My sister often asks me if Jacob and Hannah, the twins, fight. The answer is no. The level of peace and cooperation between the two womb-mates is unbelievable and, I think, fascinating. However, the next two in line, singleton 1 and singleton 2, regularly clash in a battle of wills. This morning, I woke a little late, and was greeted by this scene. I asked why the cereal boxes were providing fortification and Hannah replied, "Oh, that? They didn't want to see each other anymore so I made them screens." Here's to good cheer(ios)!
Friday, November 26, 2010
Sibling Rivalry
My sister often asks me if Jacob and Hannah, the twins, fight. The answer is no. The level of peace and cooperation between the two womb-mates is unbelievable and, I think, fascinating. However, the next two in line, singleton 1 and singleton 2, regularly clash in a battle of wills. This morning, I woke a little late, and was greeted by this scene. I asked why the cereal boxes were providing fortification and Hannah replied, "Oh, that? They didn't want to see each other anymore so I made them screens." Here's to good cheer(ios)!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
We wear the same genes
Above: My sister's firstborn, Rhett, at 4 months (Note the hairlines).
Above: My fifth-born, Isaac, at almost three months
Me and Isaac
Rebecca and Rhett
Friday, November 19, 2010
Of Mice and Men
The best laid plans ... you know the rest.
Why is it that on a day when you are finally by yourself (well, except for the baby), that the baby decides that he really wants to let you know that it is just you and him ... all day and all night?
And that he only goes to sleep once the kids pile in the door at the end of the day?
And that the ouchy, ouchy pain in the night is mastitis?
And that the really Polish doctor at the emergency room laughs when he finds out you have five kids and says in heavily accented English, "Ohhh. You really are Catholic: mind, soul and body." And now you can get on with enjoying the nice photos of our children.
And I will take my antibiotic.
Why is it that on a day when you are finally by yourself (well, except for the baby), that the baby decides that he really wants to let you know that it is just you and him ... all day and all night?
And that he only goes to sleep once the kids pile in the door at the end of the day?
And that the ouchy, ouchy pain in the night is mastitis?
And that the really Polish doctor at the emergency room laughs when he finds out you have five kids and says in heavily accented English, "Ohhh. You really are Catholic: mind, soul and body." And now you can get on with enjoying the nice photos of our children.
And I will take my antibiotic.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Isaac
A pre-haircut picture. I will post a post-haircut picture once my hair looks like the above. But, here is Isaac. And, dear god-mama, he still fits just fine in his newborn baptismal gift! Babies don't grow very quickly at our house. Isn't he cute?
His hair is darkening up a little but he is still quite fair and prone to bouts of eczema on his forehead. His skin seems to stay clear if I avoid hats for prolonged periods. I have been told several times that Isaac looks like me. I find this hard to believe as he is so fair but also because I am usually told that my kids look nothing like me and everything like Dave. I used to find this lack of resemblance quite difficult, even painful, but I have grown used to it and now find it very hard to imagine a child who might look like me. Nevertheless, I wouldn't mind a little brown baby of my own. Grave reason to have more?
A little smile and a view of his birthmark. Apparently, it will be practically invisible by his first birthday. He looks very much like my father's side in this photo.
But he smiles like his mommy: a little crooked with one eye smaller than the other. (The top photo is the result of years of practicing how to smile with both eyes the same size. Jacob and Isaac have not yet learned this skill. I hope they never do.)
Still experiencing astonishment.
Rebecca, he has a chin just like your boys. None of ours, other than Isaac, have had a chin quite like that.
Even he is amazed by how much he resembles his first cousins.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Forced exile and Benjamin
I have been exiled to my bedroom. Remember the rooster? Dave is still tutoring three nights a week for two hour sessions ... but now, instead of typing back and forth with a student, he has a headset. Which means that students all over our fair province can now hear everything that goes on in our house for two hours every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. When he first received the headset I was more than a little perturbed. "But, but..." I spluttered.
