Pax Augustus

Pax Augustus was born on Thursday, September 24, 2009 at 8:47 a.m. He weighed 6 lbs, 5 oz and was 20 inches long. His first name, Pax, is Latin and means Peace. Additionally, Jeff and I met at St. Mary's College, near the Patuxant River - Pax River for short. I delivered Pax in a beautiful, peace-filled, unmedicated water birth - a fitting name indeed. My mother had the honor of choosing his middle name, and she chose Augustus, a Seehaver family name stretching back six generations. We love the name, too, because her birth month is August, and thus it directly honors her as well...

In the featured photo, Pax is wearing a hat, also known as a "Magic Hanky," made and given to us by Julie Martell:

The Magic Hanky
I'm just a little hankie, as pretty as can be;
And with a stitch or two, a bonnet was made from me.
I can be wron home from the hospital or on your baptismal day
And then I will be tucked away
to await your wedding day.

On your wedding day, a hanky I will be,
for every bride needs something old,
and surely I will be.
Since you happen to be a boy,
and someday you may marry,
you can give your lovely bride
a hanky she can carry.

Waiting.

Waiting and patience have never been my forte, nor will they ever be in the future. I am waiting. I am more than ready for this baby to be born, because I want to meet him and I want to see my feet again and I want to drink beer with my husband again. I want to fall in love with the newest member of our family and I want to ooh and aah over every tiny feature of his little self.

I've been resisting writing a blog entry because I simply wanted the next one I wrote to be a birth announcement. I've been working on some "drafts" of future posts in the meantime, but "write true feelings on blog" has been nagging me for a few days now. Although my due date is still (!) two days away, I am feeling especially anxious and hopeful that I will have this baby by Friday, because my midwife is suddenly going out of town on the 26th, and won't return for two weeks. While I know everything will still be fine if Friday comes and goes with no baby, I clearly chose to have a midwife for a reason (or twelve) and I am fervently hoping she can see me through to the end.

It's hard to put into words exactly how I am feeling, except I think it's fair to say that I'm feeling it all. I can't think of another time in one's life when one can feel happy, excited, depressed, anxious, scared, elated, nervous, thrilled, sad, wistful, envious, selfish, ornery, mean, witchy, and nostalgic all at once. I bet I skipped about 10 other emotions in that list, even.

I'm ready. I couldn't be more ready, more excited, more impatient to meet this boy. And you won't hear from me here until I do! Here are a few quotes I collected while ruminating over the long wait.

"All human wisdom is summed up in two words - wait and hope" Alexander Dumas Pere

"Patience is waiting. Not passively waiting - that is laziness. But to keep going when the going is hard and slow."

"Patience is not passive; on the contrary, it is active; [patience] is concentrated strength." Edward Bulwer-Lytton

(Based on this last one, you might just want to call me Hercules from now on!!)

Survival Tips

A random collection of tips for surviving parenting.... my favorite discoveries, at least!

1. If you are completely exhausted and need a break, but are feeling way too guilty about too much TV to justify a movie, turn it into an "event." Call it "movie night." Have everyone put on their PJ's, regardless of what time it is. Grab blankets and pillows, make some popcorn, and voila! Suddenly, you're not an exhausted mom (or dad) parking her kids in front of the TV, you're the cool and creative mom who has created a veritable movie theater in the family room!

2. At bathtime, again if you're exhausted or if you simply need a pick-me-up, soak your feet in the tub while the kids play. They will find this hilarious, and you will feel rejuvenated by the time it's time to dry off. Seriously - this is the best part of bathing the kids!

3. Location, location, location! If you were too exhausted to go to the grocery store as you'd planned that day, and felt too guilty about ordering out or going out, call it a "picnic dinner" and enjoy those PBJ's parked on a blanket in the middle of the family room. Or, call it a "camp out," turn out all the lights, and light some candles. Voila! Another face saving evening. Your lame PBJ dinner suddenly becomes a cherished memory.

4. If you feel you absolutely will not survive the bickering, pestering, antagonizing behavior from your children, and if you are about to Lose Your Cool and Blow a Gasket, simply get out your ipod, plug in, and tune out. This really disarms your children because they know you can still see them but not hear them. They know you are tuning out. They are curious about this, and they usually stop their bickering, pestering, and antagonizing - at least long enough for you to get your groove on to Jack Johnson or the Black Eyed Peas or whomever - enough to regain your cool.

