A Confession

I am normally one of those conscientious moms, concerned about the health and wellness of her family. I try to keep a close eye on the nutritional value of what I put in front of them, but today I left the res'. I fell off the wagon. I hit new levels of gastronomic lows.
And I'm confessing this here because I value the honesty in my relationship with all 429 million of you, my closest friends.



What did I do?





I ate one of these.

















A Kentucky Fried Chicken "Double Down" sandwich. And I gave half to my husband. He asked, "Is this because you love me or hate me?" I said, "If I hated you, I'd give you the whole thing."

I couldn't help myself. It looked so good on TV. Yeah, I knew it was probably a heart attack waiting to happen, 2,000 calories in one sandwich, but it's fried chicken. I like fried chicken. And cheese. Well, I'm not a big fan of cheese so I'll leave that there. Special sauce? I'm always interested in what constitutes 'special sauce'. And of course, the deal maker - bacon...who doesn't love bacon? Well, vegetarians, Muslims and those abiding by Jewish dietary laws, but outside of those people, who doesn't love bacon?

So with some hard earned money, I bought a "meal" that consisted of this sandwich, a 16 oz. Pepsi and potato wedges.

the Pepsi was 200 calories
the potato wedges, 260 calories
and the sandwich, 590 calories (according to KFC)
for a grand total of 1,050 calories in one meal!

Even if you allow a generous 2,000 calories per day for your average gal, that's 50% of your daily need blown in one meal! I could eat an entire pint of Starbucks Caramel Macchiato ice cream and still not hit that many calories (no, I really, I could eat the entire pint.)

So if I'm going to blow 1,000 calories, it needs to be indulgent, succulent, worth the trip, as they say.

But this sandwich was...

it was....

remarkably mediocre

exceedingly average

astoundingly uneventful


So now I'm out $6.48 (arrgh! that's 3 Coolatas!) and I'll probably have to start mainlining statins tonight and eat salad for the next three days. But at least I know the truth now, right? Right?

~sigh~

How Time Flies

Eighteen years ago today I was at church....

No, I wasn't doing the Mormon multiple spouse thing. From the left are Matt, my "man" of honor, me, Bo Hunkmeister and Lou, Bo's best man. I asked my college roommate to be maid of honor but she took off to Italy. So I asked my good friend Matt to step in. I love the fact that he so readily agreed.


Pre wedding...
...I was pinning a corsage on my dad, running the show like a stage manager on a power trip. I love the smile on my dad's face. You can tell he saying, "Oh that poor boy! I wonder if he knows what he's in for!"


On the other hand, Bo and his best man were watching Rocky and Bullwinkle. Bo said he shaved three times that day. Maybe that's why Bo's cheeks were shiny.


These are my brothers lovingly telling Bo, "Now that you're part of the family, we don't have to pretend to like you any more." Aren't they the sweetest?


Marrying this wonderful man has helped introduce to the world...

Gummi

Tater

Princess Buttercup

W. Bear

Princess Git Er Done

and of course...

Baby!

It's been a fabulous eighteen years, Bo. Here's to more adventures!

Public Service Announcement #234

Everyone needs to read this (it's an easy read, no really, it is):




To prevent this:





We'll address the whole public speaking skills thing later....

The Road Less Traveled

Dear New England,

This letter has been a long time coming.

You know I love you. We started our relationship on shaky ground with the schizophrenic weather patterns and the funny accents, but when I discovered your fall foliage, your quainter than quaint little villages, your plethora of Dunkin' Donuts, I said to myself, "I think this relationship could work."

But there's something I gotta ask you, something I need an answer to.
What the heck is up with your roads and road signage?

Between road signs that are placed on the opposite side of the turn, non-existent road signs and highway signs placed just at the exit or after (when the turn is too late), it makes me think you don't want me here.

Today was the final straw.

You see New England, a friend told me I didn't have to go all the way to Boston for good cannoli. I could go to the North End Deli in Plainville which is just off of Route 152 which is off of Robert Toner Blvd. A mere 20 minutes from my house!

