About John

What does little Johnny enjoy these days?

He likes to eat. He likes to sleep with a pacifier. He likes to follow his sisters around the house. He likes his dad.

He likes to wave. He likes to stand up. He likes it when the girls dote on him. He likes his dad.

He really likes his dad. He especially likes it when his dad punches him in the gut over and over until John smiles like a schoolgirl. John also like to be shot with fake guns.

He likes it when Jamie bursts into the room pretending to rain down artillery fire upon him mercilessly. But even more, he likes it when Jamie picks him up and stabs him in his little chest and twists the knife to the side to finish the job. Then John likes when his dad drags the knife up his chest and pulls out his fake little beating heart in his hand and holds it in front of John's face (signified by Jamie's pumping fist and the noise "gu-dung, gu-dung, gu-dung").

John really loves that.

They're Pretending

Stella's playing baby, Rowena's playing detective and Gianna's playing pirate. John's watching.

Gianna says to Rowena, "Mrs. Lump! Mrs. Lump! There are pirates in your yard!"

Noni gives a subdued, "Oh!" and goes to her front yard to...shush them.

Stella cries, "Me want out!" and Rowena sympathetically pats her and says, "Oh, honey!"

She wants to 'him!

And she wants to do it with "hodies. on."

That's how Rowena asks to swim with her floaties! Cutest ever.

Sent from my iPhone

Things They Say

Gianna told me, "I'm gonna buy you something really, really, really pretty with my money. It's gonna be a shirt for you. And for dad. You cam share it."

Sounds flattering.

Sent from my iPhone

Lots of swimming lately. The big decisions are: diaper or no diaper?

John LOVES to be in the water. He tries to bolt over the side of his little flotation device. His sisters pull on it and push him around the pool. I try to keep him alive.

We had popsicles after lunch (Rowena calls them pock-e-pull!!). Being the resourceful third child that she is, Rowena headed to the bathroom to clean herself up. All was quiet except for the pleasant sound of running water. It kept running and running but I was so enjoying the quiet. Finally we wonder, "What's taking her so long?" Jamie shouts, "OK, Rowena, that's enough." No answer. Upon inspection this is what we find:

Our sink runneth over with Rowena. Aren't we lucky?

{pretty, happy, funny, real}

pretty

Really: What's My Problem?

Where do I start? I have lots of "problems."

Not really.

I have problems with sharing: over-sharing, under-sharing, worrying about peoples' opinions of my sharing, people knowing things that I wouldn't share with them in person, (people knowing things by reading my blog and me not knowing that they read).

I split mental hairs over this. Then I think about all the people who share on their blogs and who really make a difference in my life. People I don't know. People I wouldn't recognize on the street.

The difference between them and me...am I too prideful?

It's embarassing to think about people knowing that I don't have all my life together. I have these four beautiful children and I'd like to have more but I (in no feasible way) have all this parenting of many small children thing figured out.

It's very humbling.

I want my children to know how very hard I tried. And even how very frequently I failed. And had to ask forgiveness. And had to think about how impatient and awful I was at night following a day of impatient spewing.

Stella likes to remind me to avail myself of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. "Mom, you know how you have to go and talk to the priest and tell him all the things you've done wrong?"

"Yes, my sweet," through clenched teeth.

Different Ashes

Four years ago I was recovery from surgery. I was pregnant with Gianna and they were coming in to tell me that the baby was still alive. Phew. To say the least. I didn't realize how much I cared until they were wheeling me back to prep for surgery and my eyes started to sting with tears. We found out the baby was a girl the day before. We named her Gianna after the saint. I said goodbye to Jamie and went into the cold--really operating rooms are freezing--cold room with the surgeon and his assistants.

This Ash Wednesday finds me neck deep in children. I took photos to illustrate but, appropriately, Stella was documenting the day and now that she's in bed I cannot locate the camera. I remember asking her where she put it...

I don't take for granted how charmed my life is. Even at this point: months from Jamie's conclusion to las school, two babies in less than two years, a small house, an Arizona summer heading our way--I am lucky. All my children are well. We have no major problems. I love my husband and he loves me back. I cannot avoid those ashes that we all return to, but this Ash Wednesday I can give up some things and offer prayers of thanksgiving for all that I have and prayers of supplication for all that so many others want or need.

I'm trying to get back in the groove of writing. Can you tell.

Insert precious progeny photo here: X.

Classic

In the car on the way to the store:

Me: Shoot! I forgot to bring water.

Stella: That's OK. We can drink our spit!

Our Gingerbread

Little Rowena is getting to the point where she calls for me and it sounds like a big kid is calling me. She can articulate, "Mommy!" so clearly it startles. I find myself frightened by the urgency until I realize it's the voice of a tiny person stuck in her crib. And she wants out. And how.

