B.I.

I started blogging in 2007, well after Ian, Shane, and Genevieve were born.  Their little stories will be lost to eternity if I don't write them down.  This is why I dreamed up the term B.I. last night.  This abbreviation means...Before Ian.  Before Ian was born.

Before Ian was born, technology was so different!  My goodness, we still used a film camera and cell phones flipped open and only made phone calls.  The digital cameras we had either attached to the top of a computer monitor that weighed 25lbs or were packed in a foam-lined suitcase the size of a footstool. I hand wrote letters to people to fill them in on what was going on in my life instead of updating my status on Facebook.  I even kept a journal.

I spent my pregnancy with Ian at graduate school.  Being married and pregnant at school is a much different social scene than being single and unattached. No one invites you to their parties for one.  And you don't have anything to talk about with the other students if you didn't go to the party.  So I stopped enjoying the social part of school and spent more time just being the studious one...when I wasn't napping. Or eating. And I did plenty of both in my "graduate student office."  Hm, I wonder if I ever cleaned out my desk? I know I never gave the keys to the building back.

My Master's thesis project was basically handed to me by the Whatcom County Conservation District.  I was going to study how streams that had had their meanders replaced by bulldozer compared to streams that were still channelized into nice, straight lines.  I was so naive.  What the heck was I going to do with the baby after he was born, stick him in a playpen on the side of the creek while I electrofished? Hahaha!

My last quarter at school I was taking a class that I think may have been Advanced Stream Ecology.  My lab partner and I had to design a stream ecology project.  We collected water samples and macroinvertebrate (bug) samples from a few streams around Lake Whatcom and analyzed them.  By this time, my chest waders didn't fit over my baby bump, so I switched to my hip waders.  I was still scrambling up and down creek banks with a tote full of glass bottles and sulfuric acid.  My lab partner worked part-time with Mark at WDFW and he would ask Mark if I should really be clambering around like that in my condition.  I do remember the last field day before Ian was born.  I had a hard time getting my leg over the chain at the end of the road and decided to stay up on the bank and let my lab partner do all the work.  He said he was going to feel responsible if something bad happened to me.  The day before my water broke, I obsessively titrated water samples and counted bugs in the lab: the scientist's version of nesting.

Ian was born three weeks before the end of the quarter.  My lab partner and I still had to finalize our results and come up with a presentation for our class.  I look back now and think, "Good gracious, I actually functioned a bit with a newborn?"  Honestly, most of what happened in the weeks after Ian was born are a blur.  I remember needing extra time to get used to having a baby (ha. ha. ha. breastfeeding and waking up all night long? Hello???) and I remember sitting downstairs in front of my computer holding Ian when I was supposed to be writing my paper.  I know I didn't go back to any classes, but I did do my final presentation and take my final test while Mark stayed home with Ian.  Three weeks postpartum.

(The only picture that survived off my computer camera. Ian looks between two to four weeks old.  He must have been cold! Where are his clothes! What kind of a mom would take her newborn baby into a cold, dark basement with no shirt on???)

But once I held Ian in my arms, I knew I didn't want to go back to school and finish my degree.  I just wanted to be a Mama.  So I dropped out and never looked back.

The Year of the Rooster

With today being Chinese New Year and the beginning of the Year of the Rooster, I'd like to tell you a bit about one of our roosters.  His name used to be Roosevelt II, but we, just in the last week, changed his name to... Jerky.

Every time I go out to my van, he is waiting for me. Not Mark, not Genna. Me.  He lurks on the other side of the shed, waiting to hear the sound of my voice or the doors on the van being opened and closed.  Sometimes I have to quickly jump in the van with a kid under my arm and shut the door...and he is always waiting for me.

He won't be long in this world.

Anar-kids

I'm pretty sure my kids are anarchists.  They rebel against the establishment and do as they please as they trash the place.

This was a game they came up with (when they were supposed to be doing their schoolwork): Girls vs Boys Lego Wars

The Girls:

The Boys:

I'm keeping myself entertained with the thoughts of our natural state of social organization and hierarchy.  My favorite articles right now are Anarcho-primitivism and Rewilding.  By day, I read fairy tales to my little ones, by night, Wikipedia articles on anarcha-feminism.  I can just see myself going back to Western and becoming a troll up there on Sehome Hill...  (this is all for entertainment purposes only-I don't really think my kids are anarchists nor do I really want to sniff people instead of speaking in words.)

