Smiling Happy People

Three hours later...

2009-07-12T10:48:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, why don't we have a dog?"

"Because we're saving up for the pool."

My poor, deprived children.

2009-07-12T07:44:00.001-07:00

Abby and Maddy have just spent the better part of the last hour standing out on our shore house deck, staring longingly at the next door neighbor's pool while their children swim and play.

"Can we get a pool, Mommy?"

"No, honey, we're not getting a pool."

Abby launched into a swirling, petulant soliloquy about how important swimming is to her, and how swimming two times a day at camp isn't enough, and that it is a gross violation of her human rights that she only swims--twice a day--during the week and not on the weekend during summer. She trailed off, looking expectantly at me, searching my face for signs that she'd made persuasive headway.

No such luck.

"But honey, the other two days of the week you come here to the shore, and you've got this beautiful ocean right there," I countered, gesturing majestically to the Atlantic panorama before her, just off the steps of her beautiful vacation home.

"But everybody gets a shore house," she pouted.

She was not a fan of the laughter that ensued.

Veggie tales

2009-06-19T09:52:00.000-07:00

Hilary, to Maddy: "Are these peas or edamame?"

Maddy: "They're probably not peas because my Mommy gave them to us. Mommies like eda-mommys!"

A race worth walking about.

2009-06-14T17:25:00.000-07:00

The girls and I took a trip around Harriton High School today for the first annual "Run For Our Schools." Abby had the courage to join me on the 5k, which we ran along with Amy Lutz, daughter Erika, Keri Fisher and one-year-old Molly in a jogger. Maddy harbored secret (ok, not so secret) dreams of dusting the other kids in the kiddie Track Trot, her enthusiasm reaching the boiling point as she waited for me and Abby to finish our race so that the Track Trot could begin.

In the last mile as Abby and Erika dug deep to keep running to the end, it was agreed among the moms that the experience was sufficiently character-building to be "blog worthy." To which Abby huffed between breaths: "Well, I think it's walk worthy."

Maddy was sure that the small trophy meant for the second place winner of the 5k was instead meant for the winner of the track trot (since they are smaller, of course) and spent the better part of our time on the 5k with Dad Dad, mentally decorating her room with the trophy she was sure to win. She did earn a finishers medal, however.

Is there anything sweeter smelling than a baby?

2009-06-10T20:40:00.000-07:00

I came in to kiss the girls goodnight carrying a warm, just-bathed Henry. I sighed, and remarked, "mmmm, Henry smells like a baby...all soap and baby powder." Abby retorted immediately, "he'd smell more like a real baby if he threw up."

AKA one hundred thirty

2009-06-10T13:36:00.000-07:00

Maddy proudly announced in the car on the the way to school, "I can count up to one hundred twenty-ten!"

Overheard

2009-06-08T18:40:00.000-07:00

Abby is making noise upstairs and generally resisting going to bed; I'm on my way up the stairs to police the situation.

Maddy (to Abby, in a nagging tone): "What about going to sleep do you not understand?"

Maddy (yelled to me downstairs): "Don't worry Mommy, I took care of it for you!"

Motion Devotion

2009-06-04T14:36:00.000-07:00

I put Henry down for his nap (on the other side of the crib), and then, after his nap, heard his mobile turning on and off over the monitor. Expecting to find one of his two sisters to have snuck into his room, I tiptoed upstairs to find the very mobile, mobile culprit.....

Maddy's bike riding skills

2009-05-27T06:23:00.001-07:00

Went from a few pedal strokes in a straight line, to this in less than a week!

Henry updates

2009-05-24T13:06:00.000-07:00

New skills acquired in the past few weeks:
1) Sitting up unassisted
2) Adorable babbling
3) Faucet-like drooling

Hair today, gone tomorrow

2009-05-22T12:19:00.000-07:00

In recent months, all I seem to do is nag Abby to brush her hair. She walks around half the time with snarled, out-of-control locks, and by the time I pin her down and brush it out myself, it's a tear-stained ordeal. This morning was the worst, though. She woke up with hair that had practically dread-locked itself. That, I decided, was most certainly that. No more was I going to wonder who looked at her and thought "is that child being raised by wolves?"

