must have grown twice it's usual size over the past year. That can't be healthy.  Can a bladder actually burst? What would happen if it did? Isn't pee sterile? 


And the real kicker is even when I do find time to dash to the bathroom, even if I manage to allude the two older kids and sneak off to the lesser used toilet and leave the light off so as to be undetectable, the dog finds me and stands there and breaths his doggy breath and looks like he is expecting something. I have never, not once, given him a dog treat while I'm on the toilet. I don't know where he's getting this from.


Why am I telling you all this? Too much information? Where's the censorship? (In case you haven't noticed, I don't censor a whole lot here on the blog, much to my father's chagrin.)


I'm telling you this because when I tell you no, I cannot remake a necklace or adjust the length on a pair of earrings or even accept a special order, it's because I can't. Really. It's not because I don't love you. 


So be patient with me. If you want something from me, I want your money you to have it. I'm working my way through this crazy ride I'm on.  I'm setting aside a few hours every week to be in my studio. 


Several kid free hours to design and silversmith and pee at my leisure. Oh the luxury.


And now to some lazy Summer day pictures wherein my children look angelic.

just cuz your breathing it doesn't mean you're alive

Sometimes at the end of the day, after the Boy and the Bird are fast asleep, I hold my baby. I lay him on my chest over my heart. I nuzzle my face into his neck and breath his sweet baby smell and his downy baby hair tickles my nose.

We take deep breaths together. He grunts and whinnies and stretches but he always resettles back into me as if there was some sort of magnetic force pulling us together. Who knows, maybe their is such a force between mothers and their babies.

There have been days lately when I haven't felt human. Honestly I feel like a robot mommy. Change the diapers, make the bottles, pick up the toys, bathe the baby, haul the kids to the car, buckle, get the snacks, wash the onesies, etc. etc. etc.

I don't think, I just do. Just get er' done.

But every now and then I snap out of it. I will glace over at my daughter, squatting on chubby legs, stacking blocks or trying to wrap her baby doll in a blanket and my heart sings. I feel more alive than ever.

And at night, when the house is quiet, when I breath with Henry, I am reminded that this is life. This is what it is all about.

And I don't want to miss it.

I will continue on with all the daily chores. I will take care of my family to the best of my ability. But from here on out, I'm making a little promise to myself that I will open my eyes and watch my children grow.

hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work i go

dottie angel

I've never been one who's afraid of hard work. I'm not big on sweating unless I'm working out, but if it's a job I deem worth doing, I'm all over it.

So I hate to admit that I'm a little scared to face this week.

We are back home. The boy goes back to school tomorrow. Sugar Daddy is headed off to the office. I'm going to start my life as a mother of two babies who are ten months apart in age. I've got to get a handle on this. I need a schedule.

Yesterday I organized the stacks of diapers. Little tiny ones and big ones. Side by side.

I took stock of all the bottles. Again, big ones and little ones. I thought about all the milk that our little family is going to consume over the next few years and I think it may be cheaper to just buy a jersey cow. However, I'm pretty sure livestock are against our homeowners association rules. Tempting though.



I'm going to wear my uniform everyday this week. I'm so much more productive when I wear my aprons. And my mother always told me, if you are going to a new job, look the part.

Even if you don't know what the hell you are doing.

baby of the basket

I put the baby in the basket so that I can shower. Please don't call the authorities. I only take five minute showers.

My legs are scabby from shaving too fast.

We need a bigger basket.

la petit sabatour

If Birdie had it her way I would:

• never work out and remain nice and plump and cuddly
• never do house work
• stop going to church
• give up all arts and crafts
• give up personal hygiene
• bounce her until my arms fell off
• wear my hair down every day for her pulling pleasure
• talk like Minny Mouse all the time
• never carry on a conversation with anyone
• never sit down
  

It's hard to be a responsible, sane, productive human being with a little one around. I may just become a bag lady.

sleep

Why is it that they fight so hard to stay awake when they are miserably tired? How is it that something so precious and sweet can make me so miserably tired too?

documenting

One month already?

good morning sunshine

I painfully opened just one eye this morning.

