messes

Life is exciting with an almost two-year-old around. Ivar is really gifted at finding creative things to do with his time while I am nursing. The more quiet he gets the more certain I am that I will have a photo opportunity waiting for me.

Those are all nice words I have chosen to explain that Ivar is a tornado. He leaves a path of destruction everywhere he goes and I am always cleaning up his messes. This first picture is all of our paper products. Clearly he was sitting in the middle as he spread out the plates and silverware. Please keep this picture in mind if you are ever over at my house and I serve you anything on paper. You may kindly ask for an actual plate and fork.

This is pretty normal for an almost 2 year old...unrolling the toilet paper. But below you'll see a mess that is a bit more original. He got the full and open can of pineapple off of the counter, pulled it down (that's juice on the floor), put some pineapple in each of these Ivar bowls and ate the entire can. I only found out about this mess when he ran into the living room with guilt and glee and a very sticky face, feet and fingers yelling, "No! Pie Apple! All gone! No!"

I don't always get the camera for Ivar's messes. Only the ones that make me grin a bit. I didn't get the camera when Ivar dumped his alphabet crayons onto my three-day-old laptop last week leaving bits of wax covering the keyboard. Nope. No picture of that mess. And thankfully no video with audio either. I was mad. Could only blame myself, but that didn't make me any less mad.

 

In the end, the laptop is fine, the paper products never get used anyway, the toilet paper is reusable, Ivar loves pineapple and somehow I have the joy of watching this little boy discover and learn each day. He makes me laugh so hard.

 



 

 

good news, good news, bad news, good news

I have the happiest news to share: Toonces found a home! At least when I went to the Humane Society webpage his picture was gone and the lady on the phone said that means he was adopted. I am just going to take her at her word and celebrate this news.

I tell you what, I checked that page many a time, only to end up crying myself to sleep. (I loved him a lot, plus I've got hormones like you wouldn't believe...and I'm sleep deprived!) But now he is living a new adventure and certainly giving lots of good snuggles, licks and motor purrs to his new owner.

More good news! FARM CATS! They are awesome! They live outside and you just don't know when they're going to show up. This one came out of the woods the day we were clearing all the of the trees we had just taken down the day before. He's so scrawny and was so sweet and affectionate. Rory wanted his name to commemorate the trees we were clearing out. I thought the name Chainsaw was perfectly ironic for such a mild, skinny, calm cat. Heh. I make myself laugh. Hearing Ivar say Chainsaw is the best.

But then we had sad news. Our neighbors two houses down came to introduce themselves and then told us they were going to take a bunch of cats to the humane society because their dogs were barking at them in the night and keeping them up. We had just met these neighbors and I didn't know what to say..."but hey, I love those cats that keep you up at night...especially the one I named Chainsaw."

But since Chainsaw was taken away, two more cats have appeared. And that's the final good news. Because farm cats just keep multiplying I'm finding out. And if you put a little dish of milk out for them, they'll come back every time.

cow hunts

With Ivar's love for cows, we have added a new pastime to our family adventures: cow hunts. We try to find gravel roads we haven't been on before and look for cows. It is the very best way to fill that sometimes very long hour between supper and bedtime. John Denver sings to us about country roads and being a country boy and we take in a setting sun, mooing cows, our beautiful new neighborhood, and a very happy boy in the back seat. 

how elsie got her name

This picture? Come on. I love this girl so much.

Elsie Rebecca Groves is a sweet, sweet girl. Full of smiles and eyes that beg you to keep looking at her sweet self. She has started to babble back a bit, and I got a good breathy laugh out of her the other day when I kept quickly sticking my tongue out like a lizard. She is a joy.

So here's how Elsie got her name. First, her middle name is after...me. I had someone ask me that. Made me laugh. But here's the thing. My dad and brother share a middle name. My mom and sister share a middle name. And I, as the third child, did not share my middle name with anyone. This bothered me so that when we got our cat, Emily, when I was 9 or 10, I made sure everyone knew that Emily's middle name was Ann, just like me. I shared my middle name with the cat.

For Elsie, rather than Ann, I went with Rebecca. I liked how it sounded with Elsie. And this way Elsie also shares her middle name with two wonderful ladies: Svea Rebecca, my awesome niece who got in trouble today at daycare for being too silly during naptime entertaining the other kids, and Bailey Rebecca, my amazingly talented goddaughter who loves color and art just as much as I do. Elsie Rebecca is in great company sharing a middle name with these great ladies.

