Bitter Pre-Spring

The wind is bitter today. I just went and got a sweatshirt out and am downing cups of tea end to end  to keep warm. Lockbox and I are spending lots of time huddled together, building mood boards for home decor to the tinkling accompaniment of Pandora. The boys keep holing up in their bedroom listening to endless stories on cd under fuzzy blanket tents strung from the bunk bed to the radiator. Indoor weather.

I didn't plant any peas for St. Patty's Day. It wasn't the year. And by the time I thought of it it was dark and I was in my pajamas standing at the kitchen sink, staring out past the porch light at the bitter, brown garden with a snug decaf latte in my hand. Somehow there wasn't a lot of appeal. The snowdrops and the witch hazel are going to have to suffice for now. We're thumbing through the garden books, holding on for warmer temps and planting more things in little mini-greenhouses made from old produce boxes and plotting what we'll do later when spring pops by again. (Because it will!)

Instead of Spring I am thinking to spend some time thinking about painting again. Maybe it is time to attack marketing again? Am  finding it hard to be motivated about these things. I believe lots of lies: "I am not able to handle numbers and promotion and other such technicalities. This will all be very boring. It is all too much work. I will die!!!!" Lies can't win though. Time to grease up my elbow and order some business cards and scope out some local art shows to join for the spring.

Also on the agenda: Curing Pom's eczema, which gets worse by the hour. I harvested some leaves from my houseplants this morning and made some diy aloe vera gel for ointment. Am also eliminating dairy in his diet and going to feeding him some evening primrose oil, fish oil and a little powdered probiotic. Zam! Eczema doesn't know who its messin' with. Mama means business! I'm sick of this scabby, rashy, painful, itchy mess. Poor little babe has enough goin' on with six teeth in his head already at the age of 10 months.

Morning Glow

I am stepping back into my preferred rhythm again, up early with the larks...or I would be if the larks weren't gone just now to warmer climes. I was a morning person as a baby and a little girl. I used to get up in the morning my eyes popping open to the nutty, warm smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. I would hustle downstairs and sit on his lap while he slurped coffee through his mustache and split an apple with me, smeared with spoonfuls of peanut butter. Morning was a special, quiet, private, delicious time of day. I got up because my body told me to and because it felt right and I enjoyed the warmth and quiet peace it brought. Somehow I slipped out of the habit, and by the time I was a teenager I remember making my Papa hound me every morning to get me out of bed for high school. Sometime in my sophomore year I remember deciding suddenly to try deciding to get up cleanly and early again, no more sludgy, grungy, rough mornings and no more forcing someone else to haul me out of sleep. And that was it...the next morning I snapped upright when I was called and I was up bright and early for the rest of high school. Since then I have waffled back and forth and sometimes slid back into late rising but I always feel worse for it. Times like now when I take my teenage vow on again and creep out of bed before everyone else I feel so right and at home. The morning feels like a small, warm gift and a glowing sunrise like this one makes feel confirmed and warmed on my little path.

Our Fourth Baby Arrives

Photo credit to A for this timely shot

Welcome to our sweet new child! In the late morning of May 27 I scooped up my fourth son and held him in my arms for the first time. He was born early at 38 weeks gestation, surprising me completely with his prompt and brisk entrance. I had my fastest labor yet, whirling through the whole thing from 6:00am to 11:10am when we first saw his face. We really hit the gas in the last hour of labor though moving from 4cm dilation at our time of arrival at the birth center at 10:00am to the three pushes and baby meeting at 11:10. Whew! I was kind of intimidated when I realized things were clipping along a bit faster, worried that I wouldn't be able to keep my feet under me psychologically and that the intensity of a fast birth would beat me to shoe leather. Handily, he's a very sweet baby and he was gentle on his mommy. I stayed right on top of things until a certain point in labor (maybe 10:30 or so) when I suddenly felt unable to keep up and thought I was wimping out. I realized retrospectively that the panic and hazy feeling of losing it was just transition hitting and the emotional wall most women come up against right before the baby descends the birth canal and pushing begins. Sure made me feel better to realize that I had coped just fine after all. I did most of my labor "on land" this time and slipped into the birthing jacuzzi my plush birth center provided at the very ninth hour. I think I got in around 11:07 or so. I was there for three pushes and the birth of the placenta and then I was popped into the cozy in-room bed and Baby and I were snuggled in with blankets fresh from the dryer in the next room. Heaven, even on a hot day in May. And then we placed an order at the local taco stand and had lunch. No sweat, baby before noon and a whole day left to kill!

Our beautiful new son, our fourth and latest joy is: 

8lb 4oz, 20 inches long,  Giles Crispin Armstrong. (pronounced JYE-ulz) 

And now...a little name background for the curious:

He's named after two saints, a name grounded in history and pageantry.We like that Giles smacks of British Isles chivalry.....tinted with knights and dragons and top-hatted gallantry. Crispin is more boyish and takes down some of the high tones Giles can carry and makes it a little less stuffy.

There have been two great saints named Giles, one was a much loved, early miracle worker and the other one of St. Francis of Assisi's inner circle, one of the first Franciscan brothers whom Francis charmingly called "the Knight of our Round Table." We also like the homey, down to earth hero feel that the character Farmer Giles of Ham gives to the name.