Off to the hair salon today, after a half day of school, under the guise of "mommy-daughter day." Also known as, "ambush bob cut." With no trace of shame, I guilt-tripped her into donating her hair to charity, and when that only got me to 75% acquiescence, I threw in an American Girl outfit. She looked at me with narrowed eyes and said, "American Girl doll, and you've got a deal." Sigh. What could I do? I came back, "only if you don't like it."

"Ok, then."

Afterwards, she was delighted. She kept running her fingers through it and couldn't wait to see what it looked like with barrettes, or with a headband, or just tucked behind her ears.

"Do you like it?"

"More than I thought I would! A lot, actually!"

"Great!"

"When do I get my doll?"

And so, I dealt the negotiator's blow: "But you like it."

She was trapped. She knew it. I knew it. The American (Girl) people knew it. I told her she could certainly have an outfit for her existing American Girl doll, and that Daddy and Mommy would discuss another doll.

Something tells me, though, she's got a doll coming.

More tooth-based notes

2009-05-22T07:08:00.000-07:00

Found this post-it stuck to my computer this morning; no doubt a particular prior experience made a deeper impression than we thought:

What's special about this picture?

2009-05-16T08:21:00.001-07:00

I mean, other than my adorable son?

Any guesses?

How about--this isn't where we put him down. Henry is officially a crawler! Well, a scooter, but still, it's pretty adorable, and he was really proud of himself.

Nifty!

Another Cyclist in the Family!

2009-05-12T11:21:00.001-07:00

A shout out to Madeline, who learned to ride a two-wheeler yesterday. She is very, very proud of herself. Further props to her sister, Abigail, who spent quite a bit of her after school time helping her sister commit to not putting her feet down.

What's Not for Dinner in the Garden of Eden

2009-04-18T12:36:00.000-07:00

Abby's Sunday School assignment:

Name five things you will take with you to the Garden of Eden.
1) My three blankies
2) A computer
3) A TV
4) My bed
5) My cats

Name five things you will NOT take with you.
1) My Wii
2) Board games
3) Leftovers

Happy Passover, Oregon Style

2009-04-08T10:39:00.000-07:00

So we're in Portland, and it's Passover time. I hit the local Whole Foods for my seder essentials. As I'm at the meat counter, I see a sign saying, "complimentary seder bones." Awesome. Back in Philly, this is pretty much par for the course in every supermarket, but I wasn't expecting to find a seder shank bone so easily in Portland. I mean, there are definitely Jews--and Jews love Whole Foods--but I just didn't expect to see that.

So I ask for my brisket, the chicken, and I'll take a free seder bone. The guy looks at me like I have two heads. I look back at him, also two-headedly, because he's standing right behind the sign that says "complimentary seder bones." He goes, "what bone now?" I repeat, "seder bone."

"What?"

"Seder bone."

Blank stare. I gesture to the sign. He reads it, and it clearly Does Not Compute.

He gets his manager, and the two of them profusely apologize because they suspect they're being rude to me (I assure them they're not--the confusion was mutual) but they have no idea what their own sign means and they're more than happy to oblige but need me to tell them what it is they are supposedly offering. I say, "am I correct in concluding I'm the first person to take advantage of the free seder bones?" They laugh and so confirm. I try to describe what it is I get every year at Safeway or Whole Foods back in Philly: a little bone from a lamb. In my head I can see it. A shank bone, scraped clean, and cut into pieces so you can get 4-5 seder plates out of one bone. Look, it's free. So I do my best to describe it and they say they can do it, absolutely, let them look around. I tell them I'll do my shopping and come back to the counter.

About 5 minutes later, the meat guy comes to find me, and hands me three brown paper-wrapped packages: the brisket, the chicken, and something....else. It's labeled "no charge." It's suspiciously large, but I'm way too afraid to reopen this issue. I thank him for all his help, take it home and open it up and....it's a whole lamb shank. Like, 4 pounds of lamb, on the bone.

God will be pleased. Or, "dinner is served."

Delaware. I'm in Delaware.

2009-03-11T18:21:00.000-07:00

At dinner tonight, Abby excitedly described a game that she and her friend at school had made up. This friend had brought in a collection of quarters. They would lay the quarters out, heads up, and turn them over. Whatever state was on the back, that's what state you would pretend to be in, until your next turn. According to Abby:

"Sometimes, though, you'd turn over a quarter and nothing would be there," from which I gleaned that some quarters were regular old "eagle back" quarters.