Like any good New Englander, I started my trip with a stop at Dunkin' Donuts. And here was my omen: a sour coffee. I should have seen it for what it was but, because I didn't, I tried to remedy the situation. I bought another coffee to mix with the sour one rather than concede defeat; retreat to fight another day. (Am I being melodramatic here? I mean, we're talking about pastries after all.)

I forgot the Google directions at home but, in my mind, it seemed so simple. I confirmed the directions with a friend who lived in the area. She said, "Sure, just bang a left and then another left and it's right there."

Confident in my information and in our knowledge of each other, I took off. I turned onto Robert Toner Boulevard. You know I'm a cautious person, New England. I like confirmation that I'm on the correct road. So after a few miles, I started to look for street signs that would indicate the road I'm on. I find a sign at the cross street that only has the name of the cross street itself, not the one I'm on. As a matter of fact, it had two signs on one pole for "Kevin Koska Drive," as if there was a disagreement whether there should blue signs or green ones and it was decided to use both. As I passed each cross street I looked for confirmation but there was nothing. It was as if you, New England, were telling me, "You should know the street you're on." I've also noticed that sometimes, you put the street signs on the right side for a street that is on the left. Is it not a little dangerous to be looking to the right side when you need to be turning left?

Befuddled, I went into one of the three Dunkin' Donuts that I passed to ask directions. The girl inside told me she was good at directions. This, in hind sight, I should have seen as another portend of misfortune. She said, "Follow Landry to the end."

I followed Landry. I stayed straight. I did.

But at some point, I saw I was no longer on Landry. Finally, there was a street sign but only to tell me Landry had left me. Going straight, no turns, the road changed. Did I enter a time/space continuum? You can't just up and change a road name in mid stream. Or direction for that matter. I tried to follow this new road to the end but the last block was one way in the opposite direction I was traveling. Same name but different direction. How can I get to the end if the road is against me?

Now, traveling back and forth to find out where I am, to see where Landry has disappeared to, to somehow find Route 152 (which is supposed to be a major route), I return to my starting point with 1/4 tank less of gas, frustrated and more importantly, cannoli-less.

Really New England, I need to know. We don't seem to be communicating clearly. I need to know where I am with you.

Love always,
Domestic Goddess

Postition Available

I need someone.

After the standard question, "Are they all yours?" I'm usually asked, "How do you do it all?" Meaning, how do I keep on top of the cooking, cleaning, educating, child care, et. al, ad nauseum. Truthfully, I never thought of my life as particularly full of chores and work.

Until now.

I need help. To clean my baby. It's a full time job. No, really, it is.


This is Gummi.
Cute little bugger with a sweet disposition.
He's bathed on a regular basis. Not as much as the only child of a first time mom, but never the less, he's a fresh smelling kid. But I'm finding it harder and harder to keep him funk-free. Why?

Consider his ear.
Notice the tiny little canals. Perfect for trapping stuff.


This is his chin. When I pull back his chin to clean, I discover two other chins. I swear I could lose a dollar bill under there.


And his belly button. I'm scared of what's in there but I don't know how to get it out. (I'm sorry, did you just finish eating dinner?)


Ahhh, yes. The toes. Which stay clenched all the time. I want to clean between them but that would require prying them open somehow. I'm scared.


His hands

Do you know how long it takes to trim the nails of an appendage that's constantly in motion?

So I can either tend to the rest of my house or spend the day cleaning Gummi, but I can't do both.

I will be interviewing people tomorrow.

My Girl

This is my girl, Princess Git-Er-Done.

I think of all my kids, she's most like me.

For example...



she likes to cook,

she thinks rules or instructions are for people who don't know what they're doing,

and she can multi-task like a pro.

Sometimes, she's a force to be reckoned with...

But she's also very sweet, like here when she's trying to soothe her brother:

Most of the time, she's just dancing to her own music.

And that's why we love her.

Happy Birthday Sweetie!

What Happens When the Baby is Left with the Siblings

I like the look of resignation in the last photo.

Fashion in the Domestic Goddess House

I told Baby to go upstairs and get dressed for the day and this is what he came down in. Note the shoes.



This inspired me to post about Baby's fashion sense until I uploaded the other pictures on the card and saw these.

Doesn't his expression just say, "Why, Mother? Why?"