Her first name was chosen the day I read the following email from my Grandma. Annika had asked Grandma about sister Elsie and Grandma replied with this description of her sister. I loved that Elsie was a storyteller. (And by Grandma's retelling, it is obvious that Grandma, too, was a great storyteller.) I wasn't pregnant yet, but Rory and I were talking a lot about babies and names and the next season to come. After I read this email we decided on Elsie as our girls name.

I am going to copy and paste Grandma's exact email. I love how it reads in Grandma's voice.

My sister,  Elsie was born in 1915,  I, in 1918, we were considered four years apart?  Floyd was in between us.  She seemed much older than I. She was a great story teller. When our little brother Wayne appeared, he often slept with Elsie and I and she was always ready to tell stories. Her stories were fantastic. Little tiny people, only and inch and a half tall, that could live in an elephants ear, or a lions mane. They could climb trees, really bushes and hide from spiders and ants.  She could make all kinds of sounds that no one else could say. 

But I was a little jealous of her, it seemed she got to do the fun things, like sewing or baking and I had to do the dishes or dusting. She learned to make carmel rolls when she was about 13 and she sold them for 25cents a dozen to the ladies in town.  When one lady said that was too much, Elsie quit.  It cost more than that to bake them and deliver them—we were happy, then we got to eat them.  All bread was home-made either rye or white buns.

One day I was given the task to make pie dough.  I did get the flour and lard crumbled together but then I cried—this will never make pie dough.  Elsie and Mother were sewing in the other room and Mom asked Elsie to go and rescue me.  Elsie was very disgusted—all I had to do was add water.  Bet that dough was tough.

Elsie’s first year of High School was spent in Dunnell. There she learned the most wonderful ability to wrap a package perfectly—square corners, perfect.  I thought that was all she needed to know.  Her second year she worked for her board and room at Brodts in Sherburn. For her third year, Uncle Fred thought she could go and live with his children in Fairmont and go to a much better school.  He and Aunt Carrie had moved to a farm and the kids were to finish the year in Fairmont. Cousin Gladys was attending ‘Teachers college’ in Mankato and Elsie could ride heard on Arlin and Minnie who were younger till she got home each evening,  Elsie spent her fourth year living with Dr. Zemkes , working for her board and room.  They loved her rolls. 

A little brother had been born that spring. And Elsie stayed at home to help Mother the next year. Then off she went to Swedish Hospital in the cities for nurses training.  While there, the nurses had the privilege of attending parties for the men in training at Fort Snelling.  What did she do but fall in love with one, named Charles Cash.  She brought him to the farm to meet the family and ask for her hand.  Of course Dad thought he was fine and said, yes. They spent that Christmas Eve with Phil and I at our home.  Janice was a tiny baby.  I remember laying there listening to an excited sister who couldn’t sleep for joy. 

They were married that spring. Charles was an officer and  they were sent to Kansas City for a year or so and then to California and to the south east part of the states.  After the war they returned to Kansas City. Elsie and the boys spent many summers with the folks and us. Elsie was a great volunteer—in church, Cub scouts, after their two sons were grown she sewed many little dresses and shirts for the Needle Work Guild that were sent to needy children in other countries. Then she decided to go back to nursing—went for a refresher course and worked for many years at a hospital. 

She and Chuck sold their home and moved to Arizona in the eighties. She was with us when Mother died in Venture Out the Christmas of ’84.  They built a home in Sun City,  Elsie fell while walking to the car, stumbling over the cement retainer and broke her hip. That soon healed, and I had the privilege of staying with her a week while she gained her strength back. We had such a good time—but-- her leukemia that had been in remission for a few years came back with a vengeance.  She went to be with her Lord September 8, 1990


***
To read how Ivar got his name, click here.

yellow soybeans

We've lived in our new house for a little over one month now and actually feel very settled. In a lot of ways it feels like we have been here a whole lot longer. With a new baby, this is quite remarkable. Many have commented on how organized our house is already. Every box has been unpacked or categorized in the garage for storage. I impress myself. The house looks great.

But something happened when I saw the first of the soybeans begin to turn. I know that sounds so stupid, but I'm not kidding. I was driving to Target about a week or so ago and I saw the a little patch of yellow in the middle of all of the green and I took a big, huge deep sigh and dropped my shoulders. It was a physical reaction. And whatever supernatural, miraculous maternal adrenaline I was given in order to make this move and have this baby just disappeared. In that moment I hit my wall. I ran out of steam. And I am so dog tired.

