Mitch woke up this morning looked me straight in the eyes and said
"gooooo". To do this, his mouth makes what appears to be a near smile. He uses all the muscles of his face. You could see the intense concentration it took to make this teeny, adorable, heart-melting little sound. It felt as if my sleepy little newborn knows he just turned one month old and decided to wake up. I love his happy, wide-eyed morning hours. This is nearly the only time he remains awake without being in a panic that he may starve to death. His behavior is so reminiscent of his older brother, Curtis. As newborns, these two transitioned instantly from sound, undisturbable sleep to screaming, starved cries. I would be lying if I didn't admit to teasing them a bit, and making fun of the ridiculous idea that I might not feed them sometime in the very near future. Chill out, little dude.
There is a very good chance Mitch will use a pacifier. He nurses like a champ, and at over 12lbs, I believe he ranks as my largest 1 month old to date. Curtis being a very, very close second. I'm packing away the newborn/0 to 3
month clothes and finishing out this last box of Size 1 Swaddlers. The "one month" onesie that fit George perfectly, may have been cutting off all circulation to Mitchell's arms. In an effort to demonstrate just how big this 'little boy' appears, I'll mentions an incident from the other day. A co-worker's husband, who happened to be standing nearby as Matt shot the one month photos, asked, "How old is he?" To which, Matt replied, "Is that a joke?" The guy just kind of laughed, and said "Oh yeah! I'm pretty sure my daughter wasn't even that big at four months." I've said it before and I'll say it again, I don't put too much stock in a newborn's size. In fact, George proves it to absolutely make no difference in the kid's final size. He was my largest at birth by a pound, and at a year and a half is my smallest on the charts. But it makes me a little sad that most of my newborn clothing has been worn only 4 times (once by each child) before it gets packed away, mostly because this is an obvious indicator of growth, time and maturity.
There are a million milestones to look forward to every day. I cannot wait to see if Mitch loses that dark hair and those dark(ish) eyes to follow in his brothers' footsteps or remains brown like his mom. I am curious to see if he will outgrow Brock, and remain my tallest, heaviest kid. Will he be an athlete as I predicted while he was growing in my belly? Or will he absolutely lack any coordination whatsoever and become somewhat of an engineering nerd like his father? Will he, too, be a happy, happy baby, toddler and kid? Will the hair ever disappear from the edge of his ears!? What will his first word be? Will he crawl at 4 months like Curtis? Or pretty much go straight to walking by 10 months like Brock? Will he not do anything like the 3 preceding him and shock me completely? Already I see expressiveness that approaches George's face-making skills...but to surpass that little, comical genius would be impressive.
All I do know about Mitch, is that I love him as much as the other three. From the moment I saw that face. It hit me hard. Maybe the routine of it all, the pregnancy the same, the delivery the same, all of it the same as three times before. Maybe that made me forget that despite the monotony of the whole child creating process, there is NO monotony to each individual child. They come out completely, and utterly they're own person. They do not dip into my love pool, but expand it, infinitely. Mitch does nothing but make my days brighter (ok, and busier). He makes me relax, and smile, and appreciate my husband, children, family, friends, and life.
His brother's LOVE him. If Curtis does not know where I have lain the baby, he always asks. He must know where his brother is at all times. He tells everyone about "Baby Mitch" and introduces him to his teachers, strangers at the park or anyone he can whenever the opportunity arrises. Brock consistently gazes into Mitch's eyes and remarks "he's so cute." George gives him the same sloppy, sticky, slobbering kisses he affords us, and frequently this lands in poor Mitchell's eye. The three older brothers seem totally aware and even excited that their family has changed permanently and is a group of 6 now. Matt has already begun with the nicknaming...and what I mean by that is, he enjoys replacing most expletives that normally contain the word for a female dog, with 'Mitch'. I.E. Son of a Mitch. Or Mitch's be trippin'. Or Mitch, paleeeese!