This is Grandma getting in on the action (or getting a snoot full too early in the morning).

"You will bring me more kibble. You will bring me more kibble. You will...oh, nevermind."

What happens when you leave the baby with his sister.

I couldn't tell if this was a clothing issue or interpretive dance.

As Princess Buttercup once said, "We're all about fashion in this family."

As the Juice Box Turns; A Raven La Diva Story

It was a dark and stormy....morning. Raven eyed her appliances warily as she kissed Bo Hunkmeister goodbye.
"Oh my darling!" she said, "Have fun on your trip. We'll miss you!"
"Be strong my kitten!" Bo replied.
The crumb crunchers darling children hugged their ruggedly handsome father while Raven thought to herself, 'Can I give these kids spaghetti every night while he's gone and still be a good mom?'
Bo stepped out the door and rode off into the horizon. Then it began. Princess Git Er Done snipped at Tater, Baby threw a toy, Tater called Git Er Done stupid, Baby pitched a fit, W. Bear bet Git Er Done $6.00, Git Er Done won the bet, W. Bear wouldn't pay.
Just when Raven could take no more, there was a knock at the door. It was Desiree, Raven's friend. What was that in her arms? A casserole for tomorrow's dinner and sushi grade tuna. Here Raven was, well on her way to a meltdown and her friend brings sushi! 'Oh, Desiree!' she thought, 'You're harshing my drama.'
Having recovered from her moment, Raven rolled and rolled tekkamaki like a 60's dope head (not that she knew anything about that personally). Then she, Desiree and the kids ate themselves silly. Lunch was taken care of, cheesecake was made, babies were cuddled and life was good. A little too good perhaps.
'How long can such happiness last?' thought Raven.
Will W.Bear's ill place bet grow into a gambling problem? Will the children be fed more than spaghetti? Will there be enough blog fodder for another post?
Tune in tomorrow....

Yowza

My friends rock. They also nag me about posting to my blog, but for the most part they rock. Case in point: they threw me a surprise party for my
~wait for it~

40th birthday

~large sigh~

Now I normally like to assume I'm the fount of all knowledge (at least that's what I tell the kiddos) but I was completely surprised by all this. Clueless, I'm tellin' ya. I went with the family to my friend's house for what I thought was just another Sunday afternoon cookout/potluck. However, going around to the back of their house, I see my Dad. I think to myself, "How sweet! They invite my parents up for my birthday!" Then I see the rest of the gang. Wow. Yowza. Holy Frijoles. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you guys rock. There were friends, there were testimonials (sardonic wit!), there was food, there was live music. And there was much merriment!

There were gifts too! Y'all must be reading the blog because I got something like $357.23 in Dunkin Donuts gift cards. (Knowing that you're reading the blog, why hasn't someone gotten me that outdoor bathroom yet?)

Bo Hunkmeister had friends of ours perform "Be Thou My Vision", a very beautiful hymn that was in our wedding. Remind me to scold Bo for making me cry in public. And let me say that I gave the Millers their first piano lessons before they became rich and famous. You guys have done me proud ~sniff, sniff~

As usual with our group potlucks, there was lots of food - burgers, chicken, ribs, sushi, stuffed mushrooms, ice cream cupcakes and a donut cake with lots of sprikels spincles sprinkels jimmies!

I'm not sure what else to say because I'm operating on small amounts of sleep in addition to copious amounts of iced coffee which leads to lots of potty breaks that interrupt my train of thought - not that the trains are very long these days. So I will leave it at this.

Thanks guys - you rock!

Today is a good day!

Not only did I have a Chinese lunch for free*, but this was my fortune:






*courtesy of mystery shopping!

Get the Kleenex ready...

My 11 year old wrote this for me for Mother's Day:

My Mother's Hands

My Mother's hands are the hands that,
Held my Father's hands on their wedding day,
Held me to her bosom the day I came out,
Taught me to walk, corrected me when I did wrong, and
comforted me when I was sad.

The hands that taught me to read,
taught me to have fun, taught me to speak my mind.
The hands that taught me to love, care, share, think and use my imagination.
The hands that taught me about the Armor of God and how to wear it.

