tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39341874868571845192024-03-04T22:13:11.773-06:00The ART of Becoming a FamilyAnnie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.comBlogger124125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-25095139176700824992012-08-07T20:40:00.000-05:002012-08-07T20:40:54.413-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Such a wonderful big brother</div>
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Double time-out. Yikes!</div>
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Grandma and her big boys</div>
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Daddy and Benjamin in his Great Grandpa's Baptismal gown</div>
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My newest little man</div>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-50893408496928633342012-04-26T09:49:00.002-05:002012-04-26T09:49:37.626-05:00Piglet has Arrived<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Piglet is here!</b></span></div>
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Benjamin Clay was born on Friday, April 13th. He was a whopping 8 lbs 7 oz, and 20 inches long at 37 weeks gestation. I wonder how big he would have gotten had we made it to, or even passed the due date?!<br />
He is absolutely perfect in every way. Healthy, active, a wonderful sleeper,an even better eater.<br />
I think he looks quite a lot like daddy, except with his mama's dimples. My boys are going to be lady killers with those dimples...<br />
The adjustment to a 3rd child has gone extremely well so far, but ask me again how I am feeling next week when Joel heads back to work and I am on my own- 3 against 1.<br />
My big boys LOVE their baby brother. There are mini arguments as to who gets to hold him. They tell me every time they see him how "cute" they think he is. They point out his "teeny tiny" fingers, toes, ears, and smother him with kisses and caresses while holding him on the couch. I am so proud of how well they have done with this major life change.<br />
I suppose it's easier to adjust to sharing your mama and daddy when it is what you have done your whole life.<br />
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How is having one baby as compared to having two? A piece of cake. Honestly.<br />
Only one baby to change, one baby to feed, one baby screaming in the middle of the night.<br />
It's so nice.<br />
It's a bit like how my pregnancy went.<br />
Being pregnant with this little man was a breeze compared to carrying his big brothers.<br />
Ironically, the day I went in to labor I had been asked how I was feeling. My response was something along the lines of "I feel so good that I could be pregnant for another month or two and have no issue with it." Benji had other plans though.<br />
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The delivery could not have gone more perfect. I got my VBAC and the birth that I had hoped for. Someday soon I'd like to have it written, so I don't forget the details.<br />
We feel extremely blessed right now. We have 3 healthy kids and an enormous amount of love and support surrounding us. It couldn't get much better.Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-70658394978976465672012-03-14T07:55:00.001-05:002012-03-14T07:55:28.527-05:00Sweet Baby Piglet<p><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFD51nsRs_ZRuMWnf6U-lIs5WoQJRwrxnuogjpWzPue1Ix4xQG0X08KImRwKMO_sZQ0_0SqUBEMjoNJVNAA2sf0qMW0v8_mXJuPVMUi9A2MuZHw4xUjzwEW-QRPNAqMtC1Cl6aouRGvi34/s0/IMAG0117.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFD51nsRs_ZRuMWnf6U-lIs5WoQJRwrxnuogjpWzPue1Ix4xQG0X08KImRwKMO_sZQ0_0SqUBEMjoNJVNAA2sf0qMW0v8_mXJuPVMUi9A2MuZHw4xUjzwEW-QRPNAqMtC1Cl6aouRGvi34/s400/IMAG0117.jpg' /></a></p><p>I am up to weekly biophysical profiles and twice weekly nonstress tests with OB visits. This insulin contolled GD, even if only for fasting numbers, is some serious business.<br> <br/> I'd love to experience a non high risk pregnancy!<br> <br/> Lucky for me, this baby decided to nap midway through the ultrasound, so the tech couldn't get the pictures she needed at the time. She was sweet enough to try and capture baby's face on 3D while we waited.<br> <br/> Look at our chunky monkey! Chubby cheeks and all.<br> <br/> Those are legs next to the face. We could have gotten a better picture but baby kept hiding behind it's feet.<br> <br/> Right now we've got a frank breech baby. I have about 3 weeks to lure baby into vertex before I get paranoid and obsessive.</p> <br/> <p>Bring on the inversions, bags of frozen peas and flashlight.</p> <br/> <div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4</div>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-87766742876802960422012-03-09T21:19:00.001-06:002012-03-09T21:19:09.741-06:00Pancreas versus Placenta<p>I've got a bit of a war happening in my body. <br> <br/> It's called Gestational Diabetes.<br> <br/> I failed both my glucose screening test and my three hour glucose test. You know, the ones where you are forced to consume a sickeningly sweet flavored drink within 5 minutes and then made to wait and get blood sucked from you arm every hour.<br> <br/> I opted for the orange flavor this time around. I wasn't sure if it was the flavor or the 100 units of sugar that my body was suddenly meant to process, but I had to breathe slowly with my eyes closed for 30 minutes or so to keep from vomiting. <br> <br/> Turns out that I likely felt that way because  my body isn't processing sugar correctly. This baby's darn placenta seems to be inhibiting the insulin production in my pancreas. Hence the high glucose levels and the new label added to my med chart.<br> <br/> Don't ask me how I managed to avoid it with the twins and wind up with it now!<br> <br/> I have a whole diabetes team that works with me, in addition to many more appointments. Quite a pain in the butt to find people to watch 2 and 3 kids during the day. Thankfully, Joel has a wonderfully flexible job and a boss who is very family oriented.<br> <br/> I am also really thankful that, for the most part, I'm considered borderline.<br> <br/> I eat healthy, and my dietician was certain the dietary changes would be a piece of cake for me. <br> <br/> They are.<br> <br/> The only changes I have had to make so far is swapping my oatmeal or cereal with some fruit for breakfast, to eggs and a slice of toast with peanut butter.<br> <br/> I have had to watch my pasta portions, as well. Half a cup just seems way too small!<br> <br/> So far, my post meal checks have been right where they should be.<br> <br/> Unfortunately, after trying many "natural" tricks to control my fasting levels, nothing seemed to work and I am now giving myself injections of insulin before bed at night.<br> <br/> It royally sucks. <br> <br/> Not so much the injections, but the additional appointments and "high risk" label that I would like to avoid.<br> <br/> I've risked-out of delivering with a midwife since I am no longer diet-controlled.<br> <br/> I feel like I am already starting to lose control of how the rest of this pregnancy will proceed.It is slowly coming closer and closer to the end. <br> <br/> Scary and at the same time exciting. <br> <br/> I'm not sure how our family is going to change. How are the dynamics between 2 boys who have known one another from their first second of existence going to mesh with this new person?<br> <br/> All that juggling that I figured out for two toddlers will need to be revamped to include a baby.<br> <br/> A Baby. <br> <br/> Yikes.</p> <br/> <div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4</div>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-19903420423277734592012-02-07T20:47:00.001-06:002012-02-07T20:54:17.764-06:00Spreading Their Wings<p>I can remember, not too long ago, when my boys were mama-focused. They wanted me and only me. It felt good to be needed. It felt good to be their number one. I knew it wouldn't last for long, and so on the days that I could not leave the room without hearing them cry for me, I had to remind myself of that. My showers would top out at 2 minutes due to little boys pounding on the door shrieking for mama. Using the bathroom alone? Forget about it. <br> <br/> For the last few months my baby boys have been trying to use their wings to fly. <br> <br/> That actually sounds too poetic for whats been happening. In actuality they have been trying to get their mother to leave the nest, or yelling at me to leave the house again as soon as I return home from anywhere. We were heading to the grocery store this weekend when Gabe bluntly requested "Mama stay home, Nana come to the store." I have had "Mama go bye bye!" demanded of me too many times to count.<br> <br/> That makes a person feel loved.<br> <br/> I'm not the "Big Thing" that I used to be.<br> <br/> I used to be one of their only food sources. I knew just how they needed to be swaddled and cuddled. There was a magic song I could sing that would almost always lull them to sleep when they couldn't calm themselves. In their little world, I was IT.<br> <br/> In the words of Bob Dylan, "The Times They Are A Changin."<br> <br/> <br> <br/> Daddy can read nighttime stories just as good, if not better than me. Nana is much more entertaining when playing cars, and Grandpa is the best cuddle partner for watching cartoons.</p> <br/> <p>The biggest evidence of their growing up came last week at ECFE. It was our first class back since last Spring. This class is new to them; new teachers, a different room, and biggest of all, it has a parent/child separation portion for 1/2 the time. <br> <br/> I was nervous. I'm used to always being close. I rarely leave them, let alone with new people in a new environment. <br> <br/> I wasn't nervous about how they would feel without me, afterall they have one another. I was more worried about how their behavior would be. Would they be out of control the second I left the room? Would they be the kids standing in a corner refusing to participate? Worst yet, would they be mean to other kids, not share appropriately and hit? None of these are normal behaviors for them, but I only know how they are around me. I'm not sure what happens when I am gone.<br> <br/> I prepped them in advance. Told them that mama would be next door and showed them the special window they could look through if they needed to see me. <br> <br/> We had our circle time with the class, sang our Hug song and kissed goodbye. I got up and cautiously left the room, keeping an eye on them as I walked away. Not a peep out of them. No longing glance at me, no fight put up about having me leave. In fact, they instantly got in line to wash up for snack and never looked back. I kept checking the window in the parent room. I was thinking that I would look up at some point and find two teary eyed boys with their faces pressed against the window, searching for their mother.  <br> <br/> It never happened. </p> <br/> <p>I guess that's what any parent should want. Confident children, certain of themselves, and certain that when mama says she'll be close and will soon return- that she will.<br> <br/> Class today went off without a hitch. When I told the boys that it was a school day Gabe responded with "Mama goes in the other room at school." No concern in his voice, just proudly stating a fact.</p> <br/> <p>Yes, you are right, sweet boy.<br> <br/> Close by, and there when you need me. </p> <br/> <p>For now, I'll hold you close when you let me, and I'll cherish the little moments of you both still needing me. <br> <br/> These times are bittersweet. <br> <br/> They are just little snapshots of what is to come. <br> <br/> I know that in a way you will always need me. Everyone needs their mama no matter how old they are.<br> <br/> For right now though, I'll just watch you take these small steps and wonder in amazement at how far you have come and dream about how far you will go.</p> <br/> <div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4</div>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-47550882698578961462012-02-01T11:27:00.001-06:002012-02-01T11:27:54.683-06:00Belly Shots of "Piglet"<p><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtgZNcM6PRKQHC6Hck3OKdE1_cNdDhRK3TGJBQXITYo2sVLTPiKs4PwX8gR4TPk-T5VSNUyvELaXjZ8hHQ-k78KoQgOTrUCmDcyIJUJ0wPuiAkIhUFI0Zzs94h4qqyDx-fWpHd5YYUlqAi/s0/IMAG0048.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtgZNcM6PRKQHC6Hck3OKdE1_cNdDhRK3TGJBQXITYo2sVLTPiKs4PwX8gR4TPk-T5VSNUyvELaXjZ8hHQ-k78KoQgOTrUCmDcyIJUJ0wPuiAkIhUFI0Zzs94h4qqyDx-fWpHd5YYUlqAi/s400/IMAG0048.jpg' /></a></p><p><a href='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKiVS1qaEZSJPUVLzIle6iwyTPj6wttw6c3AkLRiB2WFhsqZZkdDczpL3g4O0aevZrs5Us_mudAdDMbaSYd0NH4Y2-w7k-7Okdb5bW2X2BcK9CJ-ndxusIFLRbnzqXup2PZ83FSgbnlqs6/s0/IMAG0099.jpg'><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKiVS1qaEZSJPUVLzIle6iwyTPj6wttw6c3AkLRiB2WFhsqZZkdDczpL3g4O0aevZrs5Us_mudAdDMbaSYd0NH4Y2-w7k-7Okdb5bW2X2BcK9CJ-ndxusIFLRbnzqXup2PZ83FSgbnlqs6/s400/IMAG0099.jpg' /></a></p><p>17 weeks and 27 weeks</p> <br/> <div style='clear: both; text-align: center; font-size: xx-small;'>Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4</div>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-79544841472418295132012-01-31T14:21:00.001-06:002012-01-31T19:52:09.773-06:00TOLAC and VBACS and NUVBACS, Oh My!We'll see how this blogging on a phone works... Forgive the typos.<br />
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Life is an adventure.<br /> <br /> Life with twin boys is a great adventure. <br /> <br /> They leave me rolling on the floor with laughter one moment, and have me pulling out my own hair out the next. <br /> <br /> I have been so blessed to have them in my life. I am honored that they call me mommy. Except maybe when they are sopping wet and screaming it while dangling from the water fountain at the library. <br /> <br /> My boys have brought me so much happiness and it's still crazy to imagine that in just over 3 months we will be adding another one to this wild family.<br /> <br /> The delivery of the twins did not go as expected, nor planned, but how many births actually do? <br /> <br /> I knew from the moment that I learned of this baby's existence that I did not want a other c- section. I didn't want the first one, but Gabe going into sudden severe distress required it, and I am thankful that we were so quickly taken care of.<br /> <br /> Now I am climbing the mountain in preparing for a VBAC. I wish it was an easy task. Afterall, I am just a mama who wants to birth her baby "normally." Unfortunately, once you have a scar on your uterus there is no "normal" according to many doctors. Many hospitals ban the procedure. And if you find a hospital that lets you attempt a Trial of Labor After Cesearian or TOLAC, you need to find a provider who supports your decision and cross your fingers that they are the one on-call and not a provider who is scalpel happpy and dislikes tolacers.<br /> <br /> My original OB told me that vbac mamas are held to a higher standard since we have a higher risk of uterine rupture. No inductions, and a scheduled section if you go over 41 weeks. Constant fetal monitoring and no walking around the l and d room. If your labor is "too long" then section, if you don't follow the labor curve, then section ; too long pushing, a section; baby decels more than desired, a section. Hearing all this at my OB appointments made me cringe, but never second guess my decision to attempt a vaginal delivery. Instead, it made me want it more, and it made me put the work into figuring out how I can increase my chances at doing it successfully. <br /> <br /> So I began to read book after book, blogs and birth stories. And I learned so much along the way about birth, pregnancy, and that what many doctors have turned "birthing" in to today is not what it has to be.<br /> <br /> I don't want to do the run of the mill race to the hospital at the first signs of labor, get an iv, strap me to the bed and give me an epidural kind of birth.<br /> <br /> That's not me. That's not how I want my birth to go. From all the studies that I have read up on and from all the experts in birthing babies, that's not how to do it.<br /> <br /> I am trying to take my pregnancyand delivery to the next level. <br />
