all buttoned up.

And This Baby Turns One.

 

What??!! 

He was our tiniest baby.  I think he was only in the 7lbs when I flew back with him at 2 weeks. 

 

He has been walking for two months.  He's the first baby who has figured out how to open up all the cabinets, the dishwasher, the toilet and the flour bin quickly and quietly (I'm sure my other two could have figured it out, but he's the first one that cared enough to try).  Otherwise, he's very, very loud. 

Sometimes I take the two little boys out for toast after we drop Sam off at school.  The boys are familiar with the procedure-- try to stay at the table, no spilling and if you start yelling or pooping we are OUT.  The last time we stopped in, Manny got straight off my lap and waddled over to one of our friends (and our server). He doesn't know her very well but (as is his custom) put his arms up.  When she picked him up he immediately hooked his arms deep around her neck and burrowed in for a hug.  He held on.  She was so surprised she started to cry a little.  

I knew exactly how she felt.  

 

This Baby Turned 2.

 

We celebrated August's second birthday last week. 

  

I bought him a small baby doll and a disappearing bottle.  Actually, I bought it for Manny (who has a birthday very soon, too) but Augie found it and would not let go.  That's sort of his deal-- once he gets a hold on you, he will not let go. 

 

We have all been taken down with various degrees of sick, with little mr. getting the worst of it.  I'm not exactly sure if it was the flu, but whatever it was, it was terrible.  He spent a lot of time on my lap and I thought of tiny August from two years ago.  He had thrush and the ladies at the motel told us to swab his mouth out with a little bit of his urine to take care of it (we didn't).  I could not wait to get him here... home.  It was cold and dark the day we got back.  It was a world away from the Miami light and heat.  I was hoping with every part of myself that we were doing the right thing for this teeny tiny baby.  

  

So far, so good. You are loved by many, baby boy.

Thanksgiving

Emmanuel Fischer. 

I picked him up last night.  

He is the tiniest baby we've ever had and though it's hard to tell from the pictures, he looks so much like August.  Manny and I are still in South Florida waiting for some paperwork to get itself sorted (please, please get yourself sorted, Paperwork).  I was supposed to fly home today but due to the holiday, it will probably be another week.  Happily, I have Lynne Rosetto Casper to keep me company  (there's nothing like a lot of food talk to get you through a food-based celebration).  

I cannot tell you how much I'm looking forward to going home and seeing my boys or how happy I am to be holding this one.   

Sentimental

I have not been terribly attached or nostalgic about either my pregnancy with Sam or our process to bring August home.  Granted, there is not much to be gah-gah over when it comes to puking up california rolls (dang avocado) or lost paperwork.  I measured milestones by what we were getting done and not so much about what we were working towards-- because in some ways, the outcome was all inevitable.  One way or another, that baby was coming out.  One way or another, that baby was coming home.  

I feel that changing slightly with this news.  In part, because it's been so unexpected and partly because small mountains are being moved every day and I know it is all working.  I am trying to document these little miracles for him-- so that he knows that even though he was unexpected, we and everyone involved (down to the FedEX guy) appeared to be ready for him.  

I'm leaving on Sunday ready or not, and when I go we will have accomplished a whole lot-- little and big. On the little side-- and this is going to sound stupid to some of you, but it's what we people do apparently-- I'm working to finish up things like my quilt blocks, Backtack, and Christmas gifts.  They are going in the mail this week because otherwise I will think about them and it will drive me crazy.  Also, I finished a Liberty Lawn Tunic which I will blog about in great detail (you lucky, lucky people) because it is awesome and I can't believe I actually cut into that fabric. 

On the big side... well, there is so much.  We feel very full.  And you are part of that.  We feel propped up by your support and propelled by so much love.  Thank you, thank you.  You are good people.  I have not had time to cry, but I will.  Very soon. 


(***Portland Peeps:  Okay, I've been working craigslist pretty hard, but I'm just about out of patience. Does anybody have a tiny baby sling/carrier/wrap that I could borrow for a little while?  I'm traveling alone and I don't think my sling or my ergo will accommodate Mr. 7 lbs.  We are also looking for a good/easy to manuever and collapse double stroller to borrow briefly or to buy.  That baby up there is going to need some restraining if we plan on leaving the house ever again.   mdfrantz (at) hotmail dot com. )

Letter Keeper: To Sam, Love Mom.

I want to be one of those mothers who write their children poignant letters on their birthdays-- the sort of person who marks each year with a list of accomplishments and little loves in a special book or seals them up to be "opened when you turn 32".  Instead, I am the person who scribbles quick words to her boys after a particularly hard day on the back of a recipe card.  I mark firsts in the corners of my calendar.  I tell them how much I love them in between patterns in my notebook.  I bet you a dollar that if you picked up any of my notebooks/list pads/junk mail, you would find some kind of awkward apology or better yet, something like a date, time, and the words "he said dog today". 

This sort of record keeping is not really that bad, but it does get a little bulky.  I'm afraid to throw anything away lest I'm letting go of valuable family history.  I've kept up with their baby books (sort of) but that sort of information can be a little dry or worse-- a little too informative.  In the weeks following Sam's birth I recounted in detail my ugly labour story and the doctors that made it all possible.  I'm all for full disclosure but boy, do I need a good editor.  I don't know why I wanted him to know all of those things... or why I thought I should put it into the sort of thing that people keep on their coffee tables. 