Her hands are the hands that love me and
the hands that care for me when I am sick.
Those hands are the hands that teach me about the love and salvation of Jesus.
The hands that clasp together in prayer, praying that I would grow up to be a godly woman, full of faith, and doing the will of Jesus.

Her hands work the ground; providing food for the family.

Her hands are hands that are always open to Jesus.
Hands that are always protecting, loving, caring, correcting,
teaching, sharing, giving, and comforting.


Happy Mother's Day Mom!

~sigh~

Happy Mother's Day!

I love Mother's Day because it's that day when it's all about me! Am I letting the inner diva out a bit much? In what's become an annual tradition, I've compiled a list of gift ideas. Shall we get started?

1. An outdoor bathroom. That's right, a shower, sink and toilet outside of my house. Why? Because I'm tired of little boys who play in the mud and then tramp through my house because they need to go potty. An outdoor bathroom would allow them to piddle outside without the neighbors getting upset and at the end of the day, I can shower them off before they come indoors. Go ahead, tell me I'm a genius.

2. A vegetable cloaking device. Like the Klingons had on Star Trek. With a cloaking device, my carb-boy will actually eat something other than white starchy things.

3. $500.00 in Dunkin' Donuts gift cards. Lattes, iced coffee, coolattas– I love them all. I could have a DD product every day. However, the husband insists on using his paycheck for things like paying the mortgage or the electric bill rather than funding my Dunkin' habit.

4. A GPS device to implant in my children's shoes. It never fails that one shoe is downstairs and the other shoe is nowhere near the first shoe. Yet I don't see my kids walking around with one shoe only to take off said shoe ten minutes and twenty feet away from the first shoe so they wander around with the original shoe asking where the other shoe is. You following me?

5. Recipe organizer. Between the document box, the twenty or so recipe books and three year's worth of Cook's Illustrated, I am over whelmed. But I can't throw any of them away because I want to try them. No really, I will make that lobster soufflé some day. Really. Help me.

6. Titanium game boxes. I do not know who at Hasbro/Mattel/etc. thinks that putting children's games in thin cardboard boxes is a good idea. Within days of receiving a game, the corners are split and taped back together at least three times. In ones month's time, the box is basically a place-mat. I know titanium is a bit more expensive but I think I'll end up ahead with the money I'd save on tape.

Now my dear Bo Hunkmeister suggested for the gift list a device that locks a child in the bathroom until their hands have been tested for the presence of soap and water. I would have listed said device here until it occurred to me that children like Baby would probably like being locked in the bathroom for a few hours. We'll have to work out the bugs on that gift idea for next year.

Until then - all you Moms have a wonderful day!!

My Life in Cars

My recent post about our new ride got me to thinking about how my life can be traced by the cars I've owned. I've noticed that the vehicles just keep getting bigger.


This was the car in which Bo Hunkmeister took me on our second date. It was a fall foliage ride through Connecticut. Notice my sexy outfit. I would have worn my hajib but it was at the cleaners.


This was my first love car. I bought it for $600 from a fellow art student and it was worth every penny I paid. I had a mechanically inclined friend give the car a once over.

He said, "You need brake fluid."
I said, "All right, I'll get some tomorrow."
He said, "No, like now."
I said, "Like this afternoon?"
He said, "No, like, your brakes will be failing in the next ten minutes."
I said, " Ok, so like I should go get brake fluid now, huh?"
Am I a smart cookie, or what?

When I sold the car ~hangs head in shame~, the driver's side door was not working, it periodically stalled and it had about 140,000 miles on it. The girl I sold it to told me that three months later, both doors were not working and the brakes had failed when someone stole the car.



When I married the stylish Bo Hunkmeister, I also married his stylish car, the Honda Accord. In an effort to teach my husband not to be so precious with his possessions, I wrecked the car for him. He didn't seem to be as appreciative as I though he would be.



