Swimsuits

I am at the post-pregnancy point where I really, REALLY wish the extra weight would just go away by itself. It won't though, so I am looking longingly at exercise equipment, DVDs, and strangely, swimsuits. I bought a few DVDs--the ones for the kids came last week and have been a smashing success. There's nothing like a stick-like little girl attempting kick boxing (yes, pure awesomeness.) I haven't tried my DVDs yet, but I am certain that I too, will have a willowy, dancer's body, just like the females on the cover. Even if I have never had a willowy body in my entire life, hope springs eternal.

I actually wasn't thinking about swimsuits (not even close!) until I clicked on a link for some of the new spring collections during Fashion Week. And the swimsuit collection? It was just a bunch of bikinis that looked exactly alike--immodest, uncomfortable, and unrealistic. (Okay, if I were comfortable showing that much flesh, I'd just walk around nude. It's certainly cheaper.) So I started wondering what there was in the line of modest swimsuits this year, and I found a few at Lime Ricki Swimwear and Lands' End. I really liked a few at Lime Ricki--maybe I will be in actual swimsuit shape this summer. Or maybe not.

Some fun facts and commentary on a Sunday evening.

Brigham is trying to move the stove out of its place. Using my silicone basting brush. Wearing his sister's fur-lined pink boots.

Briellen is jumping off the couch. She is wearing a diaper. And a smile.

Vilate is sleeping.

Analise is jump-roping in her pajamas.

Everyone is playing kindly. No one has been hit or yelled at by anyone else for several minutes.

Mirielle and Briellen weigh exactly the same amount.

Sarai is in the same math book as her babysitter.

BYU Men's Chorus is awesome.

Valentine

Wow, it's been a long time since I posted anything!

Happy late Valentine's Day! I hope your day was filled with people you love and many small kindnesses. We had a family party (cookies! candy! bouncing off the walls!). Dad took care of two of the three Valentine's essentials: flowers and chocolate, so I had fun writing a poem for each of the children. Brigham's was the most fun, so I thought I'd share (and for you English purists--Mom and Mary, I mean you! I'm aware that it's not laureate material, but I still enjoyed writing it):

Brigham

Smashing, pounding, running boy—
Ka-pow! BOOM! Smash!
Climbing, yelling, jumping joy—
Ka-boom! POW! Crash!
Sparkling eyes and devilish smile—
Yowza! BANG! Crash!
Charming, loving, falling with style—
Oof! YOW! Smash!
Broken hearts and broken glass—
Sparkle! GLEAM! Smash!
Going everywhere and going fast—
Vvvroom! SHA-ZAM! Crash!
Fiddle-bowing, stomping, crowing—
“Oh the CLEVERness of me!”-boy
Oh boy! Oh beautiful Boy!

Vilate

Vilate Victoria

8 lbs 15 oz.

20 inches long.

This was probably my most difficult labor yet. It challenged me to my absolute limits. Yet, at the end of it all, there is now this beautiful, gentle, sweet little girl who is an integral part of our eternal family. We are extremely blessed. I can't wait to see her grow and develop and learn more about who she is.

She has come into a home where she is deeply loved and wanted by every single member of the family. Brigham and Briellen both adore her. Mirielle makes up songs and sings to her endlessly. Analise and Sarai both love to hold her and help with her. Mom and Dad are pretty content. And exhausted, to tell the truth.

Oh, and Dad? He's pretty much been heroic through everything. The night after we came home, he was up all night with three different children (not Vilate) and was so gentle and kind through his sleeplessness, (and this after helping me through labor the previous day). I was deeply impressed.

Also, a big enormous thanks to Amy O. She took our other children in again and again. We didn't have to worry in any way, and I am more grateful than I can express. Thanks, Amy.

Yup

So, I will officially go into labor at some point tomorrow. The 10th (11th? 15th?) doctor that I've seen decided that the team is tired of seeing me in the clinic, and very helpfully scheduled me for a 5:00 am induction tomorrow morning. So, hopefully, all goes well and as painlessly as possible. I will have yet another doctor that I have never met before deliver the baby.

Things I hope to stand strong on tomorrow:

NOT taking a wheelchair upstairs when I can walk perfectly well (It's hospital policy, but it makes me fell weak, powerless, and ill. All psychological, but still).

NO hospital gowns with convenient holes for heart monitors. I don't need a heart monitor. The convenient hole reminds me of the Seinfeld episode when Elaine sends out Christmas pictures . . . and then discovers that she is somewhat exposed. The heart monitor hole is even more exhibitionist.

Since I'm being induced, I will not pass on the pain medication. Maybe I can sleep through all of the hard parts?

Wish me luck!

Are you still here?

I did not want to go to church today. I did want to take the sacrament and hear the speakers and all of that good stuff, but I wasn't looking forward to the social aspect: the inevitable question "Are you still here?" But I went to church, and enjoyed sacrament meeting, and even primary with the new schedule and the new presidency, and was only asked about 35 times "Are you still here?" "Why are you still here?" "When are you going to have that baby?" And as hard as it is for me to continue responding that I am just waiting, the genuine kindness and concern is really touching.

The baby will come when it comes. I'm just not very good at waiting. I'm trying to be better though--what choice do I have?

Yarn

I'm in the middle of a Christmas Project that involves sewing with yarn. As I was sewing along last night, I was thinking about my history with yarn.

My mother is a yarn enthusiast. There are caches of yarn all over the house of every conceivable color and texture. And she keeps buying more. There are knitting needles stashed in odd containers in every room. As a child I trailed after her to specialty yarn shops (with eccentric names like the "Loopy Ewe") full of vibrant colors and wonderful textures. She even raised sheep at one point with the idea of dying, spinning, and knitting the wool product. (I remember the sheep being shorn, and some of the wool carded, but I'm not sure much got done with it after that. There were several bags of wool in storage for quite a few years.)

I love yarn. I love the idea of spinning, the aesthetics of a spinning wheel, the idea of dying wool with splashes of different colors. It's comforting and homey. Of course, I don't do anything of those things--I don't even knit. (I have learned to knit at least half a dozen times, but it never quite took.)

My children have no idea of the possibilities of yarn. They don't know that there are yarns available beyond the cheap, horrible brands available at WalMart and Hobby Lobby. When Grandma came to visit last week, we found a yarn store for her full of expensive and wonderful yarns. There were a small group of ladies who were there for a class, or maybe just to work on projects together. They all had that knitter's camaraderie, a sort of comfortable sisterhood that speaks in the language of "knit one, purl 2, cast off." My children were entranced. They wandered around the store, feeling the different yarns and helping with the wool winder. Everything was new and wonderful and beautiful. They all planned to buy each other Christmas presents of yarn (at $25 a skein). That was when we left the store.

Maybe I need to finally learn to knit. Or just move close to Grandma again.