But now I have embraced the headset. The kids understand that not a peep can be made after 7:30 at night. And, strangely enough, they too have accepted the headset with great charity and cooperation. I think the headset has actually made Daddy into a bit of a celebrity in their eyes. Whew. I decided that on these quiet evenings I would move a comfy chair to our bedroom and spend the night reading. The result: I have come to look forward to head-set nights. So, after that explanation as to why I am blogging for a second time today, here are some pictures of Ben.
He's got some new moves.
Watch out, Rebecca K.!
But now I have embraced the headset. The kids understand that not a peep can be made after 7:30 at night. And, strangely enough, they too have accepted the headset with great charity and cooperation. I think the headset has actually made Daddy into a bit of a celebrity in their eyes. Whew. I decided that on these quiet evenings I would move a comfy chair to our bedroom and spend the night reading. The result: I have come to look forward to head-set nights. So, after that explanation as to why I am blogging for a second time today, here are some pictures of Ben.
He's got some new moves.
Watch out, Rebecca K.!
A Promise of Photos
I'm still here. (How many times have I started a post that way? Many.) It's just that time gets away on me as life is very full.
I think that life is the fullest that we have experienced it yet. Nevertheless, it is still extremely peaceful. Somehow we have been able to find the time to have people to dinner, bake muffins, keep the house in order and give an NFP talk (baby in hand!). I mention this not to provide some sort of list of accomplishments, but to bear testimony to the goodness of God and His peace. The peace in my heart and in our household is rooted in God, in His order and in that we are trying to stay within that order.
I wasn't feeling this way last Fall.
But thanks to an excellent spiritual director (Madonna House) and the healing that came hand in hand with his direction, I am doing wonderfully. I feel like I am far more present than ever before to my vocation as a wife and mother and to the present moment. In the words of one good friend, I am embracing the now.
I could write about a few things: like my deletion of my Facebook account; or Isaac's excellent sleeping habits (he's channelling his godparents' babies); or Advent being almost upon us; or the dead silence with which I was greeted when I booked Jacob's eye appointment and I mentioned that we had had another baby; or the joys of running again (although I'm bracing my knee in the hope that the little twinge doesn't become a full-out injury); or the fact that on my third run I was whistled at for the first time in my life (I almost fell down laughing).
But, the baby has been asleep for almost two hours and he's going to be hungry, Dave will be home soon, which means I better be dressed to run, and supper needs to be put in the oven.
So, that's where I'll leave you.
But, I'll be back with photos as the camera is charging on the counter and proof of Isaac's growth must be posted.
I think that life is the fullest that we have experienced it yet. Nevertheless, it is still extremely peaceful. Somehow we have been able to find the time to have people to dinner, bake muffins, keep the house in order and give an NFP talk (baby in hand!). I mention this not to provide some sort of list of accomplishments, but to bear testimony to the goodness of God and His peace. The peace in my heart and in our household is rooted in God, in His order and in that we are trying to stay within that order.
I wasn't feeling this way last Fall.
But thanks to an excellent spiritual director (Madonna House) and the healing that came hand in hand with his direction, I am doing wonderfully. I feel like I am far more present than ever before to my vocation as a wife and mother and to the present moment. In the words of one good friend, I am embracing the now.
I could write about a few things: like my deletion of my Facebook account; or Isaac's excellent sleeping habits (he's channelling his godparents' babies); or Advent being almost upon us; or the dead silence with which I was greeted when I booked Jacob's eye appointment and I mentioned that we had had another baby; or the joys of running again (although I'm bracing my knee in the hope that the little twinge doesn't become a full-out injury); or the fact that on my third run I was whistled at for the first time in my life (I almost fell down laughing).
But, the baby has been asleep for almost two hours and he's going to be hungry, Dave will be home soon, which means I better be dressed to run, and supper needs to be put in the oven.
So, that's where I'll leave you.
But, I'll be back with photos as the camera is charging on the counter and proof of Isaac's growth must be posted.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Hair: a renewable resource
So, I got a new haircut. The inevitable post-baby haircut. A bob. With too much hair.
I have terribly high hopes for new haircuts. But, I always end up with the same old hair.
Every haircut I get either leaves me elated or depressingly reminiscent of grade eight school photos. I felt more of the latter than the former yesterday. Today, I am somewhere in between: closer to elated than junior high.
