The Six Year Old Version

Judah recently turned the big SIX and I'm still reeling at the thought.

Almost every day concludes with me staring at this tall lanky boy and wondering - did I ever cradle you in my arms? (yes) Were you ever ridiculously chubby? (yes) How can you be such a fully formed human being when for so long you were just a sweet little blob?

As a baby and toddler Judah was incredibly demanding, constantly talking, wanting to be interacted with, eschewing all toys for PEOPLE. REAL PEOPLE ONLY! Okay, actually, it was more like MOMMY. MOMMY ONLY. ALL THE TIME.

I used to despair that I would ever get more than 10 seconds of breathing space from him. No seriously, I often Googled "emotionally needy child" in search of relief.

And now. Now, he is my flexible, easy-going, mellow, compassionate, eager to please guy who is happy to spend long hours doing his own thing. I don't even know this guy. Seriously, some aliens came in the night and replaced him.

So here he is at Six!

See the resemblance? The night you turned six, in the blink of an eye.

At the beginning of his 5th year Judah was sure he wanted to be a ninja assassin and therefore would not get married as to not risk leaving his poor wife bereaved, you know, an assassin being such a dangerous line of work.

Judah and sweet friends at his much belated party

And then, all of a sudden, in the middle of his 5th year, Judah declared he was going to be a home-stay dad (he means stay-at-home dad), a throw-back to his aspirations from his 4 year old self. Just like that, he wanted a life of domesticity and care-taking.

And then, just a few weeks ago, Judah announced that his one goal in life was to be a jungle survivalist. He wants to learn how to live by himself in the wild - hunt, build fires, make camp, forage for food, etc. I have to say, this last career change has really caught me by surprise.

And I'm a little sad that he so badly seeks isolation. So I asked if I could accompany him on his jungle adventures and he said, yes. But only me.

And then I remembered how I wanted to be a cowgirl and live 3 hours away from civilization on a remote homestead in which I grew my own food and raised and butchered my own livestock and suddenly, Judah's aspirations aren't seeming so weird to me anymore.

Noah takes out all his jealous rage on Judah's pinata - he still claims it was his "worsest" day ever.

It makes even more sense when I realize that Judah, like me, is extremely sensitive to other people's feelings. Judah will often do things that he doesn't innately want to because he's worried the other person will be mad at him. He is a classic people-pleaser and will avoid conflict at all cost.

This makes it extremely easy for Judah to make friends and get along with pretty much anyone. Even in the most heightened competitive situations (which happens often with 5 year old boys who will turn everything into a "race") Judah will purposely let the other party win out of pity and concern for that person's feelings.

But it's exhausting. You feel like you're never free. Always beholden. Constantly on alert. Though Judah got along well with all his kindergarten classmates, he never considered anyone a safe place to land. A haven of free expression. A let-it-all-hang-out, come-just-as-you-are, just-be-yourself kind of friend.

I feel for him. Cuz I know all too well. It's a long lonely road for the likes of us.

And a shy road. Judah loves singing and praying but he will rarely do it in front of us. He will share his most silly or non-personal songs, but the most heartfelt ones about loving Jesus and caring for the poor, he reserves.

I find the best way to get Judah to open up about his personal life is to go for a walk. Something about stretching our legs towards a stretched out world loosens the jaw and vise-like grip he constantly has on his heart. I can see a lot of hiking in our future.

Because I can sense that Judah is slowly walling himself off. Self-consciously editing. Already he is critical of his own natural self.

He tells me he hates the shape of his face. He wishes it were rounder, not so long and sharp. Rounder like me and Noah.

He tells me he hates his dark skin tone. He wishes it were lighter. Peach toned, like me and Noah.

He is ashamed that he can't do the monkey bars and can't swim yet. So ashamed he told me he never wants to set foot near a pool again, although he absolutely loves playing in the water.

And of course it breaks my heart, but at least he tells me.

At least, for now, he tells me.

I wonder how much longer he'll permit me to accompany him on his lone survivalist wanderings.

A Beginning

Today my "baby" had his first day of kindergarten.

The whole world (read: FB) saw this confident happy face:

But, as always is the case with FB, that wasn't quite the full story.

