Three to Get Ready, Four to Go (Adventuring)

There are two common schools of thought about the transition from two kids to three kids. One school of thought says, “You feel like you’re drowning, and then someone hands you a baby.” The other school of thought says, “What’s one more? It’s a piece of cake!” Happily, perhaps due to the personality of the child we got, or perhaps due to the fact that the older two of our now-three children already had a sibling relatively close in age to begin with, we seem to have pitched our proverbial tent slightly closer to the second camp. While I wouldn’t describe it as a piece of cake, it has certainly been significantly less taxing than the 1-2 transition was for us.

That said, it has already had some more entertaining moments, to describe it charitably. Take, for example, the first time I went adventuring with all three by myself. We decided to go visit the “birds’ house,” as we’ve come to call it - the local wildlife sanctuary where there are miles of trails and birds that will eat out of your hand. We’ve gone there many, many times, and the kids love it. This particular day, I fed Charlie while issuing commands like a dictator to Elise and James, hoping they would magically get themselves ready. The commands were marginally successful, with the key word being marginally; they both ended up wearing boots, in spite of the recent drought, and also in spite of my best efforts to persuade/encourage/direct them to choose more lightweight footwear.

Nevertheless, we made it. Things were going well! Charlie was sleeping! Everyone was excited! We were going to find some birds! Have an adventure! Discover a bridge! Wear explorer hats!

We made it about 20 yards into the woods before James wanted to sit down, but with the enticement of a stream at the bottom of the trail, he carried on, only stopping to pick up sticks and rocks about every five feet. It was slow going.

At the bottom of the trail, we discovered the stream was dry. It was a drought, after all. The boots were oh-so-useful, obviously. There was a nice rock for resting though, which James decided to make use of.

This trail ends by meeting up with another, so we carried on - there was a boardwalk! The bridge was nearby!

James said his feet hurt. Good.

We made some discoveries - buttonbush is an adorably named, very interesting plant, and better yet, there was a bench upon which to rest again.

We found both a tufted titmouse and wild blueberries, so things were looking up again. Until we got to the end of that trail, and Charlie started fussing and rooting around for milk while James decided he didn’t want to go ANY FURTHER AT ALL because…his feet hurt again. Curse those boots.

With many attempts at cajoling, we made it to the bridge at last, where I was at least able to satisfy Charlie’s immediate hunger needs. A great blue heron flew directly in front of us. We spotted a few turtles. The bird seed we had brought with us was a great source of delight to a nearby chipmunk. James wanted his boots off. Elise wanted to take another trail to go all the way around the pond that the bridge spanned. I said no.

With Charlie filled up, we moved on, but only a very, very short way because James was not going to make it back to the car with his boots on. No way, no how.

And thus, he hiked most of the rest of the way back in his socks, while I got to be the pack horse that carried the baby, the boots, a water bottle, several collected sticks, and a selection of rocks that he and Elise couldn’t bear to part with. At least they managed to carry their own explorer hats.

Pretty soon, we found some birds to feed, which was most exciting…

…until it wasn’t, because the bird’s feet were ever so slightly poky. Naturally, sobbing ensued.

We recovered, but only for a short while because the path is mostly gravel, which doesn’t feel so great when you’re walking around in socks. There was only one possible way we were going to get back to the car.

As a disclaimer, both Charlie and his neck were fine. Elise was really the champion of the outing and volunteered to carry James’ water and sticks, and I decided that I’d checked my first postpartum workout off my list.

At last, we made it back to the rock upon which James had rested at the outset of our explorations, whereupon we also discovered an excellent climbing tree.

If I thought our going was slow at the beginning of the adventure, the going was at least three times slower getting from the tree back to the car, but we did it! We managed our expedition, and we learned a few key lessons:

Lesson 1: Appropriate child footwear selection is maybe a hill you should actually die on.

Lesson 2: Going places with newborns is a lot easier than going places with toddlers.

Lesson 3: Laughter is good medicine. If I can remember to roll with the punches, the source material will spring forth eternal, even if it comes with a side of chagrin and sore muscles.

Charles Albon: An Arrival Tale

It’s been quiet around here lately, but things haven’t been quite so quiet at home, because we have a third baby! Naturally, of course, this requires a written birth story for posterity. Please feel free to skip this post if birth stories are not your thing.

In order to properly tell this tale, we need to go back several weeks before he was actually born. I had a relatively easy pregnancy, at least until 32 weeks or so, but things were a little chaotic at home for most of the time. Specifically, we’ve all lived through a pandemic, and the entire family was in a constant cycle of sickness of all varieties from the end of October 2021 all the way through to about…last week. We dealt with several common colds, at least two stomach bugs, RSV, a double ear infection, weeks of coughing (which for James, would wake him up at night and cause him to throw up), and then to cap it all off, we all got Covid when I was 32 weeks along. To be honest, Covid was not so bad for me personally - I had what felt like a mild flu for three days and then I was fine. But the kids had it worse, and when the kids are sick with a scary virus that has had the world in varying degrees of lockdown for two years, anxiety is a fun parental side effect.

After all of that, I was completely worn out. I got an extra ultrasound thanks to the Covid diagnosis and everything looked good, but it was hard to shake off the feeling that Something Could Be Wrong. Around that time, my blood pressure started acting up as well - I had a few instances of extreme blood pressure drops, where I would come close to either passing out or throwing up and which resulted in full body shakes and very low energy for a few hours afterward. Then, at a couple of my appointments, my blood pressure was reading high, which I was told was cropping up in a lot of pregnant moms who had had Covid during pregnancy. I was also dealing with near-daily headaches, and overall just not feeling well. None of these things did anything to help my anxiousness approaching labor and delivery. At around 36 weeks, I was sent to the birth center at the hospital for a non-stress test and lab work because of the high blood pressure readings, and while everything checked out normal, they had me return the following week for another blood pressure check just to make sure. At that point, they told me that if I had a third high blood pressure reading (and no signs of preeclampsia), I’d be put on a track toward induction as early as 37 weeks for gestational hypertension.

