Let the fretting begin

As of Monday, I will be 30 weeks along with this pregnancy. It will also be almost June, the month I keep deferring to, as in "No need to get that baby stuff in order till June." Now it's anybody's guess if Little Guy will show up early, late, or on time, which would be August 8, but there's no arguing with the fact that we are certainly nearing his arrival. And that means it's time for the big freak out to begin.

This week it hit me, or I let myself realize, that I need to go through the whole birth experience yet again. I have two kids. I knew what I was getting myself in to. Mercifully, walking out of a hospital with a healthy infant tends to blunt the unpleasant memories of the hours before the bundle of joy arrives. Unfortunately, middle of the night thoughts in the weeks leading up to doing it again reminds me how much I don't enjoy this aspect of motherhood. In fact, "hate" is not too strong a word.

Obviously, it's the rare woman who raves about how wonderful childbirth was. Usually stories range from pride in what the body can accomplish in extreme circumstances to pride in having a spectacular tale of woe to share. I had one long labor and one relatively short one. To me they were unpleasant, but not dramatic enough for true labor story glory. Yet, they were icky enough from my point of view to make me dread going through it again.

I like to prepare for situations. I read, I research, I analyze my options. For something as unpredictable as childbirth, preparing has it's limitations, which is truly maddening (although an accurate preparation for parenthood as a whole). What I wanted when we were getting ready to have Erik was the natural childbirth experience. I'm not anti-doctor or anti-medicine. I vaccinate my kids and myself. I call the doctor's office when I have a question about their health. I can only endure a migraine so long before I'm reaching for a prescription. I have concerns, though, when such a new, fragile life is part of the equation. Getting to be born with as few medications and stress-inducing procedures as possible seems like a good plan. Turns out, I'm not the mom to provide that, though. I tried. I failed.

As I was skimming through childbirth information last week, it occurred to me that it was foolish for me to ever think that someone of my personality could relax my way through childbirth. We did the right classes, but practicing relaxing? Ha! Didn't happen. I don't relax by clearing my mind, focusing on my breathing, and all that. If I'm stressed, I need to do something -- a walk, a run, clean a closet, read a book. But to just be? My brain turns off for nothing. I don't even nap unless I'm sick. There are just too many things I'd rather be doing. So, I had hardly mastered the art of calm when Erik decided to come into the world. (Too bad, because now that he's here, I could really use it!) He took his sweet time and my exhausted body asked for the drugs I'd resisted after all and they still didn't do much good. Anna arrived in speedy fashion and I, not believing a baby could possibly be born in less time than her poky brother, tried yet a different medical approach. Nope, not much more pleasant.

Again, it's not that I think there's something wrong with modern childbirth. I just read Get Me Out: A History of Childbirth from the Garden of Eden to the Sperm Bank by Randi Hutter Epstein.  I'm beyond glad that I live at this point in history and not even just a few decades ago. My worries about getting through childbirth have to do with control issues and not, thank God, fears for my life. My problem is trust. I haven't had the same doctor see me through all my pregnancies. For various reasons, I see someone new almost every time I'm at the doctor's office. I don't doubt that the folks I'm dealing with share my desire to have a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby. I do wonder if they share my approach to getting there and, if not, I don't see the same person often enough to hear why they do things the way they do. Sure, I'm glad that the nearest hospital is not unlike a spa in decor and amenities. I do wonder, though, if the folks working there can see past their policies and procedures to respect the individuals before them. Either there's no time to explain why hospitals do what they do or I was too out of it to understand, but my memories of labor involve being scared and confused. Not fun. Not fun, at all.

So, this is what I fret about these days. In a way it's like the bride worrying about the wedding and forgetting to prepare for the actual marriage beyond the big day. On the other hand, I've just written off my three-kid life as completely crazy. There's no possibility of order or calm. I'm just hoping the kids all grow up enjoying each others' company somewhat. For me, though, I really wish I could feel at peace with the uncertainty of the whole thing. I wish I felt like it was okay to want to do things in my own way and okay to feel nervous that that's unlikely to happen. I wish I didn't feel like I am disappointing everyone when I don't slap on a happy face and blather on about how excited I am about the changes in our house and how open I am to whatever the doctors feel is necessary. Happy happens when Anna hugs my belly or Erik brags about having two boys in the house with just one sister. It most certainly doesn't happen on command.