The room was strewn with bottles. Piles of soiled clothing dotted the floor. The sun singed my retina so I quickly shut my eye. I took stock of my limbs. One leg was totally void of any feeling. The sheets were twisted tightly above the knee forming a very effective tourniquet. My arms had evidently gained fifty pounds each while I slept. There was no moving.

Hazy images rolled through my brain of the night before. The drinking, the singing, the slow dancing in the dark. The poopy diapers and formula powder.

Then I remembered the baby. My eyes flew open in a panic and found her nestled in the sheets as happy and pink as a puppy's tongue. Oh good. She was asleep. Finally asleep. I closed my eyes again. What a wild night we'd had.

Crunch crunch crunch. What's that sound? What's that smell?

"Mooooommmmm. Mommmmyyyy."

He was two inches from my face. He had a bag of cheddar Sun Chips.

"You were asleep so I got my own breakfast. Are you going to get up now? Get up Mom. Wakey wakey eggs and bakey!"

Who taught him that saying? Why is it so bright in here? Oh the inhumanity!

"What time is it?"

"Let me see. . .six, dot, dot, three, two, A."

I released my leg of the tourniquet and tried to lay motionless while the blood returned.

"Hey Thomas, be a dear and fetch your old mom a Red Bull will ya?"

"Uh. Okay. Can I get a cherry soda for me too?"

"Thom, it's six thirty in the morning."

"Well you're having a Red Bull."

Touché.

"Oh alright."

And so starts our day.

I'm expecting the Mom of the Year award any day.

the sneak

My parents were the type of people who had dinner parties. Not often. Maybe twice a year or so. But boy did my mother know how to host.

The entire day would be spent cooking and cleaning. Then she'd pour herself into some skinny jeans and ask our advice on which shoes to wear. We were girls. We had opinions on this type of thing.

We children were sequestered to the upstairs rooms. We were given strict rules on behavior and a sampling of the nights delicacies arranged just like the larger platters on the dinning room table.

There were fresh cut vegetables with clam dip, warm rolls, Chinese chicken wings and shrimp cocktail. Almost always there were cinnamon rolls dripping with heavy almond icing. It was toothsome delight and almost enough to keep me upstairs the entire night.

But not quite.

It was the laughter that always got me. My mother's laughter. My father chuckled often at his children's antics, but my mother, well to make her laugh was a profound feat of kidhood. I guess things just aren't as funny when you are on clean up duty.

From the top of the stairs, peeking through the rails, I could see half the dining room table. I could see the back of my father's salt and pepper head. I could see my mother seated closest to the kitchen for serving ease. I could see one, maybe two dinner guests. And so I perched, with my night gown drawn down over my knees, and watched my mother laugh, and shooed away my older, more obedient sister, when she came to chastise me.

Today I crawled quietly, ever so quietly, into Amelie's room. I got up close to the crib and peeked through the rails. I watched her eyes move rapidly under her lids, her fingers opened and closed. I watched her rosy little pout curl up into a smile and then a laugh. I was eight all over again, wanting so desperately to be the source of amusement to the most important girl in my life.

I'll give her one more month to give me a bonafide laugh and then I'm breaking out the clown nose and kazoo. Who's in charge here anyway?

As for my mother, well, she is pretty quick to laugh these days. She thinks it's hilarious to watch me clean up a blow out or scrape the dog poop from between Thom's toes.

variety is the spice of life

This is what it is like to be Amelie's mother.

This is what it is like to be Thom's mom.

I am finding much wonderment in the difference.

It is a delightful thing to experience.

your daily dose

Here's your daily dose of Amelie. Can't keep this cute little pumpkin all to myself.

And here she is modeling my homemade cap.

Me thinks the pilots cap is much cuter on a baby than on a potpourri ball.

Also for show and tell, I have this stamp that I made for the boy. He loves to sit and watch me do my art and so I thought it would be fun for him to have his own stamp to make cards for his friends.

Jo is coming for lunch and bringing me, per my request, her delectable bread pudding topped with dark chocolate that her mother sends her from France. Seriously folks, the stuff is orgasmic. I feel a little embarrassed eating it in front of other people.

anatomy of a sweet pea

A mother's perspective

I so want to remember these first few days. I don't ever want to forget how soft her cheeks are. How at times I can't even tell if I am touching them or not.

Let me always remember how I feel when she grasps my finger or coos contentedly after a bottle.