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I'm heading to a midwife. To someone who looks at me as a whole and sees a woman who has no reason not to be able to deliver her baby naturally. I am not a uterine rupture waiting to happen. Yes, there is a VERY small risk ,but that risk is just as small as it is for a placental abruption or cord prolapse for any "normal" woman. I am considered very low risk for a rupture, and I am considered to have an excellent chance of birthing this baby vaginally.<br /> <br /> I am doing prenatal yoga and Spinning Babies exercises to prepare the baby and myself for our best delivery. The chiropractor is adjusting my back and hips for optimal alignment. I have gathered a strong support system with my husband, mother and best friend who are all amazing advocates and believers in natural birth. In the end, I just want a healthy baby, but in the meantime I am going to dream about just how that little one will arrive.<br /> <br /> Baby is growing well. Big and active. I can see and feel a little foot poking me just next to my belly button as I write this. I love having this connection with a tiny person that I have not even met yet. <br /> <br /> My boys are showing a much greater interest in babies. Mainly in trying to hold their cousin, Rodion, who is practically as big as they are.<br /> <br /> We didn't like referring to the baby as "it" so we decided as a family to name the baby "Piglet." And although we don't officially know the sex of the baby, they have decided it is a baby sister. Gabe will correct me at times and tell me that the baby is not named Piglet, it is named Baby Sister. Poor guy, I think he'll be upset if it turns out to be a boy.<br />
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<b>C</b><b>urrent Stats</b><br /> <br /> 27 weeks<br /> <br /> Weight gain- 20 pounds (I might outgain what I did with the boys!)<br /> <br /> Best moment this week- Sleeping straight through the night without needing a bathroom break.<br /> <br /> Aches/Pains- Nighttime leg cramps have begun<br /> <br /> Cravings- Can't say I have really had any recently.<br /> <br /> Gender Prediction- 50/50 I honestly have no clue right now<br />
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Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4</div>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-18995289391395600322011-11-21T12:42:00.004-06:002011-11-25T09:07:14.206-06:00Apples to OrangesPregnancy #2, Baby #3<div><br /></div><div>Here it is 17 weeks in, and I have barely said anything about how this pregnancy is going.</div><div><br /></div><div>I managed to survive the first trimester. Some women may take that mean surviving the constant nausea and fatigue. Others may take it to mean that I managed to make it to the other side and still remain pregnant.</div><div>I mean both.</div><div><br /></div><div>It seems that if you have ever struggled to get pregnant, struggled to stay pregnant, or have personally known anyone close to you who has done one or the other, that you take to heart the miracle that pregnancy truly is. </div><div>I spotted throughout the first trimester, something that had not happened to me while I was pregnant with the boys. It scared me and even through I was reassured by my doctor and the heartbeat on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">doppler</span>, I still found myself constantly thinking "<i>If</i> we have this baby..." rather than "<i>When</i> we have this baby..."</div><div>My nerves are easing up as I move closer and closer to 24 weeks, the age of viability. I have started feeling the comforting kicks and hiccups, the constant little reminders that there is life inside me. My morning sickness is completely gone, and for the most part my energy is back.</div><div><br /></div><div>This pregnancy is progressing rather quickly, and so far it's been much easier than my last. But how can you even compare being pregnant with one baby to being pregnant with two? At this point, with the boys, I was measuring 26 weeks and suffering from major back pain, heartburn, and insomnia. This go around I am gaining weight slower and my belly is probably measuring right where it should be for one baby. I can still fit into my regular pants and button them, although I am a bigger fan of the elastic wasted maternity pants. Heck, I would wear them when I wasn't pregnant. I am reminding myself to appreciate the ability to look at my feet, and bend over easily, because soon enough that won't be happening.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I would love to report that Gabe and Nat are embracing this "Mama is having a baby and we are going to be big brothers thing" but quite frankly they don't have a clue how much their world will be changing come May. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span">Pregnancy Stats</span> </b>Mostly for my own benefit, but also for those curious minds.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>How far along: </b>17 weeks </div><div><b>Cravings: </b>Fruit, fruit and more fruit. Also, the occasional crunchy salad (romaine, rather than spring greens) and last week was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Breyer's</span> Natural Vanilla ice cream with Reese's shell topping (I ate a bowl everyday)</div><div><b>Weight: +</b>6 from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pre</span>-pregnancy</div><div><b>Best moments: </b>Watching Charlie Brown's Christmas with the boys and feeling a full 3 minutes of hiccups from Baby</div><div><b>Belly button: </b>Formerly an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">innie</span>, but now an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">outie</span> that has yet to pop. If that makes any sense</div><div><b>Aches and Pains: </b>Round ligament pains, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Braxton</span> Hicks a few times a day(early yet again!)</div><div><b>Gender Prediction: </b>80% of me thinks girl, 20% thinks boy. </div>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-37398994509350279192011-10-26T13:53:00.005-05:002011-10-31T09:16:37.417-05:00Spontaneous<div><br /></div><div>Shortly after returning home from the cabin I embarked on what was going to be my next "Big Adventure"- watching my dearest, closest friend's daughter while she went back to school to teach in the fall. It was a perfect idea. She gets the piece of mind of having her daughter cared for by her best friend, and her best friend gets a little extra income. Two kids under that age of 2 is a lot of work, and 3 kids under the age of 2 is even more. But, I was ready and excited to have an extra playmate for the boys. Lulu is a doll, a mere 4 1/2 months younger than the boys, and a true joy to have around. I love getting so spend time with her. It is a perfect fit</div><div>The first week went great, I was exhausted by the end of the day, but that's to be expected when you chase 3 kids around all day, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>Wrong. Well, sort of. </div><div><br /></div><div>You see, I wasn't just exhausted from chasing three kids around. There was another reason lurking behind the exhaustion, and I found out what it was the next week.</div><div>I went grocery shopping with the boys one night. I passed the meat section and got dry heaves. Two aisle later I was completely nauseated, and that's when the possibility of pregnancy struck me. </div><div><br /></div><div>No, I thought at first. We're infertile. I know we were told that fertility <i>could</i> be restored after the pregnancy, but that was a small chance. Plus we were being cautious, and to be quite honest, I wasn't sure that there was even an opportunity for us to get pregnant the previous month.</div><div> I had started spotting, but my period was 4 days late, so I caved and bought a test.</div><div>The boys were taking a bath when I took the test. I set it on the counter and thought to myself "I can't believe I wasted 8 bucks on this thing, there is no way that I am pregnant."</div><div>As soon as I finished my thought I looked down at the test to see the moisture wash over the test strip.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Two very dark lines. A positive pregnancy test. </div><div>A four letter word <i>might </i>have escaped my lips. Gabe <i>might </i>have also repeated the four letter word in his adorable, little toddler voice.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's right folks... I'm pregnant.</div><div>13 weeks pregnant. </div><div>We're still shocked.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>This </b>is our Next Big Adventure</div><div><br /></div><div>For someone who struggled for 3 years to try and get pregnant, who ultimately required one of the most high tech ways to conceive, it still baffles me. Spontaneous conception is what my doctor wrote in my chart. When someone who previously required <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">IVF</span> to conceive, conceives on their own. </div><div><br /></div><div>Natural Family Planning to the tee, with only one opportunity for conception that occurred <b style="font-style: italic; ">way </b>before I <b><i>ever</i></b> ovulate. The size of the baby shows that I managed to ovulate more than a week before I normally do, without any of my normal signs that accompany it.</div><div>Ultimately, this was not in our hands. The Lord wanted us to have this baby.</div><div><br /></div><div>I wouldn't let myself believe it until I had my first Ob appointment at 8 weeks. She found the baby on the ultrasound right away, and I saw the little flicker of the heartbeat. The evening bloat is slowly turning into a morning baby bump.</div><div>Last week I had a 12 week appointment, and I got to hear the familiar whoosh-whoosh of the baby's heart. My doctor had the challenge of keeping it on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">doppler</span> while it did gymnastics around my belly. I was told to be prepared for the kicks and flips this one will be doing, considering how active it was during that short time at my appointment.</div><div>I'm starting to get excited for our new arrival. I'm not nervous to have another baby. One newborn will be a piece of cake after caring for two at a time. </div><div>What I am nervous about is how I will care for a baby while running after my two little monkeys all day. </div><div>They are runners. </div><div>They are climbers, and they are good at getting into trouble.</div><div>They have also started arguing for my attention. "MY Mommy!!" is a frequent phrase often heard. Now they will feel the need to fight even more when the littlest one arrives.</div><div> </div><div>It will all work out just like it is suppose to.</div><div><br /></div><div>I suppose the most ironic thing in all of this is that I was just starting to resent the "fertile" population again. In fact, I have a post that I had recently written, but not posted, about how we were going to start saving for our next embryo transfer, so that in a year we could attempt a second pregnancy. Thousands of dollars, and a year of saving for an attempt. </div><div>Well, I suppose I'm not considered infertile anymore. It's nice to lose the title. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, we still have our embryos. </div><div>Yes, we will still be giving them a chance at life sometime in the future.</div><div>The possibility of a huge family is a very scary thought.</div><div>But I think back to 4 years ago when we were in the midst of heartache and failed fertility treatments, and I remember how I ached to experience the love that a mother has for her babies.</div><div><br /></div><div>That love is powerful and amazing. If I get to multiply it by 6 kids, then my world will be complete.</div><div><br /></div>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-25563005450517876782011-08-22T12:17:00.007-05:002011-08-27T12:31:13.890-05:00The CabinWe returned from your second ever cabin trip last night.
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<br />The Cabin is a sacred place for your father. His childhood summers were filled with memories of this place; little boy antics, fishing, boating, campfires, family and friends. This place is a treasure for your family. Now that most of us are married and even have kids of our own, we return there. 3 brothers and 1 sister, 2 sisters-in law, a brother-in law, and 3 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">little ones</span> occupy the bedrooms, futon, and porch for a week of fun and family.
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<br />I was apprehensive to make the journey this year, being that last year our trip Up North left me feeling stressed and crabby.
<br />It was virgin territory for us a year ago. 2 parents embarking on our first ever vacation with a set of 10 month old twins. Our trip, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pre</span></span>-kids, used to consist of mornings that dragged into afternoons while we sipped on hot cups of coffee, lazy pontoon rides, fishing, afternoon naps, campfires, and rousing late-night board games accompanied with cocktails. Last year proved difficult to relax while nursing one baby, and attempting to nurse another who was deciding to self wean at the time. Trying to get you both to nap during the day, and sleep well at night was by far the most stressful.
<br />I resolved that this year would go much better, you were older, and better sleepers, and best of all you loved sand and water, both of which are abundant at a lake.
<br />We set off to the cabin on Wednesday and after 2 hours in the car I was starting to regret our decision to go. You were both antsy to get out of your car seats and run around. Gabriel started to tell us "All done car ride, all done!" Then we had tears and screaming.
<br />My two wild and busy boys don't normally sit still for more than 10 minutes at a time. Daddy and I started to unload our bag of tricks. We had large container of toys and activities packed to distract you. Flash cards, toy trains, trucks, and balls. 10 rounds of <span style="font-style: italic;">BINGO</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">Happy Birthday</span> to each and every one our family members, <span style="font-style: italic;">Old MacDonald</span>, and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Alphabet Song</span> were a nice, but brief distraction.
<br />I'm sure that I could have popped open the lap top and played a Mister Rogers episode to quiet you, or handed you some battery operated toy but I cherish the simplicity of a family car trip without the use of modern day electronics. Even if it means listening to you crab at me for the remaining 3 hours on the road. I'd rather that you grow up chatting and singing, and playing "I Spy", and the license plate game with your parents during road trips verses sitting in the back seat of a mini-van staring at some cartoon movie playing in an overhead <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">DVD</span></span> player. Some of my favorite memories of growing up are those that were created while we three girls were "trapped" with your grandparents in the car during road trips around the country.
<br />You both fell asleep when the sky darkened and awoke just as we arrived at our destination. You were greeted by Aunties and Uncles, and cousin "No-no" with enthusiasm. I was impressed that you went to bed so easily that night, albeit much much later than usual.
<br />This year seemed to go off without a hitch. We had returned to the lake with experience under our belts.
<br />Yes, you were crabby at times.
<br />Okay, okay, you were crabby most of the time .
<br />You crashed for your afternoon rest and for bedtime. In general, you were good boys.
