At the Wildlflower Garden

The beautiful Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden - a gem of a garden that's located right behind the place where we got married. The boys and I have walked most of the trail over the last two Saturdays, some of it in pouring rain, and quite happily.









Well, there was a threat of a sit-down strike about halfway through last time. They both lay down in the path and insisted that they were babies who couldn't walk. (Oh, I just love the "I'm a baby" stage. Almost as much as the "I do it "my byself!" stage that's happening concurrently. Did you know that my boys can drive cars and chop vegetables with sharp knives? Ask them sometime - they'll tell you all about it.)

I wondered how I'd get two boys out of there if they both completely melted down at the same time, but we got our act together. I just sat under a tree and prayed until they asked me whether we could keep going.




Here they're pretending that the bench is a mailbox, and putting "mail" (leaves) through the slats.


A birdbath that had a bit less water in it after the boys were done with it.

We spent part of the same morning playing in the nursery at the church where Daddy works.



Here they're pretending to be "taaaal trees".




A well-earned picnic lunch outside the church, waiting for Daddy to be done so we could all go home. Why does he have to be with all those other kids all the time anyway?

From September

Here are a few shots from September - I'm trying to catch up!

Grandma came over with Zo*e the other day and spent a little time in our backyard until Auntie J*n came to pick her up.



She is such a sweet and happy baby.




And she has such a silly uncle...


That's our faithful Marcy, my favorite hen. I can have a favorite chicken, can't I?


When you're a twin, a see-saw is a beautiful thing.



Doesn't N have beautiful big, blue eyes? I know I'm his mother, but still..

busy, busy

We have a couple of high-energy boys these days. Here's a half-hour at Hiawa*tha Park:

And they're off!


"Mama! Watch me jump!"










Oli*ver prefers to scale the outside of all the playground equipment, climbing right up and over the walls rather than using the ladders or stairs intended for that purpose. He has a knack for making the other parents look at me (mom) and say only, "wow".


I can see straight to, uh, the other side of the playground!







I'm still picking sand out of his hair...

the ever-quotable No*ah

We had a lot of firsts this week - first Sunday School, first Early Childhood class of the season, and first MOPS class ever. It was a lot - the boys did really well, but acted rather stressed at home, and they're recovering from a sinus thing that hasn't helped. I have it too, going on the third week, and I'm rather glad this week is over. It was full of crankiness, poor sleep, and calamity. Today was topped off by Susan, one of our hens, escaping into the neighborhood for the entire day, only to appear outside the coop at dusk. That was preceded by my wedding band slipping off my finger somewhere between the back gate and the tomato bed. I think I'll need to rent a metal detector to find it. Fortunately, the situation doesn't appear to be a metaphor for anything I can think of, and anything we're dealing with falls easily into the category of "this too shall pass".

At our Early Childhood class, someone asked if her son needed to "tinkle". N asked what that meant, and I told him that "tinkle" meant "pee pee". In the car on the way home he was singing, "tinkle, tinkle, little bottom" to the tune of "Twinkle Little Star". Ahem.

Tonight's quote:
"No Mama! I am not being ridiculously contrary!"

Score one for much-needed levity...

adventures in church

I cried a bit through much of our church service today, and was tempted to cry through Adult Sunday school too, but I pulled it together. What is wrong, you ask? Nothing, really, but it was an emotional morning, and I wasn't the only one shedding tears. Pastors Patty and Patrick, a husband-wife team who had been with our church for the last decade, almost six years of which included me, received their sending blessing this morning as they make their way to a new church in Saskatoon (Canada). They will be very much missed. Both of them connected often with Joe*l and I to see how we were doing during the difficult pregnancy and after, and we were grateful for their prayerful support of us. The boys especially connected with Patrick, and they talked with me in earnest tones today about the fact that he is leaving. "He is not going on a trip! he is going to a new house, and he will never, never come back!"

We have competent interim leadership, but it will take a long time to see what fills the giant hole left in the wake of their absence. Of course, as a small church with a very committed base and a fairly hierarchy, it is really up to all of us to decide how to do that and put our heart and soul into it. I feel up to being a part of that challenge, even as we grieve this loss together as a church body.

Today was also our boys’ first day ever of Sunday School. Now, I know that may not seem like a huge milestone. It’s not kindergarten, or even preschool, after all. They were only apart from me an hour longer than usual. Still, though, it was a big deal for all of us, and I’ll tell you why. First of all – for me it just represents such a huge difference in how the church experience has been for me since the boys were born. In the first couple of months after they were born, we couldn’t really go to a germy, crowded place at all. Then, when they were a bit older, I needed a volunteer to help me get through the service, since Jo*el was across town, playing the piano at Bryn Maw*r Church. The volunteers were wonderful, but it just got harder and harder, as the boys started having stranger anxiety, getting louder, nap schedules interfered, and so on. The 2 parents: 1 baby formula in church is a pretty good one, I’d say. I often felt scattered and stressed during the service, and longed to be able to focus on what was happening. Then, the boys started walking, and were technically allowed in the nursery, but we didn’t have a paid nursery worker in the nursery yet, and No*ah wanted nothing to do with being left with a stranger for an hour. I spent the next 6 or 8 months in the nursery with them, but missed church myself almost every week. It got easier, slowly, and they’ve gone to the nursery just fine since last Spring. It’s been such a blessing to sit with other Christians in church almost every week this summer. We haven't missed a week unless someone's been ill or we were traveling. I had missed it very much, even though I’ve connected with church members through commission work and in other ways.