There's nothing quite like her chubby little hands wrapped around my neck pulling me in for a smooch on her pillowy-soft, slightly damp little baby lips. She's so sweet when I say, "Can you say, 'I love you, Mommy'?" She says, "mmm hmmm."

"Say it then."

"Mmm mmm Mama."

That's all she can manage. It doesn't matter. I can hold her tight and breathe in her soft smell, her sweet, chubby neck and rub her sweet cheeks. Nearly two and I can harldy believe how time has flown. It's both wonderful and heartbreaking. Entirely cheesy and true. I just want her to be little and cuddly forever. But be able to speak and get her own water without spilling it all over the floor.

We call her Gingerbread. Our friend came up with this when she saw a picture that she took of Rowena on New Year's Eve. Little Ro's hair has a glow, her chubby face is straight on in the photo and she is neither smiling nor frowing, just being. But now this moniker, Gingerbread, has stuck. We like to use it in her most tragic moments of the day.

"Awww, Gingerbread, you fell down."

"Awww, Gingerbread's getting tired."

"Awww, Gingerbread has an owie. Let's kiss it."

Let's gobble her up. She's irresistible.

Just Now

I read Room For a Little One with little ones climbing all over me and one nursing. I almost found myself saying, "There's no more room!" But the irony was too much. Kind Ox was welcoming in Old Dog, Stray Cat, Scared Mouse, Baby Jesus and family and I didn't have room on my lap for my sweet babes?

Of course the book was also portraying the stable where Jesus was born as some kind of warm, snug maternity ward. Doubtful.

Throughout the bedtime scramble everyone is asking me to do things for them. Stella wants me to sing a lullabye to her while Rowena and John are crying in the background. The problem is that the lullabyes ALWAYS make Gianna cry and talk about how she misses Kiki. So of course singing lullabyes is great in theory but not so much in practice. I try to sing them quick and not-too-sentimentally.

Rowena wants me to hold her. And her dog and her baby and her sippy cup and her baby brother John. I can manage for a bit. Then I must put her in her crib to fuss for a bit. Then I return to my room with John and try to get him settled-enough. This is so that I can return to Rowena and enjoy some snuggles with her. The only time she wants to sit and be held is at night. Just like everyone else.

John is settled-enough searching for his thumb, in a breastfed drunk stupor for a bit.

Back to Rowena's room I go. I hold her and her entourage while she strokes my face and gives me kisses. How could I not hold her? Her hands smell like something sweet and she wants me to kiss her animals and get her "mo" water.

John starts to cry. I must eventually put her down. She's settled.

John nurses some more and is settled.

I really want to go back and hold Rowena (the big girls--non-nappers--have long gone away with Mr. Sandman) but I can tell she's quiet and settled. Still! I pick her up and try to cuddle her but she's pointing to her crib in her half-slumber and saying, "There!" She has no time for me now. She wants to be sprawled out in her crib not curled up in my lap.

This is how the bedtime slog proceeds when Jamie's at a meeting.

Things I'd Forget if it Weren't For My Facebook Status

Overheard: Stella looking into some rocks for fairies, "Hello? Anyone in there?"

While I was resting Stella took it upon herself to make the following snack: turkey and chocolate peppermints on a hamburger bun. She said it's her favorite snack.

Gianna was playing with a ball of hail ice. While she got ready for bed her dad put it in the sink. It melted. Gianna lamented that fact by repeating, "My ice ball. My poor little ice ball! I'll never see it again."

And the best: the time I walked into the living room and caught Gianna peeing into a glass while balancing on the couch--without missing!!

I passed on some baby items to an expecting mother today. These were things that are deemed somewhat "essential" if you have babies or plan on having them. It felt like some sort of concession. Like I was saying, "OK. This stage in my life is over. You may have these now." I don't know if that's what anyone would actually think, but I wanted to make sure that I expressed somewhere the fact that I don't want to be done having babies. I would welcome more.

It feels abnormal to admit this fact. I feel like a lot of people have a certain number of children that they want and once this number is fulfilled they are "done." Honestly, I cannot imagine. With each child that has been given to us it is more and more possible for me to imagine having another. In fact, I do not look forward to the day that it is possible that I will not have another.

Why did I pass on the baby items then? In addition to the fact that I am more and more open to another baby with each one we're given I'm more and more aware of how few baby items you actually need. It's easier for me to take John into the shower with me, or wash him in the sink. And soon enough it will be possible to put him in the tub with a sister or two. I don't have the room for lots of gear. That's it.

Just saying.