I hope that years down the road I will recall her sweet scent and the way her wispy little hair lays against her pink neck.

I can never forget the downy fur that covers her shoulders or the feeling of her quick little breaths when I hold her close.

I know that these days are fleeting. The boy no longer smells sweet. Most often he brings in the tangy smells of outside play and I have resorted to smoothing his hair and kissing his cheeks mostly while he sleeps. He is no longer a baby.

I have been blessed with another child and I'm trying so hard to hold on to these moments. Please Lord, help me remember.

bon voyage!

gabrielle kai

Well.

Evidently the Earth has been turning after all. Here we are, our bags are packed, we're ready to catch a jet plane to meet our daughter.

I feel as if I'm standing on a ship deck, setting sail for a great adventure. I'm waving goodbye to all my arts and crafts for a while. I'm waving goodbye to sleep. I'm throwing kisses to afternoon runs on the beach and long showers. And I'm wearing a really good hat.

Goodbye old life. We may meet again somewhere down the road.





And I will be a bit clandestine for a while. You may not see a new post until I have have fully recovered from the ugly cry and snapped some really great pics of my little birdie.




BUT.




I'm not leaving you high and dry. No, no. That's not my style.




I'm giving you a chance to win these precious little crib shoes which were recently featured in Parent Magazine, made by Laurie Minick of Old School Acres. Laurie is a retired reporter who lives on a farm in Iowa with her two daughters, her farrier (horseshoer) husband, 13 horses, 2 dogs and a bunch of cats. These little shoes are only available through The Baby Gardner.



I bought Amelie her own pair. They are so sweet they make my hair curl.






To win the shoes, you must leave a comment guessing how much Amelie is going to weigh. If there is a tie, I will put your names in a hat, or bowl or maybe call in a witchdoctor to read some chicken bones.




See you on the other side of life.

new shoes

"Are these shoes on sale?" she asked.
"The leather ones?" she added.

The sales clerk was from the Bronx. She said nothing but maneuvered her large bottom around the desk to look over her glasses at the shoes. She snapped her gum twice and replied, "Yeah, those ones are half off too. Yous should get two pair fa that price."

And so she did.

Acrylic nails clicked wildly on the cash register. The woman from the Bronx tilted her chin to get a better look at the customer. "You gots a little one at home?"

"No." She replied. "My baby is due May 19th."

"Is that so? Yous must carry your babies up inside. My girlfriend was like that too. Cept she got really big in the back, if you know what I mean. Yous look really good."

"Thanks" she said. "I work out."

With that, she took her little blue bag, with the new shoes inside and walked out into the sunshine.

a nod from the universe

I received a letter that I want to pass along. I hope that it inspires you to listen to the still small voice that guides us all through life.

Hi, April-

This is a bit weird- but I just wanted to share with you that your wonderful singing bird bracelet was part of one of those whole chain of synchronicities that sometimes happen to us all. You know, the kind that are profound and feel so special and like a nod from the Universe, a reassurance that all is as it should be and you are on the right path... but if explained to someone else, the series of things would not sound at all profound or particularly connected. They are just little occurrences that, when they come all grouped together, open up a whole new faith in possibilities.

I just came across the green branch/singing bird quote for the first time this week (and I thought, initially, that it related to my love life until other things happened and then I came upon your bracelet and the description). And at the same time I'd come across the fabulous attached photo with that great saying on the tattoo and the little girl who is adopted from China. And there were all of these other things that came together and reminded me of how possible my long-held desire to adopt might actually be.

Stumbling upon your listing for your singing bird bracelet which led to reading your blog just tied all of the cool synchronicites together and made it all feel so special. So I just wanted to say that, even though I am not in the market for the bracelet at this moment, it, along with what you shared in your blog, has meant a lot to me. And I wanted to pass this cool photo on to you as way of sharing something back.

Enjoy- and thank you for putting your work and thoughts out there for others to find (or to be led to, as I tend to think in this case).

-Kara

Singing Bird Bracelet

The final little quirk in this story is that I am currently working on this very bracelet for another customer.

dispatches from cloud nine

My eyes fluttered open to the pink light of the rising sun. And then the happiness washed over me like a warm bubble bath. I'm going to have a baby. A baby girl.