<br />Except for attacking your poor cousin on a few occasions. While you two seem to have your own hierarchy built in to your relationship (Nat, in general, being the leader, and Gabe asserting himself occasionally to keep things balanced) your cousin isn't built into the structure. Nat continued to lead the way, and instead of Gabe following as usual, he decided to lash out at poor "No-No" with attempted bites and a kick to the face during a diaper change.
<br />Time outs didn't mean much when you appeared happy to take a break in your pack-n-play for 2 minutes. Scoldings from your Mama do nothing more than solicit a giggle and an impersonation of the yelling.
<br />Our days were spent playing on the beach, and wearing your Auntie Katie out by catching 3 boisterous little boys as they jumped off the dock. You explored indoors and entertained yourselves with a rusty old wagon that was too fun to share, and many toys that your daddy and uncles played with as little boys.
<br />We spent an evening meeting your Great Aunt and Great Uncle and your daddy's cousin. You ate cheesy bread and spent a good part of an hour racing up and down the ramp built for your Great Uncle's electric wheelchair.
<br />On our last night we had the traditional fish fry. Everyone contributed by either catching, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">filleting</span>, or cooking up the Perch and Rock Bass. My contribution was the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">quinoa</span></span> salad. You ate up the fried deliciousness dipped in homemade tarter sauce. All you touched from the salad I made was the olives.
<br />Sunday was the perfect day to head home. You had been out of your routine just long enough for it to start to impact you. The big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">crabbies</span></span> were setting in. We tried to keep you occupied with some Yo-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Gabba</span></span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Gabba</span></span> and Baby Einstein so we could pack up and clean. By 11:30 we were all <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">smashed</span> into our car again heading South.
<br />You surprised us with how well you both did on the trip home, especially considering that the traffic congestion added on an extra hour to an already 5 hour trip. Hearing that we were traveling back to a familiar place where you knew Grandma, Grandpa and Oliver would be helped the journey. <span style="font-style: italic;">That</span> and stopping at a Dairy Queen to spoil you with some bites of a Blizzard.
<br />I cherish the time that we get to spend with our family.
<br />The late night games, chats, and laugh fests.
<br />Your Uncles behaving like young boys who are high on life.
<br />The way that your Aunties smother you with love.
<br />I will remember how your first words when you woke so early in the morning were "All done night-night, Outside? Lake? Sandbox? and No-No?" In that order almost every day we were there.
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<br />You won't remember the memories we created this year, but I hope that someday the cabin will be a significant part of your lives.
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<br />Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-54347222098547442152011-07-25T22:04:00.008-05:002011-07-26T16:10:47.159-05:00Big BoysIt still wows me how quickly you two are growing.<br />It will hit me when I go to pack up your outgrown clothes and I see the last size that you were in. They look so much smaller, and yet it was just a mere 6 months ago that you were in them.<br /><br />Today you both told me that you needed to go potty, so you tore off your diapers and ran into the bathroom. You plopped your tooshies down and proceeded to pee on the potty chair.<br />I am shocked and amazed that you are beginning to understand that concept. The whole aiming into the toilet is something that we will have to work on. You don't seem to quite understand that you are suppose to "push it down". Instead, you just grab onto yourselves and wind up peeing all over your fingers. For now, this mama will get the fun task of directing your boy bits into the toilet.<br /><br />Your cousin, Rodion Ames, was born last week. I kept drilling it into your heads that your cousin Harper, or Nano (as you like to call her), was going to have a new brother. He arrived, and we visited him in the hospital, but you didn't show him any attention. I was surprised since you are both very baby obsessed and will seek them out if you see any.<br />Once he came to your house for a visit, you seemed much more intrigued. He was met with kisses and caresses from the both of you. I saw you both loving him, and I remember that just a short time ago you were his size.<br /><br />We look through books and you can identify most anything on the pages. You tell me every morning that Grandpa, and Grandma and Daddy are at work. Every motorcycle you see belongs to your Uncle Nate. When you see an airplane in the sky you always ask for it to come back. I don't have to hush the dogs any more for making noise. When Jack and Oliver bark, they hear you two yelling "No bark! No, no bark!"<br /><br />Your favorite thing to do is follow me around in the garden and ask for vegetables. I'll pick a small cucumber, or some beans, or a cherry tomato, and dust it off on my shirt before giving it to you. You both gobble them up and beg for more. When I have presented these foods to you on a plate, at the dinner table, you usually refuse to swallow them. But being in nature and eating directly from the food source seems to make them more appealing to you. I have to agree with you both on this one. There is something so delicious about food pulled right from the earth.<br /><br />I hear you both in the morning chatting to each other. You like to wake one another up, Nat especially. Gabe is willing to lay back down and rest quietly since he wakes at such ungodly hours sometimes. Nat, when you wake up, you practically hop up before your eyes are open. You throw yourself to the edge of your crib and yell to your brother "Dabey!" while jumping enthusiastically. I only wish I had your energy in the mornings. You're still talking more and more,and taking more risks by saying words you always had your brother say for you.<br /><br />We caught a sneak peak of what's to come in your adolescent and teenage years two weekends ago. We visited Grandma NeNe and Grandpa Bob for the weekend in Wisconsin. Our second night was spent at a concert up on Rib Mountain. The music was great and the view was spectacular, but you two seemed much more interested in flirting with the little girl named Olivia.<br />She was a few months younger than you. She caught both of your eyes. You toddled over to her, said "Hi!" while flashing your dimpled smiles. Then the acrobatics started. First one of you hung from the handrail on the side of the stairs. The second one, not wanting to be outdone, followed suit. Olivia may have been impressed, but since there were two of you, you needed to amp up your game to win her over. One of you jumped down and flopped over into a downward dog. Again, to keep it going, the second one threw himself to the ground in a sort of dance move kind of way. Our flirt fest with dear little Olivia was finished up with some good old hugs. You were both still trying to win her affection and the poor little thing was practically assaulted by your bear hugs and slobbery kisses. We had to pry you off of her, and distract you with some other exciting thing to look at. I walked away wondering where in the world you learned these wooing techniques? Your father must be sneaking into your room at night and conducting a Flirting 101 class.<br /><br />The end of July is here which means that in a mere 3 months you two will be turning 2. It is bittersweet to say goodbye to your baby and young toddler years. Everyday you are growing bigger and are learning more. Before you know it, another year will have passed. I have to continually remind myself to slow down and appreciate the ride- the smooth parts and the bumpy parts. These are the best years, the years that are mine. I cherish the moments that you want to spend with me. A day will come when friends and girls are more important. A day will come when you leave home for good.<br /><br />You are ours for such a short time.Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-464702638234952652011-07-12T13:49:00.002-05:002011-07-12T13:56:43.148-05:00Daddy LoveThere's something about watching my husband love his children that makes me fall in love with him all over again.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8I-PsaQpDTNz-T0NTwx_UYM0E-OhuwXCjjBj5SWxe6u68YnJ_y9H_PxDeAg8KVhH8kff8jzG8vFKsLpL0N1pNgswthTHC0jTKA2y7K8L4U7neIHpiEmLMHUMlqMvRtpyUlk-P5b_GlR1O/s1600/DSC_0231.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8I-PsaQpDTNz-T0NTwx_UYM0E-OhuwXCjjBj5SWxe6u68YnJ_y9H_PxDeAg8KVhH8kff8jzG8vFKsLpL0N1pNgswthTHC0jTKA2y7K8L4U7neIHpiEmLMHUMlqMvRtpyUlk-P5b_GlR1O/s400/DSC_0231.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628540692590057570" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTCN4PciWs6nFAkEEVKcm_zFlwEJmUdTAwjwO4ZcmI6QJE7YgBMiZrkibz4pLy27AmcUaAeKv4QiN1FMOEjbteByKe8mfo56JxAmA9OmskjLeYBz1-BkZS6sJ5aU9Jq0YhUWkV0Uyr2Jw/s1600/DSC_0230.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTCN4PciWs6nFAkEEVKcm_zFlwEJmUdTAwjwO4ZcmI6QJE7YgBMiZrkibz4pLy27AmcUaAeKv4QiN1FMOEjbteByKe8mfo56JxAmA9OmskjLeYBz1-BkZS6sJ5aU9Jq0YhUWkV0Uyr2Jw/s400/DSC_0230.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628541523031589442" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJiX_ZK2MFQ6ofN45hd0CFkMjWlKpGe_Krq56PUKybKVx2ivLsJemld1FaWvutw3d2oxG1-54jY2AQcBmFOE4mrcnbIm5Fo2jCjHYYMxNtZpibLlAck13Aewzt8auK5N-QfG8jsEtpQUXf/s1600/DSC_0228.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJiX_ZK2MFQ6ofN45hd0CFkMjWlKpGe_Krq56PUKybKVx2ivLsJemld1FaWvutw3d2oxG1-54jY2AQcBmFOE4mrcnbIm5Fo2jCjHYYMxNtZpibLlAck13Aewzt8auK5N-QfG8jsEtpQUXf/s400/DSC_0228.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628540701963174530" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_fBT0G7hz13yJgVIGZEufhrYiKTy9UUYk9PENG8EG5w1FX63mXcTCgUFjxuzKovCoFg43YjqV2IEpfN6DXnw2bo6853PgqptzViPXJd6d8s1NTifc3yfMQYIl4Cn7p9j2wXrF8q7hTEAK/s1600/DSC_0230.JPG"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidB8qLuQfX3R00TKu2M4F5uVukBcuyB4iAgIWwFzvStToNjCqb1JmwveWb9I4kNAcdfojLVu-U83RJcrT0JPMbG5T85WWQBKSWNZzCl1AD6LBynrKufCcngFrZflYxYH9erZJdqKqtdGjX/s1600/DSC_0229.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidB8qLuQfX3R00TKu2M4F5uVukBcuyB4iAgIWwFzvStToNjCqb1JmwveWb9I4kNAcdfojLVu-U83RJcrT0JPMbG5T85WWQBKSWNZzCl1AD6LBynrKufCcngFrZflYxYH9erZJdqKqtdGjX/s400/DSC_0229.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628540710268580706" border="0" /></a>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-76786056071672085812011-07-12T13:15:00.004-05:002011-07-12T13:49:12.412-05:00Outdoor Fun<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br />Gathering lavender<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasjLf4wlXkuEsft_yUlHGRsoCZ_JuHQgx6MfMG_y_XUltZ5nipgb5HczKH75IIswptRPQmBf_5vVD8XlzvbQrWAcAOQ_LAYxKinZ4SNaZwWCA7JOnUbNeRtdXNFQ9FvMJbZSB8st50ap6/s1600/DSC_0034.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasjLf4wlXkuEsft_yUlHGRsoCZ_JuHQgx6MfMG_y_XUltZ5nipgb5HczKH75IIswptRPQmBf_5vVD8XlzvbQrWAcAOQ_LAYxKinZ4SNaZwWCA7JOnUbNeRtdXNFQ9FvMJbZSB8st50ap6/s400/DSC_0034.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628533476161451570" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >"Helping"<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCjyap1RqH6QEq6TIs6LUyxSXvaTeHGwFzEt9kaw6nKGR9xutOcyZBkyl99GAwmOHlmhHam34isXFACCvxtfcxjDDAkqs-HwP_aBSwMQnnpQ1RWHvUMOWXSJIcNVg2OVTRj0VNZbwFG3G/s1600/DSC_0065.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCjyap1RqH6QEq6TIs6LUyxSXvaTeHGwFzEt9kaw6nKGR9xutOcyZBkyl99GAwmOHlmhHam34isXFACCvxtfcxjDDAkqs-HwP_aBSwMQnnpQ1RWHvUMOWXSJIcNVg2OVTRj0VNZbwFG3G/s400/DSC_0065.