Henry Love

I love how he crosses his feet when he nurses.

I love when he whimpers in his sleep while dreaming.

I love to see him wide awake and stretching and immediately relax and be back asleep.

I love having his ear impression in my arm after he's finished eating.

I love his little wispy hair tickling my chin and cheek when he's asleep on my chest.

I love that he has yet to pee on me. It doesn't count when he's getting into the bath, no one can help that.

I love the smile that comes over his face just before he burps.

I love when he's fussing Gwen sings her ABC's to him in her most sincere, loving voice ever.

I love when he has the hiccups Gabriella cracks up hysterically.

I love that he is only two and a half weeks old but it feels like he's been with our family for an eternity.

I love that each time he eats, he turns red in the face and fills his diaper right in the middle of eating. Every time.

I love that he sleeps well at night and goes back to sleep quickly.

I love that his cheeks are filling out and that he now has a double chin.

I love that his hands are hardly ever in fists. Usually his fingers are spread out like he's showing you the number four.

I love that he sleeps with his legs tucked in close to his body.

I love his expression when you try to give him a pacifier. He mostly hates the way it tastes.

I love the love in Joe's face when he looks at him.

I love that he makes our car feel really full.

I love that his eyelashes are practically white.

I love his cute little lips.

I love that his clothes are still gigantic on him.

I love that I am seeing more of his eyes and he actually stays awake for part of the day.

I love, as Gwen says, that "we get to keep him forever."

I love that he has brought Joe and I even closer, if that were even possible, since he's been in our lives.

I love the peace and happiness in our home since he's joined us.

I love that I don't think I could possibly love him anymore, but know that I will.

Lost In Translation

Henry was fussing a bit while I was changing his diaper.

Gwen asked, "Is the baby crying?"

I answered, "No sweetie, he's not crying. He's just grunting."

She responded, "He's grumpy?"

"No, he's not grumpy. He's grunting."

"Ooohh. He's gruummppy" she said emphasizing the word. "Is he a Care Bear?"

I can't imagine life getting any better for a two year old than to have your baby brother be a Care Bear. Even if he is Grumpy Bear.

Are You My Mother?

When Gwen was born, Gabs was only 22 months old. She had no idea what was going on. I don't think she ever noticed my growing belly, or lack of energy. We tried to tell her that a baby was coming, but she just didn't get it.

Once Gwen arrived, nothing changed. Gabs didn't have a hard transition to having a new baby in the house, because I don't think she even noticed. She just kept right on doing what she always did. There was never any anger or jealousy. For months, Gwen was just a sleepy baby on the couch that didn't affect Gabs what so ever.

My mom loves to tell the story of when Gwen was a few days old and we brought her home from the hospital. Apparently, Joe had Gwen down on the floor with him and Gabs, and Gabs was jumping over Gwen like she was a barrel. A 22 month old jumping over a newborn. That's about the extent of attention Gwen got from her older sister.

Before Henry was born, Gabs would often tell me all that she was going to do to help with the new baby. A few days before I went to the hospital we decided that we would call her "Big Sister Momma." She loved it.

She has lived up to that name whole heartily. She is such a big help. I didn't expect a 4 year old to be so helpful. She loves getting his diapers and wipes. Going on a scavenger hunt for the pacifier Gwen walked away with. Running to his dresser to pick out a new outfit to replace the one he spit up on. She holds him after he eats and loves when he falls asleep in her arms. My wiggly little 4 year old actually holds still long enough for a baby to fall asleep. Unreal. Her favorite thing is to "keep an eye on him" while I go to the bathroom or get Gwen out of her crib. She feels so proud when I've left him for a second so she can babysit him.

I love to listen to her talk to him. She uses such a sweet voice and her tone is gentle and loving. I've heard her talk to him about the pricks in his heel that he would be getting. I've heard her talk about the hiccups he was experiencing. I loved when she asked him if he likes our house.

I never wanted a baby to come into our home and be off limits. I want my children to love and hug and kiss and hold that baby as much as they'd like. Both Gabriella and Gwen have been loving Henry more than I imagined. It makes me so proud. I don't know if I'll be letting Henry be an obstacle to jump over in their obstacle course anytime soon, but one's thing for sure...he has a couple momma's who love every ounce of him.

Lucky lucky boy.

Complete Denial

"Gwyneth! Were you coloring on your face again?"

Yes. I admit, a stupid question.

"Nope. I don't draw on my face" she answers while shaking her head with the orange marker near her face.

For some reason, I don't believe her.