I want both of my boys to have those words one day when they are good and ready (and much, much older).  And I want them to have them about the times that they can't remember, written right now, recounting it all as it happens and not how I might remember it one day.  But I want it to be just for them. 

Anyway.  You see where I'm going. I needed a place to keep all the scraps and bits that fell nicely in line with my "stuff it and forget it" mode of organization.  I give you, The Fabric Envelope.  It's lined with stiff interfacing and snaps down closed.  It's labeled with a fabric marker (a stamp would be better, but I was in a hurry) and the whole thing measures approx. 8" by 10".  It should fit the next 20 years of scintillating facts like "your favourite thing is the plastic chicken, 07/14/08" or the letters I've written to the boys (all three of them) when I was sure I was going to meet some kind of untimely death (I am a teeny tiny bit neurotic).  I don't want to leave things unsaid. 

The envelope fits into a file folder along with all our "grab in case of fire" documents and best of all, I can start recycling my old grocery lists without any parental guilt taking over. 

I'll put together a little how-to when I do one for Mr. Teeth.  We are beginning his birthday week tomorrow. Needless to say, I'm feeling a little bit maudlin.  Consider yourself warned.   

Pre-K Update.

It's going pretty well. 

The First Day Felt 'Round the World

Paul and Sam both had their first day with "lots of kids and lots of teachers and also, time-out chairs".  This was a big deal on all fronts but mostly because in Sam's case we don't get sitters and we don't have close-by family and honestly, it took a good 3 years for us to leave him with our dear friends whose home he'd rather live in.  He's the sort of kid who'd rather sit quietly in our laps than join in with snacks! crafts! toys!  He warms slowly and I'm a big believer in letting him do just that.  So. This was a big step. 

He did great.  Well, not at first but very quickly after I left.  I'm also a strong believer in helping my kids grow in safe environments-- even if there are tears and nervousness (and honestly, I stopped like 5 minutes afterwards.  hah.).  He coped just fine and may have done much better than that-- as he waved to his teacher he said solemnly, "see you on Friday". I think he meant it. 

It's Not Me, It's You.

I want to write about how much I appreciate how much you all have taught, shared and given to me the last few years.  I learn something every single day and it's largely because I turn on the computer and read about what you're doing and learning and making.  It's not just all the info-- it's, you know, the friendship and the talking, emailing and laughing that happens because of all of this.  I am SO grateful.  Big hugs all around.  Thank you. 

I am not going anywhere!!  I just wanted you to know.  I don't think I say it enough. 

This post might as well be called "I'm A Hack", since the shirt I'm showing you is pretty much exactly the same as another Melissa refashioned, complete with the buttons running down the back.  I used the same simplicity pattern for that blue freezer paper stenciled one and a men's XL shirt I got at the Goodwill bins.  You really can't beat the feel of slightly used, super soft shirting fabric for a good summer top.  The armholes are too big-- that's kind of a bummer, but whatever!  It's a 75 cent shirt. 

You are good people. 

Good Good.

THAT was a good weekend.  Phew.  It was so nice to hang out with sweet people, eat good food, spend time with and (maybe more importantly) without my boys.  We even fit in a trip to Seattle for lunch.  Please come again, Hannah.  You can bring your peeps next time!  Maybe we'll have the basement finished and it will be like summer camp with all the kids.
 

Hannah let me tag along to see everyone and I've got to say that there's no sweeter deal than happy meet-ups over food or shopping or both at the same time.

There is also no sweeter deal than having friends who know that a 4 year-old meltdown will pass quickly and that babies (however cute) occasionally need to cry or spit up for no good reason. 

Thanks for running the show while she was gone, David.  We tried to take good care of her.

Having a Winter Baby is Tricky.

We went to the zoo this morning.  I have been hiding out in our house this last week finding fewer and fewer reasons to leave it with every passing hour.  Of course, this was leading down a path to a fetal-position-I-am-worthless lack of Vitamin E, a place that I am all too familiar with (and so is Paul, bless him) and am loathed to return to.  Outside, then!  GO!
 
(picture of us out 3 weeks after Sam was born)

The sling is holding up very well, and Augie spends most of his time in it sleeping.  The zoo was full of families and college aged girls posing in front of the bronze goat statue and giggling at the bear exhibit.  We made it half way before a certain member of our party had a little tantrum and (in a renewed effort to head off such age-appropriate, yet wholly mortifying behavior) we left.  I felt a lot better about the world in general and didn't start slip sliding down to why-aren't-I-doing-anything-productive guilt until at least 4 o'clock.  Which is where I have stayed since.  Gah.  Aren't you glad I bailed on blogging every day?  I'm going to try to do better this week, which means I should get to finishing some stuff. 

In the meantime... this Moss Mills Forest Necklace at Doe is so good.  Scratch that.  Check out the entire jewelry category.  Geez.  I wouldn't mind this pendant, either.  I'm okay though, because I've been wearing the one I got from Blair a whole bunch-- and getting loads of complements to boot.  Finally, the most important thing in all of this would be that we are still staying abreast of the laundry.  And that, Dear Friends, might be good enough for right now.