Recent Photos, August-October

New Baby

Celia Jane Rasmussen

October 21, 2010

10:04 p.m.

8 lbs., 1 oz.

19 inches long

Greeted the next morning by siblings and cousins, none more excited than big sister, Jamie Beth.

This photo of Nate reminds me of another photo of another big brother holding a little sister.
Matthew was also 3 years, 8 months old when he became a big brother...

Calmly leaving the hospital.

Best position for a long nap.

Enthusiastically celebrating Halloween.

She does open her eyes! I took this photo of her tonight: almost three weeks old, a very quiet baby, channeling Grandmother Rasmussen a bit (according to her doting dad), possibly out-weighing her sister already (as observed by a certain uncle).
We like her very much.

About that baby...

The kids have varied responses and thought processes concerning the upcoming arrival of their sibling.

Matthew keeps his eye on the goal:

"So when are we switching the bedrooms so I can have my own room?"

He's also interested in the birth process:

(With his hand on my stomach during a random, painless contraction) "Does that mean it's time to go to the hospital?"

Jamie Beth is observant of my condition:

"Mom, after baby comes, will you be able to bend down and pick stuff up off the floor again?"

Dallin is ready and prepared:

(A couple days before my due date) "So baby is coming any minute now?"

Nate has plans:

"When our baby comes, we get to have pizza for dinner!"

and...

"I will not smack our baby; I will give her a binky."

Me, pregnant, 34 weeks

The clock is ticking...that's really my main thought every day. I have a mental list of all the "must-do" projects, and I'm procrastinating until the painter comes. I tell myself I can't set up a crib, organize baby clothing, hang pictures or curtains, find a new carseat, sew blankets and burpcloths...until the painter comes. I have no excuse for why the pantry isn't yet organized.

Yes, I do. I'm busy gestating.

I keep reminding myself that I don't have to waddle; I really am capable of walking with a normal gait.

I sit in front of the fan in the living room a lot. There was that one weekend several weeks ago that our air conditioning broke down...permanently. The entire system needed to be replaced. Can you imagine how quickly I scheduled our A/C guy, how eagerly I paid him whatever he wanted? Nothing like pregnancy and superheat to illustrate the laws of supply and demand.

This baby moves a lot, an experience I really do enjoy 90% of the time. The kids frequently want to feel the kicks, but it seems like all movement stops when someone else's hand is there. Does this mean that baby will be easily soothed by family attention?

The kids already call the baby by the name we've chosen, and that always sounds weird to me. I just don't connect the name to a person yet. Baby. That's the baby's name to me. Just Baby.

I get the restless legs syndrome at night. And if I stretch and point my toes while I'm sleeping...immediate leg cramps. I've taken a calcium supplement the past couple nights and that seems to be helping.

I can't decide if I should be on edge in case my labor is early and quick, like Dallin's birth; or, should I relax because the other three births were all late? My sister-in-law had her first baby five weeks early--that would be this week for me.

I really hope that doesn't happen. The painter hasn't come yet.

Matthew and I play word games together. If he wants logical--chess, checkers, rubiks cube--he goes to his dad; but for word games, I'm his girl.

Quiddler is our favorite lately. It's like Scrabble or Boggle, but played with cards. Because negative points are possible for a round, the leader of the game can change drastically in just one hand. Matthew is fiercely competitive and keeps a running record of high scores. I have to use all of my brains and none of my mother-mercy in order to win. We love it.

Last Sunday I lay down my hand, confident that my valuable q and z cards would win the round.

"Quay? What kind of word is that?" Matthew didn't want to give up his lead.

"You can go look it up if you want."

He actually sighed. "No, I know it's a word because it's you."

*Revelation #1--He trusts me.

*Revelation #2--He knows something about my personality.

Such little things are learned through these little interactions...for both of us.

Words to live by...

Because we live near so many cousins, my kids often remind each other who they are and are not allowed to date/marry. In genuinely concerned tones, they repeat verbatim the useful information given several years ago by a wise, helpful (8-year-old) cousin:

If you marry a family member, you will have a two-headed baby.

I might be serious...

A while ago Dallin was curious about the logistics of errand-running with a new baby. He asked about strollers, fitting baby and Nate into a grocery cart, carseat arrangements, etc.

