el día de acción de gracias

As they call it here in Meh-hee-co.

































It was a delicious day in all the ways that matter most.

accountable

I have an eight year old. I know. What?!? B is an amazing kid and sometimes defies normalcy with his old soul perspective in life. It's easy to think he's eleven already, and when he acts his age, it's easy to get mad at him about it, because you're still thinking he's eleven. Poor guy.

Back in March, we bought him a new set of scriptures, and he started reading the Book of Mormon with the goal of finishing before he turned eight. Three-quarters of the way through, he started to lose steam and came to me saying he wanted to give up. So one day, I sat down with him and said, "B, this is a really hard thing you're doing, but I really think you can do this. I really think you can finish in time, and I'm going to help you." So that afternoon I sat down with him and we read through several chapters together. Afterward he turned to me and said, "Mom, I didn't think I could do it, but then when you started reading with me, I really started to feel like I could." He cheered up instantly. And every day after that we read together until he was finally finished. We both looked forward to that half hour together every afternoon. Me, especially, as opportunities to snuggle with my first baby are slowly disappearing.

So B got baptized Saturday afternoon. And I have virtually no pictures to show for it. Maybe three. Want to see?







That's it. And I didn't even take these. My mom did. If she hadn't, we'd really have absolutely nothing. When I realized this, I wept. DRAMATIC FAIL TO RECORD. Still in mourning here. So I washed B's and Bruce's white clothes and will be making them pose for the camera shortly.

At least the food was a hit. I think. Well, it went fast anyway. I served Chinese Chicken Salad, crescents, a fruit salad and had a few friends bring a few extra treats. I also attempted to make a Rainbow Cake, using this recipe. And I really think it had a good chance of turning out if I a) hadn't burnt it, b) had red food coloring to work with so it wasn't just various variations of green (I only had yellow, blue and green), and c) had taken the time to make the butter cream and fluffy frostings instead of resorting to Betty Crocker. Fail, fail, FAIL, fail...

Anyway.

We're in a new phase of life now. I have a child who has crossed over into the age of accountability. This is epic. And it happened too fast. Tomorrow he'll be growing hairs and shaving. Unbelievable. I love this boy with all of my heart.

first three miles

Went on my first three-mile interval run this morning. I was slow and might have traded in the easy jog portion of my run for a brisk walk instead around mile two, but praises be! My lungs burned with euphoria. I can finally move without pain after six weeks in the delicate stages of c-section recovery. I've been gently easing into exercise, but today I finally felt ready.

I'll blog in more detail about my post-partum exercise routine later (for you, Lauren!), but in the meantime, here's a little inspiration for the road:

the perfect roast turkey

Image from marthastewart.com


Written last night:

I've never cooked a turkey before. Ten years seems like an epic amount of time to have been married and never cooked a turkey. But this is the year of the perfect roasted turkey. I'll be using this recipe.

There is, of course, a strong possibility I will ruin it. So in that case, I have a plethora of sides and desserts planned so our 19 guests don't starve on Thanksgiving Day. Want to know our menu?

Turkey
Ham
Cornbread dressing
Broccoli salad
Green salad w/ apples and pecans
Sweet potato-pecan casserole
Green bean casserole
Mashed Potatoes
Gravy
Layered jello
Cranberry sauce
Rolls

Oo-la. That's a lot of carbs, non? And for dessert? Apple pie, pumpkin pie, pumpkin cheesecake, and a chocolate pie.

Feeling chubby and bloated already. But staring at all these recipes is making my mouth water and my tummy grumble. However, I have been committed to eating only soup and salad as my diet until Thursday. I am ready to get my eats on.

So what's on your menu?

Written this morning: 

I started the epic amount of cooking this morning by preparing the brine for my turkey. Then when it came time to cut the turkey out of its package and hike it out of the sink from under its wings, I started dry heaving. Raw, whole birds with their goosebumpy skin sickens me. SICKENS me!!!! There's a reason I go the Honey Baked Ham Company route and order my pre-cooked bird that only requires basting and re-heating. Curse Mexico and its lack thereof.

school pictures

These came home yesterday. Please. Heart palpitations.

ten years deserves a haiku

Would I marry you,

Knowing then what I know now?

Absolutely, yes.

reflection

Five minutes before this pic was snapped, she had been fawning over and making sweet love to her window reflection.

Well.

At least she likes what she sees when she looks in the mirror. I hope that never changes.

popular

Over the past two years, I had several moms at my kids' school come and tell me that L was the most popular kid at school. I thought they were just trying to make the new American family feel welcome. But then one day, Bruce and I showed up for one of the school programs and when L walked onto the playground, these 5th graders started chanting his name, "L! L! Over here!" He acknowledged them with a nod and wave and they started throwing up the sign of the horns and yelling, "Yeah!" What the? Bruce and I looked at each other. We were dumbfounded. This kid still poops his pants on occasion because he just doesn't freakin care. And I guess therein lies his appeal to the masses.