By that time, I just wanted to be done being pregnant, since I was so tired of feeling so unwell for so long. However, I didn’t end up with any additional high blood pressure readings. I generally found that if I drank a ridiculous amount of water, kept my dessert consumption very low, and got a semi-reasonable amount of sleep, the symptoms were kept more at bay. And so as each day went by, I slowly crept closer and closer to my due date and started believing that we’d actually make it to full term.

With all of that health nonsense, I was absolutely dreading the idea of going through labor without pain medication - I’d had more than enough of discomfort and feeling out of control with health stuff for the previous months that I wasn’t in the right headspace to manage contractions all the way through to the finish line, so to speak. On the other hand, I’d had such a bad experience with the epidural I got during my first labor that I felt pretty apprehensive about the idea of dealing with that during delivery again. So, on a 1 to 10 scale, my enthusiasm level about giving birth could probably be placed somewhere around negative 5000. I decided to pray for three very specific things: 1) that I would go into labor during the day rather than the night, since I was constantly so tired; 2) that the delivery would be smooth and quick; and 3) that I’d feel peace about it as we got closer.

Finally, I had my last scheduled appointment the day before my due date. Up until this point, I had mostly seen the midwives at the practice, but that day, I saw one of the OBs. She’s European, and it showed - every sentence she spoke was succinct and to the point. We wasted zero minutes on small talk and she started off by immediately asking if I wanted a sweep to get things going. She very clearly wanted a yes or no answer provided in (again) zero minutes, and since I wasn’t terribly eager to remain pregnant even though L&D felt ominous, I agreed to it. She did that, scheduled me an induction date for the following Thursday if I didn’t go into labor, announced I’d bleed a bit, and waltzed out the door in the span of three minutes, and I was on my way.

My parents, who had come down to watch the other kids while I was at the doctor, decided to stick around in case things picked up. I was having sporadic contractions that were more uncomfortable than the Braxton Hicks ones I’d been having for the past few weeks, so I was hopeful that things would actually pick up. We waited around for the rest of the afternoon, ate spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, and got ready for bed, half expecting to wake up in the middle of the night to make the trek to the hospital.

And then we all woke up the following morning, very much still at home.

We all took it very easy the next day. It was my actual due date, so I kept hoping that we’d have a due date baby. Wouldn’t that be statistically fun? However, I told Chaz that I really preferred 6/18 to 6/17 as a birthday, just because it seemed mathematically better. 18 is divisible by 6 after all…17 is just too much of a prime number. The contractions from the previous day were fewer and farther in between, although when they did happen, they had picked up in intensity just a little bit more. My dad installed a new light in our basement stairwell, with James’ assistance. Elise had her quiet time during James’ nap, and I decided to go lie down in her room. We ended up both taking a nap, which is something that doesn’t happen very often anymore.

My parents stayed around for the day, just because it did feel like labor was imminent, even if not starting at that very moment. We were so grateful for their help that we decided to go out for dinner that night. We ate Mexican food and drank margaritas outside (well…no margarita for me) and had a really nice time. Once again, contractions picked up in intensity a tiny bit, but they were so few and far between that I didn’t think we’d be heading to the hospital immediately. We joked that we picked a restaurant in Newburyport because it was close to the hospital. Nevertheless, we finished our tasty dinner, headed home, did the bath and bedtime routine for the kids, and then watched the Return to Space Netflix documentary like the nerds that we are. If you’re into that sort of thing…it’s good! Watch it! Eventually, we all went to bed around 10:00.

A contraction woke me up at 1:30. It felt not much different than the ones before, but something about it seemed more purposeful. I got up and used the bathroom before climbing back in bed. Chaz half woke up and asked if everything was ok, and I declared everything was fine. Two contractions later, I decided to start timing them. They were still 12 to 13 minutes apart, but they kept going instead of fizzling out. Over the course of the next hour, they gradually got closer together, and I woke Chaz up for real at 3:00 when they’d reached 6 to 7 minutes apart. I hadn’t called the birth center quite yet, but Chaz started packing his things and I went downstairs in the dark to refill my glass of water and work through a couple more contractions by myself. I didn’t think I was making any noise, but the Disturbance in the Force must have woken my parents up, because my dad popped out of the guest room and we all knew there would be an external baby sometime today.

Finally, I called the birth center. Actually, I tried googling the birth center’s phone number directly, but it turns out their webpage doesn’t have their phone number on it (?!??) and I had to call the general hospital line and be transferred. I guess they don’t want calls for no reason? Mysterious. The midwife asked me about my other two labors and when I mentioned James had been born in under four hours, she told me to come in!

We were on the road by 3:52 - which I only know because I remember looking at the clock specifically - and the horizon was just starting the lighten the slightest bit. The contractions slowed down on the road. I think I only had two or three on the way there, and I wondered if they would send me home. My anxiety about the birth process had come back in full force and I was trying to get rid of the fear around it since I knew it had to happen one way or another.

We arrived at the emergency entrance to the hospital shortly thereafter and I told Chaz to drop me off at the doors before he parked. I waddled my way to the elevator feeling uncomfortable and made my way up to the birth center on the second floor. They were expecting me when I buzzed the buzzer and they let me right in, guiding me back to a delivery room and hooking me up to the monitors. By this time, the contractions were even further apart and less painful than they had been even in the car, so yet again I worried they might end up sending me home. However, the nurse and the midwife both assured me that things would pick back up, and since I was already past my due date, they weren’t going to send me home. I told them that even though my birth plan had said I wanted to go without pain medication if I could, I didn’t want that at all anymore and I’d probably want an epidural.

