In Which She Summons Normal

This past month has been amazing, "I'm so lucky" beauty side by side with ridiculous out of control "I can't believe this is my life" despair. Nobody died. We didn't lose our house. We all had more than enough food to eat but the feeling of real, painful frustration was still legitimately there sandwiched by flashes of fabulous.

We were sick over and over and over from Nib's hospitalization through two days ago in June with no apparent cause besides random chance, the roses bloomed beautifully, the house was trashed perpetually, the baby continues to be a gentle soul who sleeps and only wakes once or twice in a night, my hive got overcrowded and then I accidentally killed a few of my bees babies through sheer clumsiness, Our CSA began and it is wonderful, Nib started teething his two year molars and we had the most amazing summer thunderstorms, the heat was withering (literally in the case of my garden) and I hit my pre-pregnancy weight. And on and on it went...back and forth like a crazy rocking pendulum.

 

It feels like it is evening out a bit now...more stable, more normal or at least less painfully raw moments of bad happenings. I have tried to be strong or to figure it out or to even let go of it and I'm not sure I succeeded at any of it. I just survived accidentally. Am very happy to be apparently on the other side though and hoping to have a very smooth stage next. I am so desperate for some regularity, some even living and some frigging social contact! I cannot wait for the next bit.

 

I have hacked into our hedge, I have formed a health accountability partnership with Jane, I have a 38 day spiritual contemplation spinning, and I am itching to paint. I predict good books, fresh batches of kombucha, beans from the garden, a clean guinea pig cage, and some grand adventures with my boys. May it be so.

Life With Four

My mom has gone home, sailing back to her own life through a bright blue sky at the end of last week. I am mistress of my own galley again. And oh, how the poop deck needs swabbing! I was hoping to get a really solid jab at it this morning but instead we had a troop of gigantic Polish plumbers to the house to work on our collection of antique radiators.

They are all immense grinning men who wear heavy cologne and speak rapid fire staccato Polish to each other in hearty voices, running up and down my stairs between smoke breaks in the driveway. On said smoke breaks they all lean against their cargo van with cigarettes dangling from their big grins and make wise cracks at Ru who stands there in a Peter Pan pose on the lawn and peppers them with questions. Right now they're trying to teach him how to shout "Red and white!" in Polish so that he can cheer for their national soccer team. They're immensely more entertaining than housework. I have to give them that.

The boys all think it is extremely entertaining whenever we have workmen to the house of any kind. They still call them "Fixers" a mysterious race of able bodied, heavily biceped dudes who know how things work, arrive with battallions of tools and then proceed to do the unthinkable, take things apart and fix them! I admire their gusto for the trades but they are a bit hard to keep out from underfoot...especially since they keep multiplying! Four little boys is a lot of little boys sometimes! The plumbers have had the doors propped open on both ends of the house which means that I feel a little like I'm trying to keep a troup of trick poodles contained in a box with no flaps. Whew!

Otherwise, life is very jolly...we're reading Pippi Longstocking and eating all the sugar snap peas out of hand, and avoiding sweeping the floors far more than we should. The skies are clear and the weather is balmy and the baby is impossibly cuddle-able, so far so good. I did cry all the way home from the airport when I dropped off my mom but today a stunning bouquet arrived at my front door from her and so I am having a pretty upbeat beginning.

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.

Tornado Alley

This is sort of how life feels a the moment at our house. One big, not terribly colorful, baby-in-the-picture-now blur. Kind of insane really. I have wayyy to many things to get done in one day and every single day ends lately with me panting madly and trying to find a way to shut of the manic "Concerns List" chattering in my head so that I can get to sleep.