Judah's true emotional state more resembles this face:

And then the Spouse said - Judah, don't look so nervous, open your mouth!

And then the Spouse coached - look happy Judah! look like you're having a good time.

And thus, a confident looking kindergartner was born...for the camera.

But in truth, Judah is a bit of a nervous Nellie, like his mom. I'm an anxious person. I don't like meeting new people. And I especially don't like being in places where I know no one and have no friends.

And that is exactly why Judah told me he was nervous about school. After bravely anticipating his first day for months, he let his strong exterior slip last night and tearfully confessed that he was scared to go to kindergarten. Mommy, I don't have any friends there.

Judah is shy. Judah is sensitive. And Judah is not at all a rough-and-tumble active boy like most kids his age. He always tells me he's an "inside boy" and begs off going to the park so he can sit at home and peruse comic books.

I know it will be at least a few weeks, maybe even a month or so before he makes a friend. And until then, every day will be a struggle. All emotions I remember very, very well from my own childhood.

While Judah was in class I worried.

I worried he would have a pee accident and chastised myself for forgetting to bring a clean change of clothes for him as his teacher had requested during orientation. Dang it woman! Why couldn't you just do that ONE thing right?! Argh.

I worried he wouldn't be able to poke his straw into his 8oz prepackaged milk container.

And I worried he would feel sad and lonely.

When I picked Judah up after his 3 hour class, I wanted to hear the full report. I peppered him with questions like Larry King.

He told me the special sign for needing to use the restroom.

He told me everyone has to wear brown tomorrow from head to toe (shoot - he literally does not own a single shirt with even a little bit of brown on it).

He said everyone has to use 1 squirt of hand sanitizer after using the restroom, but not 2 squirts because there are harmful chemicals in the sanitizer. And then he added that he refrained from going to the restroom because he doesn't even want to have 1 squirt of harmful chemicals on him.

I asked him to rank his day on a scale of 1 - 10. 10 being the most awesome day ever and 1 being the worst. At first he said 4, then adjusted it to 5, and finally landed on 10.

Really Judah? A 10?! You had a really great day?

Yeah!

The Birthday Un-Party

A few weeks ago Judah turned 5.

I wanted to be really low-key this year (read: lazy) and decided just to bake him his cake of choice (chocolate with real whipped cream and berries) and share it with our immediate family.

This sad (but yummy) cake was so slap-dash I thought the Pinterest Police would show up at my door to arrest me.

Easy, peasy, backyard breezy.

And then I thought, why not have balloons. Balloons are nice.

And while I was tying up balloons on our patio chairs, our neighbor (Judah's best big kid friend) did the coolest thing - he stuck his head over our fence (a la Wilson does to Tim the Toolman Taylor) and said - watcha' doin'?

And that's how we ended up with a very sweet little neighborhood party.

So unbelievably blessed to live near these awesome kids.

Our sweet neighbors even drew big celebratory posters and taped them all over our backyard. I absolutely LOVE kid art - such pure and joyful self-expression.

Customized art at its finest- everything Judah loves is on this page!

They crafted some home-made gifts that they KNEW Judah would love (because he's always fondling these things when he goes over to their homes) - origami ninja stars and a necklace with a giant gem.

The best "big boy" friend Judah could ever ask for.

And one very lovely gal rehearsed and directed a song and dance for Judah - he stood in the middle while she sang this sweet folk tune. For a minute our suburban fences fell away and I felt again the strong bonds of tribe and community. Oh what we've been stripped of in our tiny subdivided individualistic western societies.

A gift like no other.

Even now I can hear her sweet clear voice - O happy birthday, O happy birthday. We think you're great, let's celebrate, your happy birthday.

It makes my heart ache for a homeland I've never known.

A Party Full of Love (and Superheros)

Yesterday we threw Judah a birthday party at a local wild animal shelter. I may be a little biased (since I pretty much put the entire thing together by myself) but I thought it was the bomb.

Don't let the face throw you - Judah did have a good time, honestly!

First, the kids got to pet some animals (and the adults got to learn some little known facts - like did you know that spiders are NOT insects? And spiders have 8 eyes? And chinchillas take dust baths? Gosh I love nerding out on zoology).