Right away, we noticed that any time I had a contraction, the baby’s heart rate dropped really, really low. Given my state of mind, my thoughts went automatically straight to the nuclear potential outcome: I was totally going to have a c-section, for which I was zero percent mentally prepared. I looked at the nurse and said, “For what it’s worth…if I have to have a c-section, I want to be totally knocked out. I do not want to be awake for surgery.” Maybe not my best moment, but at least I was honest? She laughed and said, “Well…if it comes to that, there might not be time. But what makes you think you’re going to have a c-section?! You’ve had two natural deliveries already!” That was mildly comforting, as was the fact that his heart rate stabilized even through contractions when they turned me on to my left side.

After an hour or so on the monitors, they checked me and told me I was at a 4 centimeters, which was both good (I’d made some progress since my appointment two days prior) and bad (I was hoping for more), and they asked me if I wanted the epidural now or later. I decided I’d try to get things moving a little before taking the plunge and having a giant needle stuck in my back. They took off the monitors and I stood up and walked around a bit, even telling Chaz to take a photo while I could still stand up…and definitely between contractions.

Sure enough, that did the trick, and within probably 20 minutes I told them I was ready. Fortunately, they’d given me the pre-epidural IV when I arrived, so within five minutes Dr. Parker, the anesthesiologist, walked in with all of his consent forms and tools for the job. I told him my history with the first time I’d been epiduralized (that should be a word, I say) and he told me that they’d given me extra hydration with the IV to avoid the blood pressure drop, and they’d start me on a very low dose. Ok! Sign me up! I put my signature on all the paperwork, Chaz was instructed to sit in a chair on the opposite side of the room to ensure that he didn’t pass out (I suppose this was frequent enough with husbands at births to make it standard procedure) and I made sure to look far, far away from any sharp objects on Dr. Parker’s tray.

A few minutes later and I was lying down comfortably on the bed, relaxing while the nurse told me that I hadn’t even blinked when I had a contraction. BEAUTIFUL. And then we were mostly left to our own devices, and after I had bided my time a little bit to see if any weird side effects happened (they didn’t!), I settled down to wait. I could still move and feel my legs, but there was no pain. It was peaceful (answer to prayer number 3), calm, and quiet, and our nurse, Michelle, checked on us every once in awhile. I ate a popsicle. A red one, per request.

In a couple of hours, I realized my labor shakes had gotten worse, and I wondered if I’d hit transition. A quick check confirmed it, and the doctor asked if I wanted to have my water broken to speed things up. Since I wasn’t keen on more interventions than absolutely necessary and I was feeling fine, I declined for the time being, and we continued to wait. I started noticing that I felt like I needed to push a bit with each contraction. Very shortly after that, Michelle came back in and studied the monitor for a moment. Remember when I had first arrived and the baby had heart rate decelerations with each contraction? It had started happening again! “Baby is letting us know he wants to come out!” she said, and without much hesitation I told them to go ahead and break my water to get him out, safe and sound.

Michelle set up her delivery table, and then the doctor came in and suited up. She broke my water, and then things got a little crazy. They had turned the monitor volume all the way off while I was laboring, but turned it back up so I could hear the heartbeat while I pushed. When the next contraction came and I could feel all the pressure to push, his heart rate dropped again - but it dropped so much that it sounded like it stopped. I heard them call the neonatologist and a couple of NICU nurses. I was rolled to my left with no success, and then to the right, again without any change. They had me get up on my hands and knees, and when that didn’t change anything, I went back on my back. His heartbeat was normal when I wasn’t contracting, but it was very clear that he needed to come out now. The c-section fears started to creep in again, but he was right there. I heard the doctor ask for a vacuum, and I suddenly imagined a repeat of the end of Elise’s birth along with the really rough recovery. With the next two contractions, I pushed as hard as I could, and I actually thought the doctor was using the vacuum, and with the completely unmentioned threat of a possible episiotomy hovering over me, Charlie came out in two pushes.

He cried right away, and all the fears immediately disappeared. He was pink and perfect, and he promptly pooped all over my belly as soon as they laid him on me. I guess he knew how to make an entrance. Just like with James, I got to cut the cord, and all was well.

I worried a bit that recovery would be rougher than it was after James was born, since everyone says that recovery from a natural delivery is so much easier than recovery after delivery with an epidural. That was certainly true for me between my first and second births, but this one has been perhaps the easiest. The birth felt a little redemptive - it had none of the slightly traumatic drama from the first epidural, episiotomy, and really painful recovery, and it had none of the out-of-control factor from the second unexpectedly natural labor. So while I didn’t start labor during the day, the other three prayers were answered in full: it was a smooth delivery, and, though it was longer than James’ birth, it was still quick, but long enough to feel peaceful instead of frantic or rushed. Thanks be to God.

James and Elise came to meet him in the afternoon, and then two days later, we were all at home once again.

Now, at three weeks old, he’s a contented little creature and we love him to bits. What a precious gift.

Pandemic Reflections

I haven’t felt like blogging much for the better part of 1.5 years. The pandemic sort of killed any inspiration I might have had; daily life felt too small, too sheltered-in-place to have anything either worthwhile to report or to look forward to. Like many, I’m sure, I was feeling overly anxious about anything and everything, because it felt like leaving the house - unless it was to go somewhere outside - seemed hazardous and required extra precautions. Who wants to hear about the 114th Covid-style trip we made to Trader Joe’s where one kid licked the cart handle and I worried for two weeks? No one, that’s who.

I’ve never been one prone to anxiety, but between what felt like an everlasting tough transition to two kids and a global pandemic during which a lot of smaller stressors that would have felt like big stressors during non-pandemic times occurred (I’m looking at you, multiple trees that fell and damaged and then totaled our cars, as well as our church going through a schism in more recent months), I suppose feeling a bit out of sorts isn’t to be unexpected. At least the tow truck taking away the totaled car was entertaining.

