eight days a week

I know I must look quite like a woman of leisure sitting in a chair all day long doing sudoku puzzles, reading magazines -- oh, and nursing!  I had forgotten that it is a 24 hour endeavor keeping a newborn alive.  He is just so busy all the time and everything he does is completely breathtaking -- working so hard at expelling waste with a serious expression complete with furrowed brow, taking lots of naps (mostly on mommy), and looking around in a panic the minute his eyes open as if to say, "I'm awake, why aren't I eating???" and then his little jaw pumping so efficiently.  From the sound of things that may be where we are right at moment.  I may have to take a little break here.


Okay.  We're back.  It is very ironic because although I am exhausted from my new sleeping schedule, I have much more energy than I did when pregnant.  Now I can actually think of doing something and then go do it instead of staring into space!   Except when I am stuck in a chair with a baby who won't let me put him down, which is pretty much always, thus leaving me frustrated and gritting my teeth whilst I stare into space.  Alas, the more things change, the more they stay the same.  Last week I decided to take a shower (I know!  Lofty goals around here!)  I told Ibby to poke her head in and let me know if the baby started crying.  I needed to soak something in the sink so I did that and then jumped in.  I figured as long as I was in there I should just clean the bathtub since the baby was sleeping anyway, but then when I turned off the water I could hear two disturbing things:  1.  Very frantic screaming, like it had been going on for some time and 2. Water still running.  I had left the sink on and it had overflowed all through the bathroom and even out into the hall!  And when I questioned why no one had told me the baby was crying -- "Oh, I forgot," was the casual reply.  He was so loud and in the very next room!  Why does that sound only bother me?  I quickly tried to put something on and take care of baby first and worry about the flood later. That is pretty much how well the household is running.  


I had to take the baby to his two week appointment so I called the day before and said:


"Hello, my baby will be two weeks old tomorrow and I would like to set a time to bring him in."
"Has he been in before?"
"No.  What time will be good tomorrow?"
"You didn't bring him in when he was four days old?"
"No, I had just had a baby and stayed home."
"How old did you say he was?"
"He'll be two weeks old tomorrow.  So when can I bring him in?"
"Didn't the doctor tell you to bring him in the first week?"
"He did! And I didn't!  Can I make an appointment for tomorrow or not!?"


Golly jeepers!  It's not like it is a crime to not bring your baby in on the exact day that doctor told you to.  Or is it...?  She seemed like it was, but after my abruptness she was much nicer.  Don't mess with a sleep-deprived, hormone ridden new mother!  So I took him in and they told me to sit in the newborn waiting room, I imagine to avoid the germs in the waiting room, and I get to share the room with a new mother and her friend, enveloped in cigarette fumes, and the friend hacking and sniffling (is there a better word for full on mucus inhalation than sniffling, because I need one) away.  I would've felt much more comfortable with the feverish toddlers in the other room thank you very much.  Then the doctor is alarmed that the baby hasn't returned to his birth weight (which is very normal, or has he really not been confronted with that before?) and forcefully suggests that I obviously am not making enough milk, no one really can for such a big baby, and should supplement with formula.  Inside I was yelling, "Are you kidding me?  Do you really think that I will ever make enough milk if I am ignorant enough to take your advice?  And are you going around telling all new mothers this?  And we wonder why people don't breastfeed longer.  Get me out of here!"  But he just saw my calm exterior as I smiled and nodded.  I am the picture of self-control.


So that is the scoop.  Things are going swimmingly.

not my idea

So I was officially released from my calling as RS president yesterday and one would think that I would be as pleased as punch, but I am really so sad about it.  I guess that proves that I am certifiably insane!  I've been crying all day.  It just feels so premature, so unfinished, so half-baked...  I didn't get my chance to shine and magnify!  I just figured out I have an inbox in the clerk's office for pete's sake!  We've been joking that I should have been referred to as the interim president the whole time, "I'm just filling in until they find the right person," or as simply the pregnant president since it spanned from the first day I knew until the week he was born.  I had so many plans!  So many great ideas!  And I wasn't going to be pregnant anymore!  The bishop claims that I am not being fired, and that it has more to do with Matthew's new calling as early morning seminary teacher + new baby + already having too many kids and he just didn't want to overburden our family when there are plenty of other people in our ward.  Fine.  Whatever.


The new president is coming over today to get the all the fun "stuff" that is required.  All last night I kept dreaming that she was coming to take the baby and I had to pack up all of his clothes and diapers, etc.  Matthew said it represents that my true calling is as a mother.  Ooh, deep. 