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628533488761717378" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMG0gLRk-CfsaDZ54jtGV2rhyRY5MnqEv6WFTGOuguCNkFAGsP1as0lKUlZx5s30BbqnH-zbBRAsYON8e1XXKcLSQkXe3X9E5Vjnu_gltlzoOH-I6440aHVZCzDC_kuuDvc4v2aSGQYxwT/s1600/DSC_0066.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMG0gLRk-CfsaDZ54jtGV2rhyRY5MnqEv6WFTGOuguCNkFAGsP1as0lKUlZx5s30BbqnH-zbBRAsYON8e1XXKcLSQkXe3X9E5Vjnu_gltlzoOH-I6440aHVZCzDC_kuuDvc4v2aSGQYxwT/s400/DSC_0066.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628536064072596402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG261nP6SeNEbVA2B6TvJHTQ3atUABCgac01GUBEHUQlWa41ZGqy1NAVBvZZvylKsEXGW4U9QdaoFjLInx9C5estPnmPyS5Xu60w-zvzSaRk-izaiB1ByMyjfRJeL85yj7Bo4oMFlRSxLe/s1600/DSC_0068.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG261nP6SeNEbVA2B6TvJHTQ3atUABCgac01GUBEHUQlWa41ZGqy1NAVBvZZvylKsEXGW4U9QdaoFjLInx9C5estPnmPyS5Xu60w-zvzSaRk-izaiB1ByMyjfRJeL85yj7Bo4oMFlRSxLe/s400/DSC_0068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628536074239278802" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJlqtXZ9_2B7XEawABRGzYrNCAUK4Rmbii2OoKk5odIp4UXU8hnuk_VsauD7njMj4vMyRr40AhmmcaNjpfSXF37DA3KUOrWWWwPLf5_zxbRdr_A5UBWv0og5ixyHKm7fp2gCEFCpAnJpI1/s1600/DSC_0069.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJlqtXZ9_2B7XEawABRGzYrNCAUK4Rmbii2OoKk5odIp4UXU8hnuk_VsauD7njMj4vMyRr40AhmmcaNjpfSXF37DA3KUOrWWWwPLf5_zxbRdr_A5UBWv0og5ixyHKm7fp2gCEFCpAnJpI1/s400/DSC_0069.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628533518137397266" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">My ham</span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcuqJLpPmUBGR1b_qxNMiSeCVQ0fJh2DzdytfGtuefKNu_YdlqQzyOQ5zsXjrcQDrAu7sfX1Eu15JshgDV066kgdC4MWIyvb_01ELsyxIstjN2zXTm5EwQy6SMI65Lf9AEKTch8j4v89cT/s1600/DSC_0112.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcuqJLpPmUBGR1b_qxNMiSeCVQ0fJh2DzdytfGtuefKNu_YdlqQzyOQ5zsXjrcQDrAu7sfX1Eu15JshgDV066kgdC4MWIyvb_01ELsyxIstjN2zXTm5EwQy6SMI65Lf9AEKTch8j4v89cT/s400/DSC_0112.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628533528161568530" border="0" /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br />My other ham</span></span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggixSw-GT89i6FJEj3Q6IG3ASyooLq4Xm83sSmSXaaUxYBi5hAneEW-4vbWMRRINS00Am_klgAYHjeoxlFJGUezYjHvD4bHh8hX4zdggG78CRntT64X7kmbfIvGqHzlRuRrs7jcMhDGU7/s1600/DSC_0193.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggixSw-GT89i6FJEj3Q6IG3ASyooLq4Xm83sSmSXaaUxYBi5hAneEW-4vbWMRRINS00Am_klgAYHjeoxlFJGUezYjHvD4bHh8hX4zdggG78CRntT64X7kmbfIvGqHzlRuRrs7jcMhDGU7/s400/DSC_0193.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628535367286689298" border="0" /></a>.............................................................................<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCX2XpXGMNgDzXxIHPigtIjGpNqCkXp4T9wOhiNlv_jxD97rqWxOvdoBeVnybgI06vG0-LoMx8QnWt8AlUNiqJxbmToUm-Zpe8qOE-COFrvNSLUWHuCJKamQ7h4uWg39Dya-sKQgAyDD1-/s1600/DSC_0206.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCX2XpXGMNgDzXxIHPigtIjGpNqCkXp4T9wOhiNlv_jxD97rqWxOvdoBeVnybgI06vG0-LoMx8QnWt8AlUNiqJxbmToUm-Zpe8qOE-COFrvNSLUWHuCJKamQ7h4uWg39Dya-sKQgAyDD1-/s400/DSC_0206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628535380186779362" border="0" /></a>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-52824019546216244062011-06-28T21:17:00.003-05:002011-06-28T21:39:21.664-05:00Dear SnowbabiesEvery three months I am reminded of my infertility when our statement from the cryopreservation clinic arrives in the mail.<br /><br />We send off a check to keep you safely frozen in time.<br />I think about you daily.<br />Your brothers and I pray for you all every night before bed.<br /><br />I wonder if you are boys or girls. Would you have Gabe's brown eyes, or Nat's wild hair?<br />Would you love reading as much as your daddy, your brothers, and me?<br />But mostly I wonder if I will ever be blessed enough carry you -in my womb and in my arms.<br /><br />I know there is a chance that I will meet you one day.<br />But stories and unhappy endings from others leave me broken-hearted and worried. I am not guaranteed anything. I may never experience a pregnancy with you. I may never look into your eyes.<br /><br />If I never meet you here on earth, I know that I will hold you in my arms in heaven.Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-83727838043494393982011-06-15T13:17:00.004-05:002011-06-20T19:53:27.225-05:00It's Tough Staying HomeBeing a stay-at- home mother is a difficult job.<br />It's <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> harder that being a working mother. I don't agree with those that argue that it is.<br />I cannot imagine having to leave my children in the care of others while I trudge off to work an 8 hour day, and then come home and attempt to complete household tasks and spend quality time with my kids and spouse during the evenings and weekends. It seems like a huge stretch of self for one person.<br />But being a stay-at-home mom has it's own challenges.<br />I love my kids. I adore them. They are my world.<br />It's the fact that I am with them 24/7. That's what gets me.<br />I hear all their fits, all their screams. If they have a crabby day, then I am stuck with it <span style="font-style: italic;">all day.</span><br /><br />Today, I would sacrifice my glamorous "Stay-At-Home-Mom" title for something as simple as "Cashier." I actually loved being a cashier in my teens. Scanning and bagging items may seem monotonous, but I felt like I was living out my dreams from pre-school. I lived in that dramatic play area. I rocked at Grocery Store.<br />I'm always using the self check-out and I secretly hope that those around me notice how amazingly quick I am at finding the SKU.<br /><br />My kids were up at 4:30 this morning. <span style="font-weight: bold;">For the day</span>. Happy as clams. Jumping in their cribs, requesting to see Daddy and have some milk. I tried to politely explain in my sleepy state that it was still night time and that Daddy was sleeping, and that I had been too, until they so abruptly woke me from it.<br />Well, surprise surprise, they refused to believe me.<br />Attempts were made to put them back to sleep. I even convinced myself that if I lay in the big bed with them, like I used to, that they would go back to sleep.<br />My eyes were continually pried open, fingers were stuck in my ears, and up my nose. My stomach was used as a bongo drum.<br />I gave in and gave up on more sleep. They played in the nursery, looking at books, and rocking themselves in the rocking chair until Daddy came in at 6:15 to wish them Good Morning.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiX570akxeqURfMzbgkuecdnK9HM_8nUoaXgsOkX6yu_1-W3gm_0NM0kz8W8vds0h4bqoXthN5hYm82vrRfXnNhrZl-G1C3JGVL4dhq_0eVxRKFy-Oq00tEp-_uTC2fCL8mjs0uttuxVyb/s1600/DSC_0060.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiX570akxeqURfMzbgkuecdnK9HM_8nUoaXgsOkX6yu_1-W3gm_0NM0kz8W8vds0h4bqoXthN5hYm82vrRfXnNhrZl-G1C3JGVL4dhq_0eVxRKFy-Oq00tEp-_uTC2fCL8mjs0uttuxVyb/s400/DSC_0060.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618526425724514818" border="0" /></a><br />Overnight diapers have a large capacity for urine, but there still is a maximum capacity which my kids both managed to challenge.<br />Gabe was sitting on my lap watching Sesame Street. It was the 6:30 am showing, which makes me feel slightly better knowing that there are other parents out there with kids up early enough to watch at this time.<br />Gabe and I were cuddling and I started to feel a warm wet running down my leg. Sweet.<br />Starting out the day with a kid peeing on my leg. It's gonna be a good day, I can just tell.<br />Changed the 3 pound diaper full of pee. Changed out of my pee pants<br />Now 5 minutes later and Nat is sitting on my lap. An all-to-familiar feeling. Nat is peeing through <span style="font-style: italic;">his</span> diaper onto my leg. For real. 2 pee throughs in a matter of 5 minutes. Awesome.<br /><br />Off to Library Time this morning. We were 10 minutes late due to my inability to find a parking space, and finally finding one a block and a half away. We finally arrived. It was packed, but the boys loved all the people. Just more folks to look at. 3 Finger plays, 2 stories and one poopy diaper change later we are off to meet Auntie and Harper for a doughnut and some milk at the Bakery.<br />We walk outside. Cue the downpour. I race with the stroller to the car- 1 1/2 blocks away. Load 2 boys and a stroller into the car. Hop in and drive to the bakery.<br />We have our treats and milk and are ready to get settled.<br />Gabe insisted on holding and squeezing the living daylights out of the milk. I refused to let him squish the carton all over, so he threw a pretty good-sized fit. I'm sure the elderly man in the corner, attempting to read his morning paper rather appreciated the background noise of a screaming 20 month old.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibi4z5kYINJoC3DlGBDy5wE1wl_mUwRR0JfQv0V8-_O-W3m8FSaWnmOcPn_M4Ln2SDR-rmDnvznPW8NpEjgOtTIkLnXAeti9supZbB2pdjfcl4mZkOWP3P5-R-BTP1wJjkSrzeNOCYvvNG/s1600/DSC_0059.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibi4z5kYINJoC3DlGBDy5wE1wl_mUwRR0JfQv0V8-_O-W3m8FSaWnmOcPn_M4Ln2SDR-rmDnvznPW8NpEjgOtTIkLnXAeti9supZbB2pdjfcl4mZkOWP3P5-R-BTP1wJjkSrzeNOCYvvNG/s400/DSC_0059.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618526438167520370" border="0" /></a><br />My little angels are now napping quietly in their beds.<br />I am pumping myself up for a better 2nd half of the day.<br /><br />It will be good. It will be good. It will be good.<br /><br />And if it's not- tomorrow is a new day.Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-31589225268413268732011-06-12T20:47:00.008-05:002011-06-13T23:01:54.625-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4asCVFL8AZSsvVgxycaoQHkk9Ax5m5HAMF5sLkh7ndX3LyqMPT_DUFP0wn5_BxyByhTR67Exxx9VebuPTQSeRr2Nv-kjO9cfg7HiGO5Q6robPoEzw40RM_3Ocmwnp2KAU_CpStx286jmD/s1600/DSC_0049.JPG"><br /></a><br />We are gliding through the days and before we know it the summer will be over.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJW1UvRYWenvav8NXPZKMr9RPNSw1zSjvVo3nA0CWSbSuAWw659PWbMR1LdTPecEPxFjXq1cWepJF30rf8kF88gqn2MVWd6JPBCptXNbJ3OHqH2SI4N9IiUySeL_GCpo61N_J9PfnNjwN/s1600/DSC_0095.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJW1UvRYWenvav8NXPZKMr9RPNSw1zSjvVo3nA0CWSbSuAWw659PWbMR1LdTPecEPxFjXq1cWepJF30rf8kF88gqn2MVWd6JPBCptXNbJ3OHqH2SI4N9IiUySeL_GCpo61N_J9PfnNjwN/s400/DSC_0095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617529598252301218" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The summer sun is exaggerating the differences between Gabe and Nat.<br />Nathaniel has always taken after me in skin tone, and when the sun comes out he is still no different. While he has taken on a little color in his skin, it's usually pink, and all the pink really does is highlight the pale complexion behind it. His normally strawberry blonde locks are looking a little more yellow.<br />Gabe is continuing to take after his daddy. On Day 1 of sunshine this kid had a killer tan, even with the spf 50 slathered all over him. He continues to grow darker and darker and his sandy brown hair turns more and more blonde.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTRgXZHcthAN9nquRh3G7IlnWFhUJRztVeWxTWpx4TYm4CKLC1dEeKluXIhl1zOQxSoAp3VOvbRrTqXbDaq-jZiXd60nKbvJYsM-HZ6EbHMIUfZ8g9oheK_eiV-6ppbOt8YX_MI8LtxeS1/s1600/DSC_0028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 328px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTRgXZHcthAN9nquRh3G7IlnWFhUJRztVeWxTWpx4TYm4CKLC1dEeKluXIhl1zOQxSoAp3VOvbRrTqXbDaq-jZiXd60nKbvJYsM-HZ6EbHMIUfZ8g9oheK_eiV-6ppbOt8YX_MI8LtxeS1/s400/DSC_0028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617530167775255266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuz9c3JKFRBJZJewzcg7RdceYTRSAEuxKy-KW9hCp6UodVkxAa_rfJzPzeZQ_MlfCX2QcWH2jnBBTSKFUEgNvvZK8rgzH0xW7qJxYcgRmCdCV3rWCYAyt4Pv944Cmx719CIIVbgF3Bcar/s1600/DSC_0036.