imagine her surprise.....

Flora forgot to put her Dora potty seat on the toilet . . . and she fell in the toilet. That's funny stuff right there!

peas & carrots too?

We bought Flora a Dora pinata for her birthday. She has a Dora book in which one of the characters has a surprise party with a pinata so we knew she'd love it. She did! And Scout did too! And I have proof! Kind of . . . I meant to record the moment that the pinata broke open but it turns out that I had my camera set to take a photograph instead of video. Bummer. I do have a cute video of the immediate aftermath though. You can see how excited they are! Scout is especially excited about the suckers!



Dora the Pinata has been a guest in our house since Flora's birthday but I finally had to throw her in the trash last night. Her face was gone, along with one arm and most of her clothing. She was basically just a Dora-shaped piece of cardboard. Of course, Flora asked where her Dora pinata was today and I had to tell her that Dora was gone. I promised that we would get another pinata for Scout's birthday. They both thought that was a grand idea and asked if there would be treats inside. I told them that there would definitely be treats in the new pinata. Flora's eyes lit up and she said, "Mommy, maybe there will be chocolate or even celery!!"
Uh, yeah . . . maybe even celery.

blogging + thinking = blinking? thogging?

So I've been thinking.....

I am absolutely horrible at expressing myself verbally. I usually rely on odd noises and elaborate hand gestures to communicate my message as words generally fail me. It's not that I don't know any words, it's just hard to express what I am thinking because I don't think in words. Do you? I don't know if other people think in words or not but I think in pictures and ideas and feelings and, as we all know, sometimes it's hard to put pictures/ideas/feelings into words. Then again, maybe everyone thinks this way and I am the only one who has problems translating these thoughts into coherent sentences. Regardless, I find that I can "think" better by writing. Often I am not sure what I am thinking until I start writing about it. Perhaps that is why I was horrible at writing outlines when I was in school. How can I outline what I am going to write before I write it? I turned in the outline assignments, but my finished product never looked anything like my outline said it would. And writing is so much easier than talking. I can take long pauses to choose just the right word or delete whole sentences that don't make sense without anyone ever knowing. These habits are extremely awkward when practiced in verbal conversations.

Whew---all that just to say that this blog is about me writing out some thoughts that I've been wanting to explore.

So I've been thinking....

I've been thinking that the way Flora, Scout, and Timber act toward me is very similar to the way that Christians act toward God at different times. (Mother--this idea is similar to your theory, but also very different) Let's explore....

And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Matthew 18:3-4

Timber is so little and so helpless. He cries when he needs something and is absolutely dependent on me to meet that need. I, of course, take care of him the best that I can because I love him and he is mine. And the best part about Timber? He absolutely adores me. I am his favorite person in the world. He could be deliriously happy just staring at me for hours. When Jesus said that we should come as little children, I think he meant really really little children, like Timber. The older we get, the more 'human' we become....

Side Note: Does it sound like I am comparing myself to God? Well, I guess it does, but obviously I am not God. I love my kids but my love is not perfect and I am not perfect. God's is and He is. Just wanted to clear the air -- I do NOT think that I am God.

Scout is almost 2-years-old. The phrase that I hear from him most often during the day is "all by myself!" He is absolutely determined to be independent . . . or as independent as an almost-2-year-old can possibly be. He's not being rebellious and it's not that he doesn't love me or enjoy my company -- he's just trying to conquer his little world on his own now. Most of the time, I will let him do things "all by myself" although it always takes much longer and considerably more effort than if he had just let me help him. And sometimes he fails.
Also, Scout will sometimes scream and cry if he doesn't get his way. Again, it's not quite rebellion yet but a result of the fact that he doesn't understand why he can't have/do what he wants. I always have a good reason but his little brain just can't understand the reason. He can't see the big picture like I can, but he wants to be in control nevertheless.

Flora is 3-years-old and is learning the not-so-fine art of rebellion. She can look me right in the eye and say, "NO!" when I give her a command. Yes, she loves me and usually wants to please me, but she has also discovered that she has a will of her own. Oh, how easy it would be if her will always matched my will!! But, alas, 3-year-olds are not quite grown-ups yet, so Flora's will usually includes more candy and hitting than it should and not nearly enough obeying. So I have to discipline her and that's no fun for her OR me. Sometimes it even means that I can't do a fun activity that I had planned for us. It's frustrating because if she would just obey then we could all have a great time but her disobedience means that I have to withhold good things from her.

Timber, Scout, and Flora are all acting exactly how they are supposed to act for their respective ages, but I was thinking that my attitude toward God is sometimes more like a 2- or 3-year-old's attitude than it should be. I often look at Timber's peaceful sleeping face when I'm holding him and wish that someone could hold me and make the whole world seem right. I guess I forget that God IS holding me and I really should be completely at peace. I also forget sometimes that I don't have to do it "all by myself" and I really shouldn't even try. God sees the big picture. Even when I don't understand or don't want to obey I need to remember that He really does love me and wants only the best for me. Just like I know what's best for my kids (or at least I know better than they do!), God knows what is best for me.