Giles was originally the Greek name Aegidius and the literal meaning of the name is "young goat." I'll grant that this comes off a bit odd but you have to do a little digging. Some sources also say that the name means "shield" which is a much cooler meaning to carry around, although a bit bafflingly far from the first meaning.Turns out the word originally comes from the term for ancient Greek shields, particularly the important shield of their highest god Zeus which were made out of (wait for it....) the tanned skins of young goats. To be a shield is good but to be a shield for the highest god in the pantheon is pretty heavy duty. We like the connotations. We hope Giles is always a protector and a shield for those around him even for the hidden vulnerabilities of those who seem high and powerful.

photo credit to my sister Song

Crispin is another vaguely British sounding name, fitting for our combined very British Isles heritage. Crispin means "curly haired" which is neither here for there for us specifically. Our little man has no real hair of any substance yet and what little down is there is not curly at this point. Wouldn't it be funny if he got lush curls later on in life? Would sure make his mama smile.

St. Crispin was an early Christian martyr who with his twin brother, who left their noble family positions and attempted to share the gospel with the Gauls by day and industriously working as town cobblers by night. St. Crispin's Day was once the feast for honoring these two but today it is most linked to Shakespeare and historic wars after the several key battles that were begun on that day. Shakespeare's famous reference to St. Crispin's Day is in a speech given on said eve by King Henry V (in the play of the same name) before his troops in preparation for the battle of Agincourt. Handily the speech is a rousing call to brotherhood and sacrifice...a lovely thing to reference in connection with the name. Crispin apples are also tasty, and give a little homey touch to the name.

Giles is a completely sweet little soul. He sleeps soundly at night waking once or twice to nurse with no real crying. Maybe being number four has sent him clear signals that an easygoing attitude is needed, or maybe God has given me a special gift not to be taken for granted, relief and charm in a chubby little body. We are enjoying him completely and you'll all understand if the blog temporarily turns into a baby album, won't you? With dimples like this in the viewfinder its hard to resist.

Poetry Friday: Spring Fever In Action

Image by Bill Gracey via Flickr

Happy Poetry Friday to each and every one of you!

Been out this morning a bit and going to be out a bit more the rest of the day. I love it when poetry happens to me, especially on a busy Friday like this one. I always wonder if this week will be one of the weeks when I sit there waiting for a poem, or if the perfect inspiration will hit via idea or experience. Today, Poetry came by and stepped into my life without so much as a "by your leave" and it was lovely. Transporting even.

To My Husband, Just So He Knows

There was something in the air this morning
After I took you to work I pulled in the drive
And bolted rashly from the car, bent with purpose.
The grass was squishy gold and rain was sifting down.
Around a hidden corner of the foundation was a nest
Of forgotten iris rhizomes and they were calling
My fingers feverishly, right there into the mud,
Packing my nails with dark-lines and smudging my left cuff.
I was fumbling earnestly, over the grass, in the rain
Pulling the knobby ginger roots from the turf and
Snaggling them out from under the metal highway
Of the rain gutter sloping over their lumpy toes and
The small silver blue sword points beginning to emerge.
I bent there over the irises and manically pulled
And tossed until I had grown a small heap of liberated
Roots and nubbins, muddy smears and blue-silver tips.
I took the accumulation over to a blank chocolate bed,
And like some desperate primeaval horticulturalist
Used a handy, triangular rock to gouge out muddy earth
Scratching each shallow pit, then tucking in the roots,
Patting soil over them with my sticky brown finger tips.
And there was our son beside me, curious and big-eyed
Watching Mommy crouching over a damp patch of earth
In a pale blue trench coat in the drizzling rain
All mud up to the wrists, gleaming white ear-buds
Dangling over one shoulder and the car keys still in her teeth.

I love that suddenly, after one manic fifteen minutes I have an organized little iris patch. I wonder if all the roots will thrive and take and above all, I wonder and can hardly wait to see what colors that little batch of nubby roots will produce. I am praying that among them there will be one or two of the tall, old-fashioned purples with the long falls and the heavy tangy scent like grape soda.

If you enjoyed this taste of  verse and want a little more to satiate your poetic appetite, click your way over to Liz In Ink and enjoy perusing the list of all the Poetry Friday contributors right along with me!

Early Morning Habit

One of my resolutions this year (I didn't share all of them publicly, a girl has to reserve something) was to get up every morning, at 5:30 (i.e. before everyone else in our house), do a yoga routine and have a morning window of peace to arrange my mind before the house was a wild, humming hive of short males. I have decided that when I am sick sleep is good so, my recent sinus headache was a legitimate reason for "sleeping in" but otherwise, I am now up and at 'em. So, I get up, turn up the heat, make a mug of tea, unroll my yoga mat and light a candle or two.

And I have to tell you....I love it.

The head-start is pretty priceless, the time of stretching and mental dusting and conscious movement is good for my body and soul and folks you have to admit, the stunning sunrises I've been taking in, are a totally swank bonus.

Witness.

Here are a few other little bits and nibbles that might help you make the leap to an early morning start yourself.

I have been doing some of the yoga routines from yogayak on YouTube...all free. I especially like their heart-opener morning routine...yoga in the Costa Rican jungle is very refreshing this time of year.

This little gizmo of a website will help you be sure you can catch the sunrise where you live...and honestly, it's become one of my favorite things about the start of my day.

And then there's this clever little sleep-cycle calculator which will help you be sure that waking is less painful. I am planning to give this a try for the first time this weekend. I will aim to go to sleep 10-ish since that's when the all-wise Cyclometer says I will slip into an effortless rhythm allowing my painless release at 5:30. Wish me luck.

I promise, if you live in a busy household, it is one of the only things I've found that give you a little island of peace in the middle of the madness. Even if it sounds painful, even if it IS painful...try it. I almost promise you won't regret it. :)