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 374px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuz9c3JKFRBJZJewzcg7RdceYTRSAEuxKy-KW9hCp6UodVkxAa_rfJzPzeZQ_MlfCX2QcWH2jnBBTSKFUEgNvvZK8rgzH0xW7qJxYcgRmCdCV3rWCYAyt4Pv944Cmx719CIIVbgF3Bcar/s400/DSC_0036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617530169088534914" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We made an exciting discovery a few weeks back. Nat no longer seems to have any gluten/wheat issues.<br />A few instances in which I knew he had consumed wheat had me bracing for digestive reactions, but we never saw any.<br />Normally a tiny bite of a wheat cracker, or even a spoonful of soup lightly thickened with flour would send this kid into a fit of screams, followed by a diaper blow out and a bottom so red and sore that it would bleed for days.<br />He had a bite of of daddy's regular pasta. No reaction.<br />A bite of my sandwich on whole wheat bread. No reaction.<br />A spoonful of grandma's bran cereal. No reaction.<br />We decided to throw all caution to the wind and make "real" pancakes for breakfast, not the usual G-free version. NO REACTION!<br />Life is much easier not having to worry about food allergies. I used to pack back-up options whenever we would go someplace to eat. A few slices of wheat-free bread, a container of quinoa pasta, rice crispy treats if there would be a dessert he couldn't eat. I had to plan every meal far in advance.<br />Our checkbook likes the new change, as well. Gluten-free eating is not cheap.<br /><br />Our garden is growing.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4asCVFL8AZSsvVgxycaoQHkk9Ax5m5HAMF5sLkh7ndX3LyqMPT_DUFP0wn5_BxyByhTR67Exxx9VebuPTQSeRr2Nv-kjO9cfg7HiGO5Q6robPoEzw40RM_3Ocmwnp2KAU_CpStx286jmD/s1600/DSC_0049.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4asCVFL8AZSsvVgxycaoQHkk9Ax5m5HAMF5sLkh7ndX3LyqMPT_DUFP0wn5_BxyByhTR67Exxx9VebuPTQSeRr2Nv-kjO9cfg7HiGO5Q6robPoEzw40RM_3Ocmwnp2KAU_CpStx286jmD/s400/DSC_0049.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617531093361008242" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIqburIdilcEWu6teXMopJsZ3tDPhyphenhyphenI5jAzwVbsP0WON1xFogCsWDWdEnYRhNBMBONYX5oVgRXiViJbXYiEvp0PSU4XZ2lUYFUZktOaXVIyU5t_gKiRMzlgPsh_81iBlCv-9Pj0jb24Jk-/s1600/DSC_0048.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIqburIdilcEWu6teXMopJsZ3tDPhyphenhyphenI5jAzwVbsP0WON1xFogCsWDWdEnYRhNBMBONYX5oVgRXiViJbXYiEvp0PSU4XZ2lUYFUZktOaXVIyU5t_gKiRMzlgPsh_81iBlCv-9Pj0jb24Jk-/s400/DSC_0048.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617531085958318162" border="0" /></a><br />I had images in my mind of the boys helping me in the garden.<br />Simple things like pulling a weed, or helping me to gather vegetables.<br />I've learned the hard way that they can't distinguish between weeds and desirable plants.<br />They're quite proud of themselves when they can pull a big bean plant or winter squash sprout all by themselves without mommy even asking for help!<br />We have reassigned their duties. Instead of helping to weed, they collect the rocks that we find in the garden and bring them to the "rock bucket."<br /><br />While I am watering and weeding I would love if I could find them riding on their lawn toys, or playing in the sandbox, but they are usually standing on their lawn toys, riding the child-sized table like a horse or throwing and eating sand in the sandbox. Honestly, how much sand can a child consume and it still be considered safe?!<br />I love that they have imaginations and are interested in using their toys in unconventional ways, but why does their safety always have to be the thing they sacrifice in order to have fun with a toy?<br />With two of them there is always a brother watching to get ideas from and to encourage new discoveries.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZaWte55gZXew0ouX2n0D1WKx-aKbyw6tHgionzmEMimjOb5yaqX0JIX12sAlWpm620VqpdJk161lvyhnSRncsQiUq-yFL64-g8DejS4CgrVRIcmeIiScNS4rNEBL4dEs4KkPJvZxMIve/s1600/DSC_0062.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZaWte55gZXew0ouX2n0D1WKx-aKbyw6tHgionzmEMimjOb5yaqX0JIX12sAlWpm620VqpdJk161lvyhnSRncsQiUq-yFL64-g8DejS4CgrVRIcmeIiScNS4rNEBL4dEs4KkPJvZxMIve/s400/DSC_0062.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617532166252771714" border="0" /></a>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-30608837111776338522011-05-31T13:45:00.004-05:002011-05-31T14:28:56.988-05:00Craftiness has been keeping me busy and away from blogging lately.<br />While I don't have blog posts for folks to read, I do have 2 crocheted winter caps and sewn 2 sun-hats for the twins, a winter cap for our nephew, and one big mama-sized bag for me.<br />The sun keeps begging me to sit underneath it's warmth with a big glass of iced tea and my crochet needle during naptime.<br />Speaking of naptime... Can I start jumping up and down when I tell you that we have 2, 2+ hour nappers!?<br />It happened around the same time that Nat decided he was perfectly content and more comfortable in his crib by himself, for the whole night.<br />For real, it's pretty awesome to not a hear a peep from 8 pm until 6:30am. That nice, long nap is just the cherry on top of an already sweet sundae.<br /><br />With yesterday being Memorial Day, the summer has begun, along with hubby's summertime hours. An extra hour Monday through Thursday, so that the weekends can begin at noon on Friday.<br />I was dreaming of these days all winter long and now that they are here- I love it!<br />Life is good, motherhood is great.<br /><br />We did some grocery shopping this morning after playing at the park. The boys were sitting side by side, spinning the race car steering wheels in the obnoxiously large cart. We got the usual comments.<br />"How cute!"<br />"Looks like you've got your hands full!"<br />"Twins?"<br />"Bet they keep you busy..."<br />"How do you do it?!"<br />It takes an extra 10 minutes to shop because of all the people that like to comment and chat with us.<br />Gabriel and Nathaniel were putting on quite the show. They would not stop hugging one another. Big, arms wrapped around one another's neck kind of hugs. Gabe would get mad at Nat if he didn't hug back. Then Nat would get mad if Gabe didn't hug him back.<br />Then they comment as the food is bagged. "Bye-bye bananas, bye-bye milk, bye-bye crackers."<br /><br />Naptime is getting close to finishing and my fingers are itching to get started on a new project.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ubTr_wPM6CXvVaNlAIcqKEBYkuvnso45XRD9LS06dupZKPzWd_51_7vVF6QNVRkg5_Hxkgdzl0OYtGwDdMyPUXvjKuiT4wmweP6gUpMPzca7paTDhjgS0YWpNDg0VSd5ui0DV-vq0XvM/s1600/DSC_0120.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ubTr_wPM6CXvVaNlAIcqKEBYkuvnso45XRD9LS06dupZKPzWd_51_7vVF6QNVRkg5_Hxkgdzl0OYtGwDdMyPUXvjKuiT4wmweP6gUpMPzca7paTDhjgS0YWpNDg0VSd5ui0DV-vq0XvM/s400/DSC_0120.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612961775376330178" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVp5Qb8Pyq1RIyhCMuZVqJLwve6309yPyyNEg8pNimvPsJOUNaflCwMk6Gc9V6-pRdzeqC1FSDYhqyjxUgJMqJqkDLU_n9xErQy94CrmtE6y5x62efPGRpNK2VTYEYys7S3Yot5d2pUfep/s1600/DSC_0134.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVp5Qb8Pyq1RIyhCMuZVqJLwve6309yPyyNEg8pNimvPsJOUNaflCwMk6Gc9V6-pRdzeqC1FSDYhqyjxUgJMqJqkDLU_n9xErQy94CrmtE6y5x62efPGRpNK2VTYEYys7S3Yot5d2pUfep/s400/DSC_0134.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612961781617791810" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96vEeuaikE_bmpdrTozskv6d1ee5Z8Cwn5i5gWf_BSyPEEIHJK3bcHoSqH1RDZQtV68w1iwS7ODkgOwW_NhTwLyIv2qt9yDJN3TMRGQFOOdTcldXQEoTN1zItcNMwo-Y-KAq8wqzJ8zdO/s1600/DSC_0135.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg96vEeuaikE_bmpdrTozskv6d1ee5Z8Cwn5i5gWf_BSyPEEIHJK3bcHoSqH1RDZQtV68w1iwS7ODkgOwW_NhTwLyIv2qt9yDJN3TMRGQFOOdTcldXQEoTN1zItcNMwo-Y-KAq8wqzJ8zdO/s400/DSC_0135.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612961789036388114" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQhdiaOdo-a0iJAkaOTGGopqU0hnxrmyXCuJ5UK-QBo36U5b0IPSqS5s-9MBmXD6ejpQOt8oz7uifUeBmmCCGdHFJBjxvnVQ5YMI_nHJAYL9vMbB-zDd-kMw4qEcqIl92JqVaZTiScAv0/s1600/DSC_0122.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQhdiaOdo-a0iJAkaOTGGopqU0hnxrmyXCuJ5UK-QBo36U5b0IPSqS5s-9MBmXD6ejpQOt8oz7uifUeBmmCCGdHFJBjxvnVQ5YMI_nHJAYL9vMbB-zDd-kMw4qEcqIl92JqVaZTiScAv0/s400/DSC_0122.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612961812125386098" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndRmDRBr0OT18wEZOhRQtV81WAXnyM7_FLRl72FiCQAcijF3QHWjaO1QeK0w-ZOysYtzR8oVaeZ6ZG8I46ffv-Udu2jdmkmNV9oK42DPfx6z7yWa8KpxZVHBJuRY2G3_nlOv50T9Bo9z5/s1600/DSC_0128.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndRmDRBr0OT18wEZOhRQtV81WAXnyM7_FLRl72FiCQAcijF3QHWjaO1QeK0w-ZOysYtzR8oVaeZ6ZG8I46ffv-Udu2jdmkmNV9oK42DPfx6z7yWa8KpxZVHBJuRY2G3_nlOv50T9Bo9z5/s400/DSC_0128.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612963389361298130" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIh7dYZJU2akf4Kn7TBei1BokPdOalGPYJ_2pxGrvHNPXb-e_dELyjrAjLQRv-PMGHXQYEK3RdQjdly9inb3fUn_cWh2TmkpdrLVgDe0Q4q-wqJZSy0Xx71W2XSY29s1dmwv6gNzgggDfh/s1600/DSC_0127.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIh7dYZJU2akf4Kn7TBei1BokPdOalGPYJ_2pxGrvHNPXb-e_dELyjrAjLQRv-PMGHXQYEK3RdQjdly9inb3fUn_cWh2TmkpdrLVgDe0Q4q-wqJZSy0Xx71W2XSY29s1dmwv6gNzgggDfh/s400/DSC_0127.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612963382647849154" border="0" /></a>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-1782100241698900172011-05-18T20:49:00.007-05:002011-05-19T08:52:57.706-05:00Back AgainBeautiful days have kept us busy. When the weather cooperates we pop in for lunch and a nap, then we venture out again.<br /><br />Mother's Day came. A day to appreciate the women who raised us. A day to be appreciated as a mom for all the work you do, for all the love you give.<br />I was treated to a breakfast spread made lovingly by my hubby, just as he does every Sunday.<br />Nat and Gabe came marching into the bedroom, complete in pajamas and rain boots, dragging a large gift bag behind them. Nat spoiled the surprise, but created an even better memory, by announcing to me that the bag contained "Boots!" Garden boots for the large garden that will be planted by me and Grandma tomorrow, weather permitting.<br />Grandpa took us out to supper at a Thai restaurant.<br />Nat scarfed down Grandpa's meal ("3"out of "5" in the hot scale) and loved it. He would cry out "Hot, hot" after he took bites, but kept going back for more. Grandma couldn't handle her "2" She was out-spiced by an 18 month old. Daddy and I sat back and figured that we would be dealing with the backlash of letting him eat a meal not knowing if it contained gluten or not. We were surprised to find that he had no reaction whatsoever. Fingers crossed that he is outgrowing this intolerance!<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtL-BINgLmTnyvIofBbwK3KbWxAP5g0t8p80JE8pm9FYq8iJrdDyAkBIVyf35f7WEHW4nCnuCmzYP5ggNUw_LER8kmy3h1_NT7q2PRNjiKovAUCQWE2nBfVjl5RnyJmvwhkkiTZ4FCAJRn/s1600/DSC_0070.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtL-BINgLmTnyvIofBbwK3KbWxAP5g0t8p80JE8pm9FYq8iJrdDyAkBIVyf35f7WEHW4nCnuCmzYP5ggNUw_LER8kmy3h1_NT7q2PRNjiKovAUCQWE2nBfVjl5RnyJmvwhkkiTZ4FCAJRn/s400/DSC_0070.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608239281332191906" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3GTIxjJ8ZT4WgTYwXMaoIM6O_yylkb4G88eId6MB-ZuZcACju0k8qwoFxf-0fbAZD-VO3obDd7c09GSr3N7wCGdAhwOKZnzzjiFhrfPanYaUjRstLQdaCGXMRmUOzhq8B59sIUSCyaGo6/s1600/DSC_0067.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3GTIxjJ8ZT4WgTYwXMaoIM6O_yylkb4G88eId6MB-ZuZcACju0k8qwoFxf-0fbAZD-VO3obDd7c09GSr3N7wCGdAhwOKZnzzjiFhrfPanYaUjRstLQdaCGXMRmUOzhq8B59sIUSCyaGo6/s400/DSC_0067.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608239275119991154" border="0" /></a><br />We make a trek to the park almost daily. Nat is the adventurous one. He's a climber. You'll likely find him making his way up the equipment meant for kids over the age of 8. I'm right behind him, arms outstretched, ready to catch him when he falls. Gabriel takes the stairs meant for a child his age. He likes me to hold his hand or go down the slide with him for a couple of times until he feels confident enough to do it himself. The balance is perfect. I couldn't handle two wild ones at the park on my own.