All that to say, now that Covid cases have gone dramatically down, restrictions are lifting, the transition to two kids feels a little bit more normal, no more trees seem to be crushing our cars, and the church is regaining stability, the anxiety seems to be lifting a tad bit more every day and…dare I say it? normalcy feels like it just might be around the corner.

A friend visited from Maine a couple weeks ago, and she observed that it sort of felt like the year and a half that was locked down didn’t really happen. Somehow I feel like it does have a dream-like quality to it (I mean, let’s be honest, it was a nightmare, not a dream), and I suddenly felt rather mournful for James’ first year of life that could have been. To be fair, he wouldn’t have remembered it, but I would have. Would our transition to two have been easier because we could have kept things more normal for Elise? Would he have ridden on a plane or two? Would Elise be less fearful of the world now, since she spent the last year most likely picking up on our fears that I tried so hard to keep out of her range of experience? Would our church have avoided its schism if the underlying issues weren’t exacerbated by Covid restrictions and responses? I guess we’ll never know, but I can emphatically say that I’m extremely glad that it seems to be fading in the rearview mirror, and I’m looking forward to being able to actually move forward, and have things to look forward to again.

I’m rambling now, so I guess this has all been a preface to say that we’re doing things again, and there’s more joy and awareness of the privilege in ability to do them than I think we had before.

Now looking back, it’s easier to thank God for his faithfulness through it all, though he was faithful all along. I’m thankful for Zoom Bible studies that grew my faith in a way that I don’t think I would have experienced otherwise. 7pm in-person Bible studies are near impossible with a baby in the house.

I’m thankful for healthy, growing babies who are daily learning to love each other better, in spite of the struggles over sharing toys and access to mama’s lap.

I’m grateful for a husband who works long hours, but who works those long hours from home so that we get to see him even with the heavy workload.

We are blessed to have remained healthy, when it felt like sickness was perpetually on our doorstep.

I’m looking ahead to the future again, which is something I didn’t feel like I was able to do for so long, and now there are exciting things to plan for. Here’s hoping we’ll travel again in the upcoming months, but for now, we’re practicing by riding a couple of stops on a local train. Children, with their wide-eyed wonder at even these little adventures, are a miracle.

Liturgical Living: St. Patrick's Day

Back in September, specifically around Michaelmas on the 29th, I wrote about how I’d been wanting to add more liturgical patterns to our yearly home rhythms. We’re a few months into that now, and while I still consider myself quite the extreme novice in this area, I thought it might be helpful to provide an update. In my research I’ve found that this type of information is readily available to you…if you’re Catholic. Liturgy, feast days, and holy holidays seem to be automatically built into a Catholic lifestyle, but that is not the case if you’re not Catholic. Hello there, fellow Anglicans! This is for us!

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention a few blogs that have been helpful in this realm already. First, my friend Sarah has been a significant inspiration when it comes to finding ways to integrate the liturgical calendar into her home. I mean, look at all these great ideas for Holy Week! Also, while I don’t know this blogger personally, I love all the ideas that Hannah has for Advent on her blog, The Art in Life. Finally, Phylicia Masonheimer has excellent ideas for celebrating small holidays in a way that elevates church history, like these for Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day (you’ll see a lot of similarities between her list and our activities here)! Since all of these mothers have more children that I do, I feel comforted in the fact that all of these things are doable with multiple kids under our roof, and that is no small thing.

Today is St. Patrick’s Day, and since we had so much fun observing Michaelmas and more recently Valentine’s Day (albeit a much smaller celebration), I decided we needed to do St. Patrick’s Day as well.

Look! We wore green!

I based our holiday agenda on what we had done for Michaelmas, because it was great fun. The basics: have a feast, add some (very very simple) decor, and sing a related hymn or two. I also decided that we should have some learning materials, so I got a few books via Thrift Books. Tomie dePaola’s Patrick: Patron Saint of Ireland was my favorite of the bunch, although two of the books I ordered have yet to arrive in my mailbox, so I suppose that could change. Finally, we made sure to listen to traditional Irish music and do some Irish-themed crafts, like these fun name cards for our feast table.

Elise even made a full-sized one as a picture rather than a name tag!

To give credit where credit is due, I got the idea for these here.

For our feast, I went for a fully Irish menu: Guinness beef stew with colcannon and Irish soda bread, with an apple cake for dessert. I’d rate the stew, colcannon, and soda bread all five stars, but I’m not linking the apple cake since we all agreed we’d try something else next time. I’m planning ahead and I’m nearly certain this will be dessert next year.

And I will say…the cake LOOKED good, so it definitely had that going for it, if nothing else.

Before eating, we prayed a portion of St. Patrick’s Breastplate, which helped us remember why we were celebrating. Perhaps when the kids are a little older and less wiggly, we’ll pray the whole thing, but even the bit that we did was a blessing.

But beyond the food, the best part of celebrations like this is the hymn singing. Especially in Covid-world, where our regular source of communal singing (church) is on hiatus, singing a hymn together is something that I will never take for granted.

With an assortment of hymnals, we had slightly different lyrics among us and even a different number of verses for Be Thou My Vision, but it didn’t matter. It felt a little bit like a foretaste of heaven, which is what I have certainly sorely needed lately. Next year we’ll also do a bit more planning, so that our only version of I Bind Unto Myself Today isn’t only available in one hymnal, with only the melody printed. You win some, you lose some.

Like I’ve said before, this year (plus!) has really hammered home to me how much I’ve needed a firm foundation of faith to carry me through harder days, and therefore how much I want to provide opportunities for my kids to grow that foundation as well. Our pastor’s statement - “We remember what we celebrate” - along with the richness of tradition found through church history gave us a treasure trove of celebratory occasions that might have otherwise been overlooked, and that point us back toward the goodness of our God.