However, I thought the kids' reactions might amuse you. Apparently their mother's hair is very important to them and drastic haircuts can be psychologically scarring.
In order of comment:
Ben: "Where did your hair go? Can you get it back?"
Joe: No words, just a look of shock and a desperate attempt to find a ponytail.
Hannah: "Did you yell, STOP! when she started cutting?"
Jacob: "It is sort of shocking but still quite stylish. And, it's still the same face."
Isaac looked astonished but that's become routine.
And I might as well throw in the comment belonging to my better half.
Dave: "It is a renewable resource. Plus, it cleans you up."
I have terribly high hopes for new haircuts. But, I always end up with the same old hair.
Every haircut I get either leaves me elated or depressingly reminiscent of grade eight school photos. I felt more of the latter than the former yesterday. Today, I am somewhere in between: closer to elated than junior high.
However, I thought the kids' reactions might amuse you. Apparently their mother's hair is very important to them and drastic haircuts can be psychologically scarring.
In order of comment:
Ben: "Where did your hair go? Can you get it back?"
Joe: No words, just a look of shock and a desperate attempt to find a ponytail.
Hannah: "Did you yell, STOP! when she started cutting?"
Jacob: "It is sort of shocking but still quite stylish. And, it's still the same face."
Isaac looked astonished but that's become routine.
And I might as well throw in the comment belonging to my better half.
Dave: "It is a renewable resource. Plus, it cleans you up."
Kijiji, you move me
As of late, I have discovered kijiji.ca. I understand why Dave kept it somewhat of a secret until the late summer when we purchased a crib and dresser through the service.
Kijiji is slightly addictive.
When I was on the road with NET, I had a teammate who consistently felt that the present meal just might be her last. Not that she was going to meet with sudden death; rather, that the food supply might just slow to a trickle and then run dry. (Perhaps this is the result of living off of the goodness of others for 9 months.) I feel sort of the same about kijiji. I have now successfully purchased two high-end snowsuits for next to nothing. The problem is that I feel like I have to purchase similar snowsuits for all of the winters from now until our last child turns 18. I actually have mental pictures of myself retreating to the basement each November for years to come where I open a huge box, smile sweetly and say, "No worries. I have a size 12 in blue." This could become a problem. Perhaps Dave should install some sort of program that blocks my access to this on-line flea market.
But back to the crib and dresser.
Strangely enough, as we began our correspondence with the seller of the baby furniture, we soon discovered that we had actually known her a few years back through some very good friends. (C&S: she lived in your basement once upon a time.) This six-degrees-of-separation actually garnered us a significant discount for which Dave's cheque book is forever grateful. Not to mention the crib and dresser: they are mighty fine and better than anything we have had to date. I have actually considered them as living-room furniture.
So, with such success tucked under my belt, I sought out kijiji's help to face the coming winter. You see, the first few years of our marriage were spent perched precariously on the edge of financial ruin. (This is what happens when one manages the finances for a non-profit organisation!) Consequently, the kids' snowsuits were never the best, nor the warmest, nor the wind-proofiest ... you get the picture. So, I decided that I had finally had it with our less than adequate arsenal of snowsuits. No more would I put up with hoods that left gaps between jacket and chin; children who were always one step away from frozen; zippers with no tabs; and on and on. No! I had had enough and to kijiji I went. And, oh kijiji, you delivered.
For some reason, there are a heck of a lot of people out there selling used-only-one-season Columbia snowsuits for all of my children. Well, two of them at least. Jacob has a great snowsuit that his paternal grandmother purchased for him last year. I cobbled together a fabulous piece of warmth for Benjamin thanks to Dave's first cousin and Isaac's godmother. Isaac is still quite comfortable tucked in his carseat or in his Columbia snowsuit (courtesy of a friend of a few years past). But Hannah had destroyed the knees of last year's pants and Joseph's had been worn by one too many brothers.
Very quickly on a Saturday morning I found suits for both Hannah and Joseph. Hannah's seller quickly agreed to post me the suit while Joseph's was a little hesitant. When I queried as to her reluctance to ship the suit to our little town, she responded that she was in the military and a little paranoid. I responded (thinking that a military connection might earn me some Brownie points) that I had a cousin in the military. My breastfeeding brain momentarily forgot the word 'intelligence'; and so I told her that this cousin was in that branch of the military that, if she told me what she did, she would have to kill me. To which I was met with silence.