Pet Rocks

Gianna: They're made of plastic!

Stella: No, they're made of rock. God made them. It's hard to bend.

Q is For?

While looking at an alphabet book that she was reading, Stella said to her grandma, "I'm learning my letters! B! B is for apple!"

Awesome. We enjoyed a little laugh and thankfully she has a good sense of humor about it. Just a few minutes earlier she was pointing at the "Q" and asked, "What's this letter again?"

"It's the Q," I said, "And it makes a kwa sound."

She carries on making the sound of the "Q" and is looking at the page. The book says, "Q is for Quilt." Of course a quilt strongly resembles a blanket. Stella reads, "Q is for blanket."

"Actually, that's a quilt. Remember the Q makes a kwa sound?"

So Stella thinks for a moment and then says, "Q is for kwa-blanket."

***

While in the car the girls like to play "I spy." Tonight we were driving home in the dark and Gianna says, "I spy something black."

Stella says, "The sky?"

"Yes, Stella! How did you know?!"

Genius, I tell you.

What Does Rowena Have to Say?

Emergent speech from the Nones:

When asked to thrown away John's diapers (which she is glad to do) or when she sees dog poop on a walk: "Eww! Yuck!"

Go into her room to retrieve her from her bed and say hello, she will say back: "Hi!"

Leaving, Noni will send you on your way with a cheery, "Die die!"

When she sees a dog or hears one bark she'll let you know by saying, "da da."

She does say Mama. Sometimes. Usually when sad and forlorn. Early in the morn. Like 5am.

Last but not least, the word the means all things: "Eh, baaa!" Usually accompanied with a finger pointing to said object.

On a hike with her dad and sisters--he likes to teach her tricks:

For the Hanson Family Annals

Any addition to a family requires adjustment. There really is no "good time" to have a baby in my opinion; there's always a good time. That's a really deep distinction. Or oxymoron.

The only reason I say that is because I've had people tell me that they'll wait to have a baby until things in their life are easier. Then they get pregnant. Then during the pregnancy their spouse gets a new job and they have to move. Or they lose a job and have to move--even worse. Any domestic situation can develop snags that no longer seem to work. Suddenly this baby that you've planned is coming at the worst possible time. Even though its birth was planned.

Here I sit on my bed with baby John snuggled in his blanket. The three other girls are in bed. Jamie is teaching a Latin class. It would be nice to have him home but it's also nice to have the income from his efforts. John is our second law school baby. We've been living on loans and some family savings for the past two years. Practically speaking, law school is not a "good time" to have a baby--much less two. Am I right?

If we trust that God is truly the author of new life and we are His co-creators we can't really doubt his plan for bringing new souls into this world. Admittedly, I'd like a bit of a break before any more babies. There are days when Jamie doesn't ever want more. But the truth is that when the suffering (not just mine, the entire family's) of pregnancy is passed and we're holding that new child it's all worth it.

So what does life look like now? We're a lot less mobile at this point. I'm doing my best to rest. I want to avoid getting sick like I did after Rowena was born. I was way too ambitious. The transition from three to four is easier than the transition was from two to three. Two is manageable. Then I got my third and foolishly thought three would be equally as manageable.

Wrong.

I did too much and got sick twice in less than a month. So this time I was going to aim low (even though Jamie hates it when I call it that). I don't have many plans for leaving the house for fun activities. We watch more movies than necessary. I think we'l do some baking. We read books or color. Then the girls watch more Arthur and Angelina.

I read a great post this summer that inspired me to not be so hard on myself. I'm raising little souls here, not trying to win cleanest home of the year!

1000 Words

Sums up nicely how she felt about her new baby brother:

Small Successes: Fourth Child Edition

1. I've held baby John instead of trying to do housework. This is a success since I usually can't stand the pile-up.

2. I spent all morning Wednesday by myself. The first time home with all the kids alone. And I didn't lose my temper or yell. I did have to give a couple spanks, but it was all in an appropriately measured amount of frustration.

3. I've chosen to rest and go to bed early with little John Lepant (one of his many nicknames). We snuggle up and sleep away for naps and nighttime. It's blissful. I love him to pieces already. (Surprise, surprise!!)

Her Night Moves

Gianna lays in bed for a long time, I mean a long time, before she falls asleep. She comes out frequently. She gets spanks and lots of times she gets lovingly tolerated because she does stuff like this:

"Mama, where are we going?"

I reach for the wooden spoon snuggled up beside me and show it to her.

"Mama, I love you very much." She says this with the cute little thrust of her three year old speech. "Mama, I love you and Stella and Dada and Rowena very much."

"Oh, good, Gianna. I'm very glad."

Then she turns and goes back to bed.