"So we made the game that then you'd be in nowheresland, or lalaland. Or Delaware."

PROGRESS REPORT

2009-02-15T07:23:00.000-08:00

Name BRIAN HIRSCH Date SEPT. 10, 1980
Subject PHYSICAL EDUCATION

Brian's work in physical education has been of a commendable nature. He has shown diligence and conscientiousness in his classwork and homework assignments. I am looking forward to working with Brian this year.

(signed)
Carol Green
Teacher

Feet (a poem)

2009-02-15T07:05:00.000-08:00

I give you this undated poem from my childhood, circa 1980.

Feet

I woke up when the sun was bright,
and sleepy as I was,
got out of bed.

Oh! Gosh!
something smells,
it's the smelly sock,
I wore yesterday.

Hey, it's dark,
and soft in here;
I think it's the shoe,
that's red, white, and blue.

Pain!
Weight on my soles,
this hurts so much,
I can take no more.

Off and on,
and on and off,
this weight on my soles, toes,
and the ball of my foot.
This pain I can't bear any more.

Ah! It's dinner,
I can tell,
I hear a murmur of somethin' swell.

Munch, Munch,
that is all they do,
eat and eat until they're blue!

Weight again,
hey, we're going up stairs,
at last that oye, gooye,
stinky smell from this sock,
is coming right off,
it's nine o'clock.

Wait,
It's dark,
I'm gonna' die.
Black is all I ever see.

The foot went to sleep,
and got up the next day.
No, he didn't die,
not that little ol' guy.

Happy Hallmark Holiday, everybody!

2009-02-14T14:18:00.000-08:00

We never really did much of anything for Valentine's Day. It just wasn't one of those days that registered too highly on my Scale of Important Holidays. And until recently both kids were at the synagogue for school where Valentines Day is ignored entirely for religious reasons. So that was that. But ever since Abby started public school, she's been getting into it. The class has a party, they exchange cards, and it always takes me by surprise, as in "oh, it's that time of year again?"

On Wednesday, I got a taste of what Abby's Scale of Important Holidays is like: she tried to get out of going to ballet by saying, "oh mom, it's almost Valentines Day! I can help you at home getting ready." Um, exactly what have you ever seen me do with regard to Valentines Day other than buy half-price candy on February 15? She actually thought that the Friday and Monday off she has from school was because of Valentine's Day, not President's Day Weekend. Needless to say, she went to ballet class that day.

What's been adorable, however, is that she has spent two days making this Valentines Day Scavenger Hunt in our house. I am not allowed to know what's going on with it, but certain things of mine are mysteriously missing. I guess we'll play tonight and that will be good because Maddy will get her winter jacket back, wherever it is right now.

Update: All Brian's girls got flowers today! Aren't they beautiful? The flowers are nice, too!

When children get their hands on dictionaries.

2009-01-27T06:22:00.000-08:00

Each day Abby has a different activity with regard to the week's spelling words.

Yesterday, the activity she chose was to write a sentence describing the meaning for each. Well, one of her words was "foyer." She didn't ask me what "foyer" meant, but let's just say I strongly suspect some kind of reference device was employed before she proferred this sentence for her teacher's perusal:

"Foyer is an anteroom or lobby, especially of a theater."

I'm more upset than you think I am.

2009-01-26T12:04:00.000-08:00

So I was putting Abby and Maddy to bed last night. At one minute before bedtime (literally), Abby said, "you know, it's still a minute before bedtime. Would you read me a book?" It was kind of hard to argue with that logic, so I said yes, a short book. Abby dutifully went and got one ridiculously short Disney Princess™ book. I asked her to get something more appropriate for her age and reading level, and she said, "but there's not enough time!" The little nut had me--give in on principle if you want a better book. Ugh. So, we read the little book.

Meanwhile, Madeline is in the bathroom brushing her teeth but her Princess Spidey Sense still manages to detect the hint of Disney (™) in the air, and starts to scream, "you have to wait for meeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!"

Um, no, we don't--not when you're late because you were too slow at getting ready for bed. So I keep reading. She hears this, and starts to cry. By the time she finishes with her teeth, she is in full-on bawl, and comes into the room and says, rather acerbically, "why didn't you wait for me? You have to wait for me. You always wait for me." I respond, "well, no, I don't. You were late to bed because you were goofing around. Had you gotten ready on time like I asked, you'd have been able to hear the story." Gotcha, punk.