Then there was cake. Of course the theme was ninja turtles, Judah's latest obsession.

And then the piece de resistance - a visit from Leonardo! (Thanks CP for the idea way back when you had Spiderman crash Jacob's party).

I don't know who was smiling and laughing harder when Leo showed up - the kids or the adults!

I'm not sure which was Judah's favorite part, but mine had nothing to do with the party itself. It had everything to do with the beautiful guests who attended. Each and every person there touched our hearts by making such a great effort to show up and help us celebrate. (And buying some very thoughtful, very awesome gifts. And some little artists drew some impressive pictures or wrote very sweet messages).

Full tummies. Ninja eyes. Can't lose...to super-villains.

Isn't that how the saying goes? Well, it should.

Whose Birthday Is It Anyway?

Dear Noah,

I'm sorry your brother is such an attention hog.

I'm sorry he talks literally non-stop and demands that I de facto ignore you as I listen and respond to him every 0.25 seconds.  Mommy, mommy, MOMMY!  Are you listening?!  Mommy!  I have to tell you something!  Mommy!

But if it weren't for him, you wouldn't even have this little party, such as it was.

Alice, the patron saint of brotherly love and half-assed birthday parties.

You see, I wasn't going to do anything because I'm just now recovering from wrecking our one and only car and almost breaking my hand.  But Judah pestered me about it all day.  When are we going to have Noah's birthday party?  Mommy?  Mommy, mommy, MOMMY!  You're not listening to me!

So I finally dug out our old party bag and found some party stuff and voila.  It was mostly to appease Judah.  But it was also to show him that you matter, that you get birthday fanfare as much as the next guy.

Judah sang the Happy Birthday song to you, but added his own name in that crucial third line--Happy birthday dear Noah and Judah!  Happy birthday to you!

And Judah was sorely disappointed that you didn't have a chocolate cake (like he did) and like he had been anticipating for months now.  Mommy, where's Noah's cake?  Mommy, mommy, MOMMY!  Why doesn't Noah have a cake?!

Um, because mommy crashed the family car last week and did not have the wherewithal to produce a cake!--is what I was thinking.

But I appeased him with some much hyped "Birthday chocolate."  You each got a Hershey kiss.  Stingy mommy wins!

And I spent the rest of the day marveling how this little peanut...

...has turned into this bigger little peanut.  In the blink of an eye.  (That sometimes felt like an eternity).

You've been such a wonderful addition to our family and the best little brother Judah could ever ask for--mild-natured, patient, independent, and pretty hard to provoke.  You don't mind your jealous brother hogging the limelight, but secretly I think you know you're the star in your own little way.

Mommy could not love you more sweet Noah.  (But shhhh, don't tell your brother that).

Birthday Love

Recently Judah turned 3!

He had a little celebration at his daycare (which also nicely coincided with his last day there).

I meant to give him a 'police' party but Target doesn't do that.  But hey, the avengers are kinda like police, right?

And had another party with his church friends.

I love that Judah was sucking on a blue marker right before this pic was taken.  Sigh.

And received the sweetest homemade card from his 5-year old friend.  Inside his friend wrote: Dear Judah, I love you.  Happy birthday!

Dear Hallmark--you should have a 'made by 5 year olds' card division.  You're welcome.

And while we're on the subject of homemade stuff, here's some pictures Judah drew that I will keep until the day I die.

Judah drew this at age 2.5 and it was the first time anything he drew actually looked kind of like something.  He very deliberately made it blue because policemen are blue, of course.

Judah and Picasso both had masterpieces and 'blue periods'.

This picture, done a month later blew me away.  Judah said "It's a whale mommy!"  Um heck yeah it's a whale!  It's a whale of a whale!  To be honest I don't think the spouse could ever draw a whale as good as this one.

I'm tempted to write out a bunch of 'progress reports' about Judah at age 3--the numbers he can count up to (sort of 20), the letters of the alphabet he knows (all of the capital ones and their sounds!), the milestones he's reached (potty-trained!) or has yet to reach (can't wipe himself). But that all seems a bit tedious...even for a proud mom!