Now I have to worry about what is next, but not say the callings I don't want out loud, if you know what I mean.

spoiled rotten

One week ago today something momentous happened -- I was no longer pregnant and/or giving birth.  Hooray!  And it's a good thing because I was acquiring a very bad attitude about the whole thing.  Now from the distance of a few days, I have been reflecting on all of my many blessings and how much attention I have received from so many people.  I was very sad that my mom couldn't come this time, for very good reasons, but everything is going very well.  I didn't really expect much for my sixth child -- I feel positively doted upon!

1. My lovely friends threw a joint shower for my friend and I and it was so nice!  I was a little hesitant at first because believe it or not, I really don't enjoy being the center of attention.  Now, of course, if I'm relating a completely hilarious anecdote, I do not mind all eyes on me in the least :).  Because of our amazing garage sale prowess, my friend and I both did not really need the little baby essentials, so everyone was so kind and generously gave us both money to buy something bigger for the babies.  Thank you so much everyone!  I put my money toward these two things:

2. Dinners have been coming in all week -- and they've all been so healthy and delicious, with dessert to boot.  One kind person even brought me dinner a couple of weeks ago which was very nice for an over-pregnant person.  It makes me realize how much I desperately need a live-in cook!

3. My family has been so attentive.  They bring me meals in bed, ice water on demand, hold the baby (what a chore that is!), and are letting me relax and recover without having to worry about anything.  Today the two older kids are gone (Ella's been at camp all week, so she missed baby's first week, so sad) and Matthew took the three younger ones to Chicago.  All is quiet and serene... a magical gift.

4. My sweet friend made me the most gorgeous quilt -- I still can't believe that a. she went to all the effort for little old me and b. that she actually gave it to me and that I now own it.  I was trying to put the pictures that she took up here, but I guess you'll have to go to facebook to see it.  Or I may just have to take my own pictures, but then I'd have to get the camera, then find the thing-y to download it to the computer ...  It may not happen. Or maybe she'll just send me her actual files because you really have to see it!  I really think it may be the nicest gift I've ever been given (apologies in advance to those who have given me something amazing that I seem to have forgotten about at the moment).  Thank you dear friend!

5. And of course, I feel the very most spoiled (read blessed) by the incredibly soft, velvety miracle that I have been snuggling for the last seven days.  He is so sweet!  Thank you, thank you for him.  I feel so fortunate!

Arthur "Archie" Winfield Smith born August 5, 2011

9 pounds 11 ounces

still standing

We seem to have arrived at 41 weeks no worse for wear.  This summer we had 7 pregnant ladies in our ward, all due within about 8 weeks, 6 of the babies were boys.  It's been fun to all be expecting together, especially since there was only one baby born all last year.  The first two were June, both scheduled c-sections, babies healthy and getting big already.  The other five of us were due within about two weeks of each other.  I was due last Sunday, but we know what's happening with that.  One came last Monday, three weeks early, one came Tuesday with another scheduled c-section, and one was due tomorrow, but she went into labor on Saturday night and her baby was stillborn.  I can't stop crying, I can't sleep, and I feel helpless.  What can you do for someone in a situation like that?  Especially when you feel like you're the last person they would ever want to see again.  She made it all the way to the end.  Out of all of us, I would venture to say that she had the hardest time getting pregnant, and she had had a miscarriage in the last year.  It is just so sad.  I worry for her.  I'm worried about her going home with empty arms to a house all prepared for a baby -- we had a baby shower for her just two weeks ago.  I'm worried about every time she gets some junk mail that says, "Your baby is ___ months old now."  I'm worried about her ever wanting to come back to church with five baby boys all the exact same age as hers.  I'm worried that she won't ever want to try to have another baby.  I'm worried I could never possibly say the right thing.  I'm worried about my baby.  Her baby was perfect.  Wouldn't it be easier if there had been something really wrong?  When I heard the news, all I wanted to do was rush over and hug her, try to take away some of the hurt, cry with her, but she understandably wants privacy.  We all want to do something, but this one will take someone more powerful than us -- and time.  I hardly know what to think.  My friend wrote a beautiful post here, much better than I can put into words right now.  


It is a tragedy and it makes all of the other nuisances of life pale in comparison.

burrs in my saddle

Is it just me, or are a lot of people completely irritating?  It is probably just me.  Me, the belly, and the temperature.  Would you like to hear some examples from the past few days? (Why, yes, please!)