And then: "That's my job too. What's your cousin's name?" When I told her, she gasped and said, "She's one of my very good friends." So, dear military cousin, you are now in service of the family. You got me one boys snowsuit, Columbia, size 3T, orange and brown. I even got a matching hat for free.
Kijiji is slightly addictive.
When I was on the road with NET, I had a teammate who consistently felt that the present meal just might be her last. Not that she was going to meet with sudden death; rather, that the food supply might just slow to a trickle and then run dry. (Perhaps this is the result of living off of the goodness of others for 9 months.) I feel sort of the same about kijiji. I have now successfully purchased two high-end snowsuits for next to nothing. The problem is that I feel like I have to purchase similar snowsuits for all of the winters from now until our last child turns 18. I actually have mental pictures of myself retreating to the basement each November for years to come where I open a huge box, smile sweetly and say, "No worries. I have a size 12 in blue." This could become a problem. Perhaps Dave should install some sort of program that blocks my access to this on-line flea market.
But back to the crib and dresser.
Strangely enough, as we began our correspondence with the seller of the baby furniture, we soon discovered that we had actually known her a few years back through some very good friends. (C&S: she lived in your basement once upon a time.) This six-degrees-of-separation actually garnered us a significant discount for which Dave's cheque book is forever grateful. Not to mention the crib and dresser: they are mighty fine and better than anything we have had to date. I have actually considered them as living-room furniture.
So, with such success tucked under my belt, I sought out kijiji's help to face the coming winter. You see, the first few years of our marriage were spent perched precariously on the edge of financial ruin. (This is what happens when one manages the finances for a non-profit organisation!) Consequently, the kids' snowsuits were never the best, nor the warmest, nor the wind-proofiest ... you get the picture. So, I decided that I had finally had it with our less than adequate arsenal of snowsuits. No more would I put up with hoods that left gaps between jacket and chin; children who were always one step away from frozen; zippers with no tabs; and on and on. No! I had had enough and to kijiji I went. And, oh kijiji, you delivered.
For some reason, there are a heck of a lot of people out there selling used-only-one-season Columbia snowsuits for all of my children. Well, two of them at least. Jacob has a great snowsuit that his paternal grandmother purchased for him last year. I cobbled together a fabulous piece of warmth for Benjamin thanks to Dave's first cousin and Isaac's godmother. Isaac is still quite comfortable tucked in his carseat or in his Columbia snowsuit (courtesy of a friend of a few years past). But Hannah had destroyed the knees of last year's pants and Joseph's had been worn by one too many brothers.
Very quickly on a Saturday morning I found suits for both Hannah and Joseph. Hannah's seller quickly agreed to post me the suit while Joseph's was a little hesitant. When I queried as to her reluctance to ship the suit to our little town, she responded that she was in the military and a little paranoid. I responded (thinking that a military connection might earn me some Brownie points) that I had a cousin in the military. My breastfeeding brain momentarily forgot the word 'intelligence'; and so I told her that this cousin was in that branch of the military that, if she told me what she did, she would have to kill me. To which I was met with silence.
And then: "That's my job too. What's your cousin's name?" When I told her, she gasped and said, "She's one of my very good friends." So, dear military cousin, you are now in service of the family. You got me one boys snowsuit, Columbia, size 3T, orange and brown. I even got a matching hat for free.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Mug Shots
Joseph, the 'Pengolin'
Benjamin, the Pirate
Jacob, the Hunchback
Hannah, the French Clown
Hallowe'en under the shadow of the Assumption.
I had to include all of these shots as the various facial expressions are revealing of our budding characters.
Isaac spent the night in the sling and the baby chair. When he is tucked in the sling, he is all but invisible which caused some confusion last night. One little girl, of 3 or 4 years, arrived at the door, collected her candy and heard the baby cry. The poor thing; she simply couldn't find the baby and ended up looking suspiciously at the jack'o'lantern.
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