• Our landlord wants to bring a realtor through to evaluate our unit for listing and I am trying not to completely lose my mind over the impossibility that will be getting the place clean enough that I won't just die on the spot when they arrive. 
• I am struggling just to get laundry washed and all the dishes cleaned, I still am not really "cooking" at all. (Its true...I am able to make jam but not dinner) My kind friends at MOPS are bringing in our evening meal every other night and we're eating leftovers for lunch and the alternate dinners and breakfast is something clever like....yogurt...or you know, yogurt.
• I finally got the flannel sheets from the last cold spell off of Ru's bed today and I have not mailed even one thank you note. 
• I was really hoping this house deal would come together before our summer house guests but, it looks like it won't be happening and I'm wracking my brain about where we'll put them all.
• New discipline issues are cropping up with the big brothers and I'm resorting to online problem solving research to come up with fresh ideas for confronting the problems.
• The birth announcements are all printed up and gathering dust on top of the computer. Blast! Must mail somehow!
• The van needs to have a taillight replaced and I can't figure out when I'll have time to get it into the shop.
• I have tomato plants in teeny tiny little peat pots on my back stoop that need somewhere real to live and I'm vacillating daily about whether to put them in the ground or shell out the extra cash for big pots and potting soil on the off chance that we end up moving before they bear.
• The baby has the worst case of baby acne on the planet. He looks truly frightening. I am so sick of explaining to people that he hasn't been bitten by lots of bugs or broken out in a terrifying heat rash or gotten some devastating sickness. And I was hoping to do his one month portraits soon but, he truly looks so awful that I don't want to remember it in pictures. I'm even considering taking him in to the pediatrician. Would they laugh me out of the room?
• I am that horrible in between stage physically. I can't fit my normal clothes but, I refuse to wear a maternity wardrobe and I'm not past the six week window to the magical place where dieting is allowed. Blast. 

How to avoid drowning in self pity, panic or total dark pessimism? Its really not that bad, right? Tell me this is somehow all petty or all in my head.

Meltdown Music

Yeah, *cough* so, it was just yesterday that I was beaming generously out to the world my recipe for chocolate cake and telling everyone that I was whizzing along so well....heh.

But isn't that the way it works? Cloudbursts yesterday, meltdown today despite the golden morning sunshine. Well, now I've had the meltdown out of the way so lets hope I'm just on my way to normal again and have the bumps out of my system...I know its just part of rolling with the punches and really, really getting the engine humming.

Today, a video link of a new group I've discovered recently thanks to the wonderful magpie skills of my friend Alison. Please enjoy this extremely fabulous German band who do a wonderful collective peppy Elvis impression. I can't stop toe tapping when I play this song. I'm dedicating this to my patient husband who listened to me rave and cry all the way to his work this morning and then hugged and kissed me extra as he got out instead of cold shouldering me for even a minute. You're a gem dear, and you can stand under my umbrella anytime.




XOXOXOXO

Sharing The Consolation

Its a crazy little cloudburst kind of day. My first day flying alone with all three of the boys...and you know what? I made it. There were no tear-type cloudbursts...just dramatic thunderclaps and lightening zaps and driving force rain outside our window. Am very pleased to be feeling as buoyant and I am actually making this three kid thing work. True, I didn't give the boys their regularly scheduled bath, true, we never made it outdoors for playtime and true, true, true...I didn't get up fast enough and get boys clothed fast enough to make a real breakfast or take A to work so I could have the car to go to my painting group. BUT....I managed all the snacks, had the handyman in to do odd jobs around the place, made lunch and everyone took a sound nap. And as I mentioned....I haven't cried once.

In honor of doing well and feeling good and not needing a lot of consolation myself at the moment...I'm passing on "my" (read Julia Child's) recipe for Chocolate Consolation Cake that buoyed me  as I waited in that nasty in-between place for little Reid to arrive. Maybe somebody else out there needs a little lift today, have some chocolate cake, chocolate can sometimes make everything better! So, here it is...for those of you who made requests...heat up those ovens...here's the recipe!

Le Glorieux (The Glorious...if my French detective work serves me well....what a great name!)

7 oz. semisweet baking chocolate
2 oz. unsweetened baking chocolate
1/4 c. of orange liqueur (I omitted it as I hadn't any)
the grated rind of one orange (ahem...I omitted this too)
2 sticks of butter
5 large eggs
1 c. sugar
1 t. vanilla
1 c. cornstarch



Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Break up the chocolate and melt it with the liqueur (if desired) and orange rind in microwave 30 seconds at a time with a stir each time the microwave beeps. Continue until perfectly smooth and creamy. Cut butter up into small chunks and stir the bits into the melted chocolate until perfectly smooth. Then set mixture aside.

Beat the eggs and sugar for a moment at low speed to blend. Increase speed to high and add the vanilla. Continue to beat for 7-8 minutes, until pale and fluffy, doubled in volume and holding soft peaks. (This part is so lovely and pretty to watch)

At slow mixing speed, sprinkle the cornstarch into the egg mixture and incorporate slowly. Don't try for a perfect blend, just a mostly perfect one, you wanna make sure to mix it briskly so that you don't deflate the eggs completely. The take a spatula and use it to fold a large gob of the egg mixture into the chocolate butter to lighten it. Then fold the chocolate butter into the eggs, one large glop at a time until completely incorporated. Make sure you smooth your spatula down the sides of the bowl to ensure thorough mixing.

