Sleepyheads

Yawn.........

Excuse me.

I've been having a lot of mornings like this.

Because of this!

Henry was five weeks old yesterday.  Each day this week,* I've thought how nice it would be to take him to the doctor for another weight check.  And then reality smacks me over the head, and I fall asleep in the recliner to the sound of another recorded PBS Kids show.  I can tell by the way he's pudging out of his skin that he is growing.  His neck is slowly disappearing into a double chin, and his legs are transforming from spindly to creas-ed chubbiness.  I poured him into his "Little Brother" onesie yesterday, determined to get one more wear out of it.  He fussed at my tugs to snap it closed.

A profile picture to keep everyone guessing who Henry looks like.

On Monday, Henry was irritable.  He's usually peaceful and easy to soothe.  I chalked it up to Monday-Monday, but when his fussing refused to level off in the evening, I took a good look at every inch of his little body and found a--gulp--hair in his eye.  It had fallen out of his head and gotten stuck.  How irritating for him! 

And with Valentine's Day coming up, my house needed a little decorating cheer.  I've had this heart garland bookmarked for a long time.  I made it last night while Jason was watching some horrible, nightmare-inducing show about noodling.

I used leftover felt scraps and followed the color scheme of a Valentine's napkin I bought on discount after the holiday two years ago.  (What?  Me?  Save crazy things for long periods of time?  Nah.)

See!  Easy! I sewed it together with fun orange thread and had myself a new garland.

Helen said that Valentines are always red.  If that's the worst critique it gets, I can handle it!

*Except for Tuesday, when I broke out of the house to see my friends at MOPS!

Snapshots of Henry

I'm loving this little Henry boy and all his sweet pudginess.  I'm logging plenty of holding hours during feeding times (and between them too.)  I'm also in the newborn fog that comes with the territory as our whole family is getting acquainted with another member.  I forgot how difficult and exhausting it could be to nudge a wee one onto a feed/wake/sleep schedule.  I've had more than a few nighttime settle-the-baby moments where I'd have rather been sleeping!

But what a cutie!  Who happens to be losing hair faster than you can dial Hair Club for Men.

And whose eyes are still learning to focus together. Heh heh. 

His cord fell off early, but his belly button still hasn't completely healed.  I noticed a very small amount of dried blood with diaper changes.  It's definitely not infected, but I'm keeping a close eye on it.  I tried some Curious George bandages one day, but his skin reacted to the adhesive, just like his mama's does, and made the situation worse.  I'm now keeping it as open to the air as possible, which means folding down the front of his diaper to let it breathe.  Poor sweet baboo.

He's making mouth movements that are precursor to smiles.  I'm still waiting for the real thing!  I look deep into his eyes to coax one out of him, and he gazes back...at the lights behind or above me.

Until then, I'll settle for him taking good naps. 

Oh, yes, and buddy boy was up to 9 lbs, 4 oz., at his 3-week weight check. 

He's Here!

 We are so happy to announce the birth of our healthy, screaming son, Henry Quinn Weber.

January 5, 2012

8:56 am

6 lbs., 6.3 oz.

18 3/4"

Mama's little gnome.

After a few weeks of perpetual nervousness from strong Braxton Hicks contractions and one and a half full-blown false alarms, our doctor scheduled an induction of labor two days before my due date.  

Failure to launch at 38 1/2 weeks.

Here I am, right before going to the hospital for the first time with false alarm #1.  I was almost 39 weeks.  Catch that nervous twitch in my eye?  I had seen the doctor that morning, and all the way home had regular contractions.  As I was making pizza for supper, I finally started timing them and realized they were coming every four minutes.  They didn't really hurt that bad, but I remembered my labor with Quinn started with regular contractions that weren't very painful.  And I thought about the hour-long drive to the hospital.  We called the grandparents and packed.  We arrived at the hospital, but after several long rounds of walking and 50+ flights of stairs, we ended up coming home.  I had a lovely night's sleep, thanks to beautiful little sleeping pill that our wonderful, understanding nurse handed me.  By the way, I do not recommend traipsing up stairs if you haven't been exercising for four or more months.  I could hardly walk for three days, and couldn't cross my legs for five!

The next false alarm fortunately was stopped before we called the reinforcements.  I had woken up with really strong contractions, tossed in bed for two hours with them, then alerted Jason.  We got dressed, but then thought better of calling anyone, and settled down into comfortable spots in the living room to make sure it was the real thing.  I woke up several hours later with the contractions gone and no baby in my lap.

Doctor's orders--it's time to move out, kid!

 Our scheduled induction was a week later.  Labor and delivery felt like a doubtful dream.  I was afraid for some reason the induction would fail, and we would once again be sent home without a baby.  I had even deeper fears that something would go horribly wrong.  Despite all the confirmations that this boy was healthy, my heart still had issues with fully trusting God's decision in the whole matter.  My nurses made sure I was put in a different L&D room from Quinn's delivery, and I was so glad to not have the same ugly print on my hospital gown.  Despite my fears, I was super excited about getting that Pitocin drip, if for nothing more than the end of my uncomfortable pregnancy!

