little and littlest

Little Mason has never seemed so big. Eli seems absolutely tiny.

Eli's birth story

Enough already, right? I've handwritten a bit of this story, wrote a series of stories from different perspectives, and told the tale to those that ask. For a while I thought that I was done, but it turns out I do need to write about it. I've tried a couple times, spent a lot of energy editing the first paragraph, and experienced writer's block. You'd think I could just write down what happened but this experience was indescribably intense. It's hard to know how much to share, but I really want a record, in my own words. That night, or morning I suppose, was one of the most emotional times of my life. I experienced everything from fear to peace, unpreparedness to confidence, pain to euphoria, and all the emotions in between.

On Wednesday, the 15th, I took a nap, went out to lunch with Jason, and hung out with my mom and sister. It was a normal day. That night Mason woke up around 1am asking for milk. We usually only give him water at night but it didn't seem like a big deal so we headed to the kitchen. I felt a strange little sensation when I walked so I called out for Jason to take over with Mason and get him back into bed. I felt sort of sick, like I was going to throw up. I went back to bed, this time putting down an extra towel, just in case. I must have complained about feeling sick a couple of times because Jason brought me a piece of bread at 3am. I remember getting up and going to the bathroom several times. I just didn't feel good. I started having Braxton Hicks contractions, but I'd experienced them so much during the last few weeks that I still really didn't think "this is it". I figured I'd simply wait and see what happened and if my water broke or something then we'd head in to be checked.

I found out that soaking in a warm bath helps ease the tension and discomfort of false contractions so around 3:30 I abandoned hopes of sleep and filled the tub. I got in and it seemed like as soon as I leaned back I was hit with a really hard contraction. Really really hard. I called out for Jason. He came in and I asked him to write down the time. He did and waited for me to decide how to proceed. I couldn't believe how much it hurt. The next contraction came just three minutes later and it was bad. I realized I was in labor and we needed to get going quickly! I told him to start loading up and call my mom to have her take over Mason duty. I was in the tub for three more contractions. While I was in there I was really scared. I had big plans for this birth. I was set on having him naturally and wanted to be really involved as well. The pain of these contractions was insane. I began to have real doubts about being able to continue on for hours with this level of pain. I did not remember the early stages of labor being so intense with Mason. I remembered reading that you can't walk or talk during real labor so I quietly sang "I am a child of God" during each of those contractions. I was pleased that the pain only lasted as long as each of the quickly whispered verses.

Jason had woken up my mom and they decided that the fastest way to get to the hospital would be to drop Mason off at her house on the way. As I could manage I called out additional items I knew we needed and other little directions. To Jason's credit he was moving fast. He took a trip out to warm up the car. I moved into the bedroom to try to get dressed so we could go. I knelt at the foot of the bed, leaning against it for support, and prayed. At this point time slowed wayyyy down. When the contractions came I used counter -pressure on my lower back and had a lot of relief. Jason took our bags out to the car and while he was gone the pain really changed. As I knelt there I had a hyper-awareness of my body. The contractions changed and I felt a need to push. I did not want to push. I pushed for two hours with Mason and it was pretty horrible. I remembered a couple lines from a book my midwife gave me. "There is a difference between pain and suffering". I was obviously in pain, but in that moment I calmed down. I told myself to take control, that my body knew what to do, and I knew how to experience this without suffering. I started swaying back and forth on my knees and alternating between counter-pressure and grasping my own hands to avoid pushing. A heavy calm filled the room. I no longer felt the need to cry out with pain, just to breathe and be quiet. Another tip from the book popped into mind: to focus in on the pain. So I did. At one moment I distinctly felt the bones of my body move in preparation of the baby's descent. I don't remember pain after this point. The pushing feeling was overwhelming but I wouldn't describe it as pain. Jason took Mason out to the car and I was struck by the realization that I wasn't going to be able to walk from the emergency room entrance to the OB ward. Shortly, I would discover that I couldn't walk at all.