What I'm trying to say, is at one month, Mitch has become a vital member of the family. We are all settled and couldn't be happier. Thanks to my Mitch for making our family even more complete and vibrant. We love you, man.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Operation Brunch KC
So, being in residency, having 4 kids, as well as always pregnant or nursing, has put a major damper in my dining habits. Also, there seems to be a developing trend in creative brunches at most restaurants. I suddenly feel totally out of the loop, and like I am missing out on a huge culture that has developed here in KC as well as some incredible food. In addition, I can finally enjoy a Mimosa or Bloody Mary to boot!!!! It is also easier to find sitters for a random weekend morning, than taking away someone's evening hours. Therefore, I have decided to make it my goal to try a different brunch location, anytime the opportunity to get out arises. Mostly, I hope to enjoy these with my husband, but some alone time with my adult friends is ALWAYS welcome (and occasionally preferred. Sorry honey - oh wait, who am I kidding? He doesn't read my blog; HE LIVES IT).
- The Bristol
- Oak 63
- Beer Kitchen
- Rye
- Room 39
- Urban Table
- Tomfooleries
- Farmhouse
- Succotash
- Louie's Wine Dive
- The Jacobsen
- Bluebird Bistro
- EggCt
- The Blue Moose
- The Classic Cup
- Andres
- Coal Vines
- Poco's
- Port Fonda
- Blue Grotto
- West Side Local
- Jerry's Cafe
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Tid Bits
Brock asked to get his eyelashes trimmed, because they are "too long". Nice problem to have...ugh boys.
As I was sipping my coffee and feeding the baby, Brock says, "Mom, are you giving Mitch coffee milk?" I guess maybe I am.
Matt received a "pooper scooper" from his parents for his 30th birthday. Apparently, Brock had suggested this gift, claiming, "it's what he's always wanted."
While on a walk, we were traveling West through a busy intersection. The light was red, so Brock began waving to all the Eastbound traffic. He was doing so by slightly waving his cupped hand and riding his too-small tricycle. Every person smiled/laughed and waved back...every single one. I'd like to think he made everyone on 71st and Mission at that time, a little bit happier.
Lately, we refer to Curtis as "the ladies man". This is because he only talks to young (20-30's) attractive females when at the park or on a walk, and always starts the conversation with a "Wha, wha, what's yur name?" Not a bad pick up line.
When driving home from Shawnee Mission Park (a huge park about 30 minutes away) after the Symphony in the Park event, Brock asked if we were in Kansas City yet? I asked him where he thought we had come from, and he laughed and said, "St. Louis, Mom!!!!" As if I should have known this, because obviously we were just in the Lou. Apparently, a 30 minute drive and a 4 hour drive are pretty equivalent in a 4-year-old's mind.
One night, we pulled in the driveway, and an item we had brought home from a garage sale made a load noise as we came to a stop. Brock asked what it was, completely convinced it was something alive. Matt insisted it wasn't, and told Brock he would show him, to which Brock began nervously jumping around trying to decide if he should take his father's word. Eventually, Brock came up with a solution, and informed Matt that he was "fired from the house if something living is in the trunk." I think Matt secretly wished something was living in the trunk and that he could, in fact, be fired from the household.
George twists an Oreo in half, eats the stuffing, then the cookie. No one else does this. It's just how he naturally eats it!
Brock often wants to "cuddle" which I put in quotations because his version of cuddling is like no one else's as he NEVER STOPS MOVING. Today, I asked him if he had "restless legs", so which he nodded and said, "Don't forget itchy ears..." then a moment later "...and itchy toes." Speaking of which, the other day, I found him crying and whining in the hall about his itchy toes. And suddenly he calls out, "Ugh, I cannot itch my toes because my toenails are in the way!!"
As I was sipping my coffee and feeding the baby, Brock says, "Mom, are you giving Mitch coffee milk?" I guess maybe I am.
Matt received a "pooper scooper" from his parents for his 30th birthday. Apparently, Brock had suggested this gift, claiming, "it's what he's always wanted."
While on a walk, we were traveling West through a busy intersection. The light was red, so Brock began waving to all the Eastbound traffic. He was doing so by slightly waving his cupped hand and riding his too-small tricycle. Every person smiled/laughed and waved back...every single one. I'd like to think he made everyone on 71st and Mission at that time, a little bit happier.