And my son will get to have the sister he always wanted. I rolled out of bed and onto my knees. I really had to go, but first things first. I needed to thank the Lord. Again.

The crafting has begun. Emily taught me reverse applique yesterday. Why have plain onesies when you can embellish? Everything is better with pink. Don't you think?

I have a burning desire to share my happiness with everyone I know. I thought of taking lemon scones to all the neighbors but it seemed like too much work that might cut into my crafting time. I also thought about climbing to the top of our slope in the backyard and twirling around and singing "The Sound of Music", but I'm sure my neighbors already think I'm a little strange. And they wouldn't have dared eat any of my scones after a stunt like that.

So, I've settled on spreading a little joy to all my blog friends. I give you this.


This is how I feel today. I hope he infects your day with a little laughter and joy.

beautiful boy

I'm not one to gush. Sure I'm a proud mom. Like everyone else, I secretly think my kid is the cutest, funniest most charming of all children. But I don't gush.

Mostly because, well, it's just not that interesting to other people, except maybe my mom.

But today, I must. I must gush. I'm in the mood and I'm going with it.

When Thom was first born he looked like a little old rabbi. He had jet black hair and a pointy nose. I thought, my word, I've given birth to a Baal Torah.

Then he puffed up into this chubby little butterball and I thought, my word, this child is fun to pinch!
Then he grew and became the skinny twig boy he is today. The only pinchable place on his entire body are his four cheeks. Even those make for meager pinching these days.

As if to make up for my disappointment in regards is his pinchabilty, Thom has become a budding artist. He always knows just the right thing to twang my heart and make me proud.

Here is his latest installation piece hanging in his class room. It was a collaborative effort with his good friend Ethan. If you can't tell, those are M&M men.

At night, before I go to bed, I sneak into his room. I kneel by his bed and listen to him breath. His rocketship nightlight glows green, then blue, then red. The stars on his ceiling are fading and seem far away.

This is where I like to say my prayers. This is where I thank the Lord for everyday I have been given with my funny, skinny, charming little boy.

the zone

Pure Joy

Lately, I'm really in The Zone. In case you are unaware, The Zone is when you come to a time in the life of your child/kids and you no longer have to be Supermom, with bionic hearing and lightening quick reflexes. You loose the bulge in your biceps you got from constantly carrying a child around and the olfactory glands that once allowed you to distinguish your own kids poop from everyone else's kids at Disneyland shrinks back to it's normal function. You start to think about wearing white pants again. That's where I am. The Zone.

Anywho, you'd think I'd be thrilled to be here. After all, The Zone also means that you can remain parked on you butt, Diet Coke in hand at the beach while all your friends with toddlers, chase, wipe, comfort, pick-up, dig, change, rinse, adjust, follow, nurse and brush the sand off their kids. Me? I just bellow at the boy every now and then to make sure he stays in my sights. It's a wonderful thing. You'd think I'd be thrilled to be here.

But I'm not. Nope. I want a baby. I miss babyland. I wish I could go back in time and spend just one day with Thom as a one-year-old. In between the running around and supermom work, there are moments of pure joy. I want that again.

moment of weakness

It's not that I have neglected my blog this week, it's just that I am having a "feel sorry for April" hiatus, which is unattractive and something I try not to air publicly. But some itches must be scratched, even if other people are watching. So if you just aren't in the mood for whining, click over to frecklednest.blogspot.com. She is in love and always very cheery.

***WARNING: WHINING AHEAD WARNING: WHINING AHEAD****

I'm thirty-four. 34!!!!! And I only have one kid. I know there are infertile people out there with no children who will read this and roll their eyes. That was me for 9 years of my life, so now it is my turn to have one and want more.

Thomas wants a sibling so bad he makes his friends (boys) play like they are his sister. It's pathetic.

This week I am so frustrated with the Chinese government adoption agency that I could just scream. The rate of child abandonment isn't down, yet they are working at a snail's pace. At this rate, we won't have Mei Mei until 2012! AHHHHHHHH.

Here they are. All lined up and ready for someone to snatch them up. I'll take the one with the chubby cheeks in the yellow Hello Kitty blanket please.

Missing Piece Necklace

Okay, now I'm done whining.