When Jason came in to get me I was still on my knees, deeply focused on breathing. He said "It's time to go". He reached out and helped me to my feet. As I stood I was aware of a great change in my body. It was an alignment of sorts. I knew without a doubt that as I rose, everything was moving into place. I felt like I should keep going and as Jason supported me I went up onto my toes. At that moment I realized the baby was coming. As I came down from the demi pointe releve I felt the baby crowning. I looked Jason in the face and told him to bring Mason back in from the car, to get me some towels, and call and ambulance. From the bath to this point was about 25 minutes.

He threw some towels in the room and went out to get Mason. When I was all alone I tried to get back down on the ground and felt the baby's head coming out and then suddenly his head was out! I tried to support his head but I couldn't tell where his face was. Time froze and I didn't know what to do. I felt so unprepared. I should have done more reading and research about home births, just in case. We have several friends and family members that choose to do this. But they are prepared. I wasn't. And I didn't know what to do to get his shoulders out. I started feeling so scared. I prayed and prayed and prayed. And then his shoulders were just out. And then he was here! I called out to Jason "he's here" and laid him on the floor. At this point the calm kicked back in. I noticed the cord was wrapped around his neck and across his face. I unwrapped it and covered him in a towel and checked his breathing. Jason, in the meantime had called 911 and was on the phone, holding Mason, when he came back in and saw his new baby had arrived. Eli wasn't making much noise and oh, how I wanted him to cry out. I asked Jason for the bulb syringe and he handed it to me right away. (Later I asked him where he had found it since I didn't even know where it was. He doesn't remember even giving it to me.) While I suctioned out Eli's nose and mouth, Jason was on the phone with dispatch. They told him to tie a cord off with a shoelace. I heard him ask if it needed to be clean. Turns out he was trying to hold it together and stay calm and was staring at his brand new pair of basketball shoes debating if he should use those laces or not. He ended up grabbing a old shoelace off his classic white Adidas shoes. About that time some police officers arrived. They saw the baby was already delivered and from the doorway blurted words of encouragement and assured us help was on the way. The paramedics arrived. They clamped off the cord better and went to cut it. I asked if I could and she let me. One lady took Eli up on the bed and checked him out and finally got a good cry out of him. The other kept trying to give me an IV, take my blood pressure, and told me to lay down. I did not want anything to do with any of those things. I opted to stay on my knees as the contractions started up again. With Mason this part went by unnoticed. This time around I had strong, painful contractions. I sent Jason for a bowl and when he brought it in I had delivered the afterbirth. "Here it is" I said. "What?" was the paramedic's response. "The placenta" I said while thinking: pay attention people, and I put it in the bowl. They gave Eli back to me so I could hold him and warm him up and nurse. Mason had been crying because he felt all alone outside the room so we brought him in and he was content. The policemen gave him a stuffed bear and a toy car and he was happy as could be. My parents arrived before the lost ambulance found it's way to our house. As we were getting everything taken care of I started to shake. Thinking back on what had just happened I said "I think I skipped a couple steps". I had been waiting for that distinct water-breaking sensation. I didn't ever push either.

They wanted to get us to the hospital right away. They tried bringing the stretcher into the master bedroom but it couldn't make the last turn. I got some clothes on and  just walked down the hall. and got on it., feeling kind of silly. Although I felt really good, I couldn't stop shaking, and I was so hungry. When I was getting all situated on the stretcher I handed my mom my ice pack and said "trade you for a banana". She went and got me one from the kitchen because moms are understanding like that. They suggested I refrain from eating but it seemed like a darn good idea to me. They strapped me down in several places and I'll admit I started panicking. I don't like being restrained, even IVs make me anxious. Then they started pushing me out the door. It was raining out and we have three steps. I was sure we were going to tip over and I couldn't even get my arms loose to break the fall. We made it to the ambulance just fine but as soon as they shut the door I yelled "where's my husband?". They said he was up front where the seat belts are. I spent the rest of the ride trying to go back to the calm place in my mind from earlier, but I was going into shock and was not feeling calm at all. I didn't recognize the view out the window and for a while thought that we had gone to a different city. I tried not to cry but the events of the past hour hit me hard. I remember thinking, "Whoa, that was really scary."

