The Circus.

I'm forfeiting any possibility of a nap right now to write this blog. Please say someone, somewhere appreciates that I'm doing this or that someone someday will. Sigh. 

I have no actual circus to post about today folks. Just our family as of late. Three kids three and under. It really is a circus. And a zoo. And a jungle. And a freak-show. And just as all of those things have their splendor and wonder and happiness, they also have their clowns with the maniacal laughter that everyone has nightmares about. You haven't heard of those laughing clowns that live in the jungle? Oh. You should get with it then. 

Truth be told, I am adjusting to three babes better than I did to two. People always told me having three kids is the real breaker because the number of munchkins outnumber the adults. But as a stay-at-home mom, you're outnumbered already with two kids. And I don't think this transition is easier. No no, not at all. It's just that I'm frazzled and I can't get anything done but I'm used to it by now. It hasn't been that way in my life since having three kids. It's been that way basically since becoming a mommy. I'm lots more comfortable with it now than I used to be. 

There was a day when I was really pregnant with Scarlett and Lucy was fingerpainting in her poop or other such behavior and I was losing it thinking about having more babies. Really losin' it. And everyone kept telling me, "I'm so sorry! But it does get easier!" And I just kept thinking, How on earth could that be? I only have one kid right now! And counsel I received that was actually most liberating was, "It doesn't get easier. You just get used to getting less done."

And so I've come to learn it is true. While Scarlett is napping right now, I'm sitting here nursing Isla and trying to type this with one hand. And this is going on directly beside me: 

She's not fingerpainting in her poop anymore. She's way too refined for that now. It's pudding. She's evolved into such a lady. See how I so easily could be napping right now?

Speaking of Lucy, we went up to Idaho this week and stayed with my parents because Jason had some business to attend to in Texas. Lucy has a favorite Idaho friend named Jake who is six years old, (she's always had a thing for older men, wonder where she gets it). He lives right across the yard from my parents. Jake was over playing at Grammy's house one day. My mom was showing Jake how tiny Isla's hands and feet are and Lucy was thrilled to stand by being the big sister of the show-and-tell item of the day. Then Isla started rooting around and I said, "Hey guys I think she's getting hungry, I better feed her." And then Lucy immediately turned to Jake and casually said, "Do you want to yook at my mom's boob? It's really cool."

And even though it was clearly Lucy who should have felt like a creep with that offer, it was me who felt like the creep. I avoided eye contact with him the rest of the day. Look Jake, I'm sustaining human life here, so just stop judging me. And don't. you. dare. tell anyone in the first grade about this. And it is cool. I mean, they both are.

And then there's Scarlett. She asked for some chocolate out of the Easter stash the other day and I told her she could have them if she finished her bowl of mixed nuts first. She loves them. Then about 2.3 seconds later, I hear her yell, "Aaaaalll done mommy! Treat now!" So I came to inspect and was surprised at first at how quickly she ate them and was ready to give her a hi-five and hand over the bite sized twix.

...until I noticed the bulge underneath the wooden place mat. 

Really Scarlett? Who do you think you're foolin'? Scarlett?  I had to eat the twix bar right in front of her to punish her. I even told her how delicious it was with every bite. Just kidding. I actually just thought she was pretty clever. So I stood there speechless for a moment and then still hi-fived her and handed over the twix.

She's into the terrible twos for sure but she's also just so charming and adorable that I don't really know what to do with her. In fact, her latest thing is to pinch/scratch Lucy and put herself in time out before I even say anything to her. So she just does her dirty work and then runs over to sit on the stairs (our designated time out spot) yelling, "Big trouble!" while she's high tailing it over there. So... the time out thing must be effective with her, right? I'm gonna have to figure something else out.

And the other day while driving home from Heber we took a detour and stopped by cascade springs. Utah has so many beautiful places but I feel like because we live here we don't go out of our way to see much of it. But it was a fun little jaunt and the girls loved all the many mini waterfalls.

Another effect of having a third child: I don't have the energy to fight my kids on what they want to wear, or to insist on doing their hair when they resist. So they look pretty much homeless a lot of the time. Case in point: Scarlett here. Backwards hat covering a rodent's nest, a big baggy jacket and no pants nor shoes. Spilled water all over her pants and I couldn't object to her stripping down. I also can't fight Lucy if she wants to be one big blob of pink. I've tried to tell her she's gotta have contrasting colors in her wardrobe. But I don't have it in me to fight her about it. They're loving this new mom.