Lately, we refer to Curtis as "the ladies man". This is because he only talks to young (20-30's) attractive females when at the park or on a walk, and always starts the conversation with a "Wha, wha, what's yur name?" Not a bad pick up line.
When driving home from Shawnee Mission Park (a huge park about 30 minutes away) after the Symphony in the Park event, Brock asked if we were in Kansas City yet? I asked him where he thought we had come from, and he laughed and said, "St. Louis, Mom!!!!" As if I should have known this, because obviously we were just in the Lou. Apparently, a 30 minute drive and a 4 hour drive are pretty equivalent in a 4-year-old's mind.
One night, we pulled in the driveway, and an item we had brought home from a garage sale made a load noise as we came to a stop. Brock asked what it was, completely convinced it was something alive. Matt insisted it wasn't, and told Brock he would show him, to which Brock began nervously jumping around trying to decide if he should take his father's word. Eventually, Brock came up with a solution, and informed Matt that he was "fired from the house if something living is in the trunk." I think Matt secretly wished something was living in the trunk and that he could, in fact, be fired from the household.
George twists an Oreo in half, eats the stuffing, then the cookie. No one else does this. It's just how he naturally eats it!
Brock often wants to "cuddle" which I put in quotations because his version of cuddling is like no one else's as he NEVER STOPS MOVING. Today, I asked him if he had "restless legs", so which he nodded and said, "Don't forget itchy ears..." then a moment later "...and itchy toes." Speaking of which, the other day, I found him crying and whining in the hall about his itchy toes. And suddenly he calls out, "Ugh, I cannot itch my toes because my toenails are in the way!!"
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Babies Don't Keep.
Song for a Fifth Child by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton (1921- )
Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.)
Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep.
I found this poem exactly a year ago. I saved it. I think about it a lot. Then, after I had Mitch, I realized that I had never identified with it more. Though he is only my 4th, not the fifth child, I completely know what this mother was writing about. I am not ashamed to admit that with Mitch, and every previous child, I tear up a little every evening because it means my precious, sweet smelling, soft, innocent newborn is now a day older. This will carry on for at least 2 weeks, then sporadically, perhaps for the rest of their lives. Not that I am going to be the creepy mom from "Love You Forever", but sometimes I wish I could be...because as long as I'm living, my baby these boys will be.
I hold Mitch, and nurse him, and forget about everything else. I let my other boys slightly destroy the house, piece by piece. I don't even want to mention our current laundry situation. Matt does the dishes every night because I can't possibly spare a moment to do them throughout the day. I am only 2 pounds away from pre-baby weight because eating even takes a backseat to my newborn admiring, loving, kissing, obsessing time. I'm annoyed he is not awake more so I can gaze into his beautiful eyes. I am stressed I haven't photographed him enough, he changes every day, every hour, and I don't want to forget, or miss a moment.
People continue to ask me if this is it for us. If Mitch is our last baby. I just cannot answer that question right now. The thought that this might be the last time I ever experience the true joy, amazement and love of a brand new baby, is upsetting. I go back to work too soon. I have 3 other children to tend to, my time is all sucked up...these should all be reasons to not have another, but I don't see it that way. Despite all of that, as we speak, I am holding my teeny baby, and I have never felt happier, more relaxed or less stressed. I've said it before, newborns are like a therapeutic anti-anxiety medication to me. I am in no rush to have another. I will not be "trying for a girl". But I am not taking anything off the table. For now, I am enjoying my newest blessing. I am looking forward to who he will become, but secretly hoping time will take a momentary hiatus, and stop moving for a bit. And, until that happens, I will just hold my baby, rock him, love him, and cherish every newborn nuance, because babies don't keep.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
The Dentist.
I know, I know. You should take your kid to the dentist much prior to him turning 5, like years, not just a couple months. In my defense, I have been talking about making Brock an appointment for the past 2 or so years...just never got around to actually doing it. Well, Monday, while making calls to schedule newborn appointments, my postpartum appointment, a dentist appointment for me, it dawned on me, Matt's home! What a perfect time to get the kiddos in to the dentist. So, I sucked it up, and called to get appointment's for Brock, Curtis and George.