It was awesome while it lasted, but it means that now I have to go to bed way earlier. And I should take a nap when I can. And I really don't need to sort and organize more boxes for a long, long time. And I probably should start exercising, cutting back on dr. pepper and making sure I eat foods that will give me energy. Which is a bummer, because mint chip ice cream is so good.

So the plan now is to take it easy this fall and hibernate this winter. Just hole up and never go anywhere.

Wouldn't that be wonderful?

life lately

 

Life is so full. And we are so grateful.

Here's what you're seeing in the pictures:

We had our friends Rachel and Andrew over with their two little boys. It meant we had three boys under the age of two at our house. Which meant that by the end of the evening all parents and children were wrestling on the living room floor.

We stop the car for cows now. Every time. Because it is a big deal. A bigger deal is when we don't see any cows for a long time. Temper tantrums are thrown from carseats, yelling for Cows! More Cows! So much that now he is starting to get in trouble for throwing too big of a fit if we don't happen to be driving by any cow farms.

The woman we bought our house from is wonderful. So wonderful that she organized a neighbor gathering for us at our home so that we could meet all of our new neighbors and she could do the introductions. It was a true gift. You know how I love community.

Our friends Mark and Julie came out and helped us thin some hosta, mow down the meadow and cut down six trees. Yes, that is a black walnut being chopped up into one foot pieces. And yes, we will never hear the end of it. And yes, we will invite all woodworking relatives to our place the next time we take a black walnut tree down and they can haul the whole tree away in their truck to their own board cutters. But people, we do not have a truck or a board cutter and could not have a fallen tree in our yard for an indefinite period of time. Okay? Okay.

I've been painting! On big canvas! And based on the painting book I loved so much, I am not becoming too attached to the outcome too soon. So I have lots and lots of layers added in, picking out my favorite parts and repeating those on the canvas, only to come back and paint over it all again and again. I tell you what. I smile the whole time I'm painting. It may very well only be for me, and it may very well never be a super developed gift, but man I have a good time when I'm painting.

We talk a lot about being gentle lately. Ivar repeats all day long: MamaDaddoBaby. Like a little cadence from activity to activity. But he also has said with a big helpful smile and bright eyes, "Elsie. Down. Cradle?" as if it say, "hey guys! here's a great idea. let's put her away so we can play." They will be pals though. Elsie is now locking eyes with us and it is awesome. She smiles and responds and we cannot get enough.

loads of laundry

Adding a child to the family and moving houses has caused a few necessary adjustments in how we live our daily life. But the thing that I am having the most trouble getting used to is the laundry.

Holy moly. It blows my mind. Adding a tiny baby and moving to the farm has somehow quadrupled my weekly laundry. We all get dirty and sweaty outside and often each require two outfits a day. And we girls seem to have a knack for covering ourselves in spit up which also requires a costume change. Rory and I sometimes shower twice a day, depending on what project he is working on outside and how stinky my hair is after a day of spit up. So towels are always running out too.

It's amazing.

Just thought I'd share.

the aunts

On Tuesday my Aunt Louie, Aunt Annie and my mom came to our house for a morning visit.  From start to finish, they nurtured me. And I soaked up every minute of care and love and kindness. It started around the kitchen table eating Louie's zucchini chocolate chip cake with Culver's custard. Which was sublime. Annie brought me a colorful, beautiful bouquet from her garden and gladiolas so that I could make an arrangement.

Louie brought the August edition of The Machinery Trader from Uncle Jake and Aunt Annie left sweet corn from her garden for us to have for supper. I gave them a tour of our property and a tour of our house, and when we were upstairs I sat down to nurse Elsie. They found my three laundry baskets full of clean laundry, hidden behind our bed and as I nursed I watched these women fold every single item, and then they put everything away. It made me tear up I was so grateful.

It was treasured, sweet time, mixed with a real heaviness as the absence of Aunt Jan was so obvious. Especially when we were sitting at the kitchen table. I felt such a hollow sadness in my heart. An ache that will never really go away.

These are the glads Annie brought from her garden. Beautiful.

 

Later that night Rory opened his top drawer and commented, "wow, honey. You really are stepping up your game. Folded underwear? This is amazing."



some thoughts on nursing

I hope you see the humor in this picture with this post. This cow lives right around the corner from us and as I was looking for a fitting image I decided to picture her with this post instead of me or my children. :)

Well the title should be enough of a heads up for anyone not interested in this topic just to skip this post. But I want to write about this...and have wanted to since Elsie was one week old. And then last night I was with a great group of women at my sister's house and the topic came up again and confirmed that I want to throw my experience out there.