So now, dropping my boys off for nursery time during worship, taking them for a potty break and to go get a cookie, and then back to the nursery for Sunday School of their own, where they’ll learn their first bible stories and hymns, feels like a big deal. They are in very capable hands. The boys have a wonderful, warm teacher who adores them. Miss Andi brought them to me in the library as my own class was finishing up, and said they’d done really well. They sat nicely for story time, did a craft with the other 2-4 year olds, and sat on the steps in the sanctuary at the end for 15 minutes of singing with the combined elementary groups. They are the youngest 2 in their class, they did great, and they did it all without me. Hallelujah!

This is the boys right after we got back from church:







What's your sticker say, No*ah?

Oh, is that where I get that?

I have a bone to pick with our honorary state bird

All the happy pictures on this blog may make it seem like it’s all sunshine and roses around here, but that’s not quite accurate. Wow, what a challenging afternoon. I got home, cleaned up the house and got everything ready for our first Early Childhood class of the school year. We’re doing Wednesdays from 4-6, and I wanted to make sure the boys ate a good snack, since we’d be home late. As a treat, I made happyface plates with beans for the mouth, crackers for the nose, and cheese wedges and cherry tomatoes for the eyes, and banana-carrot hair. At 3, both boys were still asleep, but I was completely ready, my keys sitting on the diaper bag. I went in to get Oliver, and when I touched his wrist, I could feel that it was bumpy and swollen. Mosquito bites, and O is allergic. There must have been a mosquito in the bedroom. His whole forearm was swollen from the bites, and I gave him some Benadryl right away to try to keep it from getting worse. It seems that with his allergy, if he gets the Benadryl immediately after the bite, he’s pretty much fine, though you can see the bite mark for weeks. If he doesn’t get it right away, he gets very swollen, very upset, and gets a slight fever and a bit of diarrhea. Unfortunately, the Benadryl also makes him groggy and cranky. So here we were, stuck with both – the effect of the Benadryl plus the symptoms of the bite. We had to get to that class, though, because you can lose your spot if you don’t show up, and after all, mosquito bites aren’t contagious. I also know from experience that Ol*ver usually does better when he can get out of the house.

I sat him up with a BooBoo Buddy ice pack for his wrist, and he ate some of his happy face snack while I got his brother. No*ah was thankfully in a jolly mood, and we got out the door on time despite my having Oli*ver on my hip almost the whole time we got ready. The swelling was a bit better by the time we left, but he was a little warm. When we got to the school, I could see a couple of other families standing outside the entrance door. When we walked up, it turned out to be locked. A couple more families showed up, and a janitor let us in, but the staff was very surprised to see all of us. It seems that the confirmation letter has the wrong date, though he brochure had the correct date. We got to see the classroom, but the boys were so disappointed, especially N. He cried quietly all the way back to the car.

I took the boys to the park down the street from there, and all was well for about 10 minutes, but then a very cranky Oli*ver started picking fights with his brother, pushing him and yelling at him. After a time out on the bench, I swung him in the bucket swing for a while, but then it was his brother’s turn, and Oliv*er was so unhappy about giving up his swing that he threw the first bona fide tantrum I’ve ever seen him throw that’s lasted longer than a minute or so. He lay face down in the sand and cried and kicked and screamed for about 10 minutes before he calmed down enough to sit with me. It was getting late, and I noticed more mosquitoes buzzing about. I had a splitting headache.

It was clearly time to go home, and I went to go get No*ah with Oli*ver on my hip. No*ah was at the top of the climbing structure, and picked that moment to refuse to come down. Ol*ver was loathe to be put down, and I wasn’t about to get him going again, so I had to climb up there and go down the slide with both boys on my lap. At the bottom, neither boy would cooperate and walk with me–which has literally never happened before–and I, thankful for my backpack-style diaper bag and fairly strong arms, walked about half a block to the car with a screaming, thrashing boy under each arm.

No*ah was singing along to the music within a minute or two after the car started, but Ol*ver cried most of the way home. When we were about a mile away, he stopped. I noticed a smell coming from the back, and when we got home, I found that he’d pooped all over himself and the car seat. He also had another mosquito bite, this time on his leg, despite the fact that I’d sprayed him well at the park. When we got home, I got him and myself cleaned up, and both boys ran around screaming and getting into stuff while I waited on hold with the nurse line to find out just how much Benadryl I could give him. They ate a few bites of dinner, got separate baths (in case of more uncontrolled pooping), we read a story, and they went to bed. Oliv*er cried through about half of all of it. The poor, hoarse boy was asleep by 6:15. I didn’t notice the poop on my pant leg until 6:30. When we get that first hard freeze that kills all the mosquitoes, think of us. I’ll be doing a happy dance.

