keepsake memories

Five days after Carmen was born, I woke up in the night shaking uncontrollably and freezing to death, even fully dressed with a sweater and under the covers of my bed.

Juan Pablo was no where in sight, so I called his phone.  He's always on his phone.

And wouldn't you know, it rang on the table beside the bed.

I didn't know what to do.  I couldn't move.  I was exhausted and my body finally let me know.

Unexpectedly, JP walked into the room a few minutes later.  I said, "oh, thank God!" and told him what was going on.  He rummaged through the closet and came back with a blanket and a large piece of minky fabric I haven't sewn yet and laid them on top of me.  I was buried up to my chin.

But the funny thing about the blanket.  It wouldn't have been my first choice.  It's somewhat scratchy and has various little holes throughout it.  Plus there's the colors...mustard yellow, rust, army green, deep brown...but who cares about colors when you're freezing to death.



This blanket was knit by my grandmother Sarah decades ago.  It sat on the back of their sofa for as long as I can remember.  And after she passed away, it was one of the only things I wanted as a keepsake.

I'm not sure why...I never sat under it.  I doubt I rarely touched it...too scratchy.

But to think of all the time it must have taken to knit.  It's a huge blanket, probably fits a twin bed.  Each square is knit differently, too.



All of the times I spent the night at my grandparents house, she would sit in her chair beside the sofa with a knitting bag, working on a sweater or something else, while my grandfather and I sat playing cards. (I wish she would have taught me to knit.  I wonder, though, with having raised three boys, maybe she thought I wasn't interested?)

I even remember one Christmas showing her a picture in a magazine of a sweater I wanted, and she magically whipped it up for me.  It really is amazing how a ball of yarn...one long thread...can be turned into something you could wear or cozy up under.




It's funny how memories are triggered.  This blanket has brought them rushing back.  Even of my grandfather.  Now at the bus stop, I've taught the kids an old game he and I used to play.  He was a walker.  We'd walk every time I went over there.  To make it fun, we'd choose a landmark, maybe a tree or a stop sign up ahead, and guess how many steps it would take us to reach it.

So if you see the kids walking diligently along the tree line of our yard early in the morning, you know why.






I'm so glad JP grabbed this blanket out of the closet that night.

It did the trick.  It warmed me up and I've been sleeping under it ever since.  I even let Carmen try it out.

And it makes me wonder....one day, the kids will want a keepsake of me.  What will it be?

hello. i am the white house.

We love projects!

And last week was Joaquin's turn for History Lives.... where each child in the third grade chooses a famous American or symbol to research and become.  He chose the White House.

But here's the story.

The entire family was set to leave for New York City the Friday before.  JP picked the kids up early from school, and the car was loaded.  It was going to be just Carmen and I fending for ourselves.

But Joaquin wasn't sure he wanted to go.  He tortured himself for two days trying to decide if he should  miss a birthday party he'd been invited to or go on a first ever trip to NYC to see the Statue of Liberty and Times Square.

As Carmen and I were saying good-bye, he couldn't take it anymore.  He hovered in the open door of the minivan, unable to get out and unable to sit down.  Believe me, it escalated as the minutes ticked by and Juan Pablo wanted to get on the road.  But it broke my heart to see him so torn to make a choice.  I imagined him regretting whichever choice he'd make.

In the end, the boy who flies to the window to watch his dad pull out of the driveway for work, or who begs to go with him any chance he can get... he chose to stay home with me.  We both walked crying back to the house as the others drove off, one full of doubt and the other sad for how hard it was for him to make that decision.

Joaquin's a lot like me.  And Robert Frost's poem The Road Less Traveled.  We both try to walk down the path as far as we can to where it bends in the undergrowth.  But then eventually, you can't see any further and you just have to make a choice.

I was determined to make sure he didn't regret it.  We ate Papa John's all weekend, rented red box movies, and planned on not leaving the house except for the birthday party on Sunday.

But then we remembered his project was due!  And he hadn't even started.

If there's one thing that bonds Joaquin and I together, it's a project.  We brainstormed, hit Walmart for supplies, and spent most of Saturday making this awesome 3D poster of the White House that now hangs in his room.