The sad thing is, I was laying about a foot from her concentrating on my own Dumbo coloring page when she did it. I must be a little tired. And I just had a baby, so ignore her hair. At least she's dressed.

Anyone else's second born child like this, or was she reserved special for me? What a riot this one is.

All About Me

I came into this world face up. Just decided to roll over at the last minute and arrive looking up. Mom sure appreciated that!

I have my dads nose and my moms lips. And I have blond hair like my mom and dad use to have.

I am the easiest baby my mom and dad have ever had. And that's saying a lot because mom says both Gabs and Gwen were walks in the park. But I take the cake for sure.

I love to sleep. I love to eat. I love falling asleep while I'm eating. Mom wishes I wouldn't do that, but it's hard to stay awake for a full feeding. That's good stuff.

I love love love sleeping on my belly. Why does everyone keep telling me I can't?

I have only peed up over my head and onto the back of the couch once. Mom says better the couch than her. Better anything than her.

I left the hospital only 24 hours after I was born. Right after my mom and dad named me. Boy I'm glad mom agreed and picked Henry.

I have two of the cutest sisters ever. Gabs is so gentle and often finds my pacifier for me. Gwen sits and talks, sings and tells stories to me for hours at a time. She keeps asking mom, "Can we keep our baby brother forever?" Luckily mom always says "absolutely."

I have had three bilirubin tests and another one in a few days. I love getting my heel pricked. It's the best. So far I'm good, but a little yellow. Mom says I'm the color of gold because I'm so precious. That's nice of her to make me feel better.

I cry like a little girl. Piggie squeal sounding and all. Mom says, for now, it's the cutest cry she's ever heard.

I have male pattern baldness. At least that's what dad says. Mom covers my ears when he talks like that, but I can hear him. I think I'm still handsome.

I don't spit up much, but when I do, it comes out my nose. I think the ladies will love that for sure.

I love being held. I'm glad mom, dad, Grandma, Gwen and Gabs love to spoil me. What am I going to do tomorrow when Grandma leaves? Mom says I better not be playing a mean trick and turn into a difficult baby. Juries still out on whether I will be or not...

Party of Five

On Wednesday March 11, 2009 at 8:21 pm, our family officially became a party of five. On Thursday March 12, 2009 at 9:21 pm, over 24 hours later, Joe and I finally named the fifth member of our family.

Henry James Chiara

eight pounds. one ounce.

twenty inches long.

perfect in every way.

The name story: We had planned on using Joe's name as a middle name with either Henry or William. We finally agreed on Henry. Henry Joseph just wasn't sounding right to me. I thought of my name-Jamie Lynn. Henry Jamie or Henry Lynn WAS not cute. But when I thought of my first name, I thought of the nickname Bryn has called me for as long as I can remember-James. And Henry James it is. It it fits him perfectly. Our little Hank is perfect.

We are all happily at home enjoying the peace a newborn brings into our lives. A parents love is something I wish I could describe. It's amazing the feelings I already have for this little guy. I love him to pieces.

The girls are smitten. Gabs has already told me we needed to have another baby boy for Gwen to marry because she is going to marry Henry. And Gwen has been precious with him. Sitting right next to whoever is holding him. Repeating phrases like, "Our baby is so cute. Our baby is so little. Our baby is squeaking. Our baby is still sleeping. Your baby is crying."

He's been treated like royalty since he's arrived. Spoiled and loved more than I can imagine anyone loving anyone. This little baby is someone special. We're so blessed he's here with us.

Bed Buds

Before bed time, the girls pick out a toy that they want to sleep with. Gabs very carefully picks her toy. She goes weeks sleeping with that "one" toy that means so much to her. Then after a few weeks, she moves on to a new toy that remains her night time toy for quite awhile. She has a system. She always lays her toys nicely and preciously in the same spot each night. On the window seal right by her bed. It's all very organized. In the morning, she politely picks up her toy and comes to wake me up.

Gwen on the other hand is not precise or organized at all. She runs to the drawer and grabs all she can as quickly as possible. She'll appear in her bedroom with her hands overflowing, tightly pressed up against her chest gripping several toys. She runs straight to her crib and carelessly heaves all toys into her crib with no regard as to where they'll land or how they'll spend the night with her. In the morning, they're stuffed under her bumper or have fallen to the floor. She'll be standing in her crib, stepping on her toys, with her blanket in arms and up ready for me to get her out. Never looking back at her banished toys.

Last week after returning her blanket to her crib I couldn't help but take inventory of all I found in there. I had to record it because it makes me laugh now and it will most certainly bring back very fond memories of our spicy two year old. Here's what I found-keep in mind, I do empty her crib of all toys about once a week, leaving only certain stuffed animals that she's slept with since she was a baby.