At swimming lessons I was told by the director that my kids could use kickboards and other toys in the baby pool, as she pointed out where they were located.  So, every time we go we grab a couple of things to use and then put them back when we're finished.  Last week we made our usual trip to the absolute opposite side of the pool (very arduous for me, keep in mind, since it is very far and extremely hot in there since it is indoor and we're baking under the skylights) to get some things and I hear someone yelling at me.  I turn around in confusion and see an older lady instructor, in the middle of teaching a lesson, screaming at me that I can't use the kickboards.  I kind of shout back that we're just taking it back to the baby pool to be a boat. She says, "No can do, they're dangerous if you don't use them right -- they're only for swimming laps."  I look down and see that I am in my swimming suit and will be right next to Phin in the pool, if she is really worried about his safety, she doesn't need to be.  I decide not to push it and move on and ask him if he'd like to choose a noodle.  Then I hear someone yelling at me again.  Really?  I turn around and she screams, "Those are only for kids taking lessons.  You can't use those at all."  I get up some gumption and tell her that the director told me herself that I could use those things, but she just yelled back so I simply grabbed Phin's hand and stalked off.  I can't compete with such obnoxiousness.  I don't know her, I don't want to talk to her, her students are probably drowning while she's worried about what I'm doing, I'm nine months pregnant...  Easily cowed is what I am.


Next.  We need a car with eight seats so we have spent the last few months trying to locate a good deal on a used minivan -- to no avail!  There are no good deals out there at all, so we have come to the conclusion that it would probably be the best idea to just buy new since they're not losing their value.  This is a new path for us so we were a little giddy as we traipsed down to the Toyota dealership, armed with information, to ask some questions and maybe go for a test drive.  We walk in and there's a guy behind a desk.  We wait for him to look up.  Wait, wait.  Finally he asks what we're interested in.  A minivan. "You and everyone else," he replies charmingly.  "Well, you can go out to the lot, I think there's one unlocked."  Gee, thanks.  So we go out and look around, there isn't one unlocked, no one comes out to talk to us, we decide to leave.  The guy never got up from behind his desk!  Hello, we'd like to spend $30,000, do you mind?  This town is crazy when it comes to customer service.


Third.  I was at the pool.  We like to go in the late afternoon, early evening, because it isn't as crowded or as hot.  It was about 5:15 and I look over and see a mom say to her little boy, "Close your eyes" and then proceed to spray his face with sunscreen.  He was screaming!  And she was just going for it.  And I was shaking my head.  1. Can't you put some into your hand and gently put some on his face, carefully avoiding his eye area?  2. It is quite late in the day, do you realize how slim his chances are for being sunburned at this time?  3.  Would you rather be slightly tan or BLIND?


Five minutes later I was playing in the pool and see a cute little family consisting of parents and 18 month old, or so, twin girls.  Then I hear them yell out their girls' names:  "Ila, don't go too far!"  Oh, that's pretty.  "Grayson, stay over here!"  What?  Is that not a boys name, meaning son of Gray or something?  And I as observe more closely I see that favored, little Ila has blonde curly hair, and poor misused Grayson has straight, nondescript brown. Were we thinking?  It is like a complex waiting to happen!  It's probably spelled Graysyn.  Blech!


I think I need to have this baby.

our story... is depressing

You know it's bad when your pregnancy center update says, "Your baby: week 1."  Tell me all about that, I'd love to know more.  This happened with Phin, too and I never could convince them that I was still pregnant.  I guess no one goes past their due date anymore, even though technically full-term is 38 to 42 weeks.  Today I took the kids to the children's museum and someone asked me when I was due.  I said I was past due and she started going on and on about how she was sure I was begging my doctor to induce, etc.  I said no, I'd been induced once and never wanted to do that again.  She then told me how she had never gone longer than two weeks before her due date and she was so uncomfortable, blah, blah, blah.  Like I'm not uncomfortable - ha!


On Sunday evening the Nauvoo pageant core cast put on a performance here at ISU called "Our Story Goes On."  I thought it was going to be like the pageant and include church history, but it really had no church songs or anything and was instead about families.  It started with a woman having a baby, comparing her experience to her mother and grandmother before her, which is a theme I cherish, then it moved on to young parenthood, children leaving, parents dying -- you know, life.  Real, down and dirty, life and I was literally (not metaphorically) bawling and thinking "life sucks."  And I don't say that lightly because I abhor that word, okay?  You can get all excited about a new baby, but you know it will last all of about one minute so what is the point?  I kept trying to get control of myself, especially because I've got Phin staring up at my face, completely distraught, "Mommy sad?"  "No," I reply through my tears, "Mommy is fine," as I shakily try to smile, but then they start singing Sunrise, Sunset and I am off again.  You can see the lyrics here if you, too, would like a good cry.  I think about Ella -- when did she get to be a beauty?  And Charles -- when did he grow to be so tall?  They were toddlers last week!  And I have regrets.  And then you mix all the emotion in with the contrasting thoughts of some days just being so long and tortuous.  And then a whole part about parents growing older and returning to see their families again in heaven.  My oh my.  I feel like I have my finger in so many pies.  Did we really shout for joy when we heard about this plan?  I don't know ...


