A boy obsessed

Matt reminded me that awhile back, all I wanted was for Jamison to find a hobby that didn't include whining or following my every move.

Well, my wish has come true, although I think what Jamison has is more akin to an obsession than a hobby. The only thing on this boy's mind these days are lawnmowers. And trimmers. I have never seen anything like it. The girls have had interests for sure, but the fervor Jamison has for lawn care is matchless.

Last week Henny and Molly came to visit. They never ever get to visit. So this is kind of a big, fun deal. Still, sleepy Jamison was all frowns and pouts in the van ... wouldn't even look any of us in the eye. We roll into our neighborhood, he hears a trimmer and you'd think I just offered him a milkshake.

"Trimmer, Mommy! Trim! Trim!" ALL SMILES.


If he is eating his most favorite lunch and he hears a mower, it's all over. He's standing up in his highchair, frantic to find out whose grass is getting cut and how he can observe or assist.

So generally, because the temperatures are so pleasant right now, we rush out and figure out where the action is. Jamison takes his mower or trimmer with him, starts waving down the neighbor or lawn care service person and I'm just shrugging my shoulders, trying to motion through the noise that this is just my two-year old's thing and I hope you don't mind an audience.

And let's not even talk about the drama that ensues when Matt mows and trims. Right now we're somewhat tolerating his desire to follow Matt around for the 90-ish minutes it takes for him to deal with our lawn, but it borders on dangerous. And stressful for me.

The other day he found his way to where Matt keeps the mower under the deck and just stood there looking at it, hidden under tarp, forever.

Today Matt mentioned that Jamison seems to just carry his trimmer around right now, rarely running the motor. Just needs it with him, just in case. Not even wearing out the batteries, which is very courteous, especially since he's too young to translate his hobby into a money-making job and I'm definitely getting behind on housekeeping what with all of these lawn care chases up and down the street. 

Gotta love him. Trim, trim!

Working on manners and bottles

This is how every single sentence Anna Kimball utters these days sounds:

"I wove your kitchen ... Mommy,"

"Daddy has a truck ... Mommy."

"Henny has a pool and I can go there ... Mommy."

"Emery has her sandals on ... Mommy!"

In case I forget who I am, to her and two others, she is faithfully there to remind me. Anna Kimball also is bordering on developing another habit that isn't quite as cute, one her sister developed at exactly the same age. The one where she interrupts me whenever I am talking to another adult and insists that I  "Stop talking Mommy!" so that she can get her very important question posed, statement uttered, or what-have-you.

So we are working on manners these days and I am seriously considering strapping my four-year-old in a high chair any minute now for I am beginning to lose track of how many times in meal she slips out of her seat, ambling on toward more interesting pursuits than finishing her half-eaten meal.

We/I also working on not getting too freaked out by Jamison's recent refusal of the bottle. Just a stage, right? He's so darn cute otherwise, but I tell you, I didn't even want to make eye contact with him yesterday after he refused two bottles in a day. I heard him laughing in his crib and all I could think was "the nerve! to laugh!" But then of course I went in there and saw him kicking his left leg like crazy and doing this new adorable thing where he sucks in his lower lip under his upper lip and somehow I forget the dreadfulness of his bottle boycott.

Yes, Anna Kimball is sitting in Emery's lap - Emery wants to mother everyone right now :).

Moments before he tried to fly out of the Bumbo. Definitely not a reliable holding spot but it'll do for about 10 seconds. 

This was taken on a walk to the neighborhood playground early the other morning. The girls were so excited and kept exclaiming "we're having so much FUN!" Guess we haven't been frequenting the playground recently ... I loved their enthusiasm over it all because really, playgrounds get old pretty fast ... but not on that magical morning. That also happened to be the day a wet bed woke them both up at 5am, Anna Kimball put herself down for nap at 11am and we sure needed a little magic to see us through a day that literally would not end.

