A favorite pastime

Stealing ice cubes out of my tea glass:

Rescue me

Though I'd be a martyr and rescue these chairs from their 80's styling:
(chipped glossy black paint, dingy beige seat covers...pictures don't do justice)
But then I realized that my paint job and new seat covers left these seats thinking it was 1995 all over again. Ugh. Not sure what I was thinking, but now I have six chairs like this:
I kind of like them...but I then again, not so much. And that is a bummer.

Celebrate!

Thanks so much for the birthday wishes to our girl! Yesterday we had a mellow day at home- playing, baking and preparing for company arriving for the weekend. Later in the evening we headed downtown for the annual parade that marks the beginning of a three day community festival. This is not your standard marching band/patriotic parade; it's more like hippies on parade. If memory serves me right, the festival gets rained on every year. Last night was no exception to that weather pattern- just as the parade began, so did the rain. We stayed out until the raindrops were no longer enjoyable, then headed over to our favorite Mexican restaurant for a bite.
Lilla enjoyed watching the spectacle- unicyclists, fire jugglers, dogs, outrageous costumes and more:
Later- with family in town over the weekend- we had a birthday celebration for our girl:
Though the celebration was pretty simple, Lilla seemed pleased with all the little details. Her eyes lit up with the birthday candle's glow and our boisterous singing. She pointed at and tugged on the birthday garland I made for her. She happily ripped through the wrapping to reveal her gifts. And by all appearances, she thoroughly enjoyed the carrot cake.

Happy first birthday my sweet one!

When I awoke on this morning one year ago, I was determined that it would be the day we would finally meet our little babe. Funny how those last days of pregnancy can begin to feel like an eternity. As much as I disliked the Castor oil from the previous day and as disappointed I was that it didn't work, I decided to try again. Monica, my midwife, was confident that another go would do the trick and suggested that I mix one ounce of the oil with chocolate milk (I used soy). That combo proved to be far better than with OJ. With the milk, the whole process was easier -way more palatable and easier on the tummy.

After downing my "midwife's cocktail", I chilled out on the couch and listened to a labor relaxation/visualization CD. By late afternoon, my body seemed to be on the right track, but I could hardly believe it. Was what I was feeling really and truly early labor? Or was it just the remnants of the Castor oil pulsing through my body? I prepared dinner and phoned my sister Lea who was on call to help out. It was six or so in the evening and I still wasn't sure, but I called my midwife anyway and told her I had some cramping.

Though initially I had wanted Ava and Rowan to be nearby or present for the birth if they wished, ultimately we decided that they should go to Auntie Lea's for the evening. So Lea came and picked them up and I put on a movie to relax. I soon realized that I wouldn't be able to concentrate on a movie. We pulled out the home birth supplies that had been stowed away in the corner of the room and began getting things ready. We changed the bedsheets and filled up the large birthing tub. I paced around and called the midwife. Yes, I was most certainly in labor! The midwife came over around 8:30-9pm and quickly and efficiently laid out her various supplies. Soon after the nurse and an apprentice midwife arrived with their gear. Everything inside the room was intense and outside rain poured down and thunder crashed. In the moment, the weather seemed synchronized with the waves of contractions. I labored hard in the tub and kneeling bedside a chair. Two hours later at 11:03 pm, with joy we welcomed our lovely little Lilla. The midwife and assistants checked out the baby, cleaned everything up, and monitored us for a few hours before leaving us peacefully in bed. Oh delightful sweetness to have our baby safe and sound without leaving the comfort of home.

Here's some photos from the morning after when Rowan and Ava first laid eyes on their new sister. Hard to remember Lilla being so brand new and so small- though at 9 lbs 12 oz she wasn't exactly tiny:
Thank you Lilla for bringing more love and happiness into our lives. You are a blessing and I am so glad to be your Mama. Happy, happy Birthday Love! XOXO

One year ago today...

...with a belly as full and round as the moon, I waited for my labor to kick in. Already days late and leaking amniotic fluid, I was getting mighty impatient and maybe just a little grouchy. My amazing midwife, who also helped with Rowan's birth, suggested taking Castor oil in hopes of getting labor going. I had already been doing a little acupuncture to pave the way for labor, as I had before Rowan's birth. But this time around to no avail. So on this morning a year ago, I mixed an ounce of the oil with OJ. The nauseating mixture- like a lipstick flavored creamisicle- did the job of making me feel ill and crampy for a few hours, but the promised contractions never took off from there.

So later in the day after I felt better, I decided that I must go strawberry picking. I felt sure that all that bending and picking in the hot sun would get my labor started. Plus, I figured jam would be better made before baby showed up. But at the end of this day a year ago with berries picked and jam jars lining a shelf, I went to bed without a baby in my arms.

Berry pickin' time

Over the last month or so, I've keeping watch over my strawberry plants-pacing around the little patch, heaping mulch around the plants and fuming over deer damage. The patch is so little and the berries so small that my harvest will probably only consist of a few handfuls of fruit. With that in mind, the main reason I've been watching my berries is so I would know when the time was right to make visit to the real strawberry farmers and reap the rewards of their labor. Yesterday the time had come, so Rowan, Lilla and I headed on over to one of our favorite farms:

Just picked, still warm from the sun berries nearly melt in the mouth. As we were picking, I overheard an adult daughter a few rows over telling her Mom to please stop eating all the berries. But it is impossible to not sample at least a few berries while picking to keep the energy up and make sure the berries are good. These definitely passed the goodness test:
Part of the bounty we brought home with us:
After all of our hard work picking in the morning sun, we rewarded ourselves with strawberry smoothies:
Just whirled up our berries with some frozen banana (always have a supply of that just waiting in the freezer for this purpose), OJ, soy milk and ice.

Of the 15 pounds of strawberries we picked, only a few fresh ones remain. The rest have been frozen to supply more smoothies throughout the summer, turned into jam to begin filling the pantry and fresh sliced for a dessert of strawberry filled crepes with a dollop of decadent whipped cream (for shame!)

Give us another week or two and I'm sure we'll be right back out there. I never seem to get enough of those plump glistening fruits.

Happy Father's Day

It's Father's Day....where do I even begin to talk about these important men in my life? How do I possibly put into words my feeling of indebtedness and gratitude toward both my wonderful father ?

From childhood days, I have many fond memories of my father. Closing my eyes, I can remember summer afternoons spent on my Dad's boat- sipping ginger ale while the salty breeze and sea spray snapped my face. I had a miniature sailing cap that my Dad gave me and with that on I would feel oh-so-official. I remember the game my sisters and I would play before bedtime where we would run up the stairs and ask our Dad to "catch our legs. " This was always a fun bedtime ritual and is a game I still like to play with my children. I remember my Dad happily breaking out his clarinet sounding like Benny Goodman and playing a duet with one of us.

My Dad may have been a bit older than the parents of my peers, but he was always youthful and energetic...taking us out to the high school track to run around, playing a (at times brutal) game of basketball in the driveway, and riding his bike around the neighborhood. My Dad was also an ever present spectator at my middle school/high school sport events- field hockey, basketball, track. I'm sorry my teenage self did not know to appreciation all the support and love my Dad gave to me. Well, Dad, I hope you know now how much I appreciate the things you have done for all of us over the years.

 Happy Father's Dad and all those others papas and dads out there!