That goes over about how you'd expect, so with no more story being read (I had finished with Abby by now), she lies down in bed, whimpering. The show is pretty entertaining, and by now I am fighting back a chuckle. I think she noticed; she said to me, still in cry/whimper, "you know, I'm more upset than you think I am."

Henry Cam

2008-12-24T09:54:00.000-08:00

I hooked up my iSight and dedicated a laptop to create a video baby monitor for Henry when I couldn't find the other half of my old baby monitor. I am also streaming it live to the web so that any interested family members or friends can see Henry while he naps. If you'd like to peek in on Henry while he sleeps, let me know and I'll give you the access code!

Oh, Henry!

2008-12-11T08:03:00.001-08:00

Under the category of "better late than never" I have the pleasure of announcing, three weeks late, the birth on November 23, 2008 of Henry Eliot Hirsch, 7lbs 12 oz, 20 inches. He is, of course, perfect in every way, and much more enjoyable out than in. He was born after a strange and protracted labor (well, protracted compared to his sisters' births) but never looked back. Everybody is adjusting well, even with the fatigue, and Henry is growing like gangbusters.

Your move, Uncle Dan and Aunt Mer. Henry is anxious to meet his best friend.

Longer birth story:

Friday night, I went into early labor, but the contractions were only moderately regular, and weren't so strong that I thought they were terribly painful. I still stayed up all night (and I do mean all night) that night timing them, and hoofing it around the house trying to make them fall into a productive pattern. But by Saturday morning, I was having some bleeding issues. Because I had previously been diagnosed with a placenta previa, I was afraid it was connected to that, even though I had been cleared at 32 weeks. I called the OB's office and they brought me in to check. I spent all Saturday morning in the hospital, and had zero progress on my labor. They did clear the bleeding as totally normal and confirmed I'd progressed from 2 to 3 cm. So the labor the night before had done something, but didn't seem to be going anywhere fast. I was so worn out. I took a small nap Saturday afternoon, and had lots of moderate contractions, but no real labor even though they had gotten strong enough to get my attention each time they happened. I was despondent--labor was so much more obvious and directed with the girls, but this time it was so protracted, with no real assurance it wouldn't just linger for another week. That was just such a depressing thought. Saturday night, we went out to dinner with friends and I had some contractions again, but nothing that convinced me labor was imminent.

But all that blood kept saying to me "you can't have that and not be on the cusp of labor!"

So Saturday night, I went to bed at 10:30 and was woken up at 11:30 by a ROCKING contraction. Heeeeere was labor. Yippee! I began to have contractions that took my breath away. Only they weren't regular! ARRRRRGH! They'd be consistently 10 minutes apart, and then just inexplicably slow down to 27 minutes apart. Infuriating.

Either way, I wasn't going to get any sleep for the second night in a row. I was deliriously tired, and after hours and hours of painful contractions, I began to lose focus. Especially when they consistently refused to follow a totally predictable pattern, though in retrospect they were certainly trending in the right direction. I was tolerating them well until about 3am when they took on a more urgent edge.

By 7am, I was wilting. I called the OBs office and told the doctor on call what was going on, as well as my desire to have a natural childbirth. She recommended staying at home for as long as possible because she's fought the hospital before on constant monitoring and the like and it was a tough fight. At that point, though, I really really really REALLY wanted to know how far I'd progressed because the pain was unbearable. I had fears of still being 3 cm and having gone through all that pain for nothing. I wasn't getting those full stomach contractions that come in waves from your back, but just incredibly stabbing sharp frontal pains and deep low tightening. I was so scared that nothing was going on.

The uncertainty of how far labor had progressed me, coupled with the extreme fatigue and going stir crazy at home for the second day in a row had me begging Brian to take me to the hospital. He kept encouraging me to stay the course, that it was clear things were happening and that it certainly would be over soon.

But I was losing resolve. I told him I wanted him to take me to the hospital and give me pain medication. He said it was his job to talk me out of it because he was going to represent "me at a more rational time." I told him I understood his perspective and appreciated his efforts to advocate for something he knew I valued.

