Blythe woke me up the other night at some point between Olive’s 10pm and 2am feeding asking if I could put on her pink cowboy boots (the same ones she’s pictured in below). She then proceeded to heave them onto my bed where I had been sleeping (oh precious sleep!) only moments before. This means that in her drowsy stupor, she actually had to rummage through her dark closet looking for these boots before walking into my dark room to deliver them. This, along with her daily questioning, “can we go somewhere? I don’t want to go home,” can only mean one thing: we have officially been “cloistered” in our home too long. All the rain lately hasn’t helped either. So, on Friday, I decided to pack up the kids for my first solo outing in public. Yep. That’s right, alone — you see the desperation here? (I realize that I’m not the first mother to venture outside of her home with four children in tow, but I know from the awkward “are you crazy?” stares I receive when in public, there must be some sort of lunacy involved.) Due to the weather, the park was not an option, so we went to the local Barnes&Noble, where I immediately bee-lined for the cafe – this WAS an event after all. While ordering my tasty treat at the counter, I hear the man behind me heartily chuckling. When I turned to see what about, he gestured toward my sons who had apparently picked up the latest SI swimsuit edtion found right at their eye level, but instead of ogling the scantily clad beauty on the front cover, they were practically drooling over the M&M ad on the back of the cover and discussing which color they liked the best. The man was right: this was funny. “On second thought, let’s add one of those gigantic-pastel-sprinkled sugar cookies to the order and put the M&M magazine back on the shelf.”
Honestly, the last few weeks have been relatively wonderful. Exhausting (what life with a newborn isn’t?), but wonderful. Thanks to my mom and Pam who each stayed for a week and the benevolence of several friends who have brought us meals and/or gift cards, this transition and recovery has seemed to be one of the easiest thus far. Liam, Burke, and Blythe adore their little Olive, alternating who gets to hold her or “help” take care of her, generously showering her with frequent kisses and hellos, and of course the perpetual “ I love you, Baby Olive.” The boys created a song to sing to Olive when she cries (I tried to get it on video, but the battery was dead, and the other time we were in the car.); it goes something like, “It’s ok. Yeah, it’s ok for you to cry. It’s ok for you to cry, even in the sunshine. It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok for you to cry.” Blythe, who almost exclusively refers to her baby sister as “MY baby Olive,” mostly sings the alphabet, aka “the ABCDs,” to her (and sometimes as a bohemian with a microphone as seen above). We’ve found her on two occasions in the crib with Olive trying to “help,” but that quickly lost it’s appeal when she realized this type of helping came along with a pop on the butt. They are all pretty fascinated by the fact that I produce milk. Fortunately, the only analogy to milk-related items or animals so far was from Liam saying, “Mom, you’re like a giant bottle!” Son, you have no idea.
As for Olive, she’s taking this crazy family in stride, accomodating all of our carressing and noise, and for the most part, she still spends about 20 hours per day doing this:
At almost a month old, I can’t complain.
Filed under: stories
Most of you have seen (and commended) some of Kristen and Tim’s work on this blog or through kmd foto — their charisma, love of life, and artistic/creative skill really exudes through their work. Over the last year and a half they have been working out the “kinks” of their new business, learning partly through mistakes and unexpected circumstances, but nonetheless abounding in their creativity, style, and experience. So, this month, with much planning and hard work, they launched a new name and image: fidelis photography. Check them out at www.fidelisstudio.com If you click on their blog, you can see Olive’s baby pictures that they shot a couple of weeks ago and read some recently exciting news Kristen and Tim have to share!
olive kay douglass
march 4, 2009 10:52 am
6 lbs 2 0z 18 1/2 in
Last summer we found out that you, Olive, would be in our family. Since then the five of us have loved you, waiting expectantly to see you, hold you, and know you. Liam, Burke, and Blythe would take turns rubbing my swelling belly or poking my protruding belly button, whispering sweet secrets to you in the womb or praying for your protection. Daddy and I would watch you roll around under my skin, shoving your tiny foot against my belly button, wondering what you look like and who you would be. On Wednesday, our wait was over as you came into our larger world through an intense but quick labor. As the doctor placed you on top of the belly you were inside of only moments before, I said “hello sweet olive,” and for the moment you stopped crying and looked in my direction as if to return my hello. And now, here you are — our little olive. We are all so delighted to have you in our family, sweet one. (thank you so much kristen & tim for the photos!)
Filed under: stories
You and your brother love to hear and tell stories. It’s not uncommon for either of you to dictate a story for me to transcribe so in turn you can illustrate it. Recently, you told one like this, ” The duck, the penguin, and the man with his shovel are going to the farm. The horses are in the dirt at home. God says to love your enemies — the bad guys.” (Below the words, you drew the man with his shovel, the duck, and two penguins.) I asked you a few times to clarify what you meant and how these sentences tied together, but you felt no need to clarify. As far as you were concerned, it was perfect. I love this about you. I love these little inklings that you give to us that allow us inside your little, but quite large, imaginative world. I remember when you were born Nina said, “Poor Burke. Born into a family of oldest (and thereby perfectionist) children.” But, it’s never bothered you. You are content to be who you are and where you are, gladly exalting those who succeed around you without feeling the pressure to compete or prove yourself. For the most part, you display contentment.
While we know it has to happen, your father and I have at times mourned how fast you’re changing and growing up. You have such a sensitive heart, Burke. You love to snuggle and generously use your snuggles to affirm those around you; my favorite is still the unexpected “I love you, mom” as you hug my leg in passing, or when I see or hear you in secret acting generously toward Blythe or another younger person. You still have such a patient disposition, dear one, and seem frustrated only when you can’t quite communicate what you want or need or somehow feel unheard or misunderstood. That said, you’ve become a lot more expressive this last year, testing out different attitudes and words (some more satisfactory than others). You still adore Liam and function often as his counterpart in all manners, including mischief. We recently cut all your hair off (much to my dismay) so that you could have a “racing stripe” just like him. What’s wonderful is that Liam adores you too. I love you, sweet son. You add so much to our lives and today we rejoice over you: happy birthday.
