Lunches: a two-month hiatus

Ben is very, very happy.
The reason: school is out for the summer and he no longer needs to dread the arrival of the school bus that daily took away his older brother and sister. In fact, he is so overwhelmed by their 'not leaving', that he keeps asking me if the school bus is coming, why the school bus is not coming and how long it will not be coming for. A few minutes ago, I heard him ask Hannah, "Is the school bus coming?" In frustration, she replied somewhat brusquely, "No, Ben, it's not coming. It's the summer!" Matter-of-factly, he concluded, "I guess the baby's coming, then." Funny, I sort of feel the same way.
The end of school simultaneously signals the end of the much-hated packing of the lunches (this might be the straw that breaks this non-homeschooler's back), as well as the final progression toward the arrival of our fifth child, otherwise known as "The Baby". When will he come? Where will he be born? Will his father deliver him en-route to the hospital? What is his name? What does he look like? Who will he be? So exciting.
Dave has his final staff meeting this morning and a staff get-together in the afternoon at his principal's cottage. I think that he is going to try his hand at water skiing. My mother advised him to make sure his swimming trunks were tied securely as the loss of one's bottoms is often the outcome of rising out of the water while being towed by a boat. I just told him to quickly drop back into the water if he can't find his shorts. Say a prayer for him.
Dave competed in the local duathlon yesterday (2km run, 32 km bike, 8 km run). He finished middle of the pack although he had one of the fastest runs. (Ben and Joe crossed the finish line hand-in-hand with their daddy but my camera died.) Thus, we are left to conclude that his Canadian-Tire road bike is just not cutting it like those of his competitors. For example, the race route is comprised of some formidable hills at which Dave excels. He told me that he routinely passed another competitor on those hills only to be swiftly passed by the same man on the downhills. For those unfamiliar with bike racing: this is the opposite of what should happen. Truthfully, my father who spent a good part of his youth racing bikes, tried out Dave's bike last summer and quickly returned with a look of extreme frustration on his face and a word of advice: "Mate, you need a new bike. This thing doesn't even move in a straight line." Alas, the bike fund has started (a two -year project) and we will funnel all parental birthday funds towards the upgrading of Dave's two-wheeled status. (No more new socks and underwear, Grandma Anne.)
So, here we sit on the first day of summer. We are all still pyjamaed and the kids are reading books in the living room. Swimming lessons have yet to start (next week) and the summer lies ahead with its glorious promise of ... summerness. We are looking forward to all that it holds.

A Belated Anniversary Post

"Men of few words are the best sort of men." (Shakespeare)

"Love needs few words. It only needs will."

I read these two quotes on Holy Experience today. They and the accompanying pictures set me into a fit of tears for two reasons: I am not a woman of few words and spend much of my talking time wishing that I would be quiet; but, Dave is a man of few words - very few.
He is also a man of extraordinary love and will. The sort of love and will that when combined lend themselves to heroic sacrifice. I have no doubt that he would die for me or for any of our children. I am not so sure about whether I would.
When I first brought Dave home nine years ago one April my mother apparently asked my father, "Is that all there is to him?" My dad, sensing the truth of the 'still waters run deep' maxim, answered, "He's a simple country boy, love. He's not complex." The problem is that I have been trained to equate complexity with depth of character. The two do not belong in the same equation.
There have been numerous times over our eight years that I have wondered about his depth, about what goes on in his head, about his thoughts, dreams and feelings. It was only recently that I began to realise that he doesn't need to voice the rumblings upstairs in the same way that I do; he simply lives them.
He is a man of noble character; a Catholic man in the truest sense; a husband who lays down his life daily for his wife; and a father who leads his family with unspoken courage, strength and vision.
He has little need to be understood or to impress and I am truly amazed that he chose me whose character stands in such opposition to his own. He truly is a St. Joseph and, hopefully, I can grow more like that holy man's wife.

Week 31 Update

It really isn't that easy to take a picture of one's self with the computer. This is my best effort and I am sure that Dave will chastise me for not waiting til he arrived home from school so that he could have taken something a bit better. But, oh well. I don't think that I look that much different from week 26; I tend not to change too much during the third trimester. We have never had a baby that weighed more than 7lb 7oz; consequently, I don't get too big near the end.
We are all doing pretty well here as only five days of school are left and I can already feel the pressures of the school year deflating. We have few plans for the summer other than a visit from a wonderful aunt and uncle from London, England and lots and lots of swimming lessons. Ben has finally consented to formal lessons after Jacob and Hannah convinced him that swimming might be necessary if he one day has to save his drowning cow. Jacob is using a similar tactic with Ben and literacy: "Ben, one day you might have to read and write your cows' names!" Farm coercion does work wonders with our second boy. Our other big project is turning the front toy room into a fourth bedroom so that we will have all four bedrooms on one level. Not much is required except for a set of double doors and black-out drapes.
And, that's all. It's Monday, so I'm off to wash the towels, vacuum the carpets and create order out of the weekend.