Partway through the shift, the same nurse from Quinn's delivery got called in, and I was reassigned to her!  While she and the anesthetist were orchestrating that great relief from the intense pain of childbirth, the epidural pain block, my poor dear husband had his own drama, and fell out cold on the floor, smacking the back of his neck and head against a cupboard door.  He came to very quickly, was helped to a chair by two more nurses and given a handy-dandy ice pack not customarily used for--um--head injuries.  After we realized he was OK, we had a hard time with the giggles.  Poor Jason.

Another shift change brought a familiar face--a friend from church who happens to be a very excellent L&D nurse.  It was her daughter who had taken Quinn's pictures at the hospital.  We were so very happy to see her, and she kept us distracted and entertained until it was time for business.  Not quite two hours later, Henry made his entrance into the world, crying and flailing.  I don't think there is a better sight or sound in the whole world.  And then he promptly peed on my doctor.  

Proud daddy!

So relieved and happy--plus I am NOT pregnant anymore!

Melissa and Henry

And of course, we cried.

When will the displacement reaction begin?

Mommy's already making funny faces at me!

The grandparents and kids arrived before the effects of the epidural had worn off.  I still couldn't feel my toes very well at this moment.  Helen--her sweet self came up to me a little nervously and asked if Henry was going to die.  When I assured her that he was healthy and breathing great, her face lit up.

Owen got to miss school to see his new baby brother.  What a fabulous excuse note his grandma got to write!  When he held his brother at home, he laughed out, "He's alive!  He moved his foot, and he's alive!"

Christmas 2011

Even though our Christmas decorations are already packed up neatly and tucked away for next year, looking back through our kids' Christmas pictures makes me miss the prettiness of the season.  After being surrounded by Christmas spirit since the day after Thanksgiving, I was good and ready to nix the clutter and cleanse the house of sugar!  Anticipating a baby's imminent arrival added to my angst.  By the way, the Christmas season and the last month of pregnancy are a perfect combination for packing on a few more pounds of "baby" on your hips and thighs.

Excuse Owen's head melting into the wall.  I had precious few moments to snap pictures, as we were late for church, and didn't take the time to adjust the window shades.  These pictures were taken the week before Christmas.  Helen's dress was a hand-me-down from a cousin, Jack's flannel an Economy Shop find, and Owen's sport coat was purchased from a friend of a friend. 

Jack is my snuggly buddy.  I'm afraid he's not excited about his new baby brother. 

Here I am, all glorious, round and sparkly at 37 weeks.  And yes, I hear, "You're not that big!!" all the time, referring of course to my baby belly.  Spare me.  I'm 5' 8 1/2", this kid is everywhere at the same time, and he's been baking in there and displacing my vital organs for a long time.  OK.  Grumping over.

Helen is her daddy's girl!  He took her for a day of present shopping.  In the middle of J.C. Penney's jewelry section, he asked her which necklace she wanted.  She said, "I have enough necklaces.  I'm ready to go.  Can we go to Bass Pro?"

My kids have no idea what a great dad they have.  He works hard to provide for us, he takes time to play with them and he treats me very well.

On Christmas morning, our family traveled to church in waves.  Jason was playing bass on the worship team, Helen was singing in a kids' choir, and Owen was accompanying on his guitar.  These two were so excited, and both felt very grown up. 

Jack felt left out, and was extremely disappointed not to be able to stand by the drummer on stage.  The extra PBS programming he enjoyed all by himself apparently didn't make up for it.

 At least Owen thought he was accompanying; he had all the motions down but none of the chords. 

Of course, Helen had to adjust her elastic headband right before she got on stage; thus the hair pouf.  Oh well.  It's just my pride.  Afterward, she told me she had admired her cousin Abby's skirt (extreme right) and her friend Kathlyn's dress (green dress, left screen.)  "I wish there were two dresses, necklaces and bracelets like Kathlyn's, and then we could wear them at the same time!"

We had a wonderful, warm, quiet celebration with family on Christmas day, participating in the awe and joy of the Savior of the World born so many years ago.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you, whatever the state of your decorations!  May you have true Peace settled deep in your hearts.

Mending: Boy's T-Shirt Edition

I love my sonny boy Jack.  But that child is sneaky and independent, and he currently has a li'l listening problem, manifested by the inability to hear and follow specific commands.  Whisper, "Daddy wants to take you for a tractor ride," and I'm quite sure he would come running from the farthest corner of the house.  He has been sleeping with Jason's Fastline magazine for the past few nights, and can name almost all the farm equipment in it.  He is such a boy, and I love him head to squeezy buns to toes. 

