Some of us got wheelbarrow rides.
Thems are some mighty fine pumpkins you've got there.
Oh my! What wonderful news!
Would you look at that? How precious.
My own little 34-1/2 week pumpkin.
A better look of my pale belly with rambunctious little Ultimette poking around inside.
Pulling a little pumpkin off the vine. Wouldn't budge.
Come help me with your garden shears, Brother.
Eeeek! There was something eewy crawling on it.
See my pin? 
About a week ago I started to feel dizzy quite often. Soon, shortness of breath developed. Then spots developed before my eyes. Then the ringing in my ears.
I've not been my usual cheery self. My hemoglobin fell to 8.9, my hematocrit is a little over 26%. Functioning in a reasonable fashion has fallen by the wayside. It's all I can do to get my cups of ice and dizzily trip to my bed, 'read' Green Eggs and Ham with Soren -- fortunately I memorized it by age 4, and cheer on Petra as she reads to me from Ramona and Her Father. I can't tolerate the oral iron very well, I can't tolerate this degree of anemia, I can't stay awake, I can't fall asleep let alone stay asleep, I can't go function at work and I can't afford to stay home. I have no energy for tears. If you can believe it, I can't even muster the energy to plan out my next donut run.
I did have enough of a burst of energy to attend the opening night of High School Musical 3 with Lars and the kids. It was super. I love that stuff. I even danced a little in the parking lot with Soren. We all laughed at me, belly-on-legs shaking my droopy white-girl tushy. It's a good thing.
Trying a different Rx called Repliva. It already made me barfy after just the first dose. If the Repliva continues to be problematic (or possibly in addition to it) then the next step is iron transfusions, if that doesn't work then we'll move toward blood transfusions. Though my last ultrasound on Tuesday went very well (baby weighs over 4-1/2 lbs and fluid index is 12), I worry about how she is managing with potentially compromised O2 perfusion. I deeply and ardently hope that little Ultimette is handling her oxygen-poor home well. We all love her so darn much.
I'll start with me since that is what I know best. Here is Ms. Kelly Jelly Belly pictured above, laying on top of 7-bags of mulch. It was comfy and it smelled good. Down there is my belly with a 33-1/2 week old fetus. Ultima and I started our biweekly testing this week. The first day didn't got so well, I had lost 3-pounds, it took an hour to get her heart rate reactive, then during the amniotic fluid scan it initially didn't seem like she had enough fluid. Things righted themselves and we were finally on our way. On Friday's testing appointment, she had a reactive NST right away, fluid wasn't checked, I measured well and my weight was up 1-1/2 pounds. Despite my fatigue, I actually look forward to going to work at the hospital these days. Primarily my energy for work is due to the fact that we have a fabulous ice machine on the unit and I can consume ice to my overburdened heart's content. Considering I'm craving ice just as much as ever and now have been having increasingly more common dizzy spells, spots in my vision, ringing in my ears and exceptional fatigue I'm guessing my hemoglobin hasn't improved with the iron supplements. Otherwise, some back pain and difficulty sleeping are a hindrance but certainly to be expected. Lars seems to be concerned with what I'm lifting and what I'm eating these days, but mostly he has been supportive with cracking my back and filling my cups with ice.
Petra (above #3 in white jersey) spent most of the weekend with Taylor. It was a double-game weekend, with one yesterday morning and one way far away this morning. Greg and Kristen took their kids and Petra out to Temecula last night where they spent the night. We drove out with our little ones this morning to watch their game. There were only 7-girls for our team today, so they all played the whole time in the 90-degree heat. Petra had several break-aways down the field toward the goal, but most of the other team's players were the size of 5th graders and so she was thwarted. No matter, we were very proud of how hard she played. Right now, she's playing school with her siblings and the neighbor boy. She is the teacher. Her 2-week fall break starts tomorrow, Lars will take tomorrow off to be with the kids. She can really use the break, I'm excited for her to sleep in and lounge around.
Annike was a bit amiss without her sister, but she and Soren made do. She had a t-ball game yesterday, per Lars' report she did very well. He took a million pictures, as usual. Recently she told Lars and me how excited she was for the baby to come. We asked her why and she replied, "because then I'll be big and I can wear a bra!" OMG! We tried to put it all into perspective for her, though mostly once she found out we would not be getting her a bra this Thanksgiving she tuned us out. What's a parent of a 3-year old to do?