When we got to the hospital the EMT ran Eli in to get him under the lights since he was so cold. We got situated quickly but our unusual arrival with the baby already delivered added some confusion to their normal routine. By the time my midwife was notified and arrived I was exhausted starving, and shaking like crazy. She tried massaging my stomach but when she even touched me I started freaking out. Poor lady has a broken shoulder but luckily her hurt side was the furthest from me. I knew I was acting crazy but I couldn't help it. Every time she touched me I pushed her away. I simultaneously grabbed at her arm and apologized over and over. Finally we all decided I needed some drugs to take the edge off. When that didn't work we doubled the dose. She assured me it was going to knock me out but it didn't do much more than calm me a bit. Finally Eli was warm enough that Jason could hold him. We couldn't rest; we were too wired from the whole ordeal. We ended up spending the next night at the hospital and by the following day we were begging to get discharged we were so bored. Jason went home to shower earlier and was so thoughtful and cleaned up  everything in our room and cleaned the carpets. I know that was really hard for him to do, but  it made such a difference. Coming home to the place of so much stress and emotion was hard enough with everything perfectly clean.

Going through such a quick labor was such a different experience from the baby before. With Mason I was sore, head to toe, and especially my arms from pushing. This time I felt great and was back to normal quickly other than stitches. We couldn't believe it had happened like that. Neither could anyone else. I sent a text to all my siblings saying "Whoops. Baby is here. Had him at home. Now we are at the hospital and everyone is fine". Most thought it was a joke.

Eli is really special baby. I am so glad he's here and that everything turned out okay. We've called him "Lucky" from the beginning and he's rightfully earned the nickname over and over. I feel so fortunate that we weren't in the car when he was born. Although I didn't really know what to do, my body did, and thankfully we could call for help. Although the experience was so intense, Jason kept remarking on how calm I was. I really think there were angels there helping us out.

I don't know how something can be so frightening, overwhelming, awesome, exhilarating, and spiritual all at the same time. But no matter the story, childbirth is all of those things. It changed me forever.

it sucks

When I get very sick and have a high temperature, I get delirious. I have a reoccurring 'vision' where I am in large warehouse type room with a very very large object. The object itself has no characteristics other than it's size. It is enormous. The size of it make me sick and full of dread. As time goes on the object divides in size. Almost with every fever laden beat of my heart it divides again. The sickening feeling diminishes with the objects' size but is replaced with anxiety. I have an intense feeling that I have to find a way to contain the object. As it gets smaller and smaller the pressure to get a hold of the object increases. Finally it has shrunk into the size of a sliver and I have it in my hand. At this point I usually wake up, soaked in sweat and trembling. And my hand is firmly pinching my fingers together until they are cramping, so that I don't let go of that sliver.

I share this for two reasons. The first is that my experience with nursing is very similar to this "object dream". Breastfeeding is a huge challenge for me. When my baby was two days old I was already almost unable to continue because of the pain. I asked for help from everyone I could think of. They all assured me his latch was correct. Things just got worse. When he cried his "hungry" cry, it would make me physically ill in anticipation of the pain. The only way I could manage at all was with a shield. I promised myself I would nurse for at least a week. Then my goal was three weeks. Slowly I started to heal but I didn't dare even try to nurse without the shield protecting me. I read a million articles and books about how shield are evil and can cause early weaning, but the only thing I cared about is that it got us through another day. I was doing the best I could. Three weeks passed, and then we hit the month mark. It felt like a miracle. Nursing became like my dream. When I thought about it long term, it seemed too big, too hard, and too dreadfully impossible. But nursing is just one meal at a time, one day at a time.