“I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” Ephesians 16-21

Blueberries for (Everyone But) Sal

I heard a rumor recently - or really, I read a bunch of reviews, blog posts, and other various online recommendations - that declared that Cider Hill Farm had the best cider donuts in the realm. While it isn't even close to apple season yet, cider donuts don't require fresh apples, and coupled with the idea of picking our own blueberries (which ARE in season), we decided we needed to check it out for ourselves. 

It's 20 minutes from us, and so once we'd gotten ourselves ready for the day, we hopped in the car this morning and headed over. I would never have guessed there were several farms up there, since the exit ramp specifically says "Beaches," but turns out there were several, many of which had their own farm stands, complete with the requisite wickedly expensive farm to table eggs, fruit, veggies, etc. We passed them all, naturally. Farm-Mecca was still beckoning. 

We arrived! It was...warm, but not so toasty that we feared melting. Upon picking up two empty picking buckets, we were directed to the blueberry bushes on the right. And so we started over, but not before saying hello to the resident chickens and goats. Elise made a new friend. 

As a side note: I'm quite in love with her little curls on the back of her head. I hope they stay forever.

Once Elise had had enough of the animals, we continued on to the blueberry section. Fortunately for our sweat glands, the blueberries were close to the entrance. However, the farm also has strawberries and raspberries available for picking at the moment. Later in the summer, we'll also be able to find peaches, apples, and pumpkins, and I'm already really looking forward to going back. Maybe for each of those things, in fact...

Anyway! I'm distracting myself. We were there today for blueberries!

We picked and picked until we filled our two small containers to bring home. The berries were plentiful and the company was the best I could have asked for. Elise had a ball, and got the hang of picking the berries off the bushes and dropping them into the containers pretty fast. Fortunately, she's not all that into eating fresh fruit, so we didn't have to worry about her eating more than we took home. In regular life, this fact is rather more unfortunate than fortunate, but I prefer to look on the bright side whenever possible.

By the end, we were very satisfied with our haul and had more than enough for at least one batch of blueberry muffins (come on over tomorrow afternoon if you want one hot out of the oven!), and Elise looked like she had been ready for a nap half an hour ago. This is the most enthusiastic picture I got with her. 

I promise that she actually did have fun. Evidently she just had more fun when she was with Chaz than with me. 

We ended our trip with a family selfie (because #millenials) and a quick jaunt through their farm stand/store, because we could not leave without a donut. That was half the point of going, remember? And OH MAN. They lived up to their reputation. RUN THERE NOW. You need these donuts in your life. 

The farm shop had a ton of cute wares that I wish we'd had more time to investigate, but with the napping hour having approached, knocked, waved, and played Ding Dong Ditch an hour prior, we kept the perusing to a skim rather than a dive. But we'll be back! They won't be able to keep us away! If I weren't already pumped about fall, this trip would have tipped the scale in that direction all by itself.

Too soon? 

O Christmas Tree...

I think Christmas just got infinitely more exciting. I mean, Christmas has always been exciting, but with a baby, it became even more so. I'm not sure which is better: being a kid at Christmas or having a kid at Christmas. Perhaps we'll never know. Or at least I'll know after a few Christmases with a kid are under my belt.

Needless to say, I'm pretty pumped about this coming Christmas, and so we got started with the Christmas decorations a little earlier than usual this year, beginning with the Christmas tree.

In a perfect world, we'd go to the tree farm and cut down our own tree. I have such great memories of doing that for years as a kid and I'd love to pass that down, but it turns out that somehow cutting down our own is significantly MORE expensive than buying a pre-cut one. Someone explain that to me, please. Someone has to do all the labor of cutting, moving, arranging, selling, and attaching the trees to cars, but it's $20 less expensive than me going to the farm, sawing, transporting, and attaching everything on my own?

I digress.

Long story short, we got Elise's first Christmas tree at the local garden supply place down the road, but as far as pre-cut trees go, they had a really good selection and it was still fun. 

We headed to the lot on Saturday afternoon and perused the various tree options. There were several good ones! 

Our living room has limited options for tree placement, so we knew we wanted something not too tall and not too wide, but not too short and not too skinny. Basically, it had to be just right. Fortunately, we found the perfect one within a few minutes and then we made sure that Elise approved. 

When we couldn't get her attention to take a picture, we knew that was it. And so we played it like the millennials that we are and took a family selfie, then paid for our tree and got it on top of the car. 

As one does with Christmas trees, we brought it home, set it up, and filled it with decorations while Christmas music played in the background. Midway through we made breakfast for dinner, and then finished it up after we ate. 

We tried to take one more picture along the way, but it's a little tough while baby-wrangling and this is pretty much what we got:

And finally, because Christmas with a baby is magical, I took a few photos while she played with some lights to round out the evening. 

Since Advent starts later this year, we have an extra week to enjoy the season. We're celebrating at our house this year for the first time, and I'm quite looking forward to slowing down, savoring the preparations, the decorations, and the holiness in which these weeks are steeped. And I can't wait to watch Elise take it all in for the first time, since there's something especially lovely about introducing holidays to someone who's already filled with wonder over the regular day to day life. May we all anticipate Jesus's birth with such childlike amazement. 

Apple Picking and the Start of a Tradition

When I was little, one of the key indicators that fall had arrived was going apple picking. Chapin Orchard was a couple towns over, and we'd visit the animals, take a hayride, and of course...pick apples. I don't actually remember what we did with the apples we picked, but they definitely all got eaten one way or another!

By the time I got to college, the yearly outing was treasured enough (and similarly loved by friends) that we made it a priority to go to a nearby orchard in the fall to continue the tradition despite being away from home. We added on apple cider donuts to the animal visiting, hayride, and apple picking, and that became as important as the other aspects. Perhaps more so, if I'm being honest!