But he's full of love, guileless and genuinely happy for humankind. I appreciate the fact that he can stay in character for days (picture two is his Iron Man persona, pictures three and four are "Soccer Player Guy"). One day he went to piano lessons as Iron Man and he apparently spent the whole half hour explaining to his teacher how Tony Stark doesn't play piano. $12 down the proverbial drain. But ninety-eight percent of the love notes I have received in my lifetime are from him. I get at least two a week. Poops and wastes of money aside, I'm a lucky woman.

one month old

Has it really been a month? October was a blur, then all of a sudden we're doing Thanksgiving next week and people are talking about getting their Christmas shopping done. What? My brain is stuck back in September, and it's like I can't get a grip on life. I'm still just trying to figure out how to feed the baby at 5:00 when he's hungry and get dinner on the table for the other three by 5:30/6:00. I foresee a lot of cold cereal nights in our near future. Or someone might have to starve for a half hour.

I'm just grateful EZ is a good little babe. Though incredibly poopy. Like I really don't remember the other three being this gassy or vocal about it all the time. His whole body shakes and shimmies and grunts and explodes when he's filling a diaper. Which generally happens right after a diaper change or in the middle of a diaper change (the latter after which only a mother could love him... I'm not sure I've ever been splattered from head to toe like that before). It's not subtle or quick and is loud and surprisingly long enough that it warrants leaving the chapel during Sacrament meeting when he starts. I look at this as a plus, however, because at least the stinky culprit will be obvious. Not like the time I was standing in the hallway at Church with B when he was a babe and the missionaries walked by. He had some serious gas that day. The kind that's silent but violent. And I wanted to be like, "It's him, not me, guys. I swear."

So every day I remind myself that EZ is my last. I'll never get this time back. And actually, with each of my kids. B turns 8 next week. I feel like my first baby was just a baby yesterday. This time is so fleeting. Eeek! I'm tearing up just typing this. I wish I could freeze these moments forever... my ice pack wish. But then again, growing up is good. I just hope my children always know how much I loved being their mother.


And I think there are other things I wanted to say, but my thoughts are like confetti right now. Later, cyberspace.

what day is it?

Bruce and I had a conversation this morning that went something like this:

Me: "So what do you wanna eat this week? Let's make a menu. Okay, today is Thursday, so..."

Bruce: "Today is not Thursday. Today is Friday."

Me: "No, today is Thursday. Tomorrow is Friday."

Bruce: "No, Noelle. I am telling you. Today is Friday."

B (super nosy eavesdropper): "Yeah. Mom. Today is Friday!"

Me: "No, wait. Because Monday we went to our doctor's appointment, Tuesday we went to Club Mundet, Wednesday we went to Lincoln Park, oh... and yesterday you guys went to the Children's Museum. Yeah, okay."

The days and hours are blending together. I don't know who I am or what I've done anymore. I barely remember that the last time I fed EZ was at 12:30pm this afternoon and I better publish this post before it's time for him to eat again. I can't even believe EZ is three weeks old today. At his well check-up on Monday, he was already 8 pounds. Slow down, life.

So a lot of you have been asking me how I'm doing. And your questions go something like this: "Noelle, how are you? No really, how are you?"

Well, the part where I'm a mother is doing pretty well. We've done this three times before, so you know. It's kind of like riding a bike. Although, when I was first learning how to ride a two-wheeler, my dad took me to the top of a hill in our neighborhood in Silver Spring, MD, and there was a thorn tree at the bottom of that hill, right in front of our red-brick townhouse. For some unfathomable reason, he let go of me halfway down that hill, and let's just say the thorn tree and I connected in unforgettable (and unforgivable) ways. Thanks a lot, Phil. But I survived. Like I survived being a first-time mother. (And I think that thorn tree was shortly removed from the premises).

So EZ and I? It's in the bag. We've got this. Mom has done it before, so we're cool and coasting. I don't need the handlebars (e.g., What to Expect The First Year) anymore. No time for myself? I'm over it. Round the clock feedings? Please. Diaper changes, sponge baths, projectile vomiting? Been there, done that, getting it done now.

But there's one hang-up I just can't get over no matter how many times I've gone through it before. Some people are addicted to Dr. Pepper. Some people are addicted to shopping. I am addicted to exercise. Those first four to six weeks after a c-section are torture for me. It's the same every time, and my body stresses. I can't relax about it. Like I am currently breaking out in rashy eczema patches all over the place. It's a serious problem. And also, Bruce bought cheese puff balls and licorice at Costco the other day. Cheese puff balls and licorice in bulk. I scoffed at him, but guess who's been dipping her hand in that snack bowl every night during EZ's 8pm feeding while watching Modern Family or Leverage on the iPad. Ay me. I need to work out to support my eating habits, people.

But I will survive (dramatic fist pump). And when I get in my first lung-burning run post-baby, you - and maybe Facebook - will be the first to know.

tutu's visit

Tutu (Bruce's mom) came to stay with us for two weeks to help us out. We ate the best food, carved a pumpkin, made paper ghosts, and jumped rope a lot. She left Sunday afternoon, and after she walked out the door, B turned to me and said, "Mom, I miss Tutu already." Now that she is gone, we are watching too many DVDs and back to eating cold cereal and grilled cheese. Depressing.







































Tutu, we miss you!!! No one takes care of us like you do.