First Recital

For those of you who wondered, I did succumb to the flu on Friday night. Essentially this latest house flu boiled down to an incredible migraine that was untouchable by Tylenol. Dave searched the internet for something, oh please, anything else other than Tylenol, that was safe in pregnancy. He eventually found paracetemol; only to discover that paracetemol is the generic name for acetaminophen which, of course, is Tylenol. Sleep helped majorly and by Sunday morning I woke with only a dull ache that threatened revival if pushed. Thus, I took it very easy and prepared for the afternoon that I was not about to miss: Jacob's and Hannah's first fiddle and step-dance recital. This is their teacher Buster Brown. Yes, that really is his name and it even shows up on call display as such. He has been dancing for over 50 years and once, at the age of nine, spent a season dancing on the Don Messer Show. As my mother said, "That means I watched him!"

And here they are waiting for their turn in the spotlight. Neither were particularly nervous but Hannah was a little shy on stage. Her shyness manifested itself in downcast eyes and a need to physically coordinate the other dancers before they started. Genetically pre-disposed to control others when nervous ... clear maternal link.

This first video is Jacob's debut. Please keep in mind that he has only been playing since September. I am not sure who was terribly off-key. It very well might have been Jacob but he certainly didn't sound like that at home. Fortunately, right before the performance started a dad in the front row signalled to Buster that Jacob's bow needed to be tightened. I thanked him afterward.
I asked Jacob if he had been nervous and he replied: "No, I've grown quite used to the stage." (Update: Jacob just notified me that the strange droning was not him. Apparently one of the other players had a string that, in Jacob's words, "Wanted to be played like a guitar: it could only twang, Mom.")

And Buster moves a little closer as Jacob attempts eye contact with his mother.

And, here is our little stepper. She didn't miss a step and performed superbly. Dave and I were both taping using two different cameras as we were unsure which one would turn out. Thus, I was left to tape with a Joseph pulling on my arm and a Benjamin loudly complaining, "Why can't I take a picture? But I have nothing to do!" I believe that you can hear a bit of our, ahem, conversation.

I had to included these next two videos for my parents so that they could hear what sort of talent these steppers got to dance to. The fiddler, Robbie Dagenais, is a nationally-ranked fiddler but just happens to own the grocery store two towns over. Pretty great stuff. Mom and Dad, we all wish that you could have been there.

The finale was a wonderful highlight in which all the dancers came on stage together to dance their little hearts out. I was pretty pleased that Hannah ended up in the front row and so close to the camera. Unfortunately, my camera finger gave out 12 seconds before the last note sounded. So, you'll have to be satisfied with an abrupt ending. Enjoy.

In Shape

The lull between real life and blog life seems to be around two weeks. At least for me and the missing camera cord. However, it has been found and I am finally posting pictures of the May 29th 10K race. Last year I ran this race; this year Dave did. The following Monday my dental hygienist asked me about our weekend and I told her about Dave's race. Quite innocently, I added that when I am not pregnant, I run. This sent her into peals of laughter. I'm surprised she didn't ask me what I run from. The above runner is not related to us. She is the female winner - an 18 year old from Ethiopia. I run the 10K almost twice as slowly as she does. Imagine if she had children.

This picture was supposed to be of the two top men racing for the cash prize. I tried two shots: the first was too early and the second too late. Thus, we are left with a picture of a few elite marathoners; seeing these athletes in person truly helps one understand how small elites runners are.

And here comes Dave. He placed around 630th out of almost 9000 runners. Pretty good ... especially with only three weeks of solid training under his belt. When he was in high school he ran this race in 38:47. He was just under 45 minutes this time. He was unimpressed. He first ran this race at the age of 10. Yes, he is wearing black gloves; he uses them to wipe the sweat from his brow.

And there he goes.

Almost done. It was a good night. We left all the children with Dave's parents for an overnight stay. I only managed to leave all of Hannah clothes (night and day) at home in the front hall and the kids kindly waited til Sunday morning to start throwing up. (And for those of you who might have wondered: I seem to have escaped this flu - unless its incubation period for pregnant moms is interminably long.)

Still here

I am still here and somehow I felt that I should write that. I have a post about Dave's 10K race last Saturday but I can't find the camera cord in order to download pictures. Also, we have had another stomach flu sweep through our home starting last Sunday morning and just ending ... sometime soon ... as soon as my headache disappears.
I am 29 weeks tomorrow and feeling very uncomfortable. There are moments throughout the day when I feel like my round ligaments are about to let go and drop my front half to the floor.
The third trimester anxiety blues have hit. Why did I forget about these? You know, those crazy thoughts like: Ahhh, why am I doing this? Can I do this? Will I sleep? Will the baby be healthy? and on and on and on.
My daily walk has considerably slowed down and I have a 'kind' neighbour who feels the need to comment on my 'race' times: "Must have cut that one short."; "Almost there, keep it going." I actually try to sneak past his home so as to avoid his words i.e. when he first found out about the pregnancy: "Must have been a power outage this winter, eh?"
But, we are well and the weather is beautiful and I am planting lots of flowers which really makes me happy. And Dave is soon on holiday from school which really, really makes me happy. And, it is our eighth wedding anniversary today which really, really, really makes me happy.