I don't know if I really thought about it as a tradition until lately though. But this year, with a tiny human with whom we'd like to establish some annual traditions, it suddenly felt more important. So when my friend Meghanne suggested apple picking with our respective families, the idea was irresistible. 

So we loaded up our babies and met at the farm, and headed out to the orchard to gather our apples. 

Elise is still a little too small to get excited about the picking process at this point, but she did enjoy spending time in the wrap while Chaz and I did all the gathering work!

We stopped picking long enough to take a few family pictures, which is great since I have precious few photos of all three of us together. I mean, 99% of the pictures I take these days are of Elise and Elise alone, so it's nice to mix it up every once in awhile. 

We got some good ones of Meghanne's family as well! 

We each gathered a half a bushel of Cortland and Red Delicious apples, making sure to only grab the good ones. That turned out to be harder than expected, because many of the apples looked like they'd been afflicted with some sort of apple-y disease, but we managed to find some spot-free ones without too much trouble. Several of the good ones were high up, so Meghanne and I stood back and let the taller ones among us grab those. 

And before we left the orchard area, we made sure to get a group photo, because it didn't happen if it wasn't documented, right? Right.

As we walked back to the farm center, we found one of those...cut out things where you can poke your head through a hole. I'm sure there's a name for those, but I'm not educated enough to know what it is. So Wooden Hole Thing is the official term for now. Obviously, more pictures were in order, because when a Wooden Hole Thing is available and babies are present, such an opportunity should not be missed. Behold, a series of photos: 

Elise wasn't too sure about it. 

All the modeling tired Elise out, I suppose, since she cuddled right up and proceeded to fall asleep. 

We ended our adventure with apple cider donuts, since we had already established that the donuts were the secondary goal of apple picking. This farm did not disappoint - I'm pretty sure they were the best apple cider donuts I've ever had, and I've eaten quite a few in my day. 

In short, we had a grand old time. Elise definitely won't be old enough to remember this trip, but it's something I hope to repeat year after year so that we can start establishing traditions of our own. 

I love fall - I mean really, who doesn't - but it isn't just because of the pretty colors on the trees, the crispness in the air, or the sumptuous food that ends up on our tables with the change of season. Instead, it's the gathering in, to pull an idea from The Lifegiving Home (frequently mentioned here of late). I love the feeling of the pull homeward, the desire for warmth and stocking up, preparing for winter, and making things cozy. And so I made 11 jars of applesauce with our apples while Elise slept this afternoon. I took a little break when she cried a bit in her sleep, taking more time than usual to snuggle with her and breathe in her freshly-bathed baby smell before settling her back in her crib to snooze the afternoon away. Gathering in doesn't just have to be about stocking a home pantry. I gathered Elise in my arms, knowing that she won't be small enough to gather this way forever. I gathered memories of our apple adventure, storing them away for years to come. We're slowly gathering traditions throughout Elise's first year, hopefully giving her an anchor in life as she grows.

We're already planning on doing an apple picking trip next year, because traditions are important. They gives us the peculiar opportunity to gather both memories and hopes all at once. 

A Trip in Review: NYC with a Baby

Now that we're back from NYC, I figured I'd put together a summary of our trip because I'm sure everyone else is just DYING to hear about how it went. Could you get any more excited? I think not.

We went back and forth for a couple of days when deciding if Elise and I should go or not. Our last vacation with her (at one month) included rather a lot of fussing and sickness, as you may recall, so we were a little hesitant to risk that again, this time with fewer helping hands available. But Elise was a full month older, was sleeping better through the night, and was not coming down with any form of sickness, so we decided it was worth a try. And so off we went! 

We planned to head down Tuesday afternoon and return Saturday afternoon. Chaz was working on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday morning, so I planned two days worth of activities I could do by myself with a baby, and a family excursion to the Statue of Liberty. I knew I wasn't going to be able to do my typical traveling-solo style mad dash touring, but I also wasn't entirely limited to two-hour journeys only because I had a) the wrap (making yet another appearance on ye olde blog) and b) the necessary devices/body parts for diapering and feeding a small human. That essentially meant that I could do one major thing per day. 

But first - the travel! A couple of important points:

Packing: my usual rule of thumb is PACK LIGHT. Not in this case. My new rule was PACK COMPACT. In other words, pack more than you probably need so that you are prepared for anything. I packed a whole package of diapers (sticking them all in the zip pocket of the suitcase lid), two outfits per day for Elise (since I didn't want to end up having too few clothes thanks to spit up/poop/various other body fluids), and tools for evaluating sickness (in case she came down with something like she did on the last trip). We also brought her Dockatot, since she sleeps really well in it and we also wouldn't have to bring something bulkier like a Pack & Play. Between all of her stuff, the Dockatot, Chaz's work clothes, and both of our regular clothes, we had a lot of stuff, but I fit it all into one suitcase and one backpack, which doubled as our diaper bag for the days. 

Suitcase Layer 1

Suitcase Layer 2

Did we overpack? 100% yes. Did we have everything we needed? Well...Elise did. I should have packed one more pair of shorts for me, because I was NOT planning on sweating as much as I did thanks to excessive walking + over-80-degree weather. But apart from that, we had everything we could possibly have required. And when it comes to taking care of a baby in an unfamiliar place, being over prepared is better than being under prepared, and we'll be even more on top of things the next time we travel. 

Traveling: We took the train from South Station in Boston to Penn Station in NYC, and it was the perfect way to go with a baby. It was easy to get up and walk around if needed, there was no change in air pressure due to elevation, and there was no airport security with liquid restrictions. I call that a win. Plus, Elise loved looking out the window when she wasn't eating or sleeping. Added bonus: there was a changing table in a fairly large bathroom. 

Hotel: King-sized bed. Insert the praise hands emoji here, please. I'm slowing becoming convinced that we need one of those at home too, because HOLY SPACE. Amazing. 