<br />Halfway through our walk back home I usually notice that the stroller passengers have become very quiet. This is usually the reason.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgps_tHzeWsxRufxeUHtw3iX1qepORnJ_BG3RfkWZT4jSolz6kqiEbjR0XNg9_U53ZNZxEesEOgrl2UNWJchf7YIsWvs7LMW9rIep7awdL7C8Hxqyid9vYDDaNUq0jf2Zx3HgQj1ZlQWVhR/s1600/DSC_0075.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgps_tHzeWsxRufxeUHtw3iX1qepORnJ_BG3RfkWZT4jSolz6kqiEbjR0XNg9_U53ZNZxEesEOgrl2UNWJchf7YIsWvs7LMW9rIep7awdL7C8Hxqyid9vYDDaNUq0jf2Zx3HgQj1ZlQWVhR/s400/DSC_0075.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608239290730598818" border="0" /></a>I scoop them up and lay them in bed where they nap extra soundly.<br /><br /><br />Last week brought a day of sweltering heat. It was a perfect excuse to head outside and turn on the hoses. They stripped down to their diapers and fought over who got to drink the water and doused themselves in ice cold wonderful.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqucepE4bbBEQFJKPWsKd-kjLeB-e89DdAl-tZfHupzAbG4yZWMxxQPEgvnSHEEIn4JQ9Minm0qKH_zaAn-A6uH8V45UPdqJ0MW_R3wfH03kDjTIZmPFtEMYaV2nQbAjakwUg59I3CyhDu/s1600/DSC_0085.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqucepE4bbBEQFJKPWsKd-kjLeB-e89DdAl-tZfHupzAbG4yZWMxxQPEgvnSHEEIn4JQ9Minm0qKH_zaAn-A6uH8V45UPdqJ0MW_R3wfH03kDjTIZmPFtEMYaV2nQbAjakwUg59I3CyhDu/s400/DSC_0085.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608239300527386594" border="0" /> </a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwmtE8UVWdUBZXypzdrhGLWXIayjJgJACmyPaJ8PEyIOvjRw2MoB5thhONZC_mxXkx61_x6C67puykmgqMJCEra9te3_RaSkhZIcJPloVKrY9QRPvwtv-Y4ynpUZYGqXJhS1Jz_q87WHx/s1600/DSC_0100.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijwmtE8UVWdUBZXypzdrhGLWXIayjJgJACmyPaJ8PEyIOvjRw2MoB5thhONZC_mxXkx61_x6C67puykmgqMJCEra9te3_RaSkhZIcJPloVKrY9QRPvwtv-Y4ynpUZYGqXJhS1Jz_q87WHx/s400/DSC_0100.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608240748540318530" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivRzfJYXxHLcPuQxdjGk-0YKl18Fe6GLEw18XqgsFYopOh6rpRgMCGfg7LSF7ddofmFhyphenhyphencdyIex2E1mzvf2DbFnZUK-goQBGvccmwp6HmNmSCSrbNzxE2cL5mz7cLcurKb7cUJCp12tlwo/s1600/DSC_0096.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivRzfJYXxHLcPuQxdjGk-0YKl18Fe6GLEw18XqgsFYopOh6rpRgMCGfg7LSF7ddofmFhyphenhyphencdyIex2E1mzvf2DbFnZUK-goQBGvccmwp6HmNmSCSrbNzxE2cL5mz7cLcurKb7cUJCp12tlwo/s400/DSC_0096.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608240745981605202" border="0" /></a>Grandpa Doug had a few days off of work which meant a lot more of the boys staring out the window to his shop and yelling at him to come inside and play with them. Luckily for them Grandpa can make a mean over-sized paper hat.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAp8U1VKwwsUOYeYaVz8Dm1fptkP2ongd-ObKAPnWVmJZIYx0n8kKNQ37O1IicM_k8hVopjv0m3vamR0Hl2b1bf9emjcTJsU-JnX1WZzXZXIeb9S5GSN4bflDSx5Y2ph6JKMkUBJcURl_w/s1600/DSC_0132.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAp8U1VKwwsUOYeYaVz8Dm1fptkP2ongd-ObKAPnWVmJZIYx0n8kKNQ37O1IicM_k8hVopjv0m3vamR0Hl2b1bf9emjcTJsU-JnX1WZzXZXIeb9S5GSN4bflDSx5Y2ph6JKMkUBJcURl_w/s400/DSC_0132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608240764950695442" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">*Note the pj shirt. While mama makes sure the twins share it equally, daddy thinks we should bribe them with it.</span><br /></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZs0Rbxi7K-QdvP4loyOawuC9fVYyqWYBWapiBGkJR56mXBG_QtH0hqqMC0sWRsfG4KCtSUv19-I8FzMJUczEIlh2oJ9bTcQxmNHC85_Wr4t4WBt5rc9CzJk_4U6as3eDZRPo1MUlZBRIn/s1600/DSC_0123.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZs0Rbxi7K-QdvP4loyOawuC9fVYyqWYBWapiBGkJR56mXBG_QtH0hqqMC0sWRsfG4KCtSUv19-I8FzMJUczEIlh2oJ9bTcQxmNHC85_Wr4t4WBt5rc9CzJk_4U6as3eDZRPo1MUlZBRIn/s400/DSC_0123.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608240757787686674" border="0" /></a><br />The 18 month well-child check told us what we already knew. We have kids who are geniuses. Okay, maybe their parents think they are geniuses, but the assessments and their doctor say that they are doing much more than is expected of them at their age. They excel in all areas of physical, social, and cognitive development.<br />They are perfectly healthy and are at the 75th percentile for both height and weight. Measurements are 33 and 33.5 inches, and 27 and 27.5 pounds. Gabe being slightly more tall and likely holding that extra 1/2 pound in his adorable Buddha belly.<br /><br />I am feeling an overabundance of love towards them these days. They amaze me everyday with the things they do and say.<br />I look at them in awe and am amazed that they are mine. I can't believe that these two amazing, little beings grew in my tummy. I still can't believe that I get to be their mommy.<br /><br />I found Gabe tucking in his sippie cup of milk this morning. He was playing quietly on the kitchen floor while I was preparing their breakfast. I looked up to find him carefully tucking a dishcloth around his cup, he gently brought it up to his chest, hugged it and said "Night night milk."<br /><br />I've taken up crochet again. I dabbled at it before the boys were born. The only thing I had ever created was a scarf that I wore proudly for 2 winters until I lost it. The boys have seen me crocheting winter hats for them while they are eating their breakfast or lunch. I tell them I am making them hats. This morning while we were reading a book we came to a page about sheep. There was a picture of a ball of yarn to show what the sheep's wool is used for. Nat pointed to the yarn and said "Mama, hat."<br /><br />Simply sweet. Simply amazing.Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-73006534867683465642011-05-14T11:26:00.001-05:002011-05-14T11:28:31.565-05:00Blogger is broken for meFor some reason my computer isn't allowing me on blogger for more than 2 minutes at a time. <br />Such fun things happening and I can't post about it.<br />I hope my computer won't be so wonky very soon.Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-78748940332753381082011-05-03T21:11:00.002-05:002011-05-03T21:53:45.874-05:00Our Sleep DanceIt's a routine that goes something like this.<br /><br />Kiddos are sleeping great for a couple of weeks. Nat starts waking and screaming for Mama in the middle of the night because of bothersome teeth or an incessant cough.<br /><br />Mama realizes that all Nat wants is a cuddle, so she lays down with him in the big bed in the nursery and he promptly falls back to sleep. They remain until morning. Our smart, little Nat catches on and slowly starts increasing his wake-up frequency to about 3 or 4 times a week, then it's nightly. Mama has gotten used to getting a full night's rest, so she just goes along with what he wants: a cuddle and to finish the night sleeping next to his best gal. After all, she and her husband have decided that they dig the whole<a href="http://www.askdrsears.com/html/10/t130300.asp"> Attachment Parenting</a> thing.<br />They aren't full blown APers. They dabble in it. Wore the boys as babies at home, nursed as long as they wanted, were attentive to their cries right away, and sleep with them as needed.<br /><br />Whoa! That's were the whole sleeping things gets a little fuzzy. The definition of "as needed" is quite different between Nat, myself, and my husband.<br /><br />Anyway, back to our dance. Sleeping is fine for Nat and his mama, but Gabe starts noticing that when he wakes in the morning his twin is snuggling up next to HIS mama. So earlier and earlier Gabe is joining his mom and brother in the big bed.<br />Major problem. It has been noted that both our sons have inherited the "bed hog" gene from their parents. It was inevitable.<br />Joel and I both kick and elbow our way to comfort at night, hoping that the other will fall asleep first so that we can carefully encourage them to roll further towards the edge. I'm usually the winner. Joel never fights back.<br />Back in the nursery, I find myself sleeping on my side with my arm tucked directly under my head. I have about 5 inches of space on the outer portion of the mattress. Gabe is spread eagle on his back with his arms flung to his sides. Nat is positioned perpendicular to the two of us with his little feet digging into my hips and his head on his brothers stomach. We begin to wake one another at night with kicks to the face (them to each other and me, not me kicking them), losing sleep, until I have had it and decide that something MUST be done.<br />We start the sleep training. Nat screams and we comfort him, but don't take him out of his crib. We rub his back, hug him, and eventually he calms back down, eventually he lays down, and after a while we are able to leave the room again. It only takes a few nights, with multiple night wakings and they understand that they must remain in their cribs for the evening.<br /><br />After every round of this dance, I always wonder how I managed to get into it again?<br /><br />Tonight I got my answer.<br /><br />Nat fought going to bed hard this evening. He screamed and screamed. I caved, as usual, and took him out of his crib and I lay down with him in the big bed. The instant his head lay on my arm when we spread out on the bed, his breathing slowed. His eyes slowly blinked. Once, Twice, then they closed.<br /><br />It's like a drug. The ability to calm the cries of your child, so easily, with just your touch, just your presence.<br />That is what makes me do our crazy, little sleep dance.<br /><br />I've said it before. My kids won't love me like this forever. I won't always be the center of their world. A kiss and a hug won't always take their pain away.<br />There will come a day that their pain with be much more than a scraped knee, or hurt feelings because of a brother who won't take proper turns with a toy.<br />Right now, I treasure these moments. The ability to comfort them by just being near.<br />It's magical.<br />I'll do the little Sleep Dance with my boys until they don't need me there anymore, and in the meantime my husband will get the whole bed to himself for a good chunk of the night.Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-32601909832000174322011-05-02T12:27:00.006-05:002011-05-02T12:51:49.923-05:00EasterWe had an amazing Easter celebration this year.<br />Mama and Daddy were given an unusual treat. Their little boys decided to finally let them sleep in until 7:30. Yahoo! It was wonderful, except for the fact that the Sunrise Service was at 7 am and no alarm was set. Why set an alarm clock when your children wake like clockwork at 6 am? Oops.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Getting all warmed up for our Egg Hunt</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2EZ24RRwG7dcTGGJKVOmtjkQeX0s9JQ1-K4fw4Er6MbB2tSvTc6uq5BnSSSoSka75AETCOsgzwKi9iqVQwK3E0jXb2tCzgClPkDaq99YESkV_Mz95caK3ME9Hfzt6-cteUCQyr4AWh7I/s1600/DSC_0084.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2EZ24RRwG7dcTGGJKVOmtjkQeX0s9JQ1-K4fw4Er6MbB2tSvTc6uq5BnSSSoSka75AETCOsgzwKi9iqVQwK3E0jXb2tCzgClPkDaq99YESkV_Mz95caK3ME9Hfzt6-cteUCQyr4AWh7I/s400/DSC_0084.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602175439204834002" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6vSW9P58J-Q1lNSdfBjc2k5p46fa0131tyeAJ4YjYGCI1tMuYYVUnv8kB8Foqj7rSgXL8AldhATKo7Z3vqJdFa2fFp_e5Xnt-kyPTC4hrEID7-aPXgzHy2Oeoa-BRRHwuBFj6WDYS6ePa/s1600/DSC_0086.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6vSW9P58J-Q1lNSdfBjc2k5p46fa0131tyeAJ4YjYGCI1tMuYYVUnv8kB8Foqj7rSgXL8AldhATKo7Z3vqJdFa2fFp_e5Xnt-kyPTC4hrEID7-aPXgzHy2Oeoa-BRRHwuBFj6WDYS6ePa/s400/DSC_0084.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602172597978657506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The sun was shining and the sky was bright. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBbl07dMCoPWhmJvLm3oAN1PdXEkxzcPD1dZHlRlInDYovicCqdCZfUhL8q3Uxqz0GkwvFb7gKAd1dE2JFTJZ1vLkJ539WKrU0MA4vNmQzZ1wv11zm8nRBOMoyOT5ZRUnjHG3hMW_cVHFA/s1600/DSC_0093.