So I thought of a great retort when people ask me how I'm doing.  And they're not just saying how are you, they're saying how ARE you, all inflected and sympathetic.  I thought I would just say, "Great!  Great with child, that is."  Wanh, wah.  Matthew didn't think it was funny either.

Up(due)dates

There are a variety of reasons I haven't written for a while: We've been gone, it's summer and there is usually someone who wants to be on the computer, there hasn't been anything else too disgusting to report (isn't the theme fear factor?), I'm lazy...  That about covers it.  I've been trying to get everything squared away before the baby comes.  I always do that, thinking that for the next year I won't be able to do anything, and then, surprisingly enough, find that I actually can leave the house with a baby and usually have a bit more energy than I do while pregnant.  But with school starting so soon afterward I've been trying to get all the school registration, school shopping, physicals, etc. finished so we won't be running around at the last minute.  I don't think I ever shared the hilarious story of Lucy getting her finger pricked to check her iron levels.  Lucy was trying her best to look the other way and ignore what was happening, but the nurse kept talking about how much blood was coming out until it finally started having an effect and I noticed that Lucy was as white as a sheet.  I quickly told her to lie down, but the nurse just grabbed her finger and kept squeezing.   It was too late -- Lucy threw up all over the table.  I ran over to help her, but started gagging and apologizing about how I was more sensitive because I'm pregnant, then I looked over and saw that Ibby was completely green so I opened the door and repeatedly asked her if she was going to lose it, gesturing toward the bathroom.  In the meantime, the nurse was merely clearing away her tools and then reluctantly handed me some paper towels as her halfhearted effort in helping me clean up Lucy's mess.  I did my best to clean off the table, telling Lucy to stay where she was until she didn't feel dizzy, Ibby wandered back in and laid down on the floor, Phin just looked baffled by all the uproar, and I sat down and surveyed the triage scene.  No one came back in to check on us, no one offered to help me clean up anything, no one cared at all.  Finally we slunked out of the office, with Lucy throwing up again on the way home.  Phin thought it was all very exciting and keeps talking about it.  The other night he came in my room and kept repeating what I thought was "I falling off."  I couldn't understand, but he finally grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bathroom where he proceeded to throw up.  Ahh, "I frowing up."  Wow.  My only child who can successfully make it to the toilet with nary a mess anywhere else.  I think he just ate something funny because he wasn't sick at all.  I guess that story was pretty gross.  I should post a warning on my blog.


So we are having such a nice summer.  Someone mentioned the other day that school was starting in less than a month and I started my annual moan about how I hate school and they said that I was the only mother they'd ever met who felt that way.  I know that a lot of my friends feel the same way that I do.  I am DREADING school and how we'll have three separate start times, my husband will be teaching seminary and an 8:00 class so I won't be able to rely on him to help with the morning routine, and I just MIGHT be slightly tired and hormonal.  We can do it!


Eleanor has had a nice little babysitting job and has been having a great time with friends.  On Sunday she was called out of the audience to give a little impromptu talk in sacrament meeting.  She was so calm and just walked up there with a big smile, made a joke about how she was asked to talk about Youth Conference, and gave a great talk.  We were very proud of her.  (If it had been me, there might have been more mention of vomit).  That evening we went with her to get her patriarchal blessing.  What a wonderful experience that was!  We all felt the spirit very strongly.  On the way home we asked her what her impressions were and she said, "I'm just relieved he didn't say that I already knew my future husband."  Whew!


Charles is also babysitting this summer and doing a great job.  He registered and paid for himself to run a 15K a few weeks ago and ran it in 1 hour and 1 minute, coming in 55th out of 800 people.  He runs in the morning and evening and won't eat any sugar.  We always knew he got obsessed about things, and are glad it is now something a little more productive than Runescape was when he was 11.


Lucy and Ibby find amazing things to do every day.  They always have some grand scheme going on whether it be an art project, dressing up, or barbiepollyamericangirl world.  And they entertain Phin to boot.  I couldn't be happier.


Phin is just super cute.  He loved seeing his grandparents and keeps talking about them.  And everything he says is funny.  A couple of days ago we were out driving and the car next to us had a dog sticking his head out the window, looking up with his mouth open.  Phin said, "Mom, that doggie is eating the sky."


As for me, I'm not making many plans.  Waiting, waiting, slightly apprehensive, but getting more ready and closer to surrendering -- willing to do whatever it takes.  Still haven't thought of a name or packed a bag so perhaps I should get on that.