Daddy and girls.

 And as far as an Isla update, she's still divine in every sense of the word. She is the sweetest and softest little angel on earth.

Hope you're all doing well out there and have it together as much as I do. Because I don't at all. But I'm okay with it.

So thankful to be called Mommy.

Happy Mother's Day. Happy Mother's Day to you all. I can't believe I have three beautiful children to call my own. I'm not 17 anymore? I'm supposedly an adult? How on earth.

My first Mother's Day gift this morning was from our newest arrival.

A friend of ours the other day was saying how he didn't want to read FB statuses about baby blow outs. And I get it. But he needs to wait until he's a parent and he's swimmin' in poop like the rest of us. It sortof takes over your life temporarily. I mean, I don't really care to read about blow-outs either. I'm just okay with people having nothing else to post about. Because I'm so there right about now.

It's funny. I was dreading the newborn-haze stage for a good portion of this pregnancy. It probably was because everyone in the family was sleeping like logs for like 12 hour increments when we found out we were pregnant again. Now don't get me wrong, by the time I looked like this, I was totally geared up for it and ready to welcome it. Despite the cheery disposition on that face there below, I'll tell you right now, it was a facade. Remember this baby was 8 lbs 9 oz. She had worn out her welcome in that uterus. Worn it out!

But really, I'll admit that I dreaded it for probably 75% of this pregnancy. And now that I'm wrapped up in it, I'm completely addicted to this baby. I can't get enough of her. I can't kiss her face and rub her head enough. I want to curse daily just looking at her because I can't handle how blanking cute she is. Blankity Blank. I got a feva. And the only prescription is more Isla. I don't want the time to go by at all, I don't even want out of this haze at all. I want to live in this haze forever, where her soft little body just melts onto my chest and we snuggle all day and night. I can't believe I forgot the utter heaven of it! How do you forget so easily?

Isla is 2 weeks old today. And she has been an angelic baby. She has even had a few nights already of only waking up once to nurse. She has a really mild temperament so far. I say so far because  I mentioned this to my sister Nessa, and she was like, "Yeah, so did Eve for the first little while... and then after the first few weeks were over and we were all settled in to having a "sweet, easy baby", that's when her colic kicked in... and the witching hour began... and the wolves howled at the moon and pictures on our walls started inexplicably levitating and flying across the room and stuff..." So I have to be careful. I have to knock on wood here.

I'll keep you posted on levitating objects.

Of course, overall I'm not sleeping very good these days. We are transitioning to a family of five. And when I sit down to eat I can usually get 2 bites in max before I'm up again tending to a little person. I'm climbed and crawled all over all day long; little hands all over my face, putting bows in my hair, poking and prodding all over my body and poking and prodding at baby sister. Little fingers shoved in my mouth and now with a new nursing baby, curiosity takes those tiny hands and makes them lift up/ yank down my shirt pretty much around the clock. But it's the good kind of shirt yanking. We just have to watch it in public.

The second mother's day gift I recieved: breakfast in bed (my favorite. That one there on the right is crab cake eggs benedict... prepared by my live-in chef husband.)

And have you ever seen such orchids? No, I dare say you haven't. They are exquisite.

My lovlies and me... before I completely inhaled what was on that plate.

My third gift:

I complained to my husband that some miniature person had stepped on one of my budding raspberry plants and killed it and that I wanted to fence my garden off. And voila! Look at how much he loves me. Spent a good portion of the day yesterday doing this:

Isn't it splendid?! I love it so much!

A little update on the two older girls. Scarlett seems to be transitioning quite well to the new arrival. She loves her and isn't doing any more tantrumming than she was before she came. She is however, taking her diaper off at a rapid pace once she has deposited a prize, and seems to do this nearly every time I sit down to nurse. It's a really fun game, trying to catch her while she's running naked with a dirty diaper in her hands. She's ready for potty training. But I'm letting the waters settle before I hit it hard.

This is what she does when I rock her and sing to her before putting her in her crib for her nap. I tell her, "I'll only rock you for a minute if you close your eyes and go to sleep". And she honestly thinks she's fooling me into thinking she's snoozing peacefully. I wish we all made this face when we were sacked out.

