photo update

overdue halloween photos





i worry that we may have already missed the prime window for sarah's sweater...he's getting big fast!







my incredible friend (from third grade!) shelly, who has been bringing food by every wednesday since gavin's birth and helping me entertain the kids when mike is working

my newest headspin

planning for preschool is C O M P L I C A T E D. i had no idea. i hadn't given a thought to preschool until 1) my sweet friend carrie posted on her blog about putting down a sizely deposit for preschool just a few months after her daughter turned two, and 2) a WDM representative came to speak to our parenting class about choosing preschools. as i listened to other parents talk about wait lists and tours and tuition, i had one of those "oh shit" moments where i wondered what planet i had been on to be so out-of-the-loop on this. i'm typically a pretty type-A person, so it's ironic that i hadn't even thought to begin looking into preschools for jack yet. since he's not potty trained yet, starting at age three was not an option, and since at this point we figure we'll wait until he turns six to begin kindergarten, there didn't seem to be a hurry.

i started looking into it and found that some preschools had already registered for NEXT fall's program, and others had waiting lists that were available since BIRTH (we're still in Iowa, right??) so i jumped into things fast and we visited eight preschools in two weeks. phew, my head is spinning. we liked the public montessori in des moines, but found that it has a year and a half wait list, and will be $5000 for the HALF day program. we were unprepared, to say the least, for that news. as it turns out, i'm glad we visited so many. although toward the end, they began to look alike, we were able to see the drastic differences between preschools, even in our area. and we ended up choosing one that we never would've imagined we would have chosen.

we were positive that we'd only look at preschools that were not located within churches. we are big fans, to say the least, of the separation of church and state, and it's partly on principle that we'd want our child to attend a preschool that does not interweave religious content into its curriculum. although i was a religion minor in college, and mike and i both have a long history of religious participation and exploration (we even met in a methodist church choir), we feel strongly that spirituality is a personal thing and best left to the private sphere. i want my boys to each answer life's big questions on their own, and come into their own belief systems, without recieving that external push from sunday school, or other types of religious instruction. this is not a popular approach to preschool in west des moines, where 90% of the preschools are inside christian churches and contain some sort of religious content. it's been a complicated decision for us, weighing factors of religious curriculum content against schedules, facilities, educational approaches, and location. we narrowed it down to two church preschools, ironically; one that does not include religious content in their preschool curriculum and one that does (through a snack-time prayer, and discussion of the christmas/easter stories, etc.)

at this point we are leaning toward the one that does have religious content because its facility, teachers, location, schedule, and availability are just downright better than our other top choice. i guess this is one of those parenting decisions where we have to prioritize what will be better for our children rather than what makes the most sense for our politics. i imagine this battle will never end.

still, i find myself irked for those families in this area who need a preschool, but whom are not christian. a jewish friend of mine sends her kids to a private school that used to be a jewish academy. it's nice she has that option, but many wouldn't-- it's about $10,000 a year for tution! what about the other jews/hindus/buddhists/pagans/agnostics/atheists who are searching for a good education for their young kids?

it appears i've now added universal preschool to my list of "wishes" for our country.

It Takes a Village to Raise a Child. Now, can someone give me directions so I can find it?

Where is my village? Where is our village? I've asked myself this question a dozen times a day since having more than one child. Going from 1 child to 1+ children has opened my eyes, more than ever, to the fact that it DOES take a village to raise children. Literally and figuratively. Times have changed since our parents grew up, since we grew up. It's no longer kosher to unleash your 7-yr-old on the world, assuming that other kids' parents will look out for them (discipline them, feed them, etc.) when they show up in their yard to play with their kids. This is the age of helicopter parenting, where you must hover over your child's every move to 1) assure them full attention and 2) assure those watching you that you are indeed attending to and in control of your child.

I had the worst experience just over a week ago of leaving the house with all three kids. I took them to the library for a little toddler class we often go to. It's a small, one-story library, that is arguably child-focused. I thought it was going well. Gavin was awake, but happy to sit in the carseat. The other two seemed to enjoy the class. After the class, I attempted to carry the carseat, the diaper bag, and our huge bag of books from aisle to aisle, while we collected new books to check out. Jack and Benj were all over the place, so it was a bit of a mad dash from here to here to keep eyes on all three while still collecting books and carrying things around. Jack insisted on doing the self-check out of the books. So Benj followed him. I raced over to put the stack of books down on the checkout desk, while they stood on the stool, ready to scan the library card. I told them to stay put while I went back to get the carseat and diaper bag from the main library area (about 20 feet away, on the back side of a wall). As I ran over to get Gavin, a little girl and her grandmother were hanging over the carseat. I politely let her see the baby (perhaps waited a moment too long before grabbing him and dashing back to my toddlers-- fatal mistake). As I get back to the self-check out, I see Jack standing alone, peering at the commotion at the doors to the library. A little girl is sitting on the floor crying, a member of the library staff is racing out the door, and Benjamin is no where to be seen. Bad, bad, bad. I run out the door and see him starting down the steps toward the parking lot, with the library staff member steps behind him. She grabs him, and I take him. I apologize and return inside to find out why the little girl was crying. Here's where an already terrible situation gets worse (emotionally, that is).