So all I'll say is this. Judah was a difficult baby, a difficult 1 year old, a difficult 2 year old, and now a difficult just-turned-3 year old.

He always has and still does demand attention and energy that no reasonable baby/child should demand of adults. He rubs us raw and wears us down and seems to really enjoy getting on our very last nerve.

But he's also fun. And sweet. And kind-hearted.

And by the grace of God, truly ONLY by the sheer grace of God, we live to tell another year!

Noah's Birth Story

Noah’s birth was like the classic textbook birth—perfect in every way (but definitely not to be confused with painless)!  Although I had already gone through labor with Judah, I still had no idea what to expect with Noah as Judah’s birth was induced.  This time, my body did it all on its own—from start to finish—and it was awesome (but again, definitely not to be confused with painless).

Me and Judah on the day Noah was born--Judah's last day of being my one and only.

After lumbering around like a giant ogre for 2 weeks, my cervix was still only 0.5 cm dilated on Noah’s due date.  Argh.  I forced myself to take a 45 minute walk (despite a persistent pain in my right hip due to bursitis) the day Noah was born, hoping that would help jump start my labor—guess that worked!

Around 3 pm my body evacuated all the food in my tummy to make way for the baby (it was not pretty, let’s just leave it at that).  Around 6 pm my mucus plug completely fell out and I had bloody show.  And around 9 pm I felt my first crampy contractions.  At first they were mildly uncomfortable and pretty far apart—15 min, 12 min, etc.  But by 10:30 pm they were definitely getting into a good 7-8 min pattern.

Of course my first thought was—oh crap, I just put my toddler down for bedtime!  I’d hate to wake him up on a midnight run to the hospital (40 min away) only to have the nurses tell me to go home cuz it was false labor.  The logistics of labor are infinitely more annoying with a toddler in tow!

So I called the OB on duty and she told me (and I quote)—Okay, you don’t want to come in and get checked?  Then you can just have your husband deliver your baby!

I responded with annoyed silence for about 10 seconds.  Man, OB’s can be cranky and sarcastic.  I prayed that she wouldn’t be the one to deliver my baby (spoiler alert—she was!)

When the contractions got to be very consistently 5 min apart at 11 pm, I told my spouse that it’s show-time.  Operation Deliver Noah was officially underway.  Go!  Go!  Go!  (Yes, I talk to him like we’re on a SWAT team).

We finished packing our half-packed bags, dropped our sleepy toddler off at his old nanny’s house (an hour away) and swung back to the hospital around midnight.  My doula (aka labor coach) came in while I was in triage and I waited forever for the nurse to come and check my cervix.  At around 3 am someone FINALLY checked me only to find that I was a disappointing 2-3 cm.  Only?!  What?!

Before I go on, let me say a word about doulas.  Doulas are awesome.  If you want to attempt an all-natural, epidural-free birth, I kinda think they are indispensable.  My first doula was super experienced and the crème de la crème of doulas (read: I paid a buttload of money for her services).  I really didn’t think she did that much for me so this time I decided to cheap out and hire a massage therapist who aspired to be a doula but has never been hired by anyone for that purpose (read: I paid ¼ of what I did for my first one).  I figured the thing I wanted most during labor was someone to massage me and give me pressure at the right points anyway, so might as well hire a massage therapist!

In the end, I realize there still is value in hiring a very experienced doula.  Sure it’s much more expensive but she will be able to coach you through a lot more verbally and knows different positions you can try out to help the labor along.  Although I got an awesome 7 hour massage from my 2^nd doula, she really couldn’t help me with pain management in any other way and her lack of birthing knowledge almost caused me to have the baby on the floor without the doctor present!  More on that later.

Anyway, from about 3 am to 5 am my contractions started to get a lot more painful—probably an 8 or 9 on a pain scale of 1-10.  Whatever jokey, smiley disposition I had was quickly eroding and I was starting to get really worried that I wouldn’t have the energy to push this baby out after pulling an all-nighter.  I was getting really tired.  Tired of the whole darn thing.

When I asked them to check me at 5 am, it was REALLY disappointing—just 4 cm!  All that time and pain and I had only progressed one measly cm.  (Btw, for those who don’t know—10 cm is the magic number when the cervix opens enough that you can actually start pushing the baby out).

But I was a little heartened by the fact that last time, it only took me 3 hours to go from 4 cm to 10 cm.  So maybe this time, it would also go quickly now that I had reached a solid 4 cm.  And I was right.  From that point on, everything took off like gangbusters.

The contractions started coming on stronger and faster—every 30 seconds one of those mofos would rip through me like a bat out of hell and send me whimpering and begging for mercy from the blinding pain.  On a pain scale of 1-10 I’d put them at…oh, about a 20.

After a couple of these bad boys I was pretty much ready to throw in the towel and get me a freaking epidural.  As I said during labor (my last semi-witty remark before I lost all sense of humor)—sh*t just got real people.  But some masochistic part of me kept saying—one more.  Just one more.  If I can just hold out for 2 hours, maybe that’s all I need for my cervix to reach 10 cm.  Just 15 more minutes.

The first hour was hell.   Each time a contraction came I felt like a very small child facing a rising tsunami of pain head on.  There is nowhere to hide.  There is nowhere to run.  The only way through it is, well…through it.  Right down the middle of the line of fire.

And that tsunami came and came and came.  Every time it crashed over my head, wracking me with unspeakable torturous pain, I vowed—never again.  This is for SURE the last time I’m ever going through labor without pain meds.  The motto of the Jewish holocaust rang in my head the whole time—NEVER AGAIN!  But I believe my exact words, each time, was—F*CK!  F*CK!  F*CK!  F*CK!  F*********CK! (which is the only time I’m allowed to swear near the spouse's sensitive ears).

And then 2 hours went by and my urge to push became unstoppable.  Typically you shouldn’t push until the nurse checks you and says that your cervix is dilated enough to start pushing.  But my stupid labor nurse kept repeating her uninformed mantra to me—if you don’t feel pressure all the time then you’re not ready to push.  That’s pure b.s.  People, never fall for that.  I felt pressure only when I had a contraction and believe me, IT WAS TIME TO PUSH.

The nurse refused to check me even though I told her IT’S TIME TO PUSH LADY.  I guess she didn’t believe that I could go from 4 to 10 cm in just 2 hours.  Anyway, at some point your body doesn’t care what medical professionals say—it’s just going to do what it was designed to do.  And I was involuntarily pushing hard with each contraction.

After a couple of those hard pushes I remember yelling—I NEED TO GET ON THE BED!  NOW!  (I had been sitting on an exercise ball the whole time cuz it felt better to be vertical).  But suddenly I could feel something different—like a little head making its way down the pipeline.

And then that silly nurse came and took one look at the head coming down the pipeline and said—whoah, baby’s comin’!  WE NEED A DOCTOR NOW!  Five more minutes and 3 more good pushes later, baby was out for good.

Of course those last 3 pushes were accompanied by the longest most inhuman screams that ever erupted from the depths of my being, but finally, it was over.  It was all blessedly over.

That my friends is the look of pure relief.

And there was my squirmy little creature, who looked shockingly like his older brother at the same moment in time.  My perfect, red-faced, hairy little creature.

And now, writing this account a week later from the comfort of my own home.  I’m starting to forget.  Was the pain really that bad?  Was it really all that awful?  Would I really never do it again?

How quickly bad gives way to good. 

How wholly is pain swallowed up by joy.

How easily we forget momentary afflictions in the face of lasting glory.

Little Noah

Dear Noah,

Before you were even born I already felt a lot of mommy guilt.

These precious shoes are one of the only special things Noah got just for him (not a handmedown from Judah).  You can order them on my friend's etsy site: Little Pear Company

I wasn't as "good" during my pregnancy with you as I was with your brother.  I exercised a heckuva lot less (okay, like none really). I ate a lot more crap (specifically top ramen, spam and brownies).  And was generally constantly exhausted running around after your brother, among other things.

Life was so busy and hectic I didn't even take you to most of the OB check ups I was supposed to have.  I postponed taking the gestational diabetes test for at least 3 months, and thankfully, found that we were in the clear.