Lucy surprisingly has had a little tougher time with the transition. She LOVES her sister and is so exceptionally tender with her. But she's just really emotional lately and sortof just having a tough time and doesn't know why. She's doing weird things to get attention so we just have to let her do her thing and get used to the changes.

And of course, I can't forget to mention how thankful I am for the woman in my life who taught me it all:

It was a sad day last week when Grammy went bye-bye. These two were on her like white on rice her entire stay. She is the funnest grandmother you could even begin to imagine up in your mind, and somehow has never-ending energy for sitting on the floor in the V-sit-and-reach position and playing barbies and puzzles and zoobles. My mother is the biggest super fan of her kids and always has been. She insisted on getting a big poster sized blow-up of my sister and me during our Double Platinum stint. (Said poster is still at my parents house.) Whenever we see a young mom with short hair, she suspects that this perfect stranger is trying to copy me. Me: "Mom, that's lunacy, I've never seen that girl before in my life. And even if I had, lots of women have short hair these days." My Mom: "I don't care... you are just such a trend setter... you just don't realize..."She is always there when I need to hear I'm doing just fine and when I'm feeling overwhelmed. I love you mama!

Here's one more little clip aunties and uncles and grandparents will enjoy.
 

Sweetest sisters on earth.

Sometimes I have to ask Father in Heaven to make this mother's love feel like less of a burden. I have to ask for help with it. I feel like it's a burden sometimes because it's so all consuming that it's painfully heavy for my heart to bear. Because the love is so tremendous. Since becoming a mother nearly four years ago, the frequency of me bursting into tears for no apparent reason has completely skyrocketed. While my mom was here we were sitting together watching TV and while I was nursing, she casually mentioned that my oldest brother Jesse nursed every two hours on the dot as a newborn. And I promptly fell apart. Most of you know this but Jesse passed away a couple years ago. And I just told her, "Mom, you can't talk about Jesse as a tiny new baby. I just can't handle it." Because I imagined her holding her tiny firstborn in her arms and praying for his life and praying for the choices he would make as he matured and for his safety and well-being with all of the energy of her heart and soul. Only the kind of energy I've known in prayer since becoming a mother. The kind of prayer I am continuously offering for each of my children. The love of mother is just hard for my heart to withstand sometimes as strange as it sounds. 

So very thankful to be called mommy. Humbled that the Lord has entrusted me with the mortal care of three precious daughters. I smell like baby poop and spit up. And my heart is full. Happy Happy Mother's Day!

Welcoming Isla.

Isla June Christensen came into the world at 6:56 AM on Sunday, April 29th. She weighed in at 8 pounds 9 ounces (big babies always make me feel a little more justified in my late pregnancy witchiness) and she was 19.5 inches long. When they put her up on my chest, she looked exactly how I imagined she would. She is so beautiful. 

She is a week and a day old now and writing this blog post has been hanging over my head every day this week. But every time Scarlett goes down for her nap I can't bring myself to come over to the computer, I've had to go straight to bed with my new little bundle. (Luckily my mother has been here so Lucy hasn't set fire to the house quite yet.) I have been out of pajamas once this week. I've looked in the mirror maybe twice. And I don't plan to change anything about how my life has been going. I'd like to avoid normal clothing and mirrors for as long as possible.

Let me tell you how things went down round 3. It all started a little over 9 months ago, Jason and I were enjoying a romantic dinner together. Just kidding. It all started (and by "it," I mean labor and delivery) Saturday night. Saturday I hit 39 weeks and since Lucy came 4 days early and Scarlett a week early, I didn't have it in mind to go much further. At my most recent appointment I was dilated to a 3 and 90 % effaced so I was ready to go. Just staring around waiting to go into labor. Out of boredom I had to keep screaming out, "She's coming!!" and "My water just broke!!" from the other rooms of the house to psyche Jason and my mom out, and then when they'd come running in, I'd douse them both in the face with a bucket of water and be then be like, "Can't believe you fell for it again!" Then Jason would let out a good hearty chuckle, shake his head and hi-five me, "You really got me this time babe! That scream was blood curdling!" We were all loving my practical jokes. 