A few things we commonly hear from him (3 1/2):
(wailing) "I missed some parts!!!" when he is stuck in his crib and the others are watching TV.
"I meeda go potty."
"Fank-you Jesus for dirt."
"Owen/Heh-wyn, you're MEAN!" (translated--"You're not letting me have my way.")

And one trademark morning call he is outgrowing:
"Mommy/Daddy, I'n ah-WAY-yake!!!!!  I'n ready for BREAKdust!!!"

I stenciled another shirt for him, because I want to do all I can to capture his heart while he is still my baby.  He wasn't completely happy with the shirt, which puzzled me until I realized all his heavy equipment toys are made by John Deere.  He was especially foul when another kid called him "Cat." We told him the other boy was just reading his shirt, but he took it as an offense, and probably has filed a grudge anyway. Oh well. 

 

He is enrolled in Atmore's HIPPY program for 3 year olds, and when our instructor came at the beginning of the school year to give me his supplies and his first week of lessons, he immediately opened his school box and grabbed his! very! own! scissors!  My mom alarm clanged to red alert, and I warned him a few times to be very careful and not cut anything, as did the instructor, but I was too polite to get up and remove them from his wiggly fingers.  Two seconds later, he had a hole in his brand new Target clearance rack t-shirt.  Growl.

This irritated woman put the shirt on her mending pile and went about her business as usual for four months before thinking of and completing a five-minute solution. 

Our prayers for this kid, aside from physical protection and all, is that he would set his heart on God, and put his independence to good use, refusing to blindly submit to influential peers, authorities and ideas that don't reflect truth.  In the meantime, we're working with his "hearing issues," and keeping our sense of humor about him.

Bibs from a T-Shirt

Let's talk about being limited to a store's choices!  Anyone out there hear me?  Blech.  This is frequently my story if I'm shopping for anything other than groceries:  I get a hazy picture of an idea, I can't find anything anywhere that looks like my original thought, and then it's just another (very minor) exercise in dealing with disappointment.  When it comes to kid gear, I am singing this tune all the time, and when it comes to fabric for kids, I'm surprised you can't hear my groans from in front of the stove, where you are standing, apron-clad, stirring a pot of black beans or marinara. 

A friend asked me to make some non-babyish bibs for her daughter.  I knew the fabric store would not have the right prints we wanted, so in a way I felt defeated before I even got started.  I decided to look somewhere unexpected, and hunted through my own stash, which had about one known piece of knit in it.  That's when I saw some (forgotten) brand-new t-shirts that I had purchased for sewing experimentation/transformation!  And this is what became of them:

OK, I had to buy a few more t-shirts.  I didn't have all of those at the ready! 

I had a simple bib pattern.  I cut two of each fabric and sewed them together with my knit-fabric strategy, which includes a ball-point needle, a slight zig-zag stitch and lots of holding of the breath.  I turned them right-side out, top stitched them, then added Velcro for a closure.  I made fabric flowers and used both hand-stitching and machine-stitching to secure them to the bibs.

My favorite part was detailing the plain red bib.  I took strips of t-shirt, pulled them tight so they would curl up, then sewed them on in a slight curve.  I did this before putting the back and front of the bib together.  So what do you think?  Take that, boring stores!

*Next time I make bibs, I will try adding an absorbent layer, like thin terry cloth, in between.  And I'm ending that sentence with a preposition, which is almost killing me.

Salt Dough Ornaments with Cinnamon

 Snowflakes are so pretty, especially when it comes to Christmas decorations.  I have crocheted snowflakes, paper snowflakes, plastic-and-glitter snowflakes and a metal snowflake on display.  I learned to cut six-sided snowflakes in elementary school, and I've been fascinated with them ever since, maybe more so now because I'm not shoveling them out of my driveway.

So when I saw these pretty (unpainted) salt-dough snowflakes, I had to try them.  I cringe at detailed painting with craft paint and tiny paintbrushes, and these snowflakes had pen! doodles! on them.  I had the idea to create some words with alphabet cutters, too, and Helen helped me plan those the night before.  Unfortunately, when it came down to cutting out the ornaments, my time (and patience) were thin, evidenced by my tardiness in the school pick-up line.  I was determined to use all the dough I had mixed, so I hand-shaped some initials for the kids and a dove for Quinn. I also rolled out a candy cane and remembered why I stink at play-doh.

I substituted cinnamon for part of the flour, to see what it would do.  Some of the salt crystallized at the surface.  It looks like frost.

I strung the letters together with embroidery floss.

 

Helen suggested we write "beauty."  I couldn't resist her.

They ended up looking more countrified than I would have liked, but they're cute in their own way.  I think they would make great package tie-ons.

I ended up painting the candy cane with a tiny paintbrush and some craft paint.  It's cute.  Jack's thoughts were, "Look!  A candyland is on our tree!" 

So what happened to the snowflakes?  They didn't turn out like my inspiration, to say the least.  I plan to try again later, when my unofficial Cookie Plate Week is over.