In a fit of consumerism, we bought a Volvo. To me this car screams Yuppy DINKs! (Dual Income, No Kids). This was a lesson in how not to buy a car: no research, impulse purchase, no financial planning, etc. We pushed the dealership to get the car ready so we could show it off to my parents on a weekend trip to Vermont. The dealer did so and off we went, proud of ourselves and our purchase. As we were driving with my parents, the car inexplicably stalled out. There we were, dead by the side of the road in our new car that we were just bragging about. My mother, bless her heart, said, "Well, it has a nice interior!" Pride goeth before the car troubles. One summer day I was driving the car and it stalled out— leaving me by the side of the road in 98 degree weather with a trunk full of groceries and a one month old baby in the back seat. This was when we got a cell phone and a new car.



This car began our relationship with Anchor Subaru. We haven't met their parents yet, but I'm sure a ring is in our future. This purchase we were smarter about. We researched, test drove and researched some more. This lovely piece of engineering served us well until we just plain out-grew it. The only down side was I woke up one morning, looked out my kitchen window, and noticed that the car was tilting to one side. I went out to discover that, during the night, someone had jacked up the car and stolen all four alloy wheels. You'd think it would have been easier to just steal the whole car. Maybe they didn't want to be mistaken for a soccer mom. There was a bright side though— we got two free jacks out of the deal.



As much as we liked our Subaru, with baby number 4 on the way, we went back to our friends at Anchor and bought our Honda Odyssey minivan. It should be a crime to sell such a lovely, clean car to people like us who are going to fill it with old french fries, crumpled juice boxes and other miscellaneous food bits. Being the art students that we are, we put our own touch on it. Bo removed the flames before we traded it in but I thought flames would add to its resale value. Again, loved the car but, just like Otto the goldfish, we needed something bigger.



So now we ride in a battleship size vehicle. And while it's a large vehicle to maneuver, we do periodically get the chance to down-size to this:

But where's the beverage holder?

Call Me Ishmael.

Introducing our new ride. As a family of eight, no mere minivan can contain us any more (insert maniacal laughter here). So we purchased a twelve passenger Ford 350. Let me tell you how roomy it is! It's like taking your living room out for a ride. I'm looking forward to a road trip in it - North Carolina, here we come!

We bought it from the good folks at Anchor Subaru. If you're ever in need of a car, go see these guys. So far, we've purchased three cars from there (a wagon, a mini van, a maxi van). Since they don't sell school buses, I think we've reached our limit with them, which is a shame because they're exceedingly helpful and they've always given us good deals.

Originally, I thought we should name the van Ebenezer (look it up - 1 Samuel 7:12), but that would take too long to explain every time someone said "Wha??" So being the great white beast that it is, the next logical thought was calling it Moby Dick.

Which of course, having gone to art school, led to this:









Oh, Ahab, what has your fury led you to?

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life...

My house burned down
Now I can better see
The rising moon

haiku attributed to Masahide



I love a positive attitude, don't you?

My Daughter the Lawyer

My nine year old has recently become exceedingly interested in a friend's Pokemon cards. So her friend offered to sell her some. Having apparently been stung in a previous financial transaction (maybe real estate? I dunno) she thought it necessary to write up a purchase contract for her friend to sign.

Dear D,
This is just a little something that says that you sold the pok'e mon
to me.so uh.... just read it and see what you think O.K.. o.k. so here we go

The Pok'e Mon Selling Pledge

I ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– pledge to sell ––––––– Pok'e Mon to –––––––––––––––––––––––––––– who has paid an amount of ––––––––––––––– and not ask for a refund, which is giving her her money back and asking for the Pok'e mon back in return. Also teaching her how to play and trade the Pok'e Mon that I have sold to her, and also help her to under stand the basics of Pok'e Mon,and every thing she needs to know to be a good Pok'e Mon player and trader. Now the rules of this document is that this statement must be witnessed by two of the sellers sisters and––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– who are residents of the –––––––––––––––––– family to make sure that there is no cheating in the process of the selling and buying of the Pok'e Mon, the next rule is I'm sad to say is that the Pok'e Mon card prices can not be higher than 75, because this document has been read by the sister of the buyer,who claims that the price of the Pok'e Mon cards can not be as high as 1.00 a piece, I'm very sorry to say this but it just can not be so.but as this document had to be read by one of the––––––––– family member, I am very sorry to report that it had to be her, because she usably does not agree with what I have in mind for my friends,but as the buyer I can influence her to change her mind, but still being the younger sister the highest I could get out of her was 75 but never mind hey at least it is better than nothing right, anyway back to the subject, the Pok'e Mon selling and buying will still go on though I'm sure with less excitement, but at least the buyer will still get money, like my Father says, getting something is better than getting nothing, and I'm sure that He's perfectly right.well any way thats that and I can't change it,any way back to where to was....................oh ya uh right , since the document has been––I'm very sorry to say again–– read by a member of my family { the _________ family} we can now say that this document is Pok'eMonly legal , so then I'll settle the matter the ones in the Pok'e Mon folder can be a dollar but the ones out of the folder have to 75 or less so on Sunday April 19th the buyer and the seller of this Pok'e Mon event will decide { in the buyers case} which ones she/he Would like to buy,{and in the sellers case} if not wanting to sell these specific ones try and compromise with the buyer until the two come to an agreement in which both the buyer and seller are happy. Then on Tuesday–––––––– pay for the chosen Pokemon's and then on Wednesday –––––––– pick up the {chosen by the buyer and unapproved by the seller} Pok'e Mon.


