Archive for June, 2012

July in Kansas…


Ava Fix


39 weeks

Despite triple-digit heat indices, all is well in what has to be the home stretch. One way or another, there will be a new baby sometime in the next couple of weeks!

A family affair

We celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary today by taking the kids out to our favorite restaurant. We are looking forward to doing it again, perhaps for our 26th. We’ve had an great year—maybe one of the best, which I suppose is a good way to go about this marriage thing. I am quite fortunate to be wedded to such an incredible guy!


All day Sunday, Olivia asked me to cut the tag from the haunch of a stuffed white rabbit. This isn’t a new find, but this bunny has become increasingly popular with Liv lately—he even joined us at a matinee showing of Brave on Saturday.

Olivia had to remind me of this task a few times over the course of the day, and when I finally obliged, I pulled out the scissors and asked her hand me her bunny. She turned him over to me, shielded her eyes, and yelled:


Thankfully, the bunny made it.

Most favorite parent status

I might not be the parent who buys Lucky Charms (or SERVES IT FOR DINNER…), but I’m not above a bit of pandering with an early pick up and frozen yogurt on a hot summer day.


Ava Fix


One of these things is not like the other…

More from that newsletter I mentioned last week:

Hold tight

Just a quick baby update . . .

After nearly two weeks of pre labor without much, if any, real progress, my doctor ordered an ultrasound. She had suggested this before, but because I seem to have the kind of babies that make doctors a bit nervous, I had been reluctant to subject myself to anything that could even hint at the need for an early induction given the baby’s size. Turns out, though, there was no need to worry.

The ultrasound tech, upon announcing that this baby currently weighed about 7 pounds, 9 ounces, said, “Yikes, I hope my measurements are off.” Considering that Olivia had already arrived at this point, weighing in just an ounce under 9 pounds, I was too busy celebrating this good news to tell her she need not worry. A seven pound baby at nearly 38 weeks? I was elated, and suddenly in no rush at all.

It would seem that’s a good thing, as this baby is hanging out a bit too high for these contractions to be productive. So, until he decides to head south, nothing much is likely to happen. It’s a big relief to know that despite signs to the contrary, I probably won’t have a baby in the next six hours. In the meantime, I’m doing what little I can to coax him down—walking, sitting on a balance ball and drinking raspberry leaf tea.

And, so, we wait . . . a bit more patiently this week than last.




Moving on

After many years of cajoling, my grandfather is finally moving from the farm that’s been in our family for generations. This is—without a doubt—a positive transition that will ensure the safety and relaxation he deserves after nearly six and a half decades of manual labor.

While we are collectively relieved, there’s an unspoken sadness surrounding this change. Few things in our lives are fixed, and my attachment to physical places has been well documented, no matter how ill-advised it may be. And so now, as an auction of household items, furniture and machinery is underway more than a 100 miles to the north, the reality of the change is setting in.

It’s hard not to associate the kitchen table, or the boxes of books in the attic, or the feel of tin coffee cups you’ll never hold again with memories of my grandmother. I argued with Bryan for weeks about whether or not I would attend the sale at nearly 38 weeks pregnant. The thought of being there was nearly unbearable, but the idea of missing it was even worse.

But as we visited the farmhouse for the last time a few weeks ago, I realized the things I’d truly miss won’t be for sale today.

Instead, we have the luxury of retaining memories for free, like those of drinking coffee with more sugar than brew as we waited for Grandpa to come in for lunch. And we get to keep thoughts of a rare sick day whiled away on Grandma’s couch. I vividly recall trying on her wedding dress (which happily now hangs in my own closet), and “swimming” in harvested soybeans before they were hauled into town. I remember the fragrance from her prized sweet pea and snowball bush, and the hours spent playing upstairs and outside under the pine tree.

And, as Bryan and Gramma Great have both reminded me, things and places are far less important than relationships and memories. But I have to admit, I will miss them nonetheless.