The Stockings Were Hung

It's hard to tell in the picture, but they were filled by good St. Nicholas. First Son was so excited on Saturday morning, he accidentally pulled all the stockings down. Luckily, his little gifts soothed his aches. For posterity's sake, we'll record that St. Nicholas left each of the older kids some chocolate coins, six little candy canes (which we now know First Daughter does not like), chopsticks (oh, the kids love eating with chopsticks!), some Jonah cards, and a flashlight. After emptying the stockings, we feasted on chocolate chip pancakes!

First Son talked about St. Nicholas the rest of the day and even decided to write him a letter. It's not clear that he realizes the difference between St. Nick and Santa Claus, but we'll work on that. I'm hoping next year to have a book to read about St. Nicholas. Anyone have suggestions? I haven't had a chance to read through the suggestions here yet. (I'm also tempted to make cookies next year. There are a number of traditional cookie recipes for the feast day.)

The kids spent Saturday night with Grammy and Paw Paw so Kansas Dad and I could enjoy a dessert reception at his university (where Second Daughter was much treasured) and an evening out on the town. (We went to one bookstore until it closed, then had dinner, then went to a second bookstore until it closed. We're real party animals.) It was wonderful! Second Daughter even sat in a high chair at the restaurant while we ate. Such a treat for Mama to have both hands free!

Just Past the Two Week Mark

Things I wish I'd remembered:

Recovering from pregnancy and birth is hard. As soon as one part stops aching, something else starts up. For me, the worst of the swelling is post-birth. (I actually only weighed 6 pounds less when I came home from the hospital even though my baby was well over 8 pounds because I added so much water weight!) Now that Second Daughter is two weeks old, my body is getting back to normal. I'm still trying not to do too much (having a rough recovery after First Son's birth), but I think I could get back to a normal schedule. The whole nursing thing is going very well by now, too.

I'm not sure I've ever suffered from the "baby blues" but I certainly am weepy after the birth of a baby. It's not sadness, though; it's an acute realization of the fleeting nature of a baby and family life, the ache of love for my children as I watch them wander a room and seek out activities or the sweetness of a head bent near mine over a wonderful book. (First Son is currently enthralled with One Morning in Maine (Picture Puffin), which is indeed wonderful.) Kansas Dad is often dismayed to look over and see tears running down my face, but I just shrug and blame it on the hormones. It makes sense the body would suffer some withdrawal after nine months of all those extras coursing around. I will be glad when I'm through it, though. Thornton Wilder knew what he was talking about when he said people can't handle really experiencing life every moment of every day.

Having three kids is hard. I asked Kansas Dad to remind me how hard it was to have a newborn with two others running around when I start dreaming of having baby #4. (I'm such a sucker for the four- to six-month-olds, I'm certain the urge will come.) He laughed, since we've already agreed not to discuss anything until Second Daughter is a year old, and suggested that perhaps First Daughter is making it so hard because she's just a bit more demanding of our time than First Son was, what with her propensity to seek out all areas of danger. It is difficult to tell if it is her youth or her personality that make newborn #3 more stressful than when she was born. First Son is much more easy-going about everything and always has been. Of course, the whole "buying a house" thing probably isn't helping.