Singed _________________________


Witness #1___________________________

Witness #2 __________________________

I wonder what her retainer fee is....

Pictures!

This is me, Princess Buttercup and Bo Hunkmeister after the birth.
Notice the snarky "Nyah, nyah, I did it!" look on me.
By the way, Bo's shirt says, "Handsome is a huge understatement!" I got it for him for Father's Day.


Now, prepare to have your heart melt....

Cheeky baby!

Mr. Serious




I'll post more pictures as soon as I get more than four hours of sleep...

Announcing Andrew James

Finally!

Am I sleeping when the baby is sleeping? No, I'm blogging and surfing Facebook. When, oh when will my common sense ever kick in?

Our little boy, who's really not so little, arrived Sunday morning at 5:50 am weighing in at 10 pound, 2 ounces, delivered naturally! All I can say is Praise God and yay team!

So let's get down to the gory details, shall we?

As many of you know, I was having contractions as early as Thursday. The fact that they would not get any closer together was the source of much irritation. Saturday we went to bed at 11:30 pm and the contractions started again and I thought, "Great, there goes another night's sleep." Then, as if in response to my snarkiness, I felt something give way. You've never seen a pregnant lady jump up so quick in your life. Now "experts" say that a woman's waters break before labor in only 15% of pregnancies. Having had this happen with W Bear, I figured I was already at 20% and had beaten the odds of trashing my bed. Apparently, I am an exception to the rule. There I was by the side of my bed making a big old mess. Bo Hunkmeister woke up because he heard water running and thought, that can't be good. He said, "You ok, dear?" and I said, "It's showtime." Bo tossed me some towels that were nearby and I waddled to our tub while he called the midwife.

Now for another aside that you might not know. When I was first married, I thought large families that home schooled and had home births were all hippies who couldn't leave the 60's. Guess who's about to get a dashiki and some love beads?

Andrew James was born in our very own bed here at home with his sister looking on (another sister chose not to watch and his brothers slept through the whole thing).

The reason we decided on a home birth after five hospital births basically came down to wanting to have a natural childbirth. I've had two c-sections and three natural births and let me tell you, as painful as labor can be, the recovery from a natural birth is far better than a section. But after much research and discussion with at least four other OB/GYN practices, I found out that no one in the state of Rhode Island would allow me to even try to labor naturally because of the previous two sections. I offered to sign waivers, to labor in the operating room, I presented ACOG bulletins and research that supported my position, and still was told the same thing - medical professionals wouldn't risk the cost of a possible lawsuit were something to go wrong.

This was the cause of much stress for me because I really didn't want to be strapped to a table, awake while someone cut me open. What put me over the edge was when my OB scheduled my section a week earlier than I had expected simply because his schedule was booked for the first day he mentioned. For me, being a slow cooker (most of my babies have been late), an early operation date meant a baby taken out before he was completely ready.

So we found a midwife who would help us deliver a baby at home. In Rhode Island, whoever cuts the cord in a home birth is the person considered to have delivered the baby. Of course, in my warped thinking, this made me want to wake up the two year old so he could cut the cord! Sensibility won out though and Bo "delivered" his son.