Okay I wasn't doing that, but we did go on a long walk that afternoon and I was having lots of contractions, just nothing too regular or too painful. So I didn't suspect much. Then that evening we put the girls to bed and were watching TV/ having drawsome marathons on our phones when I started noticing that the contractions were picking up the pace and frequency. So unbeknownst to anyone, I started timing them. For 3 hours I had them consistently, every 4 or 5 minutes. So I said something around 10ish when we were getting ready to head in to bed. I wasn't in pain so normally I would have gone to bed and waited until they were causing me pain. But I tested positive for strep B this pregnancy and knew I had to have enough time for a good 4 or 5 hours of antibiotics before pushing this babe out. So I was in a bit of a quandary as to what to do. 

We decided to go in and get checked out. We called Jason's parents to let them know we were gonna go in, and left around 10:30. It was 11 pm by the time I was in my prom gown in triage getting things checked out. I was at 3.5 centimeters. She (Amy- a wonderful nurse who I have plans to ask to move into my house) said they wanted to keep me for an hour/hour and a half or so and check me again and then they'd call Dr. Anderson to see what he wanted to do. Here we are waiting. This pic is right before Jason sacked out for several hours on the couch. I was jealous. I think I got 20 minutes of sleep that entire night. Maybe 20 minutes.

Long story short, the contractions were still coming, they told me they were keeping me, they put me on antibiotics around 2 AM, pitocin around 3 (contractions were coming but weren't dilating me very fast), epidural shortly after, my mom and Jason's mom came over to the hospital around 6:15ish AM and a half hour later we were starting our first round of pushes. There were only 2 rounds. I think I pushed for 7 minutes. Which was lucky because I was up all night. And completely exhausted by the time we were ready to push. But she gave me a break and she was ready to meet the world. And she came out mad. Crying harder than her sisters did, harder and angrier. haha. It was a symphony to our ears. Healthy, perfect, beautiful, cherubic Isla June. 

As you can see, the grandmothers are not very excited at all.

The girls came to meet her that afternoon with Grammy. And talk about a love affair. They were over the moon for her and have been since. A little on the obsessive /psychotic side of love; Elmyra Duff style from Tiny Toon Adventures. 

 Our first family pics as a family of five. Five seems so big. How did this happen? 

No idea what Scarlett is doing, but she sure has a crush on that daddy. He's one hot commodity.

 It was mostly like this every shot though. Notice my death grip on both girls. 

And one day old: still at the hospital. Please nurse, don't send us home to those wild ravaging little girls. Please let us stay at this wonderful, serene place forever.

 

 And coming home:

Here's a little clip just moments after we came home from the hospital. Oh sweet little Scarlett. Your little lullabies melt my heart. Seems like just yesterday I was threatening Lucy because I was so protective of you as a tiny newborn. Now just look at you, all grown up, getting threatened yourself. Isn't it something.

Lucy is particularly smitten with her. She starts crying when she can't hold her, and says to me while crying, "But I love her so much." Isla is like Lucy cat nip. She is such an excellent big sister. We have lots more pictures of Lucy and Isla than Scarlett with her, because when Scarlett is snuggling her I don't have a free hand to take pictures. I'm arm wrestling Scarlett and keeping Isla's body parts in tact before I snatch that baby away from her. 

Everyone keeps asking how I am adjusting. I think I'm doing okay. Scarlett and Lucy are best friends and so in that aspect it makes this transition easier than the transition to two, because when Scarlett came along, little 21 month old Lucy had no one to play with and nothing better to do than sneak up with a butcher knife and hold baby Scarlett for ransom, and then play it off like it was a joke. But the older sisters play a lot together, and I lock myself in my bedroom with Isla a lot, so that helps. I'm sure all hell will break lose when my mom leaves this week. I don't want to think about it. Sigh.

My body hurts, my brain hurts, my boobs are killing me (really? getting used to nursing has to hurt this bad even by the third round?) and for some reason they (said boobs) have become punching bags for Lucy and Scarlett. For some reason the girls head butt and shove and judo-chop them all day long and it's all I can do not to go Incredible Hulk style on the unknowing lasses. But they are loving their sister and love that mom and dad are home from the hospital and loving Grammy being here (to death) we are all going to be just fine. Life is good.

Isla is the most angelic little thing with the loveliest sounds and smells. She is the softest and tiniest and my heart absolutely bursts for her. Jason's as well. I am ecstatic not to be pregnant anymore! We are so so happy to welcome her to our family.