The lesson here could be that control freaks shouldn't become parents. I'm hoping it's really that there's a great deal of patience and flexibility that God wishes I'd learn and He's using the children as my teachers. I'm incredibly stubborn, so it's likely going to take their entire lifetimes for me to even begin to get it. My apologies, kids. Just know that Mom was just trying to get things started right for you in her own rigid, obstinate way.

Eating our way across the state line

If my tummy is looking a little bigger this week, it may not be entirely due to Baby Octopus' ever-increasing weight. It would be mine. Conveniently, I have an entire state to blame: Wisconsin. Jamieson and I will be celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary at the end of June, but decided to bump up a celebratory weekend because a) our go-to baby sitters, Grandma & Grandpa O have just returned from a long vacation and we needed to get OUT and b) I've done a summer pregnancy before and learned that my desire to do much more than sit in the basement and whimper is minimal. It was now or never.

We chose a quick weekend in Milwaukee, Jamieson's beloved college town. Remarkably, we decided to go somewhere, picked a destination and made the journey all within a week's time. That's as impulsive as things get around here. 

Every time a journey requires a stay of more than three hours, I need to pack the troops like we're going on an epic, cross-country adventure. No one respects this, of course, until someone needs something that, most of the time I have, remembered: favorite pillow, spare socks, flashlight, emergency snack, etc. Usually, I pack too many clothes but this family attracts stains as if we were filming a laundry commercial at all times. Salsa, ketchup and mud puddles see our white clothes and fly toward our fibers. Sure, I could dress everyone in all black, but the Pink Princess, Erik the Red and their grandparents would not be pleased by the gloomy look, so heavy suitcases it is.

So, with children and pup happily left with grandparents, Mom and Dad fled north to eat our way up the Interstate. First stop: Mars Cheese Castle in Kenosha. Sadly, the grungy, old 1947 building has recently been replaced by a shiny, new store. They've gone crazy with the castle theme -- arches! turrets! knights! -- so it's more castle than ever, but it's not the roadside stop everyone has been making for lo these many decades. Oh, well, it's all about the cheese and the curds were yummy as ever. No time to have lunch there because Jamieson was set on dining at Kopp's Frozen Custard. On what was the most beautiful day of the year so far, we enjoyed their enormous burgers sitting outside in the subterranean oasis created for happy diners. Custard flavor o' the day: a mint and chocolate chip grasshopper concoction. Joy! Fortunately, dinner reservations were set for 8, so we had time to relax a bit.

After a nap and a stroll around the newest Marquette buildings, we headed out for dinner at Karl Ratzsch's. Perhaps it's ironic that my sister, brother and their families were finishing up dinner just as we came in for ours, but it is quite possibly the best German food in North America and we are all, quite possibly, the best eaters in North America, so the real question is: Why didn't I see more relations there? Jamieson feasted on the Rouladen. I made my way through their Black Forest Schnitzel. Our hotel room did not have a fridge so we had no choice but to clean our plates! No one will ever accuse a German restaurant of being a health-conscious choice, but in terms of the pure joy of eating what better choice could we make?

Even though I declared I would never eat again, breakfast time found us happily stuffing our faces again. Miss Katie's Diner, just off of Marquette's campus, was a perfect place to start the day. Not to loose the German eating theme, pictures of Helmut Kohl's visit there are featured all over the restaurant. From there, we perused Old World Third Street, not eating anything this time, but doing a bit of shopping at Usingers, Spice House and the Wisconsin Cheese Mart. Our trip ended by wandering up and down Brady Street and stopping in for cookies and bread ("lunch") at Peter Sciortino's Bakery. By this time, the skies were threatening rain and we were full, so it was time to bid farewell to Wisconsin. A few miles down the road, we made another rest stop at the cheese castle, picking up Sprecher sodas for the ride home.

Back in the flatlands, we found children who had been equally well fed by Grandma and Grandpa and no clear answer as to how it is that there are any skinny people in Wisconsin. The menus for our week here at home? Salads and fruit!

A rare non-food Milwaukee moment: visiting the Bronze Fonz!