5. Then promptly open a bottle of wine and indulge in a glass.

6. If said ipod + glass of wine trick does nothing for the bickering, pestering, and antagonizing, try this approach - take one child and plop him onto the kitchen counter while you continue to attempt to make the delectable, nutritious, and semi-creative meal you've been trying to make for the past half hour. The other kids can't reach him, he can't get down because the counter is too tall, and peace is restored..... for a few minutes, at least. Summon your husband/partner to arrive home with all your mental might. If said spouse is unable to arrive home because of demanding and very necessary bread-winning job, consider reverting to "lame" PBJ dinner and see above.

7. Making school lunches is not a fun job. I marvel at the fact that my father made my lunch for me, every day, until I graduated from high school. Especially because I insisted that he make the sandwich the morning of school, not the night before, because it did not please my palate when it tasted "stale." Especially because he always asked how my lunch was, and I always managed to find SOMETHING wrong with it. Anyway. In order to survive the nightly ordeal, I've gotten into the habit of pre-packaging snacks for the entire week on Sunday afternoon. I pre-pack the grapes, pretzels, cheerios, tubes of yogurt, granola bars, and carrot sticks into individual bags, then place all the bags into a plastic bin that I store in the fridge. On school nights, I simply have to grab one of each, make the sandwich, and voila! Done. This is far from an original idea, but it is amazing how much of a difference it makes in the attitude toward packing lunches.

8. Listen. Sometimes kids say the most amazing and creative things when we are not listening. When we take a moment to silence ourselves and not speak, occasionally gems of beautifully spoken language emerge. (A word of caution, however. Sometimes you'll hear sailor-type words you wish you hadn't heard.) Tonight, we were reading a favorite bedtime story, The Imaginary Garden, a beautifully illustrated story about a girl and her grandfather who paint an imaginary garden on a large canvas on Papa's balcony, in lieu of the real thing. We finished it, and Leo wanted to go back a few pages. Sometimes I am too tired and try to rush through this. Tonight I was simply too tired to rush, so I just turned the page and waited. He pointed at the picture and said, "Why not Theo have any ice cream?" "What?" I asked, incredulous. "Why Theo's Papa not give her any ice cream?" he asked again. I replied, "Honey, it's just not part of the story...." "Oh.... Theo's Papa should get her some ice cream." (Apparently, Leo was savoring the memory of his own recently enjoyed dessert). Fine, I'm a sucker for literary connections, but this was a gem.

9. Laugh. As much as you can. And when you're faced with the choice to laugh or to cry, choose the former. This takes practice, but generally speaking, children provide ample opportunity to practice the "laugh over cry" choice.... plus, children provide the added advantage of allowing adults to laugh over things that really aren't appropriate in the grown-up world. Tooting in the bathtub still ranks very high on my list of Most Hilarious Things Ever, but I'd never admit that in real life.

10. Love. Sometimes, the thing that they least expect is the thing they need the most. A hug and a snuggle after a terrible tantrum - or to end the terrible tantrum. A warm embrace stops the nasty backtalking mid-sentence. Kissing them one last time before going to bed yourself, watching their peace-filled bodies deep in blissful sleep, knowing you have kept them safe and loved them well one more day - love.

Toucan of the Week!

Each week, Mrs. Hinkle sends home a newsletter telling the parents about what the class is doing in school. How happy and proud we were with this week's letter! The newsletter is at the top; I enlarged the "Superstars" image on the bottom.....

Out of the Mouthes of Babes (# I've lost count)

Leo wanted a(nother) cereal milk straw after having already had one that morning.
L: Um, another milk straw for me?
M: No, honey, they're not very good for you.
L: Why not?
M: Well, they're mostly made of sugar.
(Leo, pondering this idea....)
L: Want to know what I mostly made of?
M: What?!
C: (dramatic pause, meaningful Look--) COFFEE!
***********************
I was helping Aidan get into his pajamas and ready for bed. Exhausted myself, I'd already changed my clothes into my own pajamas....

A: Why do you keep wearing Daddy's shirts? Yours look better.... and they SMELL better, too!
***********************
As I was cooking dinner one evening, Leo looks at me and says,
"Mommy, why you in my house?"

I stared at him, puzzled and perplexed. I repeated,
"Why am I in your house? Is that what you said?"

L: Yeah. Why you in my house?