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBbl07dMCoPWhmJvLm3oAN1PdXEkxzcPD1dZHlRlInDYovicCqdCZfUhL8q3Uxqz0GkwvFb7gKAd1dE2JFTJZ1vLkJ539WKrU0MA4vNmQzZ1wv11zm8nRBOMoyOT5ZRUnjHG3hMW_cVHFA/s400/DSC_0093.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602172609126413378" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgodgf7jaO1hELg8thFYmJWdURtEyC-fUotDJeggoNqtATNjnTeufwBc0c79jkZ4hu9ScLGUCMwoxX3IUAu4zkoY4qOH0eZ6B9geaFyI79Fi0G1EpE4aSwxGqDHBZz-WXbnZKvoVq72dh/s1600/DSC_0114.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgodgf7jaO1hELg8thFYmJWdURtEyC-fUotDJeggoNqtATNjnTeufwBc0c79jkZ4hu9ScLGUCMwoxX3IUAu4zkoY4qOH0eZ6B9geaFyI79Fi0G1EpE4aSwxGqDHBZz-WXbnZKvoVq72dh/s400/DSC_0114.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602174238667893906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Z25HF6bdjmI17LCCKESZYvq5AklsYQO5oaZXRcqs0ETtyKjlgrM14lZo7fVKn-8UiExMjPTlO15vaF7VEpeSoGIY79aUUgnmXssme5JwdpR1DG2viPl9H_VUP4n1ISwbJnxF7zKLJ4f_/s1600/DSC_0110.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Z25HF6bdjmI17LCCKESZYvq5AklsYQO5oaZXRcqs0ETtyKjlgrM14lZo7fVKn-8UiExMjPTlO15vaF7VEpeSoGIY79aUUgnmXssme5JwdpR1DG2viPl9H_VUP4n1ISwbJnxF7zKLJ4f_/s400/DSC_0110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602172614824346930" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6HnYcNH7vICqXhy9BoFi28MxL2kSHM5G6c7mg5aIsQHOfvyI4c3skNGSjU2N3TY9xQPeC8uxMyKZX8BT5dQUaH8dHkgYrbxzpBuOlSmVSBIxRkeqsmYJwJ7VswjMeI_p55HSsjjKYone/s1600/DSC_0111.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij6HnYcNH7vICqXhy9BoFi28MxL2kSHM5G6c7mg5aIsQHOfvyI4c3skNGSjU2N3TY9xQPeC8uxMyKZX8BT5dQUaH8dHkgYrbxzpBuOlSmVSBIxRkeqsmYJwJ7VswjMeI_p55HSsjjKYone/s400/DSC_0111.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602172621860913778" border="0" /></a>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-42144681118558410952011-04-18T20:55:00.012-05:002011-04-18T22:05:03.142-05:00A Few of Our Favorite Things<span style="font-weight: bold;">Accessories</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">These two could play dress up all day long if you gave them coats, hats, shoes, and boots.</span><br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc07KVgm_NbQ4WxUsjnWwRo2THH16oSohOAjvAgVK3ZXwHrSD-8pBtlAXVxgFqMFPUgZkdYj3_R-5XAqoZ-fpuGLTLRv-XKk2ihyphenhyphen1TxUtLqEceNwYhswQQCmq0lYxnSSoGB2clRmb6LGJf/s1600/DSC_0352.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc07KVgm_NbQ4WxUsjnWwRo2THH16oSohOAjvAgVK3ZXwHrSD-8pBtlAXVxgFqMFPUgZkdYj3_R-5XAqoZ-fpuGLTLRv-XKk2ihyphenhyphen1TxUtLqEceNwYhswQQCmq0lYxnSSoGB2clRmb6LGJf/s400/DSC_0352.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597115830587256066" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheSZOhP87Atsuu072e-Gxm7ZUCxD6frEVC12RPciA81A-6n2LhLtMmgfV2S1_sPpF7kgcR5CSwLE_rryXl2M8o9q-MEVH5s7cxhXwgy6Nm-Tw9k4A4R_mgE87_NC0Id2i-G-H9V-YKsyHn/s1600/DSC_0355.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheSZOhP87Atsuu072e-Gxm7ZUCxD6frEVC12RPciA81A-6n2LhLtMmgfV2S1_sPpF7kgcR5CSwLE_rryXl2M8o9q-MEVH5s7cxhXwgy6Nm-Tw9k4A4R_mgE87_NC0Id2i-G-H9V-YKsyHn/s400/DSC_0355.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597115839099376962" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Bathtime</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">They love, love, LOVE baths</span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8h3QNZhzZ02D80kiJcmOZGHp4ge-uT8JGpk5AOYI8l0TNQ_YTFNqj9c9JuJ_T2m_wj3NMS00TA27S86Tat9jibYiwYUGze0PlmLeE8OpSr8e5Hqhcf0eN6O28H7KrwxnqDWhItfO3WRg/s1600/DSC_0368.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI8h3QNZhzZ02D80kiJcmOZGHp4ge-uT8JGpk5AOYI8l0TNQ_YTFNqj9c9JuJ_T2m_wj3NMS00TA27S86Tat9jibYiwYUGze0PlmLeE8OpSr8e5Hqhcf0eN6O28H7KrwxnqDWhItfO3WRg/s400/DSC_0368.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597116523530151618" border="0" /> </a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPQg3Fbnqa_0eicyo28UmqwHOt3zJeOjYgAg9PO1EQ67GfNAwjh8LPOUzRcQ9CQQaK0fqO2M9GLo-6W6JtaDTbzze6hF84o3gldNJXzwOjTor1PdMSAG_NMoq07-L8PuyExAluwuHu3_h/s1600/DSC_0366.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPQg3Fbnqa_0eicyo28UmqwHOt3zJeOjYgAg9PO1EQ67GfNAwjh8LPOUzRcQ9CQQaK0fqO2M9GLo-6W6JtaDTbzze6hF84o3gldNJXzwOjTor1PdMSAG_NMoq07-L8PuyExAluwuHu3_h/s400/DSC_0366.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597116512727491842" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yVSseQQxRmeSm4h82MSnNfl8UoWEUf9glgtRy7MDOmn6jdQNs5gnR_A2by3KFqzZnLcATKn5HFGhYf2vVvSOxUXnGswWGDWYmDnoHZm0fRPzkdRhLcaqoBRtfoXxG0yzGRUgz5OqRPwn/s1600/DSC_0378.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yVSseQQxRmeSm4h82MSnNfl8UoWEUf9glgtRy7MDOmn6jdQNs5gnR_A2by3KFqzZnLcATKn5HFGhYf2vVvSOxUXnGswWGDWYmDnoHZm0fRPzkdRhLcaqoBRtfoXxG0yzGRUgz5OqRPwn/s400/DSC_0378.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597116531088073858" border="0" /></a><span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:78%;">Makes my heart swell when I see little acts like these: helping wash one another's hair</span>.</span></span><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-PX1XqY2Ik99elO3UR6rnwQgBwlt2hr1jZuOV0fvrK6Lo2u56g82NEkkOaozOI9Mux1m42hKn45Yy1guOEJUxqz4K5YqZpcevO20mxGVIfyPuEtjp3i6IB_kYvFBcD-0QQUXOLB4NikvJ/s1600/DSC_0365.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 385px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-PX1XqY2Ik99elO3UR6rnwQgBwlt2hr1jZuOV0fvrK6Lo2u56g82NEkkOaozOI9Mux1m42hKn45Yy1guOEJUxqz4K5YqZpcevO20mxGVIfyPuEtjp3i6IB_kYvFBcD-0QQUXOLB4NikvJ/s400/DSC_0365.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597116506277544450" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">No bubble bash is complete without daddy blowing bubbles into the tub</span><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Grandpa and Grandma</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">The visits aren't as frequent and as long as we all would wish them to be, but they are oh-so-sweet!<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxvP3wVxwMQmZ3eu4D9NeIFbhHFjRkK2VIMM7z1F3Di1oT90qz7evua7s0KRU9vdIu18tD7MVLHLhqTHWmj2qsa2RsISQjTamMaSFYkMxuxJntatEO8O0C43iu0zSt_YPFTts-R4xQ6Dn/s1600/DSC_0023.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxvP3wVxwMQmZ3eu4D9NeIFbhHFjRkK2VIMM7z1F3Di1oT90qz7evua7s0KRU9vdIu18tD7MVLHLhqTHWmj2qsa2RsISQjTamMaSFYkMxuxJntatEO8O0C43iu0zSt_YPFTts-R4xQ6Dn/s400/DSC_0023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597116537977801138" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span></span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span>There's no escaping without a chorus, or two, of "Twinkle, Twinkle" and the "Itsy Bitsy Spider"</span></span><br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT-VfHqzA0_D7h54VZayAjXoMsinNrx-7D7vcXp87cn4NRkSSqoxBdvikj1ZE-5-fR0TTMbzV5wCQ9M28axDvGJqXUs9ovJzW_seS5aJInKCAw5RDzvLyoeMo64DwRt3kY9_xs1OI7wTE_/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 278px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT-VfHqzA0_D7h54VZayAjXoMsinNrx-7D7vcXp87cn4NRkSSqoxBdvikj1ZE-5-fR0TTMbzV5wCQ9M28axDvGJqXUs9ovJzW_seS5aJInKCAw5RDzvLyoeMo64DwRt3kY9_xs1OI7wTE_/s400/DSC_0003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597119090508870946" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1RX4adNNmyqlwM5pUo9p1OGCioFvSb4Vs1iaFUMILXoZUPMhsM-0nOWbb5e5l3dJ46T_3dtzBmQwruEO8f3B1KQrS-W5MIOHAS7dPUP0gJYlcHTKRRYPNhY2ac8JaHtgKkQ2uCeLIC0fa/s1600/DSC_0013.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1RX4adNNmyqlwM5pUo9p1OGCioFvSb4Vs1iaFUMILXoZUPMhsM-0nOWbb5e5l3dJ46T_3dtzBmQwruEO8f3B1KQrS-W5MIOHAS7dPUP0gJYlcHTKRRYPNhY2ac8JaHtgKkQ2uCeLIC0fa/s400/DSC_0013.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597119100604476146" border="0" /></a>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-25620499112106177792011-04-12T13:24:00.000-05:002011-04-12T13:24:25.759-05:00OutsideI've got outdoors-men! Well, boys that love the outdoors. Watch out, I may end up with a wicked awesome <strike>farmers</strike> tan by the end of the summer!<br />
I've remained sane with two wild boys thanks to a huge yard and not-so-cold, yet not not entirely warm, weather.<br />
We've been filling our days with walks in the stroller and wagon, trips to the park, bubbles and sidewalk chalk, and trips down the toddler sized slide in the yard.<br />
Thank goodness we've managed to FINALLY convert our 2 naps down into 1. It took a good month and a half to two months of transitioning, and we eventually got there. Now, if only Nat would learn to sleep as long as his brother. Gabe takes after his mama. I love naps and have been informed that my mother had to work very hard to wean me from my long afternoon siestas so that I could make it to Kindergarten. Joel, as we have been told, was never a good napper and was quite content with a quick 20 minute cat nap. We'll see what Nat winds up doing, but for right now an hour seems to suit him. Gabe is most happy with three, yet his brother tends to wake him up after one, which makes him a crabby, little man.<br />
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I am amazed at how these two seem more and more grown up everyday. <br />
Gabe is our "talker." He always has been. He was the first one to babble, the first to utter a word. He repeats everything we say to him and learns at least one to two new words a day. I would have to guess that his vocabulary is somewhere near 100 words. This evening at dinner he attempted to tell Daddy about his day. It went something like this... "Mama, Nat, Gabey- bye bye", "Slide", "Night Night", "Park". Then there was a whole bunch of gibberish that I couldn't quite translate, but I know he was letting us in on some of his deep, dark secrets.<br />
Nat is such a daddy's and grandpa's boy. If one of his "guys" is in the room, mama doesn't stand a chance at any attention. We are working hard on his words. He has quite a few, between 20 or 30. Right now he is much more interested in looking at books, riding on his toy trucks, and playing on his slide. His comprehension is there, he would just much rather his brother do all the talking for him.<br />
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I'll leave you now with a whole bunch of pictures. We've got more playing to do. Today looks like it's going to be a nice one and I've got two little boys due to wake from their naps soon.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZvkzHNC7AAH3idUuMC2EKQIEPCQ5Wx3uRUY2xvjrrWygEVk3O_GQo8n-2jN0rmfR-rShI9DiX9HSJJ4FwvnqkX2XyKg9Dx0eoyHILW1nhuiMaj8zDsGd-tCFmg6KEpqTqY02_T_LxxjjY/s1600/DSC_0354.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZvkzHNC7AAH3idUuMC2EKQIEPCQ5Wx3uRUY2xvjrrWygEVk3O_GQo8n-2jN0rmfR-rShI9DiX9HSJJ4FwvnqkX2XyKg9Dx0eoyHILW1nhuiMaj8zDsGd-tCFmg6KEpqTqY02_T_LxxjjY/s320/DSC_0354.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Gabe showing off his very first cement burn on his first "official" day playing outside.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxTl4vtjPw1eexRCq6mN1FYLAPULRjYzt8p2lh3Rze9GJolbx1bs31LRzOsOoFhQrYpO3370KQ43Iq7aMtOkKYN9TYlOGHF0Tq5SJmtMUBa4_Vq_gwLLwVK5bj4ntqgF-VL9EAWl9QuBR1/s1600/DSC_0369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxTl4vtjPw1eexRCq6mN1FYLAPULRjYzt8p2lh3Rze9GJolbx1bs31LRzOsOoFhQrYpO3370KQ43Iq7aMtOkKYN9TYlOGHF0Tq5SJmtMUBa4_Vq_gwLLwVK5bj4ntqgF-VL9EAWl9QuBR1/s320/DSC_0369.JPG" width="212" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Nat and Daddy</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNAESs9-Bo9mAHAE2Ak7fsCWoDVRraByUMgyl2WA0n7858n6IgX-jczpDFmww5HXDIIJXffCYbI9SwU26Mdtwcq7XAxOb8vwBLnoAdKj3t4H2hEEWAKh7YUYxePoJT1cfEB3ty6bvvwCB/s1600/DSC_0362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNAESs9-Bo9mAHAE2Ak7fsCWoDVRraByUMgyl2WA0n7858n6IgX-jczpDFmww5HXDIIJXffCYbI9SwU26Mdtwcq7XAxOb8vwBLnoAdKj3t4H2hEEWAKh7YUYxePoJT1cfEB3ty6bvvwCB/s320/DSC_0362.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div>Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-8474136686232679522011-04-08T21:49:00.004-05:002011-08-23T20:46:42.529-05:00Your Birth Story... 17 months laterI've wanted to write this down so many times. I have written it in my head over and over since the day you were both born. I've talked it out with those that were there. To get the parts right. To fit the pieces together.
<br />Your birth, it was going to be amazing.