Unfortunately it still hurts almost every time, but it's not as bad. I wish I loved it, but I don't hate it anymore. This week was the 2 month mark. Best case scenario, a mother really should nurse for a year. That's twelve whole months. For me, even making it this far made me feel like a champion. If I wasn't so prudish about it all, I probably would have put a sign in my yard announcing my good news. Anyway, I couldn't wait for the baby's 2 month appointment to proudly tell the doctor I was still nursing. The day before his appointment I started feeling extra tender. I started to suspect I had a breast infection. Within hours of noticing that, I was very very sick. My fever spiked, my body felt like each bone was crumbing, and I was too weak to hold the baby and stand at the same time. Jason had the baby all night and would bring him to me to nurse. Breastfeeding was absolutely torturous but eventually brought a brief moment of relief from the chest pain. I thought that night would never end, or that I'd surely die in the midst of it. It was like having the flu with three times the intensity of symptoms. Reason number two that I shared my "object dream": I was so out of my mind that I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. At one point I knew I needed to hide my baby from the Nazi's so I dreamed I put him in our gun safe. Later, when he was crying and Jason got up to get him, I told him not to because "he is safe, he is safe".

I feel so lucky that we had that appointment the next day. I was put to the test again when we had to wait for over an hour. By the time the nurse came in to measure the baby I was in tears. She took my temp and it was 103. Our doctor checked me out and then gave me an antibiotic shot in the hip to jump start my recovery. It may or may not have been administered by shot gun.

We finally got home and called in the cavalry. My mom, who also goes by Florence Nightingale, came to take care of the baby while Jason ran errands and I passed out. When I woke up next, the house was clean,, Jason had the prescription filled, and everyone was taken care of. My friend Heather even brought us dinner. I nursed Eli and went back to sleep. Sleep and nurse is all I did for the next 12 hours. Even when going to bed that night I still had a temp of 102. Then by midnight things started to get better. I could actually go the baby instead of having him brought to me. I stopped shaking. I stopped feeling "freezing hot". Today has been even better. I feel a little bit stronger.

I really love this day

I love Valentine's day. I always have. Even back in High School when I think I hated everything. I love this day. I think it's great that we have a day to observe loving each other. I'm not so much into the commercial side of things, but making Valentine's cards with my two year old was really gratifying. I love that my husband knows how to show love without getting corny. He knows I'm not really into jewelry, can't eat much chocolate, and would puke if he presented me with a red teddy bear holding a heart that said "I love you beary much". Now, cleaning and vacuuming the car, be still my heart. Seriously.

That reminds me. I went to WalMart in the morning to pick up a bag of clementines for Mason's preschool teachers. I was laughing out loud (yes, by myself) by the time I checked out. There were men everywhere. They were stumbling through the aisles, flowers in one hand and some red/pink/sparkly waste of money in the other. You could tell from their expressions that they had procrastinated, they knew they were doomed, and they would rather be getting a root canal than dealing with Valentine's day again. I almost told one guy that it was going to be okay and to just write her a note. But he looked like he was about to bawl so I minded my own business.

I texted friends and family and used the "L" word. My brother Nate texted back "Ew". I took Mason around delivering Valentines. He sort of freaked out when he realized we were giving away his candy.

My holiday loving mother gave us the tradition of Cupid visiting the night of Valentine's Day. No, not the same neighbor that dresses up like Santa in a naked angel get-up, just treats left on the porch from the winged babe. I tried telling Mason about Cupid but he got it confused with Santa and so I just figured he'd understand when it happened. Well, my parents came over with the traditional plate of homemade sugar cookies, Hershey Kisses, and other treats on a paper doily and plate. When Mason heard the doorbell ring he thought it was Cupid and burst into tears when he saw his grandparents. "Not Tupid!" he screamed. My dad thought he was calling them stupid when he was hollering for Cupid.

Ah, Valentine's Day. High expectations, broken hearts, and little reminders of the abundant love in life.

When the Starrs come to town

We have a fun/unhealthy tradition of going out for ice cream when the in laws come visiting. Janett works at Maggie Moos so we head over between 2:30-4:30 for dollar cones. My favorite is carrot cake, which they only have seasonally, so last time I got Churro. Mason's favorite is whatever I got, so we "switch" a lot. Joe's favorite is something that he calls "Meatloaf" because of it's appearance and makes him look like he's wearing lipstick. Jason's favorite is probably...ice cream. Any ice cream.

say Ahhhh!