So back to squatting in the tub...
While I cleaned up a bit in the tub, Bo Hunkmeister called the midwife, called Gail (our child care person), cleaned my mess and made the bed ready for the birth. Have I ever told you how wonderful he is?

Anyway, within a half an hour, the team was assembled and ready. The midwife set up all the supplies, started warming the receiving blankets and then sat down a pulled out some knitting. I'm not kidding, in between listening to the baby's heart beat, she was making a baby hat! We sat, we chatted, we ate, we drank, I contracted and we did the whole routine over again until the contractions got too intense. At that point, the midwife had me lay on the bed sideways. I had wanted to stay up right because that made the contractions a smidge less painful, but the midwife wanted me to lie down so Gummi wouldn't come out too quickly. Too quickly?!? When I can see the end of the race, I want to sprint for it, not slow things down a bit. But I acquiesced to her 27 years of experience, laid down and silently said lots of not so polite things in my head. Despite what felt like an eternity, I managed to push all 10 pounds, 2 ounces of baby out within 30 minutes. And no tearing! Even with the traditional LGH (Large Grattan Head). And then bliss set it - baby warm on your chest, no more pain and some Irish Soda bread!

At this point, I'm going fundamentalist so if this makes you feel uncomfortable, scroll past this next part.
I want to praise God for:
all of you who prayed so fervently for us and this delivery
letting me delivery Andrew naturally with no tearing!
for a short labor (relatively)
for a midwife and her assistant that had faith in me and Bo (and left my house as clean as it was before they got there)
for Gail who kept an eye on my other kiddies and then told me it was a privilege to watch me yell and make a mess on my bed
and especially for my husband who knelt in the same uncomfortable position for more than an hour, who volunteered his arms for my "contraction death grip", who rubbed my lower back until his fingers were numb all while saying "You're doing great, honey!"

The midwife and her assistant (another midwife herself) stayed with us for two hours after wards making sure that Andrew and I were all set and cleaned up and then they left. It was that simple.

So now I'm a bit sore, a bit tired, but in general, in a waaaay better mood than my previous delivery (one of the two aforementioned sections). As my friend Mary Ellen said, "You sounded happy on my voice mail!" My not-so-little boy is sleeping next to me in my bed, and there aren't any nurses coming in just as we fall asleep to ask for my blood pressure.

I'm not saying home birth is for everyone. Bo and I carefully researched this option and prayerfully considered our particular risks. But let me tell you, sometimes being a bit fringe can be a wonderful thing.

P.S. A little olive oil on a newborn's butt will help in cleaning off that sticky meconium. I wish I had know this with my first!

These Guys

There are different names for these types of groups. Some are called bible study groups, kinships, fellowship groups, or small groups. Basically, it's a group of people that meet outside of the regular church service to do a bible study. Bo Hunkmeister and I have became part of one particular group about five years ago when we were introduced to another couple that had a lot of kids - those counter culture types! Since that time this group has evolved into about six couples and I've lost count of the number of children but it's waaay past 20. We've done bible studies, pot lucks, happy hours, the men have gone target shooting, and the ladies have done lunch numerous times. But mostly we've "done life" together. Helped each other with child care, large house projects, car problems, etc. We've gone beyond discussing news, sports and weather (mostly because some of us know nothing of sports) and have asked each other those challenging questions and supported each other through tough times.

Now when I first found out I was expecting Gummi, I was a little nervous as I had given away all my baby stuff. I know, I know, giving away all your baby stuff is a sure fire way to guarantee pregnancy. Hear me when I tell you, I had nothing for this baby but a stroller and a few blankets. But yesterday, these guys stepped up and threw me a doozy of a baby shower. Gummi now has more clothes than Paris Hilton. And even more special when you're a hormonal pregnant woman, they made all my favorite foods for me. I have never felt more blessed and humbled by the generosity shown by these guys yesterday. I'd tell my small group this in person but then I'd start crying and the other ladies would get weepy and then the guys would feel uncomfortable with all these women weeping and laughing. So I will leave it here on the blog. You guys showed Bo and me a Christ like love and we feel so blessed to be part of this group. Thank you.