We finally agreed on this: we would go. If all of this hard work had been for naught, then he understood that pain medication was necessary. However, if I'd made tons of progress, then he was sure that information would bolster my resolve. So we left for the hospital. On the monitor, NONE of my contractions were registering. What's more, they slowed down, though each one was still making my toes curl and I was in no way tolerating them because they were unpredictable and I was absolutely panicking that all this pain wasn't doing anything. They were taking FOREVER to come check me. When they did, I was 6cm. While that was great, I realized at that very moment that I was NOT going to make it all the way to 10. Even though the nurse was sure it would go quickly, being my third child and all.

I just looked at her and said, "I need pain meds, please." She asked, "do you want an epidural?" I said yes, and you know what? It felt right. I finally felt like I could tolerate the rest just knowing that I'd taken control of this pain. The anesthesiologist came, and his recommendation was to do a really light epi. He would keep the continuous pump epi turned on really really low and give me a sort of "panic button" where I could self-dose more medicine if I felt it necessary. The dose of narcotics in the line was so low that my fentanyl-expert husband (he works for a pharma company that makes fentanyl products) was doubtful it would even be effective. But it was just enough to take the edge off the contractions. Blessed relief! Unfortunately, I think I transitioned WHILE he was putting it in. I was shaking and nauseated and having the worst contractions I'd ever felt, right on top of one another. But the anesthesiologist worked quickly and it was a comfortable experience having it placed.

I never had to use the panic button, I could move my legs (well, one of them), and feel the contractions. What's more, when the OB came in just as the anesthesiologist was finishing up, she checked me and I was a 9. So I guess I was starting transition just as the anesthesiologist was working. The OB then said she wanted to rupture my membranes. I asked her if I could just see if I progressed without that and she looked at me like I was nuts. All I knew was that I didn't want to be forced into an end-game and AROM meant we were certainly going to have to deliver a baby. That's when Brian said, "uh, you're 9cm. You ARE having a baby today." He was right. She pointed out that the epi was likely to end the contractions and this way she could avoid hanging pitocin, which I'd avoided completely thus far. She was right. Rupturing my membranes did ensure that labor continued and I spent 20 minutes waiting to progress to 10. I was so buoyed by the relief in pain.

Things happened quickly after that. The OB came back, and declared me complete, and we did some test pushes. He descended quickly. I was also delivering in an antepartum room because L&D rooms were undergoing maintenance. It was a tiny room, set up for only emergency deliveries for women who stay in those rooms on hospital bed rest. Once they wheeled in all the other things, there was barely room for Brian, the OB and one nurse!

So the OB decided not to break down the bed into stirrups and rather let me labor on the regular bed in whatever position most worked. That was a great approach. What's more, about two feet from me was a big wall mirror and I could watch the whole thing. And when he finally crowned, I got to reach down and deliver him myself, upon the urging of the OB. It was so cool. Of course that whole time I'd been watching in the mirror and the OB had to say "look down, not there!" LOL!

Overall, once the pain relief kicked in, the labor experience was absolutely amazing. They let me keep Henry with me, and I got him latched and nursing within 15 minutes of delivery. I did have to use my pinky finger to stroke the roof of his mouth and then swap out for the boob, but once he made the association, he did great. When they took him for his bath, they were really happy he'd spent 40 minutes nursing and didn't bother checking his blood sugar nor were they interested in binkies or formula. He was clearly content. He came back to me quickly. I was put in a huge private suite, I guess to make up for the labor room!

I recovered really fast. I still looked 6 months pregnant, but I was up and walking within a very short time after delivery. I felt great. The epi was so mild that I bounced right back, which was one of the reasons I wanted to go natural. It seems I got the best of both worlds.

Henry adjusted great, and only lost about 6 ounces before my milk came in on the second day and he started gaining again. At discharge, he was already back up to 7lbs 10oz, and now, three weeks later, is well over 9 pounds.

Cash is the nicest gift of all.

2008-12-09T08:14:00.000-08:00

Abby lost yet another tooth yesterday, this time without any intervention from yours truly. However, the tooth inexplicably broke in half before Abby could consign the tooth to her pillow. She was, understandably, worried that the tooth fairy would not accept broken product, but we assured her that the tooth fairy is not concerned with such matters. Unconvinced, Abby apparently wrote the tooth fairy her own note, pleading her case, which was discovered by Brian upon tooth retrieval: