Cricket Lick-It

I love my J-Man for many reasons, but one is that he has the wildest appetite of anyone I know. Through him I've begun to eat sushi, Thai, jerky, Ethiopian, and learned that there are people on this planet who actually buy slim jims, eat corner store chicharrones for breakfast, pickle their own eggs in leftover pickle juice, prefer sparkling water with lemon to lemonade, and believe that adding hot sauce all over a meal is a compliment and not an insult to the chef.

Also, as of this summer, he's taught our boys to eat crickets.

See, hidden in those "Cricket Lick-it" lollipops are actual dead crickets. They were nervous at first. Who wouldn't be? MDG figured he'd do whatever PDG did though, and PDG wanted to be brave like J-Man so he went for it. He made it all the way to the cricket's head and kept on going.

MDG didn't quite get that far, but to be fair, MDG's cricket was embedded further down in the lollipop itself, and this was a near-bedtime treat that therefore had a built-in time limit. Maybe if we'd had all afternoon we could've found out just how brave he was.

Either way, I was impressed. We facetimed with Mama and Papa H who were impressed too. As for Big Sis, I have a great screenshot of her looking disgustedly sick as PDG licked away, but it's maybe not the most flattering so I'll spare the interwebs.

I'm not sure what delicacy they'll tackle next, but I can only hope that they don't start thinking that just any dead bug is fair game. Only ones trapped in hard candy and sold in trendy barbecue joints with just the right marketing to catch the eyes of a guy like their daddy.

Silly Cakes

PDG and MDG both love to play on J-Man's and my phones. Maybe we shouldn't let them? I don't know. Regardless, they do. They used to love to scroll through photos of themselves. Then they moved on to some toddler apps that teach colors and numbers and the stuff that you're not supposed to expect a device to teach them, but in reality what can a little screen-reinforcement hurt on the topic? Sometimes they make their way to Netflix for some Daniel Tiger, Super Why, Chuggington or even occasionally the short-lived and intense Russian series Masha's Tales.

And also, as I've probably mentioned before, they love youtube. The thing about youtube is it remembers what you've watched before, and gives you suggestions. If, heaven forbid, I've watched a grown-up video (don't think badly of me here, I'm talking the soundtrack to Last Five Years, or the video for Bieber's Love Yourself or anything else that doesn't feature puppets or nursery rhymes) the boys get upset wanting to know where their videos are and insisting I get back to those bright and animated suggestions.

But once the suggestions pop up, especially when MDG takes the lead, it's a rapid fire roulette of clips. One video leads to another, to another, often with none of them being finished, until they land on either a) something they love or b) something they've explicitly been told to avoid. Again, don't go to bad places with this. I'm talking videos of people opening toys or eggs and showing how they work. Somewhere in the world millions of children or adults are watching these videos, but they are strictly prohibited in the G household. Want to know how toys work? Go play with any of the ones currently sitting stagnant in either of the giant toyboxes we own.

So, anyway, one day the boys got really quiet - never a good sign - and when J-Man and I realized they were watching what must've been an off limits video, we checked it out. Sure enough, it was someone explaining how something worked. Only the product wasn't in English packaging. And it wasn't a toy. It was Japanese gummy sushi candies. PDG explained that they were silly cakes, and the name stuck.

Also, surprise surprise, J-Man decided he had to get his hands on this treat. He went to the always trustworthy Amazon, ordered some silly cakes from Japan, and we waited the weeks for them to arrive.

They were a success. The boys loved them. It was daddy son bonding time. And apparently they taste good to grown-ups too. Plus, with the magic of youtube, we knew we could find videos in English of how the whole thing works.

Since then we've ordered them twice more, and the boys love making silly cakes with daddy. There's measuring and mixing and near chem-lab precision, and in the end, a tiny tasty treat. Highly recommended.

And, for my one Texas friend who will have any idea what I'm talking about, making these is like mashing together memories of our Thursdays in NYC at Wasabi Lobby and that Tasti D-Lite with all the gummies by the pound. Now all we need is a way to incorporate Grey's Anatomy and its decline into whine central...

Huge Fans

PDG is trying to learn the art of joke telling. So far, it isn't coming particularly naturally, which I think is normal. If not, whatever, it is what it is.

J-Man decided to help him out the other night by pointing towards the ceiling as they somehow both were lying together in PDG's tiny toddler bed. J-Man prompted, "Why does that cheer for me?"

Silence I imagine.

"Because it's a huge fan of mine."

Get it? He went on.

Why does that write me letters?

Because it's a huge fan of mine.

PDG ate up those two jokes and later repeated them to me a few times in a row during bedtime the next night. We decided to add some new ones into the rotation.

J-Man: Why does that clap for me?

Me: Because it's a huge fan of mine. Why does it wear my jersey?

J-Man: Because it's a huge fan of mine. Why does it applaud when I come in the room?

Me: Because it's a huge fan of mine. Why does it drink too much when I drop a pass?

J-Man: Because it's a huge fan of mine. Why does it shoot me like Selena?

It took a second before I was dying of laughter in tears, PDG and MDG both looking at me like a crazy person. Maybe it isn't as funny reading it here. Maybe it's because I'm a Spanish teacher who has shown Selena on multiple occasions for lessons on Culture and therefore needed no refreshing on her tragic ending. Or maybe it wasn't actually funny and I'm just on the verge of some breakdown. After all, a minute after I stopped wiping away my tears, PDG did ask both me and J-Man if we were feeling better now, in his most earnestly nurturing voice.

We assured him that we were. In fact, we were the luckiest parents in the world. And lucky for us, bedtime tears don't always have to be out of anger.

Valentine Surprise

I'm not really a surprise person.

J-Man doesn't believe me when I say this, and I think it's because I do love gifts. I mean, giving and receiving Christmas gifts is a thrill. I'm careful not to open trunks or closets or his email account starting at Thanksgiving just to be sure any sweet purchase he's planning isn't ruined before the big day.

Gifts are great.

It's the pre-announced, suspense-addled surprises that do me in.  If we're going somewhere, I want to know where, when, for how long, what to pack etc. Will it be just us? Who already knows what I don't know? Do they think I'll like the surprise? Am I expected to have a specific reaction? Are the kids involved? If not, who's going to take care of them?

Even when it was our honeymoon, a portion of wedding-planning I was fully willing to pass along to J-Man, I set some non-surprise parameters. I didn't need the resort name, but I did need the general location and departure/arrival dates and times. Once it was clear - Punta Cana/7days/fly out morning after wedding - I could continue in blissful ignorance. And I didn't even need to make the decisions for the big part. The DR was J-Man's choice, he just told me what it would be. And like any sun-loving fiancee, I was happy to indulge his Caribbean island goals.

So when I found out a few weeks ago that J-Man was planning something for Valentine's day, I got nervous. To his credit, he did offer to tell me what our activity would be at various points, but I kept feeling like that would somehow spoil his fun. He wanted to surprise me, was sure I would like it, and wanted me to trust his gift-giving success rate.

I tried to imagine what it could be. The last big surprise like this was when he and his friend O planned a trip for KB and me to go to Annapolis. It ended up a lovely weekend, but we were not into the anticipation leading up to the departure.

I figured this time it wouldn't be a trip. Maybe a show? Something kid-firendly? Especially since it didn't sound like he'd asked my family to babysit, and we'd been away from the kids all week. Perhaps we'd go to an indoor water park? After all, Great Wolf Lodge was a blast over the summer.

A few days prior to the big reveal, it did come out that it was a two-day activity. I almost told him to just tell me, but I didn't want to give in. Yes, my stubbornness shares some of the blame for this frustration, I know. Nobody's perfect.

Anyway, Saturday came and after five quiet mornings in a kid-free home, we awoke to coos and giggles and "I don't wanna get dressed. I don't wanna go potty. I want jelly beans" and so forth. J-Man left to gather the H Family and I dealt with a seemingly sick MDG and an off-his-routine PDG and headed to brunch. It was a nice brunch with Mama and Papa H, Big Sis and Uncle J, KB and her family and us G's. Well, except for MDG being so sick and clingy that he didn't eat a bite and clutched on to me the entire time.

When we left the restaurant we headed home to pack (turns out we were going out of town) and I finally broke down and demanded to know the plan. I wish I could say I was sweet and immediately appreciative. I wasn't. I was frustrated and my arms ached from MDG, and my head ached from worrying about him, and I just wanted to know what shows J-Man had in store for us for the weekend.

No shows.

We were heading back to.... Annnnn-apolis.

And, because I demanded no more surprises, I was told that once again O and KB would be there too.

Like last time, it was super cold, only this time both MDG and J-Man were sick, so it was J-Man with the naps in the hotel, me watching MDG run around destroying the hotel room, and sweet KB who offered to take PDG to play with Lil O by seeing boats, eating ice cream, and running laps in the lobby.

We went to Annapolis Smokehouse for a meat-lover's dream of a barbecue dinner, then both families put on pajama's at seven, watched some Nat Geo tuna-fishing til 8, and then all curled up for hotel snuggles like the family folks we are now.

Times have changed, especially bedtimes, but it was a perfect getaway. I don't think we'll double in size again over the next four years, but I do think we should do this again sometime. And maybe not as a surprise. Probably not in February either. But it's fun to realize what a gift your family is, big or small, when you're cuddled in comfy hotel beds you don't have to make or wash or fold.

Happy Valentine's Day J-Man. Thanks for helping me with these guys. Who knew a heart could love so much?

Superbowl Sadness

By now you likely know we're Seahawks fans in the G-house. Don't go calling us bandwagon fans either. My first professional games were to see the 'Hawks back in '09 when no team in Washington state seemed to understand what winning was. Their colors are fun. Their fans are fierce. And finally, they've got a crew of fun-to-cheer-for players who can put some points on the board.

Last year I watched the Superbowl with J-Man. Ok, correction. Last year I watched the first half of the Superbowl with J-Man. I was still overly sleep-deprived, though, so that first play after halftime sealed the deal and I went to bed pretty confident we had it in the bag. J-Man silently celebrated the win so that I could rest until the next feeding. Times were different.

This year I told J-Man that I didn't want to host a party, or get a sitter, but I did want him to get the chance to actually shout at a TV during the game if he felt so inclined. Around five pm he set off to watch with some friends, and the little boys and I popped some popcorn and settled in for the first quarter.

We were serious.

And we like popcorn.

I also felt like I should watch the whole game (sentimental commercials included) since I'd assigned my students to be able to respond in Spanish how they reacted to the game's turnout - chapter four vocabulary always falls perfectly at this time of year, which makes it my favorite chapter for being something relevant that the kids really do want to use. but before I nerd out about authentic prompts for assessments...

I was watching the game.  And then I was listening to the game with my eyes shut. And then I was hoping it just stayed 24-21 the rest of the game. And then I was waking up with this weird feeling that the TV had gotten loud or something had happened or wait, what? We lost? Wilson got intercepted? Beast Mode didn't get to rush it in? Brady and his face got a trophy? My students would get to each, individually, tell me how they felt 'alegria' the next day as payback for me wearing my #3 jersey on Friday and taunting my Patriots fans?  what?!?!

Poor J-Man came home not too much later and we reminded ourselves (or, I reminded him) it's just a game. Nothing about our lives actually changed.

And the next day, our Amazon Prime package (the only way to shop) arrived. The boys, understanding nothing of seasons and endings and superbowls, put on the glasses so we could be "cool dudes" and excitement for next season again.

Or maybe, just maybe, excitement for seven months of football-free Sunday afternoons set in. Either way, it'll be ok.

Happy Happy Halloween

If you know me, you probably know Halloween isn't exactly my favorite holiday.  Yes, I do love treats, but I'm just not the sort of creative brain that can design and pull-off unique, elaborate costumes. I'm far better at admiring from afar.

Being a mom, though, Halloween is a must.  I mean, I don't want these boys to grow up and wonder why we're the lame family that hates fun.

We did costumes the easy way - MDG dressed in a hand-me-down pumpkin suit (grandkid #5 to wear it), J-Man went as Russell Wilson by wearing all the Seahawk gear we already own, and PDG got to stand in Party City and point at the costume of his choice from a wall of possibilities (Spiderman).  As for me, I bought a $5 surgeon mask/gown that I never even opened.

My church does Trunk-or-Treat along with a massive pinterest-like party for all the families in advance of the big day. J-Man is a great sport every year, despite not even really being able to recognize the other ward members who tend to take the holiday far more seriously than we do. We went, got candy, played some games, ate pizza, and made it home before any G boys threw tantrums.  Success!

 

The following Friday, on the real day, I finally got to visit J-Man's new office for their office party.  It was A-Maz-Ing.  The whole place was decked out in cobwebs and black streamers and every cluster of cubicles had a theme to go with their giant bowls of candy.  In the biggest conference room were pizzas, snacks, a background for professional photographs and more. Who needed real trick or treating?

PDG won the slew of twenty-something techies over with his "happy happy halloween," "trick or treat" and manners that he actually decided to show off on command. MDG won them over just by being a baby.

It was a great afternoon that thankfully didn't need to be topped off with actual door-to-door treat-seeking, since we hit the road for more non-Halloween fun with the H Family.  (more on that sometime soon)

J-Man's 31st

We G's just keep getting older. Not "old" per se, just older. Little G's and Big G's alike.

J-Man just turned 31. Can you believe it?  Thirty sounds fun and adult-ish. You know, "thirty, flirty and thriving." Thirty-one just sounds.... like a number. So we celebrated as such.

MDG and PDG decided to have colds, so much so that PDG needed to stay home from daycare with an awful cough. Luckily, Mama and Papa H came to the rescue and drove over in the morning, to save J-Man from endless hours of snuggles while watching Super Why in bed.

In the afternoon we all got to see him just long enough to record a video for Cousin N who shares a birthday with J-Man, a few hugs and kisses, and then he was back out the door to watch the Seahawks beat the local football team with the racist name.

At 1:30 when I awoke to find my J-Man not yet home, I naturally panicked.  Too many episodes of shows like Disappeared had me worried that I might never see him again.  Something must have gone terribly wrong. My boys would never know their father - not really. I'd have to tell them stories of his humor and work ethic and endless generosity. I'd fall asleep lonely each night, half of the bed left untouched. My heart would ache forever.

You know, the usual morbid thoughts.

Then his buddy responded to my frantic texts and it turned out they'd just had a crazy journey home from the game and would arrive shortly. We all get another year of J-Man. And I get about seven more months before embracing thirty-one as well.

Oh, and sometime during all this, PDG decided to make his own video selfie. Someday if I figure out how to add videos, I'll come back and insert it here.

Football Season Here We Come

It's that time of year again.

The morning and evening air is getting crisp. The television is on all day Sunday. The jerseys are fully in laundry rotation. It's football season.

The excitement gets started early here in the G house. Like, really early. The pictures below are from a couple weeks ago.

See, it isn't quite good enough to have PDG like football.  With such big hands and feet, we're hoping he loves it.  Excels at it.  Goes pro at it.  Buys us a house with one of his paychecks.

Just kidding.  Unless he does.  In which case, awesome.

In the meantime, it's something J-Man hopes he'll be able to enjoy with his boys.  So the helmet is out, and J-Man and I have drafted our teams for our family/friend league.  Without a pregnancy to distract me this year, anything is possible.

Goals for the season:
1) Beat J-Man
2)Beat Big Sis
3) Not have any of those weeks where I forget to swap out my injured and bye-week players
4) Beat J-Man
5) Beat Big Sis

Wish me luck!

And by wish me luck, I mean, help me not drown in a sea of football these next however many months until the Seahawks win the superbowl again.

Non-Hallmark Dad Love

You guys, dads are the best. Well, they can be, at least. And around here, my J-Man puts up with a lot from our G-crew.

Sometimes we can be bossy. Or cranky. Sometimes we get hungry or sleepy and the world is ending until we get fed or naps and then it's all magically fixed again.

This guy puts up with all of it. Even when we're kinda pains-in-the-rear on Father's Day. Of all days! (I know, sorry J-Man. Seriously.)

We did try to make up for it that week with some cute chalk art. And an overkill of hugs and "I love you's" and such.

But mostly, this is just a post to let you know, J-Man, that you're the best.  And there are precious few things that make me happier than seeing you be a great dad with our little boys. So happy non-hallmark father's day to you. Today. Tomorrow. Always. Thanks for being a great guy. And thanks for mowing that jungle of a yard of ours.

Fourth and Fireworks

Happy Belated Independence Day!

I think I've mentioned before that I'm not one for indulging in how-great-is-America? fests, but I do love a good hot dog and firework display and summer day with my J-Man. Luckily, July 4th gives me all that in one.

Also, it needs to be noted, this year might have had the best weather of my life for the holiday. Eighty degrees without humidity? Where was I, Tacoma?

Anyway, we had a lovely family day. We started with the annual pancake breakfast at the church. I know, what you're wondering: how does she get her non-LDS, non-pancake-eating husband to church at 8am for a social on his day off? One word. Love. He's awesome. It's great. Nuff said.

Then we ventured down south beyond where I teach to go to a barbecue at one of J-Man's former coworker's new homes. It was relaxed and comfortable. Their townhome is huge and new and has a kitchen every non-millionaire in Arlington drools over. We were almost in heaven and thinking, let's jump on this bandwagon. Then we had to hop in the car and drive all the way back. We remembered that we do still love it here close to the city where we don't have to fight crazy traffic to get access. So yeah, we're still signing our lease to stick around for another year and keep enjoying the parks and yard and walking distance to restaurants and easy public transportation (and tiny square footage).

But back to the Fourth. It took a lot to put off lighting up fireworks too early. We had already experimented a bit the day before and it was just enough for PDG and J-Man to be itching to light more things on fire.

Side note: sending J-Man to a firework stand unaccompanied is like sending me to Target solo.  We both leave with more than we need, spending more than we planned, yet somehow proud of what we "saved."

We held firm until around 7:30, distracting ourselves with PDG's newest Netflix fave Mater's Tall Tales. Unlike Super Y it has no educational value, but it's only 35 minutes and I have no clue how non-TV SAHMs do it. Seriously, ladies, how do you? A mama can only handle so many alphabet shows and the concept no TV at all is beyond my level right now. Maybe when I'm getting sleep again...?

Anyway, our neighbors were also debating whether to walk over to the Air Force Memorial or brave their office party in the city so we suggested they hang out with us and enjoy our G-show.  We broke out the sparklers and set off one after another of J-Man's prize purchases.  It was just right for their ages - not too loud or too high and all done by 9pm.  MDG even slept inside through it all!  Then PDG hit the sack, we watched some of the big city ones on TV, and followed right after.

A fourth of July success in my book.  

Fire Trucks, Woo-Wooh!

PDG is really into firetrucks these days. I mean really into firetrucks.

Now, you're saying, come on every little boy loves fire trucks. He was practically destined to like them, what with his nursery theme being transportation. He's been seeing planes, trains, and automobiles since his eyes could focus!

But, look here, this thing has gotten real.

For instance, he thinks every car with any sort of light attached is a fire truck. He'll point and exclaim in a near shriek "Fire truck?!" His voice goes up ever so slightly, just in case he's wrong, but with a volume level that asserts he's right.

Then, I have to confirm it for him and say "Yes, fire truck," to which he can reply "Woo-wooh!"

My son is also a creature of habit.

And when it isn't a fire truck, which is rather often given just how many vehicles have lights - especially on I-95 with all the construction - I have to search for what it really is. Sometimes it's easy, like a tow truck.  But sometimes I just say, "um, no, not a fire truck, just, a truck with flashing lights." Are boy moms supposed to know what all these vehicles are called? I still haven't finished mastering animal sounds. Goats? Giraffes?Zebras?

But back to the fire trucks...

He's obsessed.  We even google fire trucks so he can scroll through images on the phone. Each time he says "fire truck, woo-wooh!" and then maybe what color it is (on the off chance it isn't red). Shouldn't that be boring? Are we killing his brain cells? It just makes him so darn happy!

Even worse, and I blame J-Man fully for this, he is obsessed with this youtube video, which if you didn't click, is nearly ten minutes of fire trucks in all their glory, driving around with lights and sirens going. As if the Fireman's Parade during Apple Blossom hadn't been enough. And if you're like me and find songs with sirens in them to be a terrible idea, try driving along when some sweet, doting husband/father has given his phone all cued up to this video to your son to entertain him on the ride home.  It's ten minutes of constant, sweaty paranoia interrupted by an occasional "fire truck, woo-wooh" whispered in awed respect.

I love my PDG, I really do. But maybe, just maybe, it'd be fun to branch out a bit from fire trucks?  Or anything else that might go "vroom" or "whoosh." It's not like we're lacking for exclamations of "school bus," "airplane," hellicopter," or "motorcycle" either.

Christmas '13 in Photos

Christmas this year was everything Christmas should be.  There was some snow (but not the kind that messes anything up), there were lots of hugs, there was family, there was too much food, there were naps, there was rewatching old family home videos, there was ripping open presents, there was Santa...

There was lots and lots of happiness.

So, since my moments to blog are limited these days, this post will be handled mostly in pictures, in semi-chronological order.

Oh, and photos from our Christmas card aren't on the fanciphone so I'll get those up another day (or during a different MDG nap while J-Man has taken PDG outside to entertain him -- logistics...)

Our Christmas tree - I gave in and we got a non-living tree this year. 

Big Sis came to town and got to meet MDG!

So did Lil Miss N

We made it to church with the H Family - then returned home for naps and play time. PDG did that hat placement all by himself

Opening presents Sunday afternoon - Cousin Christmas Day

PDG and Papa H - according to J-Man they share the same spirit animal 

adding another boy to the bunch

Lil Miss N also loves her some PDG

Loving his "cahs" from Big Bro

Actual Christmas Morning - PDG loves his bus

... and his microphone

Making up for not sleeping the night before. This kid and his night/day confusion

see that big box in the background - PDG's first bball hoop. And the pretty table runner - made by Grandma S 

Reading Brown Bear Brown Bear together

PDG loves selfies. Also, I really don't like the word "selfie"

Mama H and MDG.  Love.

One day soon I'll write some more.

Until then, Merry Christmas

Welcome MDG

There are a million things to say about the last two weeks, so I'll start at the very beginning.

I woke up in a foul mood.  Perhaps it was the rocky sleep from the night before.  Most likely it was everything on my mind that I mentioned in the last post.

J-Man, Mama H and I headed out early for my 6:30 induction.  Of course, because no birth story can be without surprises, we arrived to find that there were no empty beds. In retrospect, I took the news pretty well.  I simply wouldn't accept that the baby wasn't coming that day.  Period.  So as they hooked me up to some monitors in triage and did all the question-asking, I stayed calm.

By 10:30 I was in my own room and had been told that I was barely at a one, despite what the doctor the week before had told me (maybe she had tiny fingers?) so they wouldn't start pitocin until they started some other gel first.  It started with a p, or maybe a d?  Anyway, it got things moving.  J-Man and Mama H stayed by my side as the contractions picked up.

At 2pm Dr. M (who delivered PDG) came in to break my water.  I was more nervous this time since I hadn't yet gotten my epidural.  To my surprise, it wasn't so bad.  I might've taken it a bit too well though, since when I asked my nurse about 15 minutes later if I could get my epidural yet, the doctor responded to her "not yet."

The next two hours were pretty awful.  Sure it had taken me 3.5 hours to get from 1cm to 3cm but with the way those contractions were coming - faster and faster and stronger and stronger - I knew progress was happening unlike before.  I practically had to beg to eventually get the epidural.  Was it just that Dr. M. wanted me to know what the whole can't-walk-or-talk-through contraction felt like?  Because I learned.  And my body kept teaching me every 2-3 minutes.

At 3:51 I signed for my epidural and after what felt like an eternity (but probably wasn't) a questionable anesthesiologist administered it.  She also told me I might have mild scoliosis.  Ok.  Sure.  Maybe.  But is now the time to tell me?  Weird.

When that experience was over my nurse, Carlee (who was great) added the pitocin and the contraction-o-meter started to go off the charts.  Which would've been fine, if, just maybe, the epidural had kicked in right away.  But, next surprise, it hadn't.  So despite getting a cute tingle in my legs, my abdomen still felt every single tightening for the next long while.

Carlee had checked me around 4:30 and told me I was at an 8, but by 5:15 or so I was pretty sure I had to be complete.  She fiddled with a catheter and did some things on my chart as I finally started to get a little pain relief.  Maybe that's why I wasn't more annoyed that yet again it felt like no one was listening.

I told her I wanted to push so at 5:40 she checked again and said, "oh, yeah, his head is right here." So much for a catheter

J-Man asked, "so this baby should come in the next couple hours?" remembering the 2.5 hour pushing marathon from PDG's delivery.

"He might be here by 6" she answered, and stuff got real.

Despite the annoyances of the morning and early afternoon, I was finally in less pain and able to focus on the beautiful task at hand.  With J-Man on one side, Mama H on the other, and Carlee giving me encouragement, I started pushing just before 6pm.  Unlike before, I could feel what my body was doing each step of the way.  I was fully aware when my doctor - now Dr. S due to a shift change - came in and began suiting up.  I noticed when the other nurses entered.  I could listen and adapt as Dr. S told me to hold or push again.  And in a few slow motion moments I was able to witness as this tiny son of mine entered the world.  First his small, squished, perfect head, suctioned and crying, then his neck and shoulders, wrapped once by his umbilical cord, and finally the rest of his purple, wiggly, perfect body.

I was focused as they lay his precious body right on top of mine, and as my J-Man once again cut the cord.

I felt his tiny hands, his tiny feet, and thanked God that I was once again an agent in a miracle.

I don't think I've ever felt as empowered and meant to do something as I did during those 25 minutes of pushing.  Just the night before I had doubted my body.  But right then, as our Malcolm Davis came into the world, I couldn't have felt more proud of it.

Eventually they took him to the other side of the room to quickly measure and weigh him - 7lbs even 19inches - but quickly they returned him to my chest to nurse and snuggle with his mama.

Since then, MDG has proven to be very little like his big brother aside from looks.  He has us guessing every day, and night, but one thing is for sure: he is absolutely who is supposed to be in our family.  He belongs here. Right here. With his Mama G, his Papa G, and his big brother PDG.

We couldn't feel more complete.  I couldn't feel more in love.

Me and my three G boys.  Let the adventures as a family of four begin