I went to the dentist yesterday. It's been an embarrassingly long time since I've been. I'm not a dentist hater, I just never think about going. So I went. I left the little boys home with Jason and somehow managed to be a few minutes early. Lately, I'm not early for anything. Ever. After I checked in I decided to clean out my bag. I heard about that tip in an article in Reader's Digest several years ago. Another Use-Your-Time-Wisely tip was to wipe down the inside of your car while stuck in traffic or in the car wash. We don't really have much traffic where I live. That's why I live here. And every time I am in the car wash I am furious at myself for those four minutes for forgetting to toss some auto wipes in the car. What a waste of time:) Reader's Digest reminds me of my parents. They always have an issue of it kicking around their house. My little brother and I had grand plans to make big bucks by submitting humorous anecdotes.We never did...make big bucks... or submit a single story. I can tell this dentist has a younger generation of clients because there isn't a Reader's Digest in site. They are more of the Sports Illustrated/Redbook variety. So I think I'm officially in the mom club due to the contents of my bag. As I sorted out the jumble I found 2 diapers, the spare binky I've been searching the house for, antibac gel, an envelope covered in scribbles, a matchbox car, and half of a banana. Not a new banana either.

Eventually I got called back and settled into a chair. Immediately I stopped listening to whatever the dental assistant was saying and focused my limited attention on the wall across from that chair. It's my favorite color of blue. I've been debating painting on of my bedroom walls that color. My husband thinks painting one wall is dumb. That, combined with the fact that every spare moment is given to showering or sleep made me realize I probably won't paint anytime in the foreseeable future. But if I did it would be that exact color. Then I realized the girl was awkwardly waiting for a response from me. Pardon? No, I don't want the TV on. I just want to sleep. It was very nice lying down and relaxing, even if it was while getting my teeth cleaned. It's the closest thing I've gotten to a nap in weeks.

working hard... or hardly working

"I went through that!"

The sled

Here's what Jason's been up to. He's not the type that is easily unemployed. He just has to keep busy doing something. He's doing odd jobs here and there, but mostly he keeps busy doing snowmobile tours up at Brian Head. The job is a good fit for him because he enjoys being outside, being physically active, and interacting with people. He hurt his back a couple times getting customers unstuck and the tips aren't as good as he hoped (and as I think he deserves) but it has still been a fun thing for him to get to do.

Snow capped Cedar Breaks

and this is why it always takes him a long time to get home at night

there's one born every minute

I have a weakness. I know, it's crazy to hear it, but it's true. Luckily, there's only one. This weakness has been especially prevalent in my life lately because of the hours I keep. My name is Ashley and I'm a sucker for infomercials.

I get up a few times every night and if I'm having a really hard time staying awake enough to hold my baby then I turn on the TV. The top viewing options at these crazy hours include The Weather Channel, one of those overly dramatic cooking competitions on The Food Network, or re runs of Dr. Phil. OR...I can pick from one of dozens of channels with happy people, upbeat music, and unbelievable products and yes they just happen to be having "the best price ever" "for a limited time". At first glance I think "who in the world would ever want to pay money for that?". Then I find myself still watching testimonials ten minutes later. Then I think, "well I would never pay that price" right about the time they say "call now and we'll slash that price in half". I don't really need it, I tell myself. BUT THEN, they offer TWO for the price of ONE. By the time I hear the words "But WAIT, call in the next five minutes and we'll throw in these perfectly useless pieces of junk ABSOLUTELY FREE!" I am scrambling for my cell phone and credit card.

Truthfully I've only ever bought one thing off of a TV add and that was a BumpIt. Just kidding, but I ordered a Pilates DVD once.

The commercial that really draws me in is the presentation for the Magic Bullet. It really is magic. I've been so tempted to buy one...I want to make all those awesome smoothies/sauces/chicken salads/salsas/omelets in just "one...two...three pulses and it's done!". The kicker? I already own one! But I don't think mine is magic because mine only makes smoothies :) You know a company is good if they can sell you on something you already have.

BUT WAIT! They've come up with a new product that I.JUST.HAVE.TO.HAVE! Presenting the Baby Bullet (yes, I'm pro-gun, but no, this has nothing to do with my toddler's right to bear arms). With a Baby Bullet you can make and store organic baby food in under five minutes. I'm pretty sure I will fail as a mother if I don't obtain this product. It doesn't matter that my current Magic Bullet, or the blender in the cupboard, or even my hands and a fork for that matter, can do the same thing. This comes with cute little cups with cute little smiley faces on them. The freezer container thing is pretty cool too.

I'm not really going to buy the Baby Bullet. Or Hip Hop Abs. Or Wen. Or make up made from dirt. Or the vacuum that can suck up small pets. Or 1,000 secrets doctors won't tell you (but I will for $50). But I am SO going to keep watching. And in the morning I'll be glad I was too bleary eyed to make out that 1-800 number.

Words of the Week from Guernsey

When I had one kid I gave up sleep, reading, and making homemade bread. Now I have two kids and these things have miraculously become possible again (okay, not so much sleeping but I don't seem to need it as badly). It doesn't make sense, but I'm not going to question it.

Thank you Lindsey for lending me your copy of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society. Here are my favorite lines:

• Reading good books ruins you for enjoying bad books.

• I think you learn more if you're laughing at the same time. 

• My worries travel about my head on their well worn paths, and it's a relief to put them on paper.

• I can't think of anything lonelier than spending the rest of my life with someone I can't talk to, or worse, someone I can't be silent with.

the view from here

These are the thing I spend my days looking at:


1. Lucky Eli in a sling. I love having him close and also having two free hands. (thanks again Misty)

2. Mason playing in the backyard by himself. Sad, huh? Juggling the needs of the two boys is tricky. So I put Mason in the backyard and watch him from my open bedroom window while nursing Eli covered in blankets to keep covered from the cold air.

3. One of my "keep busy" projects. I've found it helps to have something to work on when we're up late at night or when I'm feeling less than productive. I've been working on converting all my home videos from VHS to DVD. My dresser is a jumble of cords and electronics.

4. Here's Mr. E giving me one of those looks. I spy the laptop on the bed. I'm on it a lot when I'm sitting around doing nothing (ha! I mean nursing all the time).

5. A view I need to see more often. The weather has been so cold that I don't dare take the kids out much lately. Thank heavens for the treadmill...Mason likes to take a turn and the sound puts Eli right to sleep.

6. Mace Face flashing that smile that melts me every time.

"he tangata"

At first I thought it was the holidays, then I thought it was the new baby. At last I've realized it's providence that I've been so fortunate to be surrounded by very very good people. My life has entered into a serene season. We stay in and keep the days simple. The quiet is only interrupted by visits from good people, and they are not interruptions at all. I'm quite content with life as it is, but spending time with family, friends, and neighbors adds to the abundance until truly my cup runneth over.

I feel like I have had a steady stream of enjoyable encounters for several weeks. Family from both sides have come to meet their newest relation. Neighbors and church members have called in person or on the phone. We meet up with friends as we're able or more often have long conversations on the phone. 

I especially enjoyed span of time full of some of my favorite females. I usually have more male friends but my few female friends I'm very close to. My soul sister Lindsey gave me some of her limited time before her last semester started. Then my sister Amy flew in to have a "sleepover" with Eli. As soon as she left and I was feeling forlorn my cousin Misty came for the weekend. All this was accentuated by calls and chats with my mom and other sisters. At one point in the past few weeks a close family friend Bonnie was visiting with her family when several of my family members came over. They apologized for the crowd and though my house was full my heart was filled also. 

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not very good at staying in touch. I love that I have people in my life that forgive that flaw. I'm grateful for the relationships that are strong and close despite the lack of time and nurturing that they deserve. I'm so lucky to have fellow young mom/friends that I can call for advice or commiserate over sleepless nights with.

Every chance meeting, every thoughtful call, every offer to help has felt like a tremendous blessing. All this reminds me of this Maori proverb:

He aha te mea nui o te ao? Maki e ki atu, he tangata, he tangata, he tangata. 

 What are the important things of the world? I reply forcefully, the people, the people, the people.

And since this is a lot of writing I thought I should add a picture. For lack of anything better, here are two from when I was a camp counselor in Connecticut with Misty in 2003.

The first is the Art Shack. I spent my time here and in the ceramics studio.
Each year the counselor got to paint a panel however they chose.

I chose that saying in honor of the amazing friends we made from all over the world.

Tuned up

A while ago my uncle decided to move into my mom's childhood home. There was a lot of sorting and cleaning out to be done. My mom asked for her piano. It was given to her by her parents when she was about ten years old. When I was a kid we were never allowed to play it and it eventually fell into disrepair. Mom asked me if I would keep the piano at my house, which I was more than delighted to consent to.

My uncles brought it to town in the back of a truck. We called up a bunch of "muscles" to help get it my house. Then Mom found a piano repairman to assess the damage. Every single key had fallen which meant every broken piece had to be fixed along with a lot of other repairs. At last it was restored to it's original, working condition.

It's been a long time since I've played. I was never very good but it's still disappointing to see how much ability I've lost, but also surprising to see what my fingers remember. I struggle through new music but I can still play some of my beautiful old recital pieces from memory.

Most of all I love having it in my home. I love to think of my mother sitting at the piano as a girl. I think about my Grandpa carefully reconstructing and painting the bench. I think of all that this instrument has witnessed over the years, the hours of practicing, the music performed, and the memories made. At my Grandma and Grandpa's house it was covered in photos of the family. I feel really honored to have it at my house.

So I practice. Jason asks me to keep playing. Mason sings while I plunk out "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". And baby Eli stops fussing when I hold him close and play one handed.

This is why I smile:

mom-be-zombie

My life goes like this. We're up all day like normal life. Eli sleeps a lot and deeply. This means more one on one time with Mason and more time to easily get things done around the house. As the day comes to a close, Mason goes to bed and we say goodnight to Jason. And then Eli is up for the night. He's not too fussy, just awake and alert and not in the mood to sleep. So we migrate around the house, both of us dozing off for a few minutes here and there. Eventually morning approaches and Eli winds down. About the time he sacks out for a long nap, Mason wakes up. Sometimes we can convince him to crawl in bed and cuddle with us, but more often he's hungry and ready for breakfast.

One of the strangest parts of this schedule is "getting ready for the day" when I still haven't really slept. It is still hard to juggle two kids at times but for the most part this schedule provides the most one on one time with each of them.

The down side? Not much sleep. When Jason isn't headed up the mountain to do snowmobile tours he helps me get a little nap, but I'm a light sleeper and the kids usually need me sooner than later. I am amazed at how our bodies adapt. I've never been a good sleeper and I usually spend half the night trying to fall asleep. Nowadays if I sit still for more than three minutes I fall asleep without meaning to. I can sleep in some of the most awkward positions and with kids heaped all over me. Like last night. I spent an hour and a half mostly sleeping, on the couch, with each of the boys nestled in under each arm. No one even fell off. I finally got up, feeling a bit rested, with two numb arms.

I started wondering how much a body can take though. I've been amazed at how well I was functioning on such little sleep and wondered at what point it would start to be too little for too long. The answer is 17 days. That's when I started having major brain malfunctions. I was up with Eli a lot that 17th night but I couldn't for the life of me remember when I fed him last. I was trying to add three hours to eleven pm and couldn't figure out about when he should be fed next. I wear a ring to help me remember which side to start nursing on next and I spent half the night staring at my thumbs trying to remember what that ring was on my right thumb for. I often call Eli "Mason" by mistake but that night was really bad. I kept telling myself not to call him Mason, but the word Eli was gone from my vocabulary. At one point I heard myself saying "Hey little Milo, mommy's here". Milo? It is a good mix of Mason and Eli...But MILO?

Hopefully this brain damage is reversible and someday...like in 25 years...I can catch up on my sleep. Until then, if I act really stupid or like a zombie, it's because I am.

Mason, eating my brain.Actually he's trying to plug the iPod charger into my head. I wish it worked like that.

 

baby boys

First off, I'm not a big anything to do with sports baseball fan, but I do adore this outfit. Mostly, I adore the babies that wear it.

Mason

Eli

Every time I insist Mason and Eli don't look alike, Jason shows me a picture or two and then I have to admit I'm mistaken.