When my cousin Kathy's baby was just a week and a half old, I went to visit. And I said something like, "isn't breastfeeding the most amazing, beautiful and wonderful gift? I loved every second with Ivar."

I meant what I said. And I still feel this way with my whole heart. But then when I had Elsie I had a lot of trouble during that first week. And the words I had spoken to Kathy haunted me with every attempt to feed my baby. It wasn't feeling amazing, beautiful or wonderful. It felt more like ten million razor blades attacking me in one very sensitive spot all at once. It hurt so bad.

And I was awkward. I hadn't counted on having to relearn how to breastfeed with baby number two. I think I assumed I'd be well seasoned after ten months with baby number one. But Elsie was a new baby, and we had to learn everything again together.

My time feeding Elsie in the hospital went fairly well. Usually there was a nurse nearby who could help us get started. But even before we went home I felt less than confident. I had the lactation specialist come by and help. And that was sort of helpful, but I left the hospital concerned.

And as it played out the next 48 hours were really, really tough. Physically, it hurt like crazies. Can't even put it into words. Her latch was little, and I was exhausted.

But emotionally it was killing me. Elsie cried hard because she was hungry. And I knew I was the only one who could feed her. It was my job. And it wasn't working. So as she cried, I did too. It made me sad not to be able to do the thing that would help calm her down and fill her up.

Rory called the lactation specialist from the hospital and had me talk to her again. And we also called an independent lactation specialist we found through google who would do home visits. One was very helpful and the other just told stories of her own kids. Which was frustrating.

But before we had the woman come to our home, my milk came in and somehow Elsie and I started to figure out how to work together to get the job done. I wish I could say, "and then we tried... and it saved the day..." But it wasn't any one thing. I think everything just sort of clicked for us. (Though belly to belly is key. And I had to get rid of the boppy...it brought Elsie up too high. And I started taking deep breaths and dropping my shoulders right before I brought her to my chest.)

In the end, we figured it out. But not without a whole lot of tears from both mom and baby. It was a really hard way to start out our days together.

However, now, five weeks later, I can confidently say it was all worth it. Of course it was. Nursing is such a treasured time. I love that every three hours I have to stop, put my feet up and adore my baby. And I love the miracle that happens every time I walk into her nursery half-dead in the middle of the night, and how when I see her I am instantly overcome with love and affection and happiness. I still fall asleep in the glider rocker as soon as she is latched on, but for that sweet moment when we see each other, it actually feels like love sweeps over the room.

That's what I was trying to tell Kathy that day. But I also should have told her that it can also feel like ten million razor blades too.

Two closing thoughts:

I was talking to my sister about this last night after everyone left her house. Annika tried for a very long time to get her first born to latch on. But nothing worked. She had lots of consultants help, tried the little tiny cup, but in the end Annika pumped every four hours for six months (!!!) and fed her with a bottle. And that worked too. It wasn't her first choice, but I remember being so proud of her and the stamina it took to pump six times a day and bottle feed every three hours and wash all of the equipment for the next pump. It was a true commitment. And then her next two babies latched on right away.

And finally, this is my personal story with breastfeeding, but I make no judgements on moms, no matter how they feed their baby. I am fully aware that there are tons of factors unique to each mom and baby that determine the best plan for feeding that little kiddo. And whether it was breastfeeding or bottle fed, there is no greater sound than a big juicy burp that lets you know this baby is well fed.

a case of the mondays

 

Rory put my sweatshirt on Ivar and sent him into the kitchen to show me. At first Ivar was laughing, but in the time it took for me to get my camera, the sleeves fell down and Ivar lost his hands and freaked out. Which made for a great picture.

I wrote about one trying Monday here. For some reason Mondays are always a bit hairy. Which is funny to me as a stay-at-home mom. You'd think Monday would feel no different than any other day of the week when you're home and keeping nap schedules and feeding tiny mouths. But somehow everyone knows it's the start of a new week and it takes a day to get back into the groove.

Last Monday Rory came up to me, gave me a hug and said, "if you want to get all new make up, we could make that happen." I thought he was trying to cheer me up, help me feel a bit prettier with this baby weight, or was simply acknowledging how hard I'm working.