I ask the girl's mother if Ben pushed her down. No, she says, she was about to head out the door when Ben ran past her, pushed the handicap button to open the door and raced out. She got scared when the library staff yelled and went after him. I apologize to her for the situation, and she says, "Well, he was running toward the STREET!" with this look that clearly indicates to me that she thinks I have no control over or concern for the welfare of my child. Yes, I tell her, I understand-- I just stepped away for a moment to get my baby's carseat and bring it over to the check-out. Meanwhile, all members of the library staff refuse to acknowledge me when I thank them for going after Benjamin and apologize for the incident. They don't make eye contact with me, but exchange looks with one another that are a mixture of disdain and amazement. Like an unspoken conversation about the crazy mother who was irresponsible enough to have that many children that she cannot control. I've never felt so judged and ashamed. I've always felt pretty good about my parenting, despite my mistakes, but that was the first time when I realized no one else agreed.

Jack is now screaming about checking out the books, so despite my complete urge to run as fast as possible out of that place, I have to try and help him do the self-check out for about 12 books. Every time I let go of Ben to show Jack how to scan the barcodes on the books, he darts again for the front doors, trying to recreate the whole incident (which he thinks is a great race at this point). I scramble after him, grabbing his arm and dragging him back, while Jack continues to whine that the scanning process isn't working. At this point, Gavin starts crying because he is tired of the carseat. I'm running around like a chicken with my head cut off and the library staff and other parents are just standing there, watching and shaking their heads. It's unassisted chaos, and they watch our circus freak show with "the look" all over their faces.

Where is my village? Where is the one understanding and sympathetic parent who could've stepped forward and said, "I see you have your hands full! Maybe your young toddler could join my daughter and I as we read this book while you check out your books with your older child?" Where were the more supportive faces of those who have "been there" and understand the bad days when your kids go wild in a public place? For god's sake, wasn't there anyone who could've at least stood in front of the door, blocking the exit so I at least knew Ben couldn'e escape while we finished packing up our books? Of course I don't expect others to help me parent whenever I leave the house, but a little solidarity and support would be nice.

If nothing else, this experience taught me two things. 1) From now on, when I witness another child's explosion in a public place, I'll do more than my usual "I'm glad that's not MY kid this time!". I'll see if there is any way I can help that parent out in their time of weakness; and 2) Despite my best intentions, I cannot keep all eyes and hands on each of my three children at one time. It's not physically possible. So I need to accept that I cannot be perfect and prevent those bad days from happening, and I'll have to forgive myself when they do. The tremendous guilt and self-loathing that accopanied that library experience is not something I can endure every time we leave the house. I can't be as good of a parent to three as I was to one, but I can try my best to do my best. And I guess that will have to do.

on the subject of being "done."

does anyone else out there find it incredible how soon after the birth of the baby people ask you either 1) when will the next one be coming? (if it is your first baby) or 2) so are you done? (if it is a subsequent baby). i've gotten this question after the birth of each boy, sometimes even the SAME day of the birth. why is everyone so concerned with how many kids a person has, and how they will be spaced? in my experience, i am not anywhere near ready to consider another baby (whether there will be one or not) immediately after the birth of a new one! yikes, annoying.

for me the subject of being "done" is a tough one because our kids have come so quickly and are so closely spaced. it's very hard for me to think "this is it" when i've not had a chance to say goodbye to babyhood in three years. it's hard to think "i'd better appreciate this day/moment/month, because it will be the last time i dress a child in a newborn outfit, or breastfeed, or give birth, or.....". there's been no time to sit and rest and ponder how many children i want or can handle or see us having. mike was "done" after two. now he tells everyone we know he's 200% sure that he's done after three. i'm not feeling it. this could be in big part because i've just had a baby and can't go there right now. it could be because i'm still in the midst of babyhood, in some sense, with all three boys, and can't imagine saying goodbye to it forever. it could also be because maybe i truly don't feel "done." i don't plan to make the decision for at least three more years (even if mike is sure he's already made it for me.)