Train Day

Enjoying a cabin on an Amtrak train

Erik has been obsessed with trains since he was a toddler. I assumed this was a passing phase, but he really could care less about dinosaurs, sports that don't involve water, or most superheros. Trains, however, are eternal. Today we decided to take Metra into Chicago for National Train Day. We've taken any number of train rides at parks and train museums and a few shorter suburb-to-suburb Metra rides. This was the first excursion all the way into the city. Since the kids had been up a bit late last night as Daddy finished up Erik's bed, they weren't on their best behavior this morning, and I was hesitant to subject other train riders to their antics. I also thought, maybe a long, boring train ride would put an end to the train love. Not so. If anything, a greater love of train was kindled today. For Anna, it was a long ride and the ridiculous noise level in Union Station's great hall was a bit overwhelming, but she did fine for her two-year old self. She really enjoyed touring the Amtrak train. All those reclining seats and cozy cabins! For Erik, the whole day was a hit. Erik smiles all the time, but often it's a mischievous, I'm-up-to-something" smile. Today's smile was a non-stop, all's-well-with-the-world smile. We started at the end of the line and missed the express, so the ride in was well over an hour. For Erik, that was time to relish being in the train, going past other trains, passing crossings with flashing signals, crossing switcher tracks, identifying train cars and generally enjoying the sites. Since I don't ride the train more than a few times each year, it's a fun treat. To watch Erik enjoy it, though, it was the most fun I've had in quite awhile.

Coloring train cookies with food-safe markers
(in a color choice of black or red, Erik's favorite color)  

 

On the way home: A very happy rail fan 

At the station, there were all sorts of train-related activities. Of course, the kids liked the model train lay out. There was a K-9 police dog that briefly caught their attention. Walking through real train cars was slow going but fun. There were kids' crafts, including cookies to decorate with food-safe markers. (Must find for next birthday party!!!) But the ride home was even better than the stuff on display, especially since Erik and Dad spent the last leg of the journey watching from the upper deck. (Anna was fast asleep.) At home, the goodie bag extended the day's fun as Erik poured over an activity book, a poster and a 3-D paper train engine. (As always, Anna just wants to play with whatever Erik has.) The only thing about the day that had me completely confused was the small maracas that were handed out to the kids. Better than those train whistles, though! It was a good day.

A girl can only take so much fun!

Finished

Here's Erik's finished bed. While we don't encourage the monkeys to jump on the bed, this bed can take it!

A Bedtime Story

It's musical beds around here this week. Two nights ago, Anna inherited Erik's bed and has been loving her new blankets and pillows -- and staying put successfully all night.  Erik been on a brand-new mattress on the floor for a few days, but will probably be in his awesome new bed tonight. It's been a work-in-progress for quite awhile, but Jamieson is almost done building it. When I say building it, I don't mean just assembling it. The wood was harvested from land Jamieson's family has owned since the ancestors came from the old country. Jamieson designed it and built it to withstand the punishment that will inevitably be dealt out by our active crew. The frame is up and waiting in Erik's room. It just needs the slats for holding up the mattress and it is done. Of course, these switches mean the crib has moved down the hall to Baby's room. The toddler rail came off, the fourth crib rail went back on and the mattress came back up to itty-bitty baby position. Flowered crib sheets went away and green and blue crib sheets came back out. And for some reason, I want to cry.

There was a memorable moment during the months we were expecting Erik's arrival, that we stopped into a fancy baby boutique to look at their strollers. Instead of enjoying the shopping experience, I stomped out of the store and down the street, crying and mumbling something about not being able to afford a baby. (Did I mention that it was a very high-end shop? Most of our kids things ended up coming from friends, resale shops, and Target, and they are fine, thank you very much.) It was one of those hormonal pregnancy moments when the magnitude of what's about to happen hit. In that case, it hit harder because there were way too many choices available.

That's where I am with the beds. With the great bed switch-a-roo, the reality of Baby arriving sometime in the not too distant future became even more real. (Not that the constant kicking hasn't made it pretty obvious.) Packing up the girly baby things makes me sad that my baby girl has already left that stage far behind; getting things ready, really ready, for this new baby makes me realize that my already stressed self has to stretch to accommodate yet another small, demanding, unsleeping thing. Yikes. So, you'll have to excuse me if the weirdest things set me off for the next few months (years?). Even the most wanted and celebrated blessings take some time to accept.