Later in the day I walked into the bathroom and spotted all of my makeup in the trash. I picked up my (wet) powder brush and yelled to Rory, "why is my make up in the garbage?"

He replied very quickly, "Don't touch it! I found it all in the toilet!"

And that is why I am getting all new makeup.

Alison's Garden

 

Our next door neighbor in Minneapolis is a master gardener. Her whole lawn is flower beds and to live next door was amazing...glorious flowers to look at all summer long. These pictures are from her back yard the day before we moved.

When I was in the hospital delivering Elsie, Alison was in the same hospital trying to figure out the pain she constantly deals with in her back and legs. Now she is waiting for surgery that she'll have next week to try to bring her some comfort.

She never got to meet Elsie before we moved, so we made a trip so that Ivar could see is pal, "Alsin" and so Alison could meet Elsie. When we walked in the building, two workers were walking out and they said, "Oh you must be Alison's family! She has been telling us all about you." And that felt right: Alison's family.

the time I got stuck on a waterslide...

This dino slide is awesome. It's a foot and a half long and lands you on a cushy pad in six inches of water. I should know. I braved this slide all by myself.

I was trying to coax Ivar on it, hoping he'd sit in my lap. But he wasn't interested. At all.

So there I sat, with my dry swim suit, apparently blocking that little water nozzle by Josie's hand with my leg. And let's be honest. I was a bit wider than the slide. And at this point completely dry on the slide with bare legs.

This wouldn't have been a huge deal, I mean I wasn't stuck stuck. Just sticky stuck.

But what made it really awkward was when the life guards started blowing their whistles and walking towards me yelling at me, "Mam, that slide is for the children. You cannot be on that slide."

Well yes, I can imagine that is the case. Obviously.

"You need to get off the slide."

I agree. I'm just trying to pivot onto my left hip. Give me a minute....

And then I traveled down the foot and a half and splashed into the six inches of water and then made sure the lifeguards understood that I was definitely not trying to be defiant.

Josie and Maddie thought it was quite entertaining. And Ivar still didn't go down the slide.

mom brain

                                                                                                 Sara made that cake!
Last Thursday morning I said to Rory, "tonight when the kids go to bed I need to go to Target to get Kirby and Josie's birthday presents for their party tomorrow."

So all day long I worked on my Target List: more milk, cream, cereal, baby wipes..."

When I got to Target I looked at my list and wondered why I didn't just send Rory to get this stuff. I got it quickly, and came home.

Friday morning I woke up and it hit me. I had gone to Target to get birthday presents for Kirby and Josie. But I hadn't written that on the list, and therefore I was giftless.

I called Lisa and asked what Josie wanted and she bailed me out and said she had an hour glass for Josie that could be from us. I could pay her $10 at the party and she'd throw it in a gift bag for me.

Then I called Sara and asked what Kirby still needed on his list. And she mentioned that she was going to Half Price Books next and would get him a reading light from us and I could give her $10 at the party.

Ah, Grace. It's such a good thing.

I told them both how I had actually gone to Target to get them their gifts. And that the effort should count for something. They agreed and I was so grateful for awesome sister-in-laws.

And so then at the birthday party, Kyle and Lisa watched our kids so Rory and I could go down the water slides a few times and putz in the lazy river. It was awesome. At the end of the night Sara came back to the lawn chairs with her teeth chattering saying she was going down each water slide one more time with Kirby and Toby and did anyone want to join her? It was cold and no one took her up on her offer. But she was doing it for her boys.

I told Rory, "Sara deserves the Mother of the Ward Ayear."

"The what?" he said.

"The Mother of the Ward Ayear."

And then I heard myself. Mom brain. "The Mother of the Year Award!"

4 weeks and 10 minutes old

4 weeks ago, we were just meeting Elsie Rebecca. At this moment, she was 10 minute old. What a sweet memory.

On Sunday I dressed Elsie in an outfit I wore when I was her age. My mom did an awesome job at saving her favorite of my outfits and now I get to put my little girl in them, 31 years later.

the county fair

Saturday was a pretty perfect day. We planned on going to the fair for just an hour or two, and ended up staying half the day. We watched the 4H champion animals auctioned off, shared a bag of mini donuts, watched Ivar eat corn, saw all of the farm animals, took in the arts and crafts building, caught the tractor parade (!!) watched some young girls ride their horses through an obstacle course, and one of us cried hard when it was time to say buh bye to the cows.

...we had to get a picture of the ladies with the pink tractor. :)