Now, I am not sure how clear I have made it that Brock has a tooth obsession. When he was little, he would insist on brushing his teeth much more frequently than once or twice a day. He had his own brush at Mimi's. We can use losing tooth brushing privileges as a threat to help bedtime run more smoothly. Long ago, when Brock asked why we brush our teeth, Matt and I told him that they would turn black and fall out otherwise (which is only a slight exaggeration.) That did it. He would never miss a nightly teeth cleaning again. Therefore, I didn't worry about his tooth hygiene. We don't eat excessive amount of sugar (at night) and nor do I give juice or soda with dinner (90% of the time), and, my family has generally good tooth genetics (yes, some people are more prone to cavities than others, despite habits) so I didn't worry about it.
While out on a walk, the night before the appointment, we ran into one of our favorite neighbors. The little girl, who is Brock's age, mentioned a possible playdate for the following day, to which Brock replied, "I can't, I have a dentist appointment." What 4 year old keeps a schedule!? Well, the next morning, we found George covered in vomit, so his appointment was cancelled, but the other two excitedly headed out for their first dentist experience. They loved it. Matt said they behaved perfectly. Brock carried home his little goody bag with a new toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, a sticker and bouncy ball, and did not put that thing down for the rest of the day. In fact, he is still storing all the stuff in that little plastic bag and puts it under his pillow to sleep at night!
As a reward for their fabulous behavior, Matt took them to the zoo. While there, and riding the "Sky Safari" (aka ski lift), Brock smiled at a lady passing on the other side, and yelled "look how white my teeth are! I went to the dentist!" Also, apparently he exclaimed, "My teeth are so clean the girls' heads are going to pop off" while getting his cleaning. Curtis, though slightly less obsessive (ok, a lot less obsessive) than Brock, also talked about this adventure for days. He mostly just liked the fish tank at the office and the bouncy ball he acquired.
For the record, they both got a clean bill of tooth health.
Now, I am not sure how clear I have made it that Brock has a tooth obsession. When he was little, he would insist on brushing his teeth much more frequently than once or twice a day. He had his own brush at Mimi's. We can use losing tooth brushing privileges as a threat to help bedtime run more smoothly. Long ago, when Brock asked why we brush our teeth, Matt and I told him that they would turn black and fall out otherwise (which is only a slight exaggeration.) That did it. He would never miss a nightly teeth cleaning again. Therefore, I didn't worry about his tooth hygiene. We don't eat excessive amount of sugar (at night) and nor do I give juice or soda with dinner (90% of the time), and, my family has generally good tooth genetics (yes, some people are more prone to cavities than others, despite habits) so I didn't worry about it.
While out on a walk, the night before the appointment, we ran into one of our favorite neighbors. The little girl, who is Brock's age, mentioned a possible playdate for the following day, to which Brock replied, "I can't, I have a dentist appointment." What 4 year old keeps a schedule!? Well, the next morning, we found George covered in vomit, so his appointment was cancelled, but the other two excitedly headed out for their first dentist experience. They loved it. Matt said they behaved perfectly. Brock carried home his little goody bag with a new toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, a sticker and bouncy ball, and did not put that thing down for the rest of the day. In fact, he is still storing all the stuff in that little plastic bag and puts it under his pillow to sleep at night!
As a reward for their fabulous behavior, Matt took them to the zoo. While there, and riding the "Sky Safari" (aka ski lift), Brock smiled at a lady passing on the other side, and yelled "look how white my teeth are! I went to the dentist!" Also, apparently he exclaimed, "My teeth are so clean the girls' heads are going to pop off" while getting his cleaning. Curtis, though slightly less obsessive (ok, a lot less obsessive) than Brock, also talked about this adventure for days. He mostly just liked the fish tank at the office and the bouncy ball he acquired.
For the record, they both got a clean bill of tooth health.
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