Sure there were a few lively disagreements.  One melt down (not me this time!).  But that's usual for Joaquin and me.

Last minute touches were adding Obama waving from the portico and the tulips lining the front.  In the end, we both sat smiling at it, super-impressed, but also wondering what else we could add to it.



And the party?  He skated full speed for two hours, stopped only briefly to shovel in some pizza, soda and cake, then took off again.  And I did the mom sacrifice.  I sat on that hard booth, with two week old Carmen asleep in my arms, making small talk with parents I didn't know.

There was even a race around the rink on sock feet, and Joaquin walked away with a cool 2nd place ribbon and a free pass to come again.  He was beaming.

And we both knew he had made the right choice.

three hours

My life is being lived in three hour increments.

How much can a person get done in three hours?  And really it's not three hours because it takes at least thirty minutes to nurse her and change her ready for the next three hours.

Multiply that at least eight times a day, around the clock, and I now know why my counter is full of dishes and there are clean clothes lining the hallway and floors throughout the house.

Sleep deprivation is a valid torture technique.
I try to squeeze in at least one nap a day while Diego watches way too much tv.  And I get a shower *almost* every other day.

Still, the kids are fighting like cats and dogs.  Unless we're all watching our new favorite tween show...Kickin' It.  It's either really funny, or I'm very slap happy.

And the 'I suck as a mom' mantra plays over in my mind daily.

Four is definitely an adjustment.  Four is definitely hard.

But we press on.

In three hour increments.

And she's just so darn cute, too.









The many faces of Diego:











Thank you Darius Rucker for reminding me.... it won't be like this for long.

our easter baby

We woke up Easter morning to brightly colored Mike and Ikes scattered throughout the house...on pictures frames, window sills, chairs.  Somehow, the Easter bunny had gotten the message that the kids don't like jelly beans.

Their baskets were full of toys and marshmallow peeps.  I was sitting on the couch, enjoying stuffing those entire peeps into my mouth and trying to teach Diego how good they were.  He touched them softly and turned up his nose.

And then I had three strong contractions in a row.

It wasn't until about mid-March that I realized we could have an Easter baby.  She would only have to be four days late...and Diego had been about eight, so it was definitely doable.  

For many years, Easter has felt like my very own special holiday.  A secret between me and God...even though everyone else thinks they know all about it.  When my mom died in 2000, the next Sunday was Easter.  And if there's one holiday you would want to celebrate under those circumstances, it's Easter...with it's message of love and sacrifice and life after death.

I knew I wanted an Easter baby, and when the contractions started that morning, I realized I've really gotten everything I've ever wanted in life.

I hollered down the hall to JP that it was time to go to the hospital.  Kids started running around looking for shoes, and I heard JP heat up some breakfast and sit down at the table to eat it.

Diego followed me into the bathroom with the head bitten off of one of the peeps.  "I get it now, Mom. It's a mash-mellow!"  He smiled and stuffed the rest into his mouth.

We had been preoccupied during most of the latter weeks wondering who would take care of the kids when the time came.  But God worked it out.  Sunday.  A holiday.  Early morning.  My friend, Liz, was in the car to meet us at the hospital in a flash.  I was still checking in when she walked through the door.

The kids said their good-byes... and they wheeled me off as baby names were still being yelled out.

We rolled through the mostly empty halls, and I tried to clear my mind.  Births make me nervous.  All the unknowns and unexpected possibilities.  My legs trembled slightly, but uncontrollably, a tell-tale sign that, yes, this will be the day.

If I have one claim to fame in this life, it is this....four all natural, no drugs, no epidural, just breathing, walking, painful births to celebrate.  Some people like to climb Mt. Everest...I chose natural child-birth. Which really isn't such a feat; it's done thousands of times everyday.  But its like crossing something off your bucket list.

natural child birth  check!

We don't all have the same bucket lists, and I don't begrudge any momma who doesn't even have this on her list.  I admit, I fantasized about a c-section this time around.  I'm glad I didn't, but when you know you're about to put yourself through intense pain, you like to imagine an escape route.  Kind of like when Jesus said, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done."