I was left speechless.
*********************
Kindergarten update: He loves it! He completely, absolutely, positively loves it. I've been waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop (or foot to fall, or whatever happens to one's lower appendages) but so far, it has not. However. While I am thrilled thrilled thrilled that Aidan never needs so much as a warning about changing his behavior during school hours, I'm starting to think that perhaps a warning here or there might not be so bad if it prevents the struggles and battles that ensue after he gets home! I knew from my experience as a teacher that students often save their "worst" behavior for when they get home, but now I'm witnessing it from the flip side - the parent perspective. (This notion always made me wonder, though, about those monstrous seventh graders I occasionally had... HOW did their mothers survive them at home??) Still, I'm trying to take it all in stride, as proof that I've done a good job preparing him for his school career when he comes home to poke, step on, and wrestle his brother, make high pitched"pow! pow! pow!" sounds at his mother, and even - gasp - pretend to pee on the cat. Yeah, I'm pretty sure those are all behaviors I'd rather he save for a more.... appreciative audience.

First Day!

Top to bottom: wearing Fluco colors and ready!; Leo had to have a backpack, too; on the way to the bus stop; boarding the bus.

Aidan's first day of Kindergarten was, by all measures, a complete success. Both kids were up well before the alarm went off - the upside is that they got to see Jeff before he left for work; the downside is I had no chance at my morning coffee before their excited shouts and general bounciness demanded my attention. The 45 minutes before we left for the bus stop went by in a blur. I had to coax Aidan to get ready a lot more than I usually do, because he was so excited and therefore so distracted. (If this isn't Jeff reincarnate, I don't know what is.)

We left for the looooong (.7 mile) walk to the bus stop and enjoyed holding hands and looking for birds en route. Leo was content in the stroller, and we arrived in plenty of time. The walking, the waiting for the bus to arrive was very surreal; we'd practiced walking to the bus stop before, pretending to see the bus pull in around the bend, but I always had Aidan's small hand grasped in my own on the return trip. My feet felt heavier with each approaching step.

I don't think it really hit Aidan that he had to board the bus all by himself until he was standing in line, and then a look of real fear overtook his face. That was very hard for me. He was so brave, hopped right on that bus and introduced himself to the driver, then sat down with his buddy Logan. They sat on the far side of the bus, however, so I didn't have a chance to wave as the bus pulled away. It's probably best, though, because by that point I was really struggling to stay composed. As the bus finally made its way to the next stop, both Leo and I burst into tears and sobs. I held him, and neighbors said kind words to me, all knowing what it was like to be in my shoes. I walked home, empty handed.

The hands on the clock creeped by all day long, until finally, finally it was time to pick him up. He hopped off that bus looking taller, prouder, older - and scurried right into my waiting arms for a big hug. When we asked him for the "best and worst" parts of the day, he could only come up with "bests." "I really like it!" he proclaimed.

I'm so grateful to all of the people who helped to make Aidan's first day such a complete success, including our neighbors, my parents, our supportive friends (especially Clancy!) and of course, his teacher, Mrs. Hinkle.

"When love and skill work together, expect a masterpiece." John Ruskin

My Heart

Kindergarten readiness - the first scanned image is from May 29, 2009; the second, August 7, 2009.

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." ~Elizabeth Stone

My heart is about to step onto the school bus and make its way to Mrs. Hinkle's kindergarten class, on Wednesday morning. Never has this quote resonated more with me than in these final days leading up to the much-anticipated start of Aidan's official school career. My heart is full of conflict and emotion. I vacillate between periods of elation, seeing how excited Aidan is to begin school, and terror, when I think of the fact that I am essentially leaving him in the care of strangers, all day long, every day, for 180 days. I have complete confidence that Aidan is 100% ready, and that he will soar. And yet, I see his anxiety and nervousness hidden beneath his excitement. I hug that little body close as he sobs over the littlest nothing, exactly the way I act when I am preparing for a huge change. He is my smart, articulate, polite, smiling kindergartner; he is my sensitive, emotional, sometimes fragile little boy. With rare exception (Leo's birth; an overnight church event for youth), he has never spent more than a few hours away from my care; above all, what is hardest for me is how much I will miss him, how I will miss our days together. I am grateful beyond belief for all those days we've shared together - all 1,896 of them.

At the beginning of the summer, I was determined not to let Aidan's preschool progress lapse as the lazy days of summer took over our structured preschool routine. I've included a "before" and "after" sample of his work, and his "kindergarten readiness" speaks for itself. It is my greatest comfort - in those moments I find myself fantasizing about keeping him home, delaying kindergarten and school, pressing the pause button of Time, I simply think of the evidence, of this proof that he is more than ready for his Career as Student. To hold him back would be nothing short of cruel, for his wings are primed and he is ready. To my loyal readers: "She pushed him... and he flew."