Lula talks about her Dad

Lula: Mom, why is there a bathroom right next to your room?
Me: That is called a Master Bathroom because it is in the Master Bedroom
Lula: Is Dad...the...Master..... Bath-er? (think Master Builder from The Lego Movie)
Me: Bath taker? Yes, Dad is a Master Bath Taker
Lula: I though he was just my dad

He stole something and wouldn't stop talking about it-according to Lula

Lula: I'm hungry
Me: Make some toast
Lula: But toast makes me FAT!
Me: Where did you hear that?
Lula: Dad said it.  I had a dream that Dad was eating TURKEY GUTS! He was eating a TURKEY HEART!
Me: That wasn't a dream sweetie

Lula and Heidi got some generic Lego Duplos for Christmas and Lula has scattered them all over the house.  She had this amazing set up.  She had jewel types, gold types, steel types, diamond types, rectangle types, and crystal types all sorted out into different containers.  Then Jason came and ruined it.

Toddler Tornado

Sometimes I go back and read old posts, just so I can remember things more clearly. Like Fiona as a toddler. Like Daniel as a toddler.  And Lula as a toddler.  And Heidi as a toddler.  This all helps me keep Jason as a toddler in perspective.  If such a thing is possible. I survived the others, right?

Decided he wanted a bath with Heidi

He is 18 months old.  He can sing Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, ABC's, and Jingle Bells.  He claps his hands When He's Happy and He Knows it.  He'll say Mama and Dada when we ask him to, but he doesn't call me Mama, he just cries.  He says Uh Oh when he drops something.  He says Here! when he hands us things, but it sounds like He-Ah!  He says yuck and gives me slimy kisses because he's had a snotty nose since Christmas.

He got finger marks in my birthday cake (I'm finally 40!)

He loves hair.  Specifically, my hair and Genna's hair.  He uses it as a comfort object/rope.  I'm not kidding people. When either one of us picks him up, he twines his fingers in our hair and hangs on tight, just to make sure we don't put him down. And there is no putting him down if he doesn't want down.  Sometimes I go days without putting him down.  He can't sleep unless he has his legs thrown over mine, so he will wake up if I get out of bed for any reason.  He wakes up the minute I try to sneak away during nap time.  Just like Daniel used to.

I used to think sorting things pulled from a cupboard was a sign of genius

Just when I think it's safe to take a breath and feel "normal" for the first time since Ian was born, he climbs up on a chair or empties another shelf.  One would think I wouldn't have shelves left after eight kids.  He won't stay off the school table either.  I still can't keep Heidi off the school table.  He split his lip last week dropping a can of green beans on his face.  He is always into EVERYTHING. Just like...Daniel.

Why, yes, peanut butter on a whisk is a great toy!

He is driving me CRAZY! And based on what I've read about my other kids, he is on a Daniel track.  That right there makes me want to cry.  Can I handle another Daniel?

Stuffing knives into a milk jug

Just while writing this post, he has fallen off the counter, stuffed a coffee cup with a jar of baby food and an unopened can of sardines, touched Jack's yucky spot, climbed on the desk a few times, bit my shoulder, climbed on the table, and shook my baby gate until I'm sure it won't last another week.  Then he and Heidi pushed a chair up to the stove to steal cookies.

I surrender

The Vanilla Lumberjack Guy

Just before Christmas I had to go to Costco and get a bottle of vanilla.  But guess what? Instead of the normal price (of like $7), the price per bottle was $19.99!!!!  I have never paid that much for Costco's vanilla, ever!  I went and found an employee to make sure the vanilla was labeled correctly.  This Costco employee was in his late 20's and was wearing a plaid shirt and had a full, nicely trimmed beard.  He looked just like a Millennial Lumberjack.  He checked the price and yes, that was the correct price.  I gave him a few of my thoughts on the matter and he just shrugged.  "You should see the price for butter," he said and he walked away. 

I must be getting old because that really steamed me.  You want to know what a REAL lumberjack looks like?

He's wearing plaid, he has a nicely trimmed beard, but you know what??? He actually cuts down trees.

Mark has been busy felling the trees that are dropping leaves into our pond and will be used as firewood the winter after next.

And check out his technique!  He is standing on a frozen pond, sawing a tree that fell in the water (but most was sticking out) and getting the wood in before the thaw that is coming tonight.  Sawing logs over liquid water is much harder because they....sink.

But to the child that thought throwing a piece of firewood out in the middle of the frozen pond... How are we going to get that piece back? The pond didn't freeze well enough to walk out there... I guess you'll be swimming for it!

The Soap Story

I hear loud crying and panic.  "Jason threw the soap into the potty!!!" Heidi cries.  "He threw it right into Lula's POTTY!"  (The toilet happened to be...unused by the way)

Lucky for me, Mark heard the news first and retrieved the soap before someone tried to flush it down.

Some of my children are germaphobes and were very worried about how clean the soap was after being in toilet water.  "Soap is self-cleaning. It's soap for heaven's sake."

"What about Dad's HANDS? Are they clean? How is he going to clean his HANDS?"
"With the...(sigh)... soap. He washed his hands with the soap and now both the soap and his hands are clean."

 We try VERY hard to stay mad at him, but with a wicked grin like his it is nearly impossible.