And I'm sorry you're never going to get anything of your own.  You will always be wearing your brother's old clothes.  Playing with his old toys.  Using his old gear.  And standing in the shadow of every milestone he reaches first.

Even your name doesn't have quite the parental pride your brother's name has.  We loved Judah's name the second we thought of it.  We thought it fit perfectly in every way and locked it in instantly in our hearts and minds.

Your name...not so much.  It was acceptable.  Inoffensive.  But not something we really wanted to commit to...but it's growing on us.

But I certainly liked your name a lot more when I found out it means "rest."  Oh please, please live up to that blessed word.  Please be the opposite of your older brother!

And to be perfectly honest, the main reason we wanted to have you is for the sake of your older brother.  We wanted him to have a buddy for life--someone who will be there with him long after we are gone.  We wanted him to understand how to love and share everything with at least one other person.  We wanted to make sure we didn't spoil him too much with time and attention.

Anyway, suffice it to say, you are not getting the primo treatment your brother got (pun intended).  You are not our first boy and we'll always have less time and attention for you because of that simple fact.

But if our attention is divided, know that our love is not.

Our hearts felt and continue to feel the same infinite weight filling every fiber of our being the second we saw you that first miraculous moment.

And although you will never be 'first', you have something much better than Judah ever will--the joyful proud love of your older brother.  

He kissed you every morning and every night while you were in my tummy.  And he continues to do the same now that you are born.  He wants nothing more than to protect you and make sure you are well cared for and has a whole box of toys that he put aside just for you.

He thinks you're the best--he says "My dai-dai going to hit all the other babies"--okay, so he's a little violent, but his money is on you!

So welcome to our family, little Noah. Know that our love for you is second to none.

Birthday Photo Dump

I am so camera/photo-editing-dumb it's embarassing. But this is the best I can do with the rest of the pics we have of your birthday.

Actually we're lucky to even have these pics as my good ol' point and shoot decided to malfunction that day.  What the heck?!  But thank goodness for friends with iphones!  Smart phones, I salute you.

At least we have one lovely high-res photo for the ol' digital scrapbook thanks to our friend with a fancy camera.  I gotta get me one of those babies--look at the amazing photo quality!

Two!

Happy 2nd Birthday Little Man!

Mommy's stuck in a 7+ hour conference call so it's a good thing we celebrated yesterday. 

Birthday boy, church nursery buddies, balloons, and cupcakes!

Incidentally some businessman on the call keeps saying "I'm just going to speak out loud..."  when I know he means he's just going to THINK out loud.  To say he's speaking out loud is completely redundant.  So irksome.  Anywho...

I can't wait to be done with this crazy deal so I can write a monstrous post about you at 2.  You are such a big boy now!

One

Dear Judah,

Today you turn one! Here are photos from each month of your life, one for each month. This time last year I was just starting labor and completely surprised when a little human was placed on my chest when it was all over.


Your dad and I felt so overwhelmed and under-qualified to take care of you those first few weeks, not least of all, because you were an extremely "alert" and "high-need" baby--barely sleeping, and hating to be put down.


The weeks and months rolled by so quickly, I didn't even notice how much and how quickly you were changing.


I did however notice how heavy you were. It seemed like my arms were always on the verge of falling off, my shoulders never stopped aching, and my carpal tunnel would never abate.


And the sleep deprivation. Oh the sleep deprivation. What torture!


As the months went on I often wondered at this new life I was living, this new reality, this new normal...


I don't know how I could have EVER thought that I was busy, before I had you. How could I even begin to know the meaning of the word, until I had you?


How could I ever know what "restrictions" were? What it meant to be tied down? What it meant to be in self-denial (in the good sense of the word)?


How could anyone know what "lack of freedom" means until you haven't slept more than 4 hours at a time for at least 9 months?!


And yet, I found I was experiencing every paradox in the book. Life with you was fast and slow. Fun and painful. Hard, and yet irresistible.


How could I ever have thought I knew what Joy was, until I had you?


How could I ever have thought I understood anything of Love or Care or Devotion?


Before you, only certain days felt special--vacations, holidays, birthdays. But with you, every night feels like the night before Christmas.


And every day, an incredible Gift.