Alright! That's how we got to New York. Here's what we did:

Day 1: Levain Bakery! I won't recap that whole trip again since it was already done here, so instead I'll give you a slideshow:

Setting off for the day...at noon. #morningnap

Post-cookie-purchase rest in the park (to eat said cookie).

The Cookie.

What a smirk.

When we got back to the hotel, Elise took her afternoon nap, and then when Chaz returned from working, we walked to a nearby Mexican restaurant for dinner. It was delicious, and Elise had the courtesy to fall asleep on the way there and wake up just as we were finishing. That was a one-time deal. Future meals were not quite so easy.

Day 2: Brooklyn Bridge (viewing) plus Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory! Yet again we set off in the late morning after Elise's morning nap, although we started the whole day an hour earlier and so were out of the hotel by 11. I took a second stab at navigating the subway and ultimately decided that nearly every other city in the world has a better labeled, better mapped, easier to navigate metro system than New York. It's possible to get around, but only if you have a pretty good idea of the layout of the city in your head. And definitely don't count on there being a subway map once you've gone beyond the entrance to the station. Once you're past the fare collection, you're toast until you actually get on the train. Nevertheless, we persisted and eventually found our way to Brooklyn. 

When we got there, we took yet another selfie on a park bench. 

You'd think we could come up with a better pose, but I was feeling more overheated than creative and so it's the best I've got. My original plan was to walk over the bridge, but the heat persuaded me to cut my losses and instead just satisfy myself with eating ice cream while taking pictures of the bridge. In the end, I'm not actually sure that counts as a loss, because...ice cream.

Elise spent much time munching on her wrap.

This was taken shortly before it started melting ALL over my hand.

We called it a day, headed back to the hotel, and yet again, Elise took her afternoon nap. When Chaz got back from work we decided against going out again for dinner and instead got pizza and brought it back to the hotel. Elise approved and got ready for bed early.

Day 3: Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island! Moral of the story - we should have packed a lunch. But regardless, it was still fun. Chaz finished up what he needed to do for work in the hotel room, and we got out of there, breaking our record by 1.25 hours and leaving at 9:45. We took the subway down to Battery Park, then hopped on the ferry that would take us to both Liberty Island and then Ellis Island.  

Elise was very enthused/interested in the whole thing.

We saw the statue and thought about climbing up, but again, it was very hot and we decided we were fine with taking pictures...from down below. 

And so after a quick feeding, we hopped back on the boat and headed over to Ellis Island. 

Ellis Island was is an interesting museum at this point, made more interesting that my then-17-year-old great grandmother went through it when she came over from Norway in 1913. Look! Here's her ship!

After seeing the sights in the museum, we went outside to the Wall of Honor and found her name...

...then hopped back on the boat and sailed/motored back to Manhattan. 

We were all pretty tuckered out but made it to a restaurant for dinner, but Elise had had enough and made sure that only one of us could eat at a time. But the burger was good! And bed followed shortly after our return to the hotel.

Saturday was spent visiting friends (but we didn't take any pictures, sadly) and then traveling back home by train. The longer we're away from home, it seems, the more Elise wants to be home, so she was delighted when we walked in the door. And so here we are, back at our regular routine, until the next time we decide to hit the road!

New Year, New Post, New...Woodstock!

It looks like 2016 turned out to be the Year Without a Blog, because my last post was back in September! But...there's a good reason for that, because four days after my last post, we realized that the next weeks/months/years were going to look a little different than everything preceding them.

And so before, on, or sometime after May 31, there will be a new, very small Woodstock in the house, and we couldn't be more excited.

I've been really lucky to have a very easy pregnancy so far - no morning sickness, and apart from a near-constant headache, no other major side effects. Our one complication earned us a super fun evening/early morning in the ER at 9.5 weeks, but even that came with the unexpected blessing of getting to see our baby for the first time - wriggling around and (presumably) happy, safe and sound.

I had taken a pregnancy test early one Saturday morning before Chaz had woken up, expecting a negative result. To my surprise, it was positive, and so like the average rational person, I decided I immediately needed to go to Target - the logical response to a positive pregnancy test. I traded my pajamas for a pair of jeans, told a still-sleeping Chaz I needed to run an errand, and ran out the door. I arrived about 10 minutes before Target opened...so I sat in the parking lot and checked the test a few times over again to make sure that I wasn't imagining an extra line (again, bringing it with me was the obvious, ultra-logical choice). Once the doors opened, I hurried inside, picked up some juice, another few pregnancy tests, a small gift bag, and a pack of onesies. Upon checkout, the cashier said, "Do you need a gift receipt?" Since I responded to the negative, I suppose she was the very first person to suspect anything...

When I got home, I stuffed the bag with some tissue paper, the test, and a onesie, and waited for Chaz to come downstairs. He was awake by that point, so when he came down he saw the gift bag on the table, and much excitement abounded henceforth.

And as of this past Friday, we know it's a girl! Hooray! We can't wait to meet her.

Thanksgiving 2015

This year for Thanksgiving, we stayed at home. My family came from various parts of New England and so our house was the gathering place. It was wonderful. Since as far back as the beginning of college going-on-nine years ago, I haven't had a holiday that didn't involve traveling. What a gift it was to really be able to relax without needing to pack up and drive or fly as part of the time off! And so to my family I say thank you for coming to us and helping us have a wonderfully laid back Thanksgiving. 

We planned our Thanksgiving feast for later in the afternoon, which gave us time to go for a walk that morning. It was a beautiful day and not too cold - perfect fall walking weather.

At the end of the trail we found a camp (closed for the winter) and a small pond, which is good to know for whenever warmer weather rears its head again.

And with that, we stopped, took a couple pictures, and then headed back to the kitchen.

Let me just add a note here and say that I don't know how chefs do it day after day. I cooked the most food I have ever cooked in a single day, but that's something they do on the daily, so...props to you, chefs of the world. 