Here is a picture of the quality of soil in our front lawn. It's a clayish, dusty, pine needley mixture. Lars and Soren worked hard on it yesterday while I guarded the mulch.
I just love taking pictures of Lars through this tree. Dunno why, just do.
The man isn't afraid of hard labor. His softy scientist hands are filled with callouses and blisters.
Now, I don't know much about the physics of landscaping, but I'm pretty sure that rake is upside down.
It's all so intriguing, no? Man vs. the soil. It could be a novel. I could write it. Under a pen name, of course. Anonymity is so important when you're a millionaire. I'd call myself Libre Stilo.
Well, there's the end product (almost). Those boys put six Bird's of Paradise and three irises in that rocky soil that day, folks. 10-bags of mulch were laid down and spread out (I helped with that). Now, 1/4 of our front lawn is landscaped. Looks mighty purdy, sho' nuff.
And now for my Brazilian Helper Man, his Daddy's right hand boy. When there's a tool to be used, or dirt to be moved Daddy can always count on little Soren. Soren had a great soccer game yesterday, he scored 2-goals. His first goal he made from all the way across the field while he was standing in the goalie box, he was determined to clear that ball out of there that he booted it as hard as he could. It was phenomenal. The second goal was from midfield, he just popped it right in. Beautiful.
Then he dug some holes in the bedrock to get these irises in the ground. He picked the irises out at Home Depot. Daddy let him ride the big cart that was piled with mulch.
Such a good worker.
Workin' with his #1 teammate, Daddy. Those two are one in the same.
Soren was a bit troubled in Petra's absence, too. We kept him busy with the Home Depot run and then a trip down to IKEA, where we probably permanently damaged our credit. Soren's pretty excited about his, and Ultima's, new furniture (it matches the pre-existing furniture). On the way home, Soren tried to count to a google. He got to 100, then it was pretty spotty after that until he got to 'sixty-forty hundred google.'
Maggie had the itchy-scratchies. I gave her a flea treatment this morning. She's got relief all over her face.
Can't you leave a dog to scratch in peace? Sheesh, Ma.
At the time of her adoption, Maggie was not our only baby. We also had Piggy and Toussy (short for Toussainte l'Ouverture). Piggy and Toussy were rescued bunnies from Lars' lab work. They begrudgingly let Maggie join our family, though, it was always clear from the get go who the top dog was. Toussy, our little girl bunny, ruled the roost. Piggy, our grumpy old man bunny - who is pictured above sharing some of Maggie's Eukanuba for dinner - was second in command, though Toussy was generally deferential to him as he was older and wiser. At the bottom of the pecking order came poor little Magdalena. When she first joined our family she was a mere 6-lbs, where as Piggy was pushing 8-1/2 and Toussy was probably 9-lbs. As they were both bigger than her at the start, and bunnies have very little concept for how things grow, they maintained their dominance over their doggy sister until their respective end-of-days. Maggie did not seem to miss them when they 'departed', I think they offended her rabbit hunting sensibilities.
"Say 'cheese' everyone . . ." This is Maggie (who did her best to smile) with 7-month old Soren, 26-year old me, 26-year old Lars, and 2-1/2 year old Petra back in our first house in Ypsilanti.
In the shower at Bubba and Gramma's after rolling in goose poop. This dog cannot pass up a pile of excrement.
Our neighbor dog, Sam, attacked Maggie on one of our last nights in Ann Arbor. Fortunately, Maggie is short, so instead of getting her carotid he got her ear and ripped it in two. Maggie's ear has since healed very nicely, but remains forked at the tip.
Here's our Queen Bee these days. Aging and regal but sweet and kind. All she asks is for a soft bed to sleep in at night, a Lazy-Boy recliner to guard the house from during the day, and a little bit of grub every now and then.
brother's skate board . . .
hat!
Things to know:
I made some traditional Alsatian food for book club/Finger Things Club the other night. Choukroute, Alsatian cheese from the Vosges, a baguette and an Alsatian wine called Gewurztraminer (geh-vooorz-tah-mee-ner). The food is pictured there in front of my Alsatian Betchdorf pottery (blue and gray).
The choukroute was meatless, of course, the sauerkraut is down there on the bottom.