So here's the state of Erik's bedroom at the moment. Jamieson does good work, doesn't he?

Baby update

Baby Boy Olsen and I are 26 weeks and 1 day into his pregnancy and doing fine. I had a check up this morning. Happily, I'm still not being yelled at for gaining weight and I think I now know where it's going. The little guy is apparently on the big size. My belly should be at 26-28 cm but it's at 29. The doctor wasn't concerned. It's just something to keep an eye on. Really, no one thought he was going to be a peanut, did they? Next week, I get to do the glucose tolerance test.

The kids seem so matter-of-fact about baby's development and eventual arrival. He's just part of the daily conversation. It couldn't be cuter when Anna tries to give him a hug or Erik says, "Hi, Baby" to my belly. If it ever warms up, I will have some explaining to do to Anna, though. She often asks if Baby's ready to come out and I tell her he won't be ready till it's hot outside. She may be in for some disappointment during those first hot days of summer. He's supposed to stay put until August 8, the day before her birthday.

Christmas in April

It's Christmas around here. I am helpless to resist garage sales, and this past weekend our town held its annual city-wide sales. The kids had a birthday party to attend at 11 a.m. Friday, so going to a few sales was a perfect way to distract them from their eagerness to get to Ol' Chas. E. Cheese several hours early. Erik was on a quest for more Legos, which was fine with me. It kept him focused on a mission instead of begging for everything he saw. While the kids are pretty good about not begging for and not touching every toy in a store, it is a different world at a yard sale. Actually, it's harder to keep them out of the non-sale parts of people's garages -- curiosity! Now, Legos are not easy to find at a rummage sale. People either keep them forever or the early bird sale shoppers snap them up quickly. (And this town has Lego robotics teams! Second-hand Legos are gold!) We were successful at finding a few sets, though. Even though my inclination was to get them all, I forced myself to have Erik choose just one so as not to be greedy. To be fair, I let Anna choose a toy at the same sale and her choice was a small Beanie Baby snake. Huh. With that success, we headed to the party. On the way home, Anna wanted to go to more sales. Despite naptime, I couldn't bear to go inside on a day that was finally sunny after such a gloomy April. So we went home and walked to a few sales in our neighborhood. That's when the Erik hit a bonanza.

Always the train fan, Erik found a toy train at almost every sale with toys. Most of the ones he found were for toddlers, so I wasn't interested in bringing them home. He kept talking about finding trains, though, so I pointed out a bin of wooden train cars and said he could chose one. He started to look and then saw something far more wonderful across the table: a marble run. I never thought I'd hear him say this, but Erik announced, "That's better than trains." Unknown to Erik, there's a similar set hiding in the crawl space waiting for a gift-giving occasion, but, always the sucker for cheap, educational toys, I bought it for him. That, of course, meant we had to even things up and get another thing for Anna. Her choice was one toy hot dog from a bag of toy food. She would have been happy with that, but I really can't stand one more piece of faux edibles in the house. I did, however, point out the small shopping cart next to it and she was smitten. So much so, that she pushed it, slowly, all the way home. Half-a-mile. Sigh. Of course, I've already developed new gray hairs trying to referee the too-fast pushing of the baby-doll stroller in the house. So this wasn't my best choice, as far as Mom's sanity goes. It was, however, joy to Anna.

So, the damage was less than $13 for four new toys for two happy kids and one baby sleeper for the one who couldn't yet express his opinion on the matter. In a way, I felt guilty for spending any money on toys when we really, really don't need any. On the other hand, I made a point to have the kids make choices and not take home every cheap thing that caught their eye, even if it was a good deal. I had them give folks the money with the hope that they will start to learn that money must be exchanged to get stuff. I also couldn't feel any regret when, the next morning, Erik decided we needed to make one of the towers on the directions of his new marble run. Since I had to finish washing dishes, he got started and built half of it, by himself, following the directions precisely. He's faster at figuring out the directions than I am. Anna's trying to build things of her own creation. This English major is outdone by her own children in building yet again. And this is good.

Here's a picture of the tower Jamieson made for the kids. He's having as much fun with the "toys" as they are.