Our menu included turkey (of course), gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce (from a can), rolls (from Whole Foods), and two kinds of pies. I made the chocolate cream pie, but Costco made the apple pie and it was glorious. Never underestimate the glories of Costco.

And when it was all finished at 5pm, we sat down and ate. 

Finally, the food was eaten, the leftovers were put away, the dishes were washed, and the counters were wiped down. Logically, the next step was the pie, which may have been the crowning victory of the whole endeavor.

And because pie...I think we'll leave it with that. Happy Cyber Monday, y'all!

The Send-Off

This kid is going on a grand adventure, starting today.

He's hopping on a plane (two, actually) and flying to the exact opposite side of the country where he'll hang out in Sacramento for awhile with AmeriCorps. At this particular moment at 7:53 am, he's on the way to the Burlington International Airport (which is oddly named, seeing as the only direct international flight you can get is to Canada), where he'll fly first to Chicago and then to Sacramento. 

As a result, today's post is very short on words, but will be extensive in pictures. The following is a lovely montage of pictures of Christopher from his freshman year of high school through last week. It's because we love you, Christopher...

Have an excellent time, Christopher! We'll miss you, and you'd better send more pictures....

The Hike

Well, the wedding was about as glorious as could be expected. The weather completely cooperated - picture the perfect Vermont fall day, and you have it exactly right. Perfectly clear blue sky, vibrant leaves, crisp air, you name it, and it was there. I will recap it in the near future, but it won't be today! Instead, I'm going to reverse the order and talk about Sunday first.

We were heathens. We skipped church. But I might argue that once in a great while, spending your Sunday morning out in nature is just a little bit like church. 

Since we were on a bit of a limited time budget, we decided to spend time outside with the family. Christopher, the only remaining child at home, will no longer be at home as of Wednesday as he's flying out to California to spend 10 months working with AmeriCorps. That, combined with the fact that we were visiting, gave us the perfect excuse to go for a hike and soak in the extraordinary beauty that is Vermont in the fall. 

And thus we found ourselves on our way to Sterling Pond on Sunday, following an attempt to eat breakfast that had us stop at three different places before getting a seat. Leaf peepers...they're the worst.

This particular trail leads the average-paced hiker on a 45-minute trek uphill to a pond, and if you tack on an extra five minutes you can get to the top of a ski trail with an amazing view. (We did both.) The first 10 minutes of the hike are essentially stone steps, and it is hilarious to people-watch. As my dad said, "Well...you can tell just at a glance who's going to make it to the top and who isn't!" We passed:

• A girl wearing sparkly Ugg boots
• A girl wearing ankle boots, a dress coat, and a scarf
• A guy going barefoot
• The real hikers

We can't really judge as we weren't really fully prepared either, but we at least had reasonable footwear. And I guess you can't really tell for sure, because the barefoot guy was actually heading down instead of up.

After a spell, we made it to the pond.

Despite the seeming calm of the picture, the place was actually a bit crowded, so we didn't stay there long. However, it's worth noting that a girl wearing leather riding boots had made it that far. Mad props, riding boot girl. Continuing on the extra five minutes, we made it to the top.

I call this picture "The Hair-Do, the Lack of Muscles, and Usain Bolt."

Behold. Pictures from the peak. 

I expect to see this picture on my parents' Christmas card this year. #photocredits.

After having our fill of both clambering over ski lift equipment and munching some Swedish Fish I'd squirreled into my bag, we turned around and headed home.

All in all, I think it was a fitting parting adventure. On the way back to Massachusetts that evening I thought about Vermont and how lucky I was to grow up there. Being surrounded by that much beauty all the time can't help but encourage folks to get outside and explore, and having a strongly instilled longing for exploration is not a bad thing to claim as my own. I miss living there. MA does have a lot to offer in terms of pre-built attractions - I'll give it that much - but the ever-present sense of wildness at your doorstep is something that can't exist in a place where the land is mostly flat and the houses are a little more squished together. 

We're back at home now (in MA), but thinking fondly of a place where breathtaking beauty is a part of everyday life.

Siblings: the Key to your Inner Child

This weekend, two important things happened:

1. Chaz left for India for an infernally long time. We left for the airport at 5:45 am on Saturday and he will return until 1:30 pm on September 30th. The level of detail included there was for no other purpose than to emphasize that it's a long time to have the queen-sized bed to myself figure out what to do with myself when he's not here.


2. My family came to visit for the weekend during his absence, which gives me a chance to stop acting like a responsible adult.

Here's the fam's next album cover, pre-Photoshop:

I don't know how I managed to avoid getting my toes in that picture. Miracles DO happen, I say. 

During the course of their visit, I have done the following:

1. Sung along with a Brahms symphony at top volume to prove that the melody was singable.
2. Climbed a tree.
3. Eaten far too much chocolate.
4. Played dress-up in a store.
5. Bought a bouncy ball out of those machines that you think hold not-so-buried treasure as a child.

Siblings bring out the weirdest side of you imaginable. It was glorious. And I know for a fact that we inspired a child, because a dad and his three-year-old were walking by as I cranked the magical wheel, and five seconds later she had her dad digging a quarter out of his pocket.

So if you ever feel like setting your burdens and cares aside for a few hours, call me up. I'll lend you either of my brothers, because as the oldest, I clearly own them. They'll teach you all sorts of useful things, like how to play video games until 4am and not fall asleep, or how to dress like a trendy pre-college fashion icon (key point: wear a "mid-thigh or higher skirt," according to the one pictured above). Due to their advice, I even became a world-class hipster for the duration of the three takes it took to get this photo to an acceptable state.

If they really think you're cool, they might go so far as to dress up for you. At least one of them knows how to tie a bow tie.

I guarantee that they'll make your day. And heck...you might even find yourself smiling like a kid on Christmas morning while hoisting yourself into a tree.

Happy Monday, y'all.