This is a picture from Day 1 of last year's wildfires, it was taken around 9 a.m. Dark, huh?
he loves avocados. He also loves soccer, karate, bedtime stories, pasta, gum, movies and his sisters.
The avocados come from a tree in our backyard.
He's been fond of them every since he started eating solid food at the age of 6-months and 1-week old. He loved bananas, strawberries and pasta back then, too. Now Soren is 5-years old, he loves all the same foods. He has a fairly vegan diet as he's never tolerated dairy well and lives in a vegetarian home. Our friend, Kristen, turned him onto turkey subs from Subway but that only happens occasionally.
Soren's first word was "more," which he used at 7-months in the sign language form. It was his first spoken word, as well. Soren's babyhood was tough for our family. He had some health problems that landed him in the hospital, including a PPS (form of heart murmur), questionable craniosynostosis, lagging head growth, and a dilated kidney. To top it off, he was horribly colicky. These days, all that drama is behind him. He's has some pretty gnarly allergies, that have put him back at the hospital, but if we avoid spiders, dust and cheap underwear he generally does very well.
Soren lives at the end point of each pendulum swing. His highs are higher than you can imagine and his lows are sad and mournful. He is very earnest and curious. In fact, he is insatiably curious but not to the point where he would risk bodily harm, only to the point where he would risk one of his parents' ears falling off. And, as it turns out, he's a smart little buckaroo. His teacher says he's functioning well into a first grade level. Ha!
The most common remark we get about Soren is about his big, beautiful eyes. Brown, huge, round, with perfect eyelashes. It's mesmerizing. One of my favorite Soren parts are his ear lobes. I like to nibble on them, he squeals with absolute joy when I do this. He's also our biggest trouble maker and tests our strength as parents. But, despite all that trouble making, he's a boy with a very big heart. He loves to snuggle.
He's fascinated by science. He loves the science of cars, gravity, plants and birth to name a few. He especially loves the science of birth. A while ago, I brought home a video of Guatemalan women birthing in the squatting position. He was absolutely enthralled (where as his sisters disappeared, recoiling from the TV in horror), asking questions and making comments ("ooooh, here comes the placenta") the whole time. He has big plans to attend Ultimette's birth, unless she arrives by c-section in which case he abhors the idea of me having IVs in my arm and knives across my viscera.
When he was 4-years old he went through a fancy stage. He would lay out button down shirts with ties and dress shoes every night. It was his signature look, absolutely adorable. Ties came pouring in from everyone who knew about his wardrobe preferences. These days, he prefers to dress like his Daddy, in baggy shorts and skater t's. Though occasionally, he pulls out a tie and caresses it longingly as though he didn't quite resolve his Fancy Phase.
Soren's biorhythms drive our family to the ends of the earth, or 'orf' as Soren would say. He likes to go to bed early and typically wakes up before 6 a.m. every morning. While the rest of the house sleeps, Soren will grind Daddy's coffee for him on our 100-year old French coffee grinder and then proceed to brew it. He makes himself toast, eats dark chocolate and polishes off all the fruit in the house. He'll flip on the TV to the Food Network to watch our favorite cooking shows. Sometimes he gets sidetracked by infomercials, like he did the morning they were trying to sell a souped up weed whacker on PBS. He came into our room every few minutes, starting at about 5:00 that morning, "Daddy, they said we have to make the call in the next 15-minutes . . . (10-minutes later) Daddy we only have 10-minutes left, we can't pass this offer up! . . . if we buy now, they'll even throw in a year's supply of grass seed -- free! All this for 3-easy installments! . . . (5-minutes later) Daddy, they said we have to buy NOW! (panic in his voice)." The only person who can handle his schedule is his Gramma (my mom), who dotes on him and showers him with all sorts of special attention such as early morning golfing or clothes shopping. Soren misses Gramma terribly and asks frequently when she'll come back to 'live in the Grandma room.' On most nights, by 7:45 Soren is asleep in his bed wearing jammy bottoms and one of his Daddy's t-shirts. He needs the light on with the lamp 6-inches from his face, his special blanky, and some sort of stuffed friend.
Sometimes his Daddy teases him, like in the above photo that Lars took of him while he was sleeping -- Lars is responsible for all of the, er, accessories. But, a little teasing from his Daddy doesn't bother Soren. Daddy is Soren's super-hero.