every woman i speak with tells me the same thing: "you just know when you're done." i knew after benjamin that i wasn't. after gavin, i still don't feel done. maybe in a year or so i'll feel it. maybe when finances get tighter, i'll be forced to accept it. maybe after dealing with three bouncing boys i'll be so exhausted that i demand it. but right now, i don't. i'm just not sure what that means.

gearing up for some halloween fun

ghosts and pumpkins!



a sneak peek at our low-maintenance halloween "costumes" this year:



our littlest "things"

twins

i realize it's not unusual for siblings to resemble one another, but these two could be twins!!!!

benj:


gavin:


benj:


gavin:


benj:


gavin:


jack's one-month photos show some similarities, too, though not as many.

home birth study

gracias to carrie for pointing this one out to me. a month ago a new study was released in canada, research carried out by a group of MDs and PhDs, that looked at:

2889 cases of planned homebirth with a registered midwife
4752 cases of planned hospital birth with registered midwives
5331 cases of planned hospital birth with physicians attending

all in british columbia between 2000-2004. women in all three groups met the same parameters-- were all low risk enough that home birth was an option for all.

perinatal mortality rates for 1 in 1000 births (baby dying at birth or in the first several days following) were as follows:

.35 in the homebirth group
.57 in the hospital birth with midwife group
.64 in the hospital birth with physician group

other adverse outcomes (to maternal and neonatal health) were better in the homebirth group vs. the hospital groups, too, but i'll spare you the statistics.

for those of us who choose homebirth, the first reaction of many family and friends is "why would you put yourself/your baby at risk?" it's always an irony to those who have done a lot of reading on this subject because study after study shows that homebirth is always as safe, if not safter, than hospital birth. time after time. yet the cultural perspective of "danger, danger" prevails. it's not unusual to think that a dr. could provide better care than a midwife simply because their education is more extensive. but the U.S. has one of the very highest maternal and neonatal mortality rates out of all industrial countries in the world, even though we are hands down the most medically interventive when it comes to birth. with mothers and babies dying at such a high rate, it's obvious to me that in the case of childbirth, more is not better. thank god the technology exists for those who need it, but for those with low risk, normal pregnancies, turning oneself into the surgeon's bag of tricks seems overly risky for both moms and babies. i only wish more american women were aware of the experiences of countries like japan, new zealand, the netherlands, and others, who traded O.B. and hospital-dominated birthing for midwife-attended births (leaving hospitals and OBs for those who truly need to transfer into their care). in those instances, perinantal, neonatal, and maternal mortality rates plummeted. when women and babies are healthier, isn't that the true test?

beaurocratic frustrations.

it's my first day back at the dissertation. alison, our prized part-time nanny, is back in DSM and is able to work in a few days here and there to watch jack and benj so i can get back to work. what has my first day brought me? not a lot of diss. writing, unfortunately. instead, i find myself answering and sending and responding to emails from my adviser and committee members about my damn committee. the beaurocratic hoops and inter-departmental politics are wearing thin on me. i'm really ready to be done-o. on the up side, i think today's email wars have landed me in a safe spot, with a fairly secure committee. for now.

what bothers me the most is my adviser's complete inability to appreciate me as a WHOLE person, with joys and weaknesses and pursuits outside of (or even in addition to) my academic, intellectual pursuits. she consistently refuses to acknowledge me as a parent, or show any interest or concern about my family or personal life. i used to consider her a mentor in my pre-kids life, but now i can barely see her more than as an intellectual adviser. for me, a mentor is supportive of you holistically, and helps you reach your goals while cultivating a happy balance in your life. my adviser is simply unable to do that. she has an obvious disdain for anything that detracts from one's intellectual pursuits, and she all but tolerates that her students have children along the way of their dissertation journeys. it's a sad thing to feel that i have to hide or talk around my responsibilities, or even joys, of being a new mom. i emailed her to tell her about the birth of gavin and to let her know i'm back at the dissertation. her email reply began with a one line "glad to hear that you and gavin are healthy and the birth went smoothly." the rest of the email was about how important it is that i'm back to work and i'm productive and that i cannot graduate in may unless i crank this draft out in record time, blah blah blah. jesus, my baby is 2 weeks old and i'm already spending 8 hours today in my basement working on my damn dissertation. even full-time working parents get a longer maternity leave than that! i'm on my third child so i can make it work, but someone on their first would not be ready.