"Oh," said I, "when we have baby five, we won't be leaving the house ever again."

His eyes widened. "But how will we get food?"

"I guess your dad will have to go shopping."

Apparently this far-fetched solution clued him into my facetiousness. He shook his head as a grin crept onto his face. "Nooo...you're just teasing me. Dad can't go shopping because he has to work! We actually will leave the house."

We'll see.

A Good Day

Yesterday I spent the entire day preparing for the Relief Society picnic (which came off very well, I think) and expected the kids to basically take care of each other. To make up for that, and to reward them for doing such a good job being ignored by me, I declared today "No Chore Day".

I am thrilled that this announcement was met with cheers. That must mean that our chores are routine and effective enough that their absence is something to celebrate.

I added that they did still have to dress and brush their teeth. Dallin piped up, "And make our beds." He offered, so I accepted. Sure, and make your beds.

Then we started deciding what activities we would do. After ruling out anything in Salt Lake, anything with water (we're swimming tomorrow already), and clarifying that, yes, we were doing things together, so, no, you're not staying home with your iTouch...after all that we planned:

• a picnic at the playground with cousins
• a trip to the PERC (a place at the library that loans games and educational activities)
• a visit to the Dinosaur Museum at Thanksgiving Point
• attending tonight's animal show at the Monte Bean Science Museum

Ambitious, aren't we? Might as well pack it in, I guess.

Here's the best thing, now that I'm near the end of the festivities--we had fun, even those who initially complained! They played together, I didn't go into labor, there was only one wet accident, and only one bloody nose. Additionally, I witnessed the following happy sibling interactions:

"I'll figure out the instructions for that game and play it with you."

"Hey, come work with me on brushing this part of the fossil."

"I think Nate would love this."

"I'll take care of the boys while you take Jamie Beth to the bathroom."

"Nate, chase me!"

You can see why I had to document such a good day as this.

Remember that old Shel Silverstein poem?

Lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy Cissy.
She wants to upload her photos.
So she waits and waits and waits and waits and waits...
For Matt to do it instead.

Or something like that.

~sigh~Someday I'll blog again.

Me, pregnant, 17 weeks...

You don't need a picture, because I'm going to paint one for you:

The constant nausea is gone now, has been for about three weeks. (Yet the house looks just as bad as it did during those weeks I spent most of my time on the couch.)

Just exhaustion, lethargy, inability to style my hair beyond the ponytail. I don't remember being so useless at this point in previous pregnancies. Have I forgotten? Or am I getting old? Never had a baby in my 30's, after all. Or maybe it's Nate's fault. Never had to chase the likes of him around during a pregnancy.

I could be tired because I have vivid nightmares all night, every night. I'm trying Unisom with so-so success; I'm trying to read light, sweet, sentimental books, and I won't watch "Chuck" with Matt. I have to gear up for "Lost" and then fill my head with happy thoughts or sappy movies. I am nervous to sleep, even nap.

I always want to know, what can I eat next? What will satisfy me? It's not about craving, exactly; more like finding the absolutely perfect food for this moment. Sometimes it's been grapefruit or fresh mozzarella. Mostly it's been Wendy's Frostys. Or Ramen Noodles. Yikes--poor baby. When all else fails, I'm eating up to three or four bowls of (healthy) cereal with frozen raspberries on top. I feel proud about that because it's low in sugar and fortified with lots of vitamins.

I'm terrible about taking actual pre-natal vitamins.

I'm gaining weight--probably due to the Frostys more than the baby. I'm employing the rubberband trick on my regular jeans, or trying to hold up the stylish belly-banded maternity pants that just don't quite fit yet. Honestly, I like the old-fashioned full-paneled deals, but I'm still in-between, in-between, too big for this, yet too small for that. I like Sundays when I can wear empire-waist dresses.

I love feeling baby move. For the past couple weeks, I occasionally found myself holding perfectly motionless, focusing on any slight movement. Even though I've done this four times before, I still love the magic, the miracle.

To be continued...maybe with a real photo, maybe even before I have the baby.

Not fair.

"Tomorrow Dad will take you to the BYU football practice. Won't that be fun?"

Nate's eyes lit up and his mouth formed an awestruck o. "I pway football with Dad?"

"No," I explained, "you get to watch the football players play."

His eyebrows immediately crinkled into a frown as he informed me, "I not want to watch football. I want to pway with Dad."

"It's not on TV. You have to drive there and sit on the chairs and watch." (Anyone guess the mistake in that sentence? Here it is...)

His face lit up again. "I dwive there?"

"Well, Dad will drive you there."

"I dwive. I'm a good helper. I dwive fast wike this"--he demonstrated with his hands at about 9 and 3--"Wike a wace car."

"Mmmm...I think we'll wait until you're a little older first."

Nate's race car hands dropped in exasperation. "Awwww! Why I have to be a wittle kid?"

New York, New York

So I'm off in a few days to visit my sister in New York City. I have been there before and done the usual tourist stuff: climbed the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building, seen Les Miserables on Broadway, visited the UN. I have a short list of things to do, but I want suggestions of must-see and must-eat locations.

Here's my ambitious plan:

--Metropolitan Museum of Art

--get cheap, last-minute tickets to "Wicked"

--some historic home (ideas?)

--eat real Italian food

--order an excellent sandwich at a non-chain delicatessen

--eat authentic New York pizza

--visit Purl Soho

--see the WTC site/memorial

--see the Manhattan Temple

--visit a local bookstore

--bring something home...but what? I'm not a name-brand gal, not the tourist t-shirt type.

You see, I learned last year on my trip to D.C. that I can go to an astonishing number of places when I have no kids with me. Ideally, I would love to have about half of the kids along so I can share the world with them; since that's not possible in this case, I'll just efficiently jet around and take pictures for them. And bring them a book...I always bring a book.

Now, friends and family, bring on the suggestions. Also pray the plane doesn't crash, because I always worry about that. Of course.

Winter Highlights

Quick, before it's officially spring, here's a summary of what our family has been up to this winter. (Alternate title: I'm Not So Good at Keeping Up the Blog)

Jamie Beth's review for her dance class. She's looking forward to the fancy spring recital in May, when she will wear a costume.

Christmas Eve bowling is a family tradition.

I beat Matt for the first time! That is to say, he was too tired to play at all.

Christmas nativity program with cousins. (Note the shepherd with the handcuffs.) This was just the beginning of a first-time-ever huge family sleepover at Matt's parents' home--16 adults and 20 grandchildren all crammed in together. Eighteen-year-old sister Cassie has lamented for years that she's never had all her siblings sleeping in the same house for Christmas Eve. So, she worked for months to get everyone's commitment, then she made bedroom arrangements, seating arrangements, and even slept at the foot of the stairs to prevent little ones from pre-empting the party.

Christmas morning was so fun. Our kids were excited and surprised enough to satisfy me and Matt. Santa brought each one a book, an outfit, an activity/game, and something they really wanted: Matthew--an iPod Touch (his first technology gift!), Jamie Beth--a dollhouse that Santa spent hours putting together, Dallin--a remote control truck, and Nate--a mini-trampoline. Later, they also opened gifts from me and Matt, Papa and Nana, and cousins.

Some of the chaos. I couldn't even fit it all into one picture.

Very happy boy. Using the rationale that "Santa always brings me one thing off my list", he put only two things on his list.

Posing at home in front of our own tree.


Jamie Beth's 7th birthday in January. She is worried that Nate will steal her privilege. Luckily Matt whisked him out of the way.

Content with her gifts as she answers one of many birthday calls.

All she really wanted was pierced ears.

A week or so later, Jamie Beth celebrated her birthday with an "elegant lunch--please wear your favorite fancy outfit." The activities included dancing...

...decorating the table...

...eating a dainty lunch...

...and making bead jewelry.

As part of a fifth-grade program, Matthew had to create a display and a report on a state. We both learned a lot as we both slaved over the project. Honestly, though, he did at least 90% of the work.

The end of January brought our annual cabin retreat...four days with, again, the whole big family. Plenty of eating, sleeping, and chatting; lots of movies and food; and of course skiing/snowboarding.

Jamie Beth absolutely loves skiing--with an instructor. This was her third year.

Hitting the target age of five meant that Dallin was enrolled in lessons for the very first time. He now claims to have loved it, though every time I passed him that day, he collapsed on the ground and said he was too cold. Despite this, his instructor said Dallin did a great job for a first-timer. That is the exact reason I pay for lessons instead of teaching the kids myself--they perform for others, while they complain for me.
*Matthew snowboarded again this year, but since he takes off far before I get to the lift, I have no pictures of him. Rest assured, he is practically pro. I know, because he told me.

Back at the cabin, Dallin hardly ever let go of the laser tag gun. The game was a constant throughout the weekend. For an even better representation of Dallin's love of the game (along with his twin-cousin), you have to see this photo my sister-in-law took.

Occasionally, the five little tykes (all born within one year) stopped moving and settled down to a movie.

And, they were bathed and pampered by their older cousins...

Now that I've gotten this far, I wish I had more pictures of the cabin...of some adults, for instance. (Eden, that's your job, and then I'll just link.) And then, I'm realizing that Winter Highlights ought to include February. Hmmmm, maybe in another month I'll get to that.

I want this. Someone tell me a.) how to make it, or b.) when it goes on clearance.

A day in the life of Nate's mother.

A couple of days ago I spent at least an hour re-organizing "retired" children's clothing that had been dumped by the boxful all over Nate's bedroom--by one Nate, during one naptime. Jamie Beth, my mini-organizer, sorted baby girl clothes from baby boy clothes, while I simultaneously grouped clothing by age, made a giveaway pile, and pulled out shirts that would fit Dallin next month. The house was surprisingly quiet as we worked: Matthew finished with chores and reading, Dallin working his way through his own chore list, Matt cleaning out the garage, Nate wandering to and fro and stopping to try the potty every 20 minutes (a timer was set just for him). Progress, I thought, actual progress on a big project. I was completely wrapped up in my task.

Cue the foreboding music.

"Oh no! Oh no!" Matt's voice called out from the living room. "Cissy...oh NO!"

I leapt over the piles around me and ran. Yes--leapt and ran, because only one thing in our house elicits such distressed exclamations: Nate. It took just a second to see the problem, and without going into too much detail, I'll tell you it involved Nate's inability to get to that potty. And it wasn't a wet problem.

Matt pointed to a spot on the floor. "It looks like he started there, then moved there," he pointed to another spot, "then he wiped it there, there, and put that baseball bat in it, there. "

My reaction was not calm, sweet, or instructive. I may have talked sternly and somewhat loudly to Nate, telling him (not quite yelling, but obviously upset), "Yuck! That's yucky! Why did you take off your underwear? When you feel p*** coming out, you run to the potty! The potty! Yuck! Aggghh!" He, half-naked and apparently with no olfactory senses, just looked at me and helpfully pointed out all the places I would need to scrub.

Whenever I clean up a bloody nose, a wet spot on the carpet, or midnight vomit, I think to myself, "It could be worse. At least it's not p***. It could always be worse." Well, now those thoughts immediately started to come again, but then swerved right smack into reality: "It could be worse--no, no, it can't! This is the worst that it could be! Ack!" I scrubbed and gagged and scrubbed and told still-half-naked Nate to "Stay right there, stay right there on the hard wood, and don't touch anything!" (I was thinking only in exclamation marks for a while.)

So there's the story of my day-to-day life: I clean up one of Nate's messes while he is making an infinitely worse one. And, I handle all of it with less than motherly grace. Good thing he's otherwise charming and sparkly--and resilient, I hope.

Honestly, that child better turn out to be brilliant.

The thoughts that roll around in his head.

The Cast:
Dallin, as usual
Cissy, the mean mom
Matt, the dad with a big laugh

The Setting:
Dallin has been playing on the Wii at Nana's house for days and days. He's beginning to think that every day should be a Christmas vacation. He is grumpy because Cissy has told him that this particular day was not a video game day, so, no, there would be no Wii.

Dallin: [stomping and pouting as grumpily as possible] Hmmph. That's not fair. When I'm bigger, I'm not getting married!

[Later that day, Cissy relates the above exclamation to Matt.]

Matt: [obviously perplexed] Married? What does that have to do with a Wii?
Cissy: [understanding of all things Dallin] Of course, you see, if he doesn't get married, he won't have a mom around to tell him he can't play the Wii.
Matt: [holding back a laugh, turns to Dallin] Is that why you don't want to get married?
Dallin: [proudly, stubbornly] Yup.

[Laughter abounds. Curtain falls.]