Nocturnal comic relief

Last night was rough. Jamison was up constantly and difficult to settle back down. Icing on the cake was that Emery, who rarely wakes us up in the night, hollered out on four different occasions with four different dilemmas. One of which was that her "foot wrists" hurt.

So I guess she doesn't know the word ankle yet. Taking solace in the fact that I was able to laugh at this despite my ever increasing sleep deficit.

Four weeks and counting

Jamison is now four weeks old and thus far we've gotten quite a taste of life with three kids. I say "taste" because Henny and Papa have been here, Matt's mom comes next week and the meals from church have been a'flowin. So I'd say we've been sampling reality in spurts so far and from what I can tell, much about life with three is great (or, let's be honest, will be great when we get through this rocky, needy newborn phase) and lots of it is hard. Case in point - Jamison has his first cold. Emery didn't get a cold until she was seven months old. But, every time I turned my back this week, snotty-nosed Anna Kimball would snag an opportunity to put her face right up close to his and just stare. So be it.

It's no fun seeing your newborn sick, but he's hanging in there and has promised to sleep tonight.

He's growing rapidly and has already jumped from a birth weight of 7 lb. 6 oz to somewhere in the low 9 lb. range. And I swear he's been smiling for the past few weeks even though that's not supposed to happen until 6 weeks. 

Jamison spends his nights snug as a bug in the carseat in the living room. Doesn't he look regal there? We're holding off giving him Anna Kimball's room until he learns to sleep on his own ... and I am counting down the days. Even caught myself Googling "cry it out four weeks" the other day. But I'm not that heartless. We'll give it a few more days ... ok, weeks.

Night, night Jamison - remember your promise about tonight? Love, Mom.

Welcome to the world, Jamison Matthew Doescher!

Going into the birth of our third child, I had a little list of prayers/worries/hopes. For instance, I've never had my actual doctor deliver any of the girls, so I was kind of hoping that might work out this time. I've also had epidurals for the last two deliveries and not regretted them at all ... but have had this nagging curiosity about what it would be like to go natural, could I really do it, would it actually be better, help me experience it "more" (YES), etc. etc. But my convictions were so weak and I knew that without a doula or large sums of money invested in natural child birthing classes I'd quickly cave to the temptation of an epidural if it was an option. So my only hope was for there to not be enough time to get one.

And then of course there's the question of when will labor happen, will it be in the middle of the night, will help for the girls arrive in time, will Matt be able to leave work easily, will it happen on Emery's birthday (March 20, day after due date), etc. etc.

Well, looking back, it's easy to see how each of these items was so clearly taken care of and I'm still kind of amazed at how it all worked out. On Wednesday night I went to bed not feeling so hot, but didn't think much of it. I woke up at 12:45am with a backache that came and went, suspiciously like early contractions. It was hard to grasp that this could actually be "it" since the girls have both been late ... plus, Henny and Papa weren't even here yet!

Around 2:30 I decided this really was "it" and called our angel neighbor who was actually lying in bed awake! She hustled down to stay with the girls and we left for the hospital, checking in at 3:25. My doctor arrived at 4:15 and at 4:25, Jamison Matthew was in my arms. No time for an epidural and even better, only about 20 minutes of pain that made me beg for an epidural. 

I need to sear this experience in my mind for whenever I doubt that the Lord will provide and that he knows what's best. In all of these ways and many more it's so evident he orchestrated every single detail of Jamison's arrival. 

Now that we're home and settling into a new normal, things feel pretty crazy. Maybe because they are. Emery is turning four in a few days and had her first real birthday party yesterday. Henny and Papa are here, we had a surprise visit from Uncle Craig, presents are everywhere, mealtime rules are laxing, the house looks like a tornado blew through (well, until Henny puts things back in order), and everyone's moods are swinging like chandeliers. Except mine. I'm perfectly balanced and calm ... riiiighht. But maybe there is one real exception - Matt, who remains unflappable.

But it's OK. I'm not complaining. Jamison Matthew, anything for you. We love you!!!