The thing is, I think that once we get past these stages, a kind of amnesia sets in. It’s happening to me too – I hold Aug*ust or Zo*e, and it seems so easy. I’ve already partially forgotten all those night-wakings, the mastitis, the constant exhaustion, crying and jiggling one has to endure with a new baby. I look at my nieces and my friends' babies, and I don’t think of any of that; I just remember how tiny they were, how sweet their first smiles, how it was to fall in love with them more with each stage. I suppose I’ll forget this hard stuff too – the tantrums, the defiance, the fighting, and the sickness, and remember instead the wonderful things they say, the love they have for each other, the way they’re starting to make friends. But not today. Today I’m writing this down for posterity: some days, or even just parts of days, were no box of cupcakes.

Cousin Aug*ust

The boys have another baby girl cousin. The parents are Sco*t and Emil*y, Jo*el's sister and brother-in-law. Little Aug*ust was born a week and a half ago, but I've been sick most of that time, so I haven' t been able to go and see her until today. I went over while Joel was home and the boys were napping, and it was so nice to finally meet her. She's a very pretty baby with a perfectly round head and dainty little features and the long fingers and toes that seem to run in the Sund*eth family (piano fingers?). She was kind enough to nap on me for an hour, which was a real treat. Parents and baby are all doing well - Augu*st has already gained back her birth weight and then some. I hope the boys get to meet her soon. I got permission to post a few pictures:

Big Red Barn

We're back in Minneapolis. We got back from the "Big Red Barn" (as the boys call my parents house in upstate New York) a day later than planned thanks to a canceled flight, but otherwise, we had a nice trip and time with family. We had to get up at 3:30 in the morning to make the rescheduled flight. I got sick with a stomach bug the day after we got back, and then got a chest cold, so I'm writing this in the midst of a to do list a mile long, but really all is well, just kind of chaotic and busy. I don't have pictures to post, but Emil*y and Scot*'s baby girl was born last Wednesday. Baby Aug*st and her parents are doing well. I haven't met her yet because I've been sick, but I can't wait, and if they give their permission I'll post some pictures after that. I can't wait to see what the next family gathering will be like, with four little ones around.

Our boys, though, are not so little anymore. The first thing that comes out of everyone's mouth when they see them is something like, "Wow! They're so big!". They've really had a growth spurt this summer, fitting comfortably into 4T clothing and size 9.5 and 10 shoes. Oliv*r is leaner than before, and he's getting the long limbs of a preschooler. No*ah is on the skinny side, kind of like a lanky 10 month old puppy, all limbs and big hands and feet. Every night we read stories and I still have one boy on each knee when we read, but they take up my whole lap and then some.

We're almost done with Oliv*r's room. Ste*ve put a door on it for us when we were gone. I'm a little sad about separating them, but right now we put Ol*lie to sleep in our room and move him before we go to bed, and wow, they go to sleep so much better. They slept apart just fine in New York too, so I think it's for the best.

Air travel went well despite the delays and cancellation, and the boys were very good. They had a great time at my parents' house, running all over the place and seeing all the bits of farm life. Anything involving tractors is incredibly exciting for them, though only Oli*ver actually wanted to ride on one that was moving.



We actually spied a tractor with Oliv*r's name on the side, so we pulled over, plopped him on it and took some pictures.





He took that to mean he could sit on every tractor we saw.




Both my mom and I just read Barbara Kingsolver's latest book, so we were inspired to explore some of the local fresh meat and produce that's abundantly available in upstate New York. We visited a sheep farm and an organic farm that grew all kinds of heirloom vegetables and raised chickens. I took the time to explain to the boys that some chickens get eaten. They looked kind of surprised and serious, but seemed to take it in stride. Now I can stop talking in code when meat is on the table, referring to chicken as "poultry".





I don't think that coop would meet grandpa's standards! The farmers at this farm actually sleep with their kids in a tent next to their coop so that their dog will stay near them and keep predators away.

My uncle and two cousins were visiting as well. I alway so enjoy seeing them. The two boys are kind of the antithesis of the stereotypical American teenager. They talk easily with adults and are helpful and polite, as well as just fun to be around. I'd be very proud to have teenagers like them someday. At this rate, I think the boys might also be 6 footers by then.

My brother, another 6+ foot Dutchman, was there too, and he brought a lovely woman with him for us to finally meet. It was nice for Jo*el to have someone to speak English with!





The Big Red Barn is especially fun for the boys now that they can run longer distances and really explore the land there. I think they took the longest walks of their young lives so far when we were there.

















Omie had a nice play corner and lots of books for the boys to read.




Oliv*r did get into a wee bit of trouble when he found a tub of Ke*an's toothpaste, ripped it open with his teeth, and spread it all over an antique stool and the bathroom rug. I had my back turned for all of a minute when this happened. Such is life at the moment.

Why worry about that baby gate when you can just climb the outside of the staircase instead?



P.S. I had another essay published - this time for an online magazine called Mombo. It can be found here.