So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him. Matthew 7:11

I'm not always a Timber or a Flora or a Scout, but I can think of specific instances in which I have been each, as I'm sure most Christians can. It's not a perfect analogy though . . . right now Timber is gassy, Scout is teething , and Flora is having a conversation with a corn dog. I am happy to report that I am neither a Timber, a Scout, nor a Flora at this particular moment.

let it roll

I think I'm starting to get the hang of this Mommy-of-three thing. The key to keeping my sanity was admitting that Flora and Scout do not need to be micromanaged quite as much as I thought they did. And yes, that is just a nicer way of saying that they don't need me as much as I thought they did. Well, obviously they still need me, but they don't need me to follow them around to make sure they don't eat glue or fall down the stairs. They are past the glue-eating phase . . . and on to slightly less dangerous mischief.

I've learned to "let it roll," meaning to let unimportant issues roll off my back like water rolls off a duck's back. Sorry I had to explain that but I used that phrase a few days ago and the person I was talking to had no idea what it meant to "let it roll." But anyway....

Letting it roll means not caring that Flora's room is ALWAYS a disastrous mess.

It means being okay with the fact that Scout never actually falls asleep in his bed.

Flora runs around in her panties half the time and there are stickers all over my walls and it doesn't really bother me. I am also undisturbed by the fact that Flora once used her walls as a canvas during naptime. I'm sure Mr. Clean will erase all this crayon, but I'm not really in any hurry to do it.

Flora and Scout emptied all their dresser drawers and lined them up in the hallway to create "steps" and I just let it happen. It was one of those things that wasn't really dangerous and they were having so much fun playing and working together that I didn't see any reason to intervene.

I try to keep the house somewhat clean but most days it is a disaster until Flora and Scout go to bed and I pick up all the toys. However, last week Flora decided that she was going to clean up the living room for me. Maybe she was tired of me letting things go! She and Scout worked together to pick up all the toys and couch pillows and got the room looking really great. Then they cleaned Scout's room together and then cleaned Flora's room too! I was silent and stayed out of their way while they were working. I definitely didn't want to break up THAT party! After they were all finished I asked Flora why she decided to clean. She smiled a big smile and said, "Because it make you SO happy, Mommy!"
Oh, how sweet!!! Of course, then she asked if she could watch a Dora, probably KNOWING that I couldn't possibly say no after all the work she had done for me . . . and I couldn't, but why would I? I am absolutely willing to negotiate if she wants to trade an hour of cleaning for 20 minutes of Dora. I can definitely let a few extra episodes of Dora roll off my conscience!!

hide-and-seek --- the preschool version

Q: When does Hide-and-Seek become a spectator sport?
A: When it is being played by a barely-3-year-old and an almost-2-year-old!

So, the other day Scout decides he wants to play Hide-and-Seek. He informs Flora of his fun idea by running and jumping in circles, shouting, "Hide-and-Seek! Hide-and-Seek!" at the top of his lungs. Flora is obviously drawn in -- I mean, who can resist that kind of persuasion? I, too, am excited. There is actually very little hiding or seeking that takes place when Flora and Scout play Hide-and-Seek but it is certainly amusing to watch!

Flora tells Scout to hide and starts counting to ten in the hallway.
Scout runs up behind her and shouts, "Here I am!" and she stops counting and says, "I found you, Scout!" Then they both giggle and jump around a bit before Flora announced that it is her turn to hide.
She tells Scout to go to her room and count, which he obediently does. Flora finds a good hiding spot (behind the couch) and shouts, "Come find me, Scout!"
Scout yells, "Oh-tay!" and runs into the living room. He looks around for Flora for a minute but can't find her.
Eventually, Flora pops her head out of her hiding spot and asks, "You find me yet, Scout?"
"No," Scout says (while looking right at her).
"Oh, okay," says Flora, and she goes back to hiding.
Scout looks around some more and then find Flora behind the couch. They both burst into giggles and it's Scout's turn to hide again.

What fun!

why timber?

The short answer is "I don't know. Timber was just the right name."

And now the long answer: It was originally suggested as a nickname for the baby before we knew the sex. He/she could be called Tember because I was due in SepTEMBER. I liked the sound of it although I preferred the spelling and woodsy feel of Timber. Timber went on the list along with many many other names. I was amused at the interest that so many people took in what we were going to name our baby. I wish I would have kept track of how many name suggestions we got, but I know that there had to have been at least a couple hundred suggested by email, facebook, text, mail(!!!), or verbally.

Chris and I both liked Timber but had some reservations about the name. The obvious drawback to the name Timber is all the "timmmmmberrrrrr" comments. I assume that those will subside as people begin to associate "Timber" with Timber and not "timmmmberrrrr." ---although I fully expect to hear and use "timmmmberrrrr" often while he's learning to walk! Our other concern was that it could be a girl's name too. The few baby name books that listed the name Timber had it in either the boy name section or in both sections, so we didn't think it would be an issue. Also, Scout is most often listed as a girl's name and that didn't stop us from using it!!