<br />It WAS amazing.
<br />Two perfect, little boys came into the world that day. Your souls captured mine. Those two little beings that had grown from teeny, tiny cells entered the world.
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<br />I had planned it down to the last detail. I had my bag packed. I had your bag packed. I was ready for you. Waiting for you to let me know you were ready to meet me.
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<br />
<br />I would be surrounded by my favorite songs.Daddy would keep me calm. Grandma would be standing to the side of me, cheering me on. I would push you forth, working as hard as I had ever worked. I would see you for the first time, held high and announced into the world before the doctor lay you on my chest. I would tell you both how much I loved you. Tell you how long we had waited and prayed for you. Your eyes would gaze up at me and in that instant, I would know I was meant to be your mommy.
<br />Just a quick kiss and a peek at your faces before you were whisked away for vitals, finger pricks, maybe some oxygen. Then off for more support since you were likely to be early arrivals.
<br />
<br />I wish it had gone like that.
<br />
<br />My birth story, the beginning of YOUR story, did not start out that way.
<br />
<br />On the evening before you were born your Uncle, Auntie and cousin came over to visit us. We had a delicious dinner, we played cards, chatted. I lounged on the couch, swollen and bloated. It was my third full day off of bed-rest. I had overdone it on my first day by walking around in attempt to lure you two to arrive. It hadn't worked, and instead of inducing your birth, I had only made myself more sore and uncomfortable.
<br />Our guests left before midnight. I washed up and got myself settled into bed. As soon as I lay still, you both decided it was time to wake up and start moving. You squished my bladder. With an exasperated sigh, I rolled myself out of bed.
<br />Daddy was fast asleep. Practically out by the time his head had hit the pillow.
<br />I hobbled off to the bathroom.
<br />Useless... I didn't really have to go, but as I stood up I felt a warm trickle run down my leg.
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Seriously!? I just wet my pants.</span>
<br />I went to change and as I bent over there was the trickle again.
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This is ridiculous!</span>
<br />It was my third attempt at changing my pajamas when I suddenly realized that this wasn't an embarrassing loss of bladder control. This was my water breaking.
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> My water broke!!</span>
<br />I tried to wake Daddy up. Over and over again, yelling his name, and poking him.
<br />He finally, stubbornly awoke.
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">It's hospital time, I said. These babies are coming. My water just broke.</span>
<br />I was expecting the movie version of a soon-to-be daddy's response. You know, the jumping up half asleep and driving off in the car with the pregnant wife standing and gawking at the crazy man she married. Instead, I got, "Can I go back to sleep?" as he rolled back over.
<br />
<br />
<br />I made some phone calls to Grandma, your aunties, and the hospital. Took a quick shower, picked up the house and did some dishes. I took one last look around our house. I would return as a mother. Our new life as a family of four was about to begin.
<br />
<br />Daddy and I left for the hospital shortly before 3 am.
<br />We arrived and got checked in. Grandma arrived just minutes behind us. My vitals were checked, I changed into a gown, and I was hooked up to monitors in one of the triage rooms.Everything looked great.
<br />They ran a test to make sure that my water had broke since my contractions were not considered "regular" enough to be admitted. When the swab came back positive for amniotic fluid they checked me into a labor and delivery room.
<br />We all got settled. Grandma got herself situated with a movie. Daddy curled up for some more sleep on the couch. I rested on the bed and smiled at all that was happening around me.
<br />
<br />Today was the day I was going to meet my sons. I was going to hold you both for the very first time. I would get to see the faces that I had spent so long imagining. I couldn't wait.
<br />We had waited so long to become parents. It was finally here. The culmination of all of our years of work, years of prayers, years of tears.
<br />
<br />The nurse entered the room and started hooking me up to the monitors again.
<br />
<br />You had both always sounded so good. Good strong hearts. Good rhythm. Always within 5 beats of one another.
<br />I wasn't all that concerned when she was having a difficult time detecting a heartbeat. It was a guaranteed challenge to keep you both on the monitors because of how you were positioned.
<br />Baby B was always wiggling around, so we frequently lost his.
<br />This time, though, it was Baby A causing us trouble. The nurse just couldn't pick his up.
<br />She would think she got it, but it would turn out to be my heart or Baby B's.
<br />
<br />After a few minutes my nerves started to kick in. Whatever we tried wasn't working.
<br />I did whatever they asked of me.
<br />
<br />We tried different positions. I flipped on one side, then the other.
<br />"We got it."
<br />"Never mind, it's gone again"...
<br />More nurses...Turn this way...
<br />"Call the on-call."...
<br />We tried an Internal fetal heartrate monitor... It was a no-go, my cervix was still posterior and not dilated enough, ...
<br />Even more nurses. "We got a heartrate! It's way too low, it sounds very irregular."...
<br />"This can't be right..."
<br />Roll this way...
<br />
<br />"Call the on-call NOW!"
<br />
<br />
<br />I tried to remain calm. I could sense the tension in the room.
<br />Then the shaking started. Uncontrollable. My teeth chattered and my muscles spasmed.
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Baby boy, are you okay? Please be okay?</span>
<br />"Sign this form, ma'am. Where's the doctor?"
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;">Lord, please watch over these babies.</span>
<br />"He's on his way"
<br />
<br />The doctor arrived a minute later and I was immediately whisked across the hall into the operating room.
<br />He performed what felt like a split second ultrasound to determine what was happening with Baby A.
<br />As soon as the wand touched my belly, I knew it wasn't good.
<br />What I had always seen and heard as a rapid heartbeat was agonizingly slow. It didn't have the same sound or rhythm that we had been used to hearing.
<br />Your heart sounded like it was working so hard to keep beating, and it wasn't doing a very good job of it.
<br />
<br />I looked to the doctor for answers and some sort of reassurance. He said that we needed to get the babies out as soon as possible.
<br />
<br />The room became frantic. I was hoisted on to the surgical table. The doctor and his nurse began scrubbing in and began to prep me with iodine on my stomach, and a catheter.
<br />Daddy walked in, head to toe in scrubs. He was quickly asked to leave the room. He squeezed my hand, kissed my forehead, told me he loved me, and left.
<br />I realized how uncertain the situation was. They didn't want your daddy in the room because they didn't know what they were going to encounter when you arrived.
<br />
<br />I cried. I trembled.
<br />My body still shaking from the adrenaline of what was happening.
<br />
<br />I distinctly remember the doctor yelling at the surgical team to hurry. "Don't you people know what STAT means?!" were his words.
<br />In a split second I was swarmed by a at least 7 more people from the medical team.
<br />Signing papers, answering questions, IV's, blood pressure cuffs, heart and oxygen monitors. All at once. The hot tears hit my cheeks.
<br />I couldn't breath.
<br />I panted to the nurses that I couldn't breath. They held my hand, smoothed my forehead and told me to take deep breaths. They assured me there was oxygen getting to me through the mask.
<br />
<br />"Tell me when she's out," the doctor said.
<br />Just as they were drawing up the blue curtain over my chest, I looked down to see the OB standing with the scalpel in his hand, hovering over my stomach, waiting to deliver you.
<br />
<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Please, Lord. Take care of my babies... Go to sleep, go to sleep, hurry Anna, go to sleep.</span>
<br />
<br />I have never been so scared in my life. I have never felt so out of control. I surrendered. I gave my body over to the doctors. I had done all that I could as a mother. Now it was up to them.
<br />I remember being nervous during the first 12 weeks of pregnancy. Every time I used the bathroom I was scared to see blood, to see the proof it was over. At each ultrasound and obstetrical check-up, I would hold my breath until we heard both heartbeats. I crossed my fingers until we got to 24 weeks, the age of viability. I had never once considered that that the life of my child could end, right before it was about to officially begin.
<br />
<br />I awoke in recovery with a searing pain in my abdomen. They gave me morphine.
<br />I blacked out again.
<br />I woke again. More pain. More morphine.
<br />
<br />I was finally able to fully open my eyes, and I searched the room for a nurse.
<br />I was scared to ask how my babies were. Scared to hear the worst.
<br />
<br />She said the most amazing words that I have ever heard.
<br />"You have two healthy babies."
<br />I closed my eyes and exhaled a sigh of immense relief. My babies were safe.
<br />
<br />Gabe, my Baby A, arrived with a strong, rapid heartbeat. There was only a hint of a aarythmia. There was no explanation for why your heartbeat had dropped so suddenly, and why we had never once heard any irregularity before. Nat, my Baby B, arrived minutes later.
<br />You were in the NICU for support. You were both big, healthy, and breathing on your own.
<br />The first day of your life was a fog, a blur.
<br />I remember feeling like I wanted to die. The pain radiating through my body was horrendous. I couldn't make sense of conversations.
<br />When family arrived I broke down.
<br />I had just given birth to you both, yet I hadn't even met you, hadn't even seen you.
<br />Your grandfather, Aunt and Uncle arrived to meet you, yet <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> hadn't even met <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>.
<br />
<br />For seven hours I waited.
<br />Daddy asked if I wanted to see pictures of you. I didn't.
<br />I wanted to meet you in person. I didn't want to see you on the screen of a camera.
<br />I wanted to hold you. To touch you, to count your fingers and toes. To kiss your heads, breath in your scent while snuggling you to my chest.
<br />
<br />For seven hours I halfheartedly listened to people around me make conversation.
<br />As time went on I began to feel worse. My head throbbed. I couldn't talk or move without vomiting. I couldn't gather the strength to even keep my eyes open.
<br />
<br />At 2:00pm in the afternoon, you entered my hospital room. You had been given permission to leave the NICU for 15 minutes to meet your Mama. Daddy pushed your little bassinet in and handed each one of you to me separately.
<br />I could only hold you each for a few seconds until my strength gave out, and I would vomit again.
<br />Everyone admired how perfect you both were.
<br />
<br />I sat, in the fog of drugs, lack of sleep, and stared
<br />
<br />It wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't suppose to feel like this. It was nothing like I had imagined.
<br />I couldn't cuddle you and I desperately wanted to.
<br />You could only stay a short time. You needed to get back on the monitors, and stay under the lights to keep your temperatures regulated.
<br />I cried when you left.
<br />I hadn't gotten to see you with open eyes. I hadn't held your hands, nor counted your fingers or toes.
<br />That image that I had in my head of how our first meeting would go was nothing like this.
<br />
<br />The surgery was described as "traumatic". The doctor cut fast and wide, skipping some of the usual steps in a cesarean to get Gabe out quickly, so I lost a lot of blood, and required a transfusion
<br />
<br />My strength began to return while receiving the second unit during the blood transfusion. The sickness faded into the background. The physical pain diminished.
<br />I closed my eyes and focused on the positive.
<br />
<br />We had made it through. Our new life was beginning, so I grasped it, and held on.
<br />
<br />My second meeting with you went better than the first.
<br />There were tears, but they were happy tears.
<br />I inspected your fingers and toes. All 20 fingers, 20 toes. Right where they should be.
<br />I whispered how much I loved you and had waited for you both.
<br />
<br />You looked at me. Your eyes grasped my soul.
<br />It was what I had waited for, what I had prayed for.
<br />
<br />No, it was not the birth story that I had imagined. It brings tears to my eyes when I retell it. I always feel envious when other moms talk about those first moments after giving birth. Those first minutes of their little ones lives while they lock eyes with their mothers, those first moments of nursing, the Golden Hour of bonding when you finally get to hold that child in your arms. That same child that you have held within your body for months.
<br />In the end, it doesn't matter how you entered into the world. It just matters that you did.
<br />
<br />It was an amazing beginning to what has been the start of two amazing, little lives.
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<br />To my beautiful, perfect little boys, Gabriel Douglas, and Nathaniel Robert. Your mama is so proud of you... everyday.
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<br />I love you both to the moon and back.Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3934187486857184519.post-57661396109651047452011-03-31T09:02:00.003-05:002011-03-31T12:52:47.180-05:00I was going to post last night.<br />
I was going to come on and rant about how I am feeling suffocated by my kids.<br />
How I am tired of breaking up fights, I am tired of their naps being staggered so I get absolutely no break during the day.<br />
I am tired of the screaming. Tired of the tears. Tired of being a needed ALL the time.<br />
I can't turn my back without one of them climbing a table or pushing a chair up to the counter to retrieve some type of item dangerous to toddlers.<br />
I feel guilty for thinking it and feeling it. I know that it's normal, that most mom's, especially SAHMs can feel like this from time to time.<br />
I logged on, and on my reading list of blogs that I follow was an update from a fellow mother to twins.<br />
One of her little girls died yesterday.<br />
They were born very early. She and her sister had spent all of their lives fighting to live. All 7 months of her little life had been lived in a hospital, with tubes in her arms, her nose, and in her chest. They never got to bring her home.<br />
<br />
Now she is gone.<br />
<br />
My heart aches for her parents. Her sister will not have memories, only pictures to look at, of her identical twin. <br />
I felt horrible, stupid, and guilty. These little things that irritate me, are things that her mother and father long for, and can no longer have with their child. The everyday things that I take for granted are little moments that they will never have.<br />
My heart is broken for them. I can only hope that everyone's prayers will uplift them and get them through this difficult time.<br />
I'm starting today with a new perspective. Life is so short, and so precious to take it for granted. My kids could be taken from me tomorrow and I would kick myself for feeling so selfish today.<br />
I'll be hugging them closer, cuddling with them more, and saying a prayer of thanks for having all the time that I have with them.Annie Kateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11795696928347212578noreply@blogger.com2