her email was also filled with how reading the chapters i've sent to her must take low priority because she has so many responsiblities as the incoming president of the american anthropological association. and her partner, who is now president of the international american studies association, is taking her to a conference in beijing where they have lots of work to do. and she has to give a distinguished lecture in a month, and, and, and, and..... (you can read all that as, "I'm very important. You could be, too, if you learned to focus on something other than having babies.") yes, i'm being overly sensitive. but you'd be surprised how much of what i say is an actual representation of this woman's perspecive. she is a rock star in her field, and i admire her for that, but it's just so not my goal to follow suit.

true, i'm the one who has taken the slow route to this degree by having children (three, nonetheless) before graduating. and true, it's her job as my adviser to push me, sternly if needed, toward productivity and finishing. it's not in her job description to be a personal support person to me. and it's to her serious credit that she is not even with my university anymore, yet she remains on board with me, seeing me through to the (no doubt bitter) end. i just wish she could try--feign, even--- to show a little interest and caring in me as a person, beyond how many pages i'm producing.

still, despite my blood boiling over her academic narrow-mindedness, i look down at the precious sleeping baby who is peacefully allowing me to deal with all this crap. and i remind myself that i wouldn't trade one moment of my parenting adventures for all the anthropological, ivory tower glam she enjoys every day. i've indeed taken the slow route to my degree, and i likely won't have the same driven career path i might have if i'd finished before kids, but my slow route has brought me infinite other happinesses. becoming a parent has opened up a love so fierce and memories so painfully treasured that no rock star career ever could have matched. as long as i'm happy at the end of this journey, i won't care how i got there. or even where i've landed.

"Mothers of little boys work from son up to son down!"--Author Unknown

First Day of Mom Plus Three. (Da Da DUM.)

They are all (all THREE) sleeping right now, so I actually can sit at the computer and type up a blog post! I'd better not get used to this, I'm guessing. As it turns out, I think the biggest obstacle to my new life will be my own attitude. A friend called this morning and I found myself complaining that I had to change my shirt by 8:30am because it already had snot, spit-up, AND blood on it. A mother of three herself, her quick reply was "But not poop? Yeah!" I guess I needed a dose of perspective.

So far I've learned that doing this in the winter will be tough. I will absolutely have to get over my fear of leaving the house alone with all three, and of taking little Gavin out into the crowds of cold and flu season. Because if we continue to attempt to kill each and every morning at home, we may kill each other, too. I may also have to give in to my strict t.v. rules a little. Jack has made it past age 3 with watching one and only one show a day: Thomas and Friends. I decided to set up Curious George, Clifford the Big Red Dog, and Sesame Street to record on the DVR, too, so that we have options for when I really need some sit-down time. I guess you just can never say never.

Yesterday Benjamin made a face and pointed to his behind, and said "Poo." Are we potty training the wrong child? Jack is not potty training well. It was cool at first but now he's just adamant against it. He'll pee occasionaly for a few chocolate chips, but #2 is simply not happening. We even took the advice of many friends and bought him the big toy that up until now we'd just been paying lip service too. He helped put together his "big boy bike" and repeatedly asks if he can ride it, but we keep telling him that it stays in the laundry room until he poops on the potty. Then he can ride it all he wants. Still no budging. The bribes aren't working. After rinsing out a dirty pair of undies today, I decided that potty training can wait until Gavin's been around a bit longer. I guess it's a good thing we decided to wait on preschool till next fall for Jack, since the lack of potty readiness would not have been a good thing for this year's preschool plans.

Gavin had his first bath yesterday and didn't make a peep. I'll assume that meant he enjoyed it.



I love the fuzzy softness of baby hair after a bath


His hair seems to be turning blonder already (now if we could just go for green eyes...)


Our seasons have been really backwards, as on Saturday I posted snow play photos, and on Sunday we got outside for some real fall play:





Since it's been cold lately, Jack hasn't been outside much interacting with other kids. I think he's been forced to discover Benjamin as a play mate. It's kind of fun to see them play. Like all siblings, they spend 75% of their time fighting and 25% really digging each other. I like how we can't get Benjamin to eat his peas, but Jack can.

it's october 10th...

and THIS is how we spent our morning:






brrrrrr.....!!!

here are a couple photos of the 4 men in my life:



both boys love their youngest brother, but it's especially fun for me to watch benjamin play the "big brother" roll, reading to gavin and kissing him all the time. the other night i did a trial run of putting benj to sleep with gavin in my arms (for the nights mike will have to work, and i'll be in charge of bedtime for all 3). i was all teary eyed as i sat there in the dark, and benjamin repeatedly patted gavin's back and rubbed his head while trying to put himself to sleep.



when it comes to babies, the "third time is a charm" rule must apply because gavin is the best, easiest, sweetest thing ever. he rarely cries or fusses, he sleeps all the time and without bother, and is cuddly and warm and downright perfect. i couldn't be more in love.