Pig Pillow

Blanket

Blue baby doll from $1 store

Purple baby doll from $1 store

Husky dog from Alaska

Black Apple Doll

Pink Bunny

Pink Pig

Gorilla Beanie Baby

Her "My Baby"

Polly Pocket

Cinderella Polly Pocket

Collar for Alaskan Husky

4 Little People-Sara Lynn, Baby, Mom, and Robin Hood

Mickey Mouse Figurine

Goofy Figurine

Donald Figurine

Minnie Figurine

"My Baby's" hat

Polly Pocket Dress

Plastic Lettuce from their kitchen

Pink Care Bear

4 Felt Cookies

Cat Pet Shop

Belle horse carriage
Cheetah figurine

Princess Coin Purse

Miniature horse figurine

Squirting Dog from bath tub

Dora Book

The Going to Bed Book

And, believe it or not, even with all that excitingness awaiting her in her crib, I still have to allow her to sleep in her "ballerina" that she refuses to take off just to get her to take a nap sometimes. Yup, like I said, that one's spicy!

My Husband. My Hero.

March 1st. A day I have been counting down to for the past eight months. The day I thought would never come. Today, is the first day of the rest of Joe's residency.

For the past eight months Joe has been working at hospitals in Seattle. Waking up at 4:30 and maybe returning 15 or so hours later. Nearly 400 times he made that awful drive. He says he can now make that drive with his eyes closed. I don't doubt that sometimes they were. I could tell by the bloodshot of his green eyes, which days they were. I would often tell him after a long day that he didn't have to come home. I knew he was tired. I knew it wasn't safe for him to drive feeling so exhausted after being up for 36 hours straight. But he never missed a chance to come home and see his girls. He knew that first thing in the morning the girls would ask if daddy was coming home that day. He never wants to disappoint his biggest fans. I always knew what days he wasn't going to be able to come home. Usually about 2 or 3 times a week. But often times I think he would be coming home, but then couldn't. Or it wouldn't be until well after bed time. It broke all of our hearts when we thought we'd see him that day and didn't.

For eight months he's lived this schedule. And never complained. Okay, that's a humongous lie. But compared to me, he's been an angel about the whole thing. I've often complained. I've cried. I've been impatient. I've been irritated at those he's worked with for being slow, thus making him late. I've been mad at the crazy patients who do stupid things to cause his day to last hours longer. I've been angry at him when he's called to say he's not on his way home. Oh, and I've been pregnant.

So while I don't expect for anyone to understand really what our last eight months have been like, I do wish to write a few of my feelings about this great guy in our lives.

Most of this blog is dedicated to our girls. Their daily quirks and silliness. I write about our good days and our bad days. Most of the time, Joe isn't even mentioned. He simply is gone so much that often times, he reads about our day before I can even tell him. And lately he's been gone so much, I have hardly even posted, because I'm just so darn worn out that I can barely think about anything other than when this day would finally come. When we would have a normal life again.

I re-realized these past eight months that I depend on Joe. I am happiest when I'm with Joe. I feel prettiest when I'm with him. I think I am funniest when I'm with him. I feel smart when I'm talking with him. I feel important when he's listening to my opinion. I feel like the only person in a room when he looks at me. I feel honored to be sitting next to him. Lately, because he's been gone so much, I haven't felt these things. And I've been pregnant. Call me weak, but it's true. I need Joe. I know I'm the luckiest girl to be married to him. And I know that he feels the same way about being married to me. I know that I am not taken for granted. I know that to him, I'm pretty special.

I am proud to be married to such a good guy. An honest guy, who does what's right. He's hard working and fair. He always does what is expected of him and then he does things that are unexpected. He's kind and generous. Extremely generous. He's positive and optimistic. He's smart and level headed. He's likable and genuinely nice. He's faithful. He's strong. He's steadfast. He's an example.

And he's back. Starting today we'll get dinners together again. And complete family prayers. We'll get good night kisses. And someone else to change diapers...and pick up toys...and give baths...and do dishes...and get the girls in bed...but those things don't really matter.

Boy will it be nice though.

So for my children, to you, the ones I often write about, whether he's mentioned frequently or not on this blog, let it be known that I love your dad. He works hard for us. He loves us more than anything.

And to you, Joe, in the words spoken by Gwen this morning when you got home from your last night of being on call in Seattle, "Dad, you're the best dad in the whooole family." I couldn't agree more.