The contractions were manageable.  If I stood up, they came non-stop, if I sat down, they stopped almost completely...so I was able to take breaks as I wanted.  I whispered to Carmen, "Let's make this easy" and repeated it during the long ones.

And Juan Pablo was right by my side.  It took him a while to realize when my eyes were closed, I didn't want to be talked to or offered water.  But he didn't flinch when I snapped, "no!"  He stood where I wanted him to stand, held my hand, and was present.

The midwife asked him if he wanted to catch the baby.  He said, "If I don't have to see anything."  She said, "Well.... you better not catch her then."  I joked, "He's a soccer player, anyway, not a football player."





By 1:30pm, there was still no baby.  My water hadn't broke and we were all getting tired.  The midwife asked if I wanted her to break my water.  Hmmm.  Such a hard question to answer.  If I say no, then this goes on longer....if I say yes, then a real live baby is going to push its way out of me even sooner.

I'm hesitant.  And she knows it.

She encourages me to do it, and I say okay.

Twenty minutes later, Carmen Jane makes her entrance into the world.

Oh...did I leave out the part of me clinging to the railing of the bed chanting...."Pleaaaseee" in intense pain, telling the midwife, "Don't leave me" and then somewhere along the way the chant became, "Help me".

Um, not my finest moment.

Carmen came so fast though.  The nurse was smiling saying, "Aww.  Look at your baby, she's so beautiful."  But I couldn't look yet.  I had to get rid of that memory of pain.  I didn't want to see her and remember the pain.

And as incredible as it sounds, the pain was gone in a minute.  Even later in the day, the nurses would ask what my pain level was, and I'd say "one."  I never even used those ice packs that were such a relief when Isabela was born.


Carmen Jane.  Fresh to the world.  Amazing.



We did it!



My midwife.  So patient and calming.



Carmen was the only Easter baby that day at the hospital.  She got some extra attention from the nurses, including this cute bow hat they made for her.



The Easter Bunny smiled on.  The peep, however, knows its time is limited in our marshmallow-loving household.



Sweetness.





The midwife told us Carmen was meant to be here and quite a miracle.  She held up the umbilical cord and showed us a perfectly tied knot in it.  It happens as the baby flips and and turns as she's growing.  We were shocked, but so thankful she was okay.







Let the holding begin.

Proud daddy.



Big sister.



Big brother.



And notice there's not one of little big brother.  He had an amazing way of ignoring her completely.  I asked him if he wanted to touch her...no, not interested.  (He has since become a great baby holder.)

And that quickly, we're headed home.  I'm always amazed that they let people walk out of the hospital with this new precious life.  They must say plenty of prayers over the babies before they say good-bye.



Somewhere in this mess of faces is a baby.  And one more reason Easter is my favorite holiday.

anticipating easter

I'm slowly rejoining the land of the living.  And, whether you're in it or not,  the world just keeps on going, doesn't it?
I could just sleep and sleep.  A month long nap sounds really good about now.

But, instead of sleep, or laundry, or cleaning, or a shower...I think I'll remember back one day before Easter.

Carmen was past her due date...and I was hopeful for an Easter baby.  So what better way to make that happen than to head to Maymont?

We got there early for the celebration and Joaquin was the first one to climb the 'scratching post'.  He was up there in a flash.



Isabela was next....



...and not to be left behind was Diego.



Just making sure it's nice and tight.



And then the tree guy decided to swing him like a pinata.  So funny.



Somewhere along the way, as my belly got huge, Diego started kissing it.  I love this photo.



So when is this egg hunt going to start, Mom?



Watching the big kids.



We've already thrown away the dinky trinkets that were in these eggs, but anticipation is half the fun anyway, right?



Kona ice makes us happy.  My new favorite flavor...root beer float.



Then we took in a show.



Remember marionettes?  The kids had never seen one before.  They are still kind of scary looking...but fancy, too....this one could blow up a balloon!



And time for the trees.



If you don't climb in the trees, you may as well not go to Maymont.









But did he have to run across the stones?  So glad he didn't fall in.



He wanted to keep up with his big brother, and daddy made sure he could.





One last shot before everything changes.  Tomorrow will be Easter.