Pour batter into two prepared 8 inch cake pans and bang lightly on a table to evenly distribute the batter in the pans. Bake for 25-30 minutes. The cake should be slightly moist when done in the "French manner" (so says Julia!) and the top of the cake will crackle and flake a little which is normal.

Cool cakes after removal from oven and while they sit you can:

Melt 3 oz. of semisweet chocolate, 1/2 an oz. of unsweetened chocolate, 4-5 T of butter and 3 T of orange liqueur together until perfectly creamy. When the cakes have cooled, pour the new chocolate mixture between the layers and sandwich the cake together....I served it just like that, with spoonfuls of whipped cream on the side but, of course you could also frost it if you need deep consolation.

There you have it.

Garters and Goodbyes, With A Side of Roses

Yesterday was perfect weather for all the outdoors gallivanting we did. I did a little garden exploring, catching up on what I'd missed since I took to my bed and buried my nose in all the roses that are indeed blooming. So lovely to see them all flourishing! I really was wincingly nervous that all this rose anticipation and hope and apparent incoming blossom avalanche would somehow manage to come to nothing but, instead, I'm happy to report we are enjoying a regular storm of rosy petals. When you step out onto the patio it smells like a perfumerie that specializes in old rose scents. Mmmm...

And then...tiptoeing past the garden bench I noticed this little garter, all curled in the sun, pretending earnestly that he wasn't there and hoping I'd think he was only a leaf. I ran in and got the boys, hoping I could show them but he was too nervous and quick for two rowdy little men and had managed to dematerialize quickly by the time I had them both on the bench, peering over the side. Oh well. I thought later that I should have taken them back indoors and read them the poem that kept rattling through my brain after the encounter. Note to self: when poems in my brain insist on being heard over and over, maybe they will be satisfied if I read them aloud to small boys. Dickinson would be good for us all, I think.

Little Bird was exhausted after the errand running because part of what we did was take him to the pediatrician for his first basic exam. This visit is always kind of fun...they weight, they measure, they tell you how incredibly gorgeous he is and you sit and chat congenially about parenting. He's a little big for his age and he's gaining weight beautifully (totally impressed the nurse with an 8 oz gain since birth) and he scored perfectly normal or above average on all the checklist points so, now its confirmed...our newest son is practically perfect in every way! What else would we expect?

And then of course the saddest duty of the day was saying goodbye to our dear Grandma/Mama at the airport. Ru cried as we drove out saying, "I just want her to stay with us! Why does she have to go?!?" He's a rambunctious little boy who can be a real handful but he is a lover deep inside and he does hate goodbyes. Good thing we're headed to Michigan to return the visit in just a few weeks...July, here we come!

Thank You Seems A Little Flat...

Really...how do you "thank" someone for: putting their life on complete hold for you, for washing all your dirty underwear, for putting up with your toddler screaming in their face, for coaching you through a four hour nighttime tantrum session, for making three meals a day from scratch and serving them to you while you sit enthroned like a queen with nothing more to do than nurse your newest subject, for praying you through contractions, for wiping up spilled drinks and any number of myriad other unspeakable acts of sacrifice and selfless love?

How does that work? That whole "Gee, thanks!" bit? I wish there was some fabulous something we could buy her besides a plane ticket home that would make her feel amazingly loved and really convey the depth of our appreciation. I wish I had daughters so that I could replicate what she's done for me for the next generation. I wish I could say something more than a teary goodbye and a lot of "I love yous" but, what in the world would it be. In lieu of that...I'm here...leaving a bloggy thank you and spreading the word through the blogosphere that just in case you all think I don't know what a spoiled little goose I am, how incredibly lucky this sort of treatment is and how very special my mom is for slowly and lovingly buffering my descent into motherhood...I know. I don't know how to ever make it up to her and I'm not really sure how to let go of her, (I never do) and peddle my own two-wheel bike down the driveway but I sure am deeply grateful. I'm a big girl but sometimes inside I still don't feel like it. And really folks, knowing that your parents are, like mine, so deeply loving and care so very much is the deepest safety net a child can have and one of the most profound kinds of goodness.

So, Mama....thanks. I owe you about five million....again.


P.S.
Extra special grateful love also goes out to my kid sister Melody and my incredibly fabulous Papa who also gave deeply and to whom I am indebted as well. This is love.