Another favorite of ours was Copper. I still really like that name and Timber might have been named Copper if we hadn't decided that we wanted his middle name to be David (Chris' middle name). I just thought Copper David sounded like a weird reference to David Copperfield.

In the end, we just felt like Timber was the right name. I'm not a big fan of the name Tim, but if he doesn't want to be Timber when he's older he could always shorten it to Tim. Maybe. I might find ways to thwart his efforts to be taken more seriously. I've heard people say that you should imagine your child's name as the President of the United States (I assume people say that to deter people from choosing unusual names???) but I think the best thing for the child might be to give him a name that basically guarantees he will NEVER be the President of the United States. Do any parents REALLY wish that job upon their child? I certainly don't. I hope that Scout and Timber have fun, outside-the-box lives that live up to their names. I'm fairly certain that they will grow up to be a lot like their Daddy and I think he could definitely pull off a name like Scout or Timber. In the end, Scout is Scout and Timber is Timber and people who know them will think the names fit perfectly. And people who don't know them really shouldn't have an opinion anyway. :-)

the family that poops together.....

I don't want to complain a lot about the challenges of having three young children but some things need to be shared. If nothing else, I will remember this post next time this particular challenge arises and laugh to myself instead of screaming to myself.

One of the most frustrating parts of my day is Flora's potty time . . . her poopy potty time to be specific. She likes to get the most out of her poopy potty time. She KNOWS that she has my attention (I can't say that it's undivided attention but at least MOST of my attention is focused on her) and she draws the process out as long as possible. If she were my only child I wouldn't mind whiling away the hours in the bathroom with her, but it's not exactly the mother-daughter bonding experience that she might want it to be. Here's how the scenario usually plays out:

Flora runs to the bathroom shouting, "I'm goin' poo-poo, Mommy!" with Scout running behind her shouting, "Poo-poo, Mommy!" Invariably, I am in the middle of feeding Timber so I haul the two of us off the chair and hurry to the bathroom to supervise and assist. Flora gets herself onto the potty with minimal, if any, help from me and begins her task. Meanwhile, Scout throws toys into the bathtub, pulls the toilet paper off the roll, shuts the door and turns off the light, attempts to wipe Flora, sticks his hands into the extra potty chair, crawls between my legs over and over, and generally wreaks havoc the entire time we are in the bathroom. Occasionally I am Mean Mommy and shut him out of the bathroom but then he just gets his little feelings hurt, so usually it's all four of us in the bathroom waiting on Flora to finish pooping. The really frustrating thing is that she is usually finished within a minute or two of sitting on the potty, but she just enjoys the situation so much that she insists she's not done yet and won't let me wipe her. So, Flora is blissfully seated on her throne (haha--couldn't resist), Scout is getting into everything, I am trying to corral Scout with one-hand and convince Flora she is done (although bribery is always more effective than verbal persuasion), and Timber is finishing his meal, completely oblivious to the chaos. Also, I won't bore you with the details, but I will just say that washing hands while nursing is difficult. I should probably just start putting Timber down and letting him cry until we are done. Now that I think about it, the bathroom isn't the nicest place to have a meal, is it?

Can you understand why I dread this ten minutes of the day more than any other part? I can only imagine what will happen when Scout starts potty training. I may just send him and Flora into the bathroom together with a stack of flushable wipes and hope for the best.

silly shorts

**Flora and Scout were in the other room when Timber started fussing. I heard Flora say, "Hurry, Scout, come on! Our new baby needs us!" They both ran into the room and gave Timber kisses.

**Grandpa and Granny (aka Jay and Debbie, aka Chris' parents) visited last weekend to meet Timber. As Debbie was holding Timber for the first time, she asked me what Scout thought of his new brother. I replied, "Oh, he just loves him. He likes to give him kisses." Immediately after the words left my mouth, Scout hurled a ball across the room directly at Timber's head. I'm sure Timber will pay him back for that someday.

**Timber was hungry but I was attending to Scout's needs before feeding him. Scout heard Timber crying and told me, "Mommy, our new baby is grumpy."

**Scout ripped Flora's princess birthday card and she was quite upset about it. She found two Phillips screwdrivers and brought them to Chris with her princess card and told him to fix it.

**Scout crawled out of his crib a couple weeks ago, so as soon as all of our out of town guests left we began Operation Bed Swap. Scout got Flora's toddler bed, Flora got our bed, and we got the guest bed. Timber will get Scout's crib when he's ready for it. After her first night on a "big bed" I asked Flora what she thought about it. She replied, "It was cool."

**Timber is still Our New Baby to Flora and Scout. They use the phrase as if it was actually his name, like, "Open your eyes, Our New Baby!" or "Our New Baby, you need to wake up!"

**Flora was wide-eyed and curious the first time she saw me nursing Timber. Obviously a little confused, she asked me incredulously, "Mommy, our new baby eats belly buttons?!?"

**I got out our trusty ol' swing for Timber to use, but hadn't replaced the dead batteries yet. As it turns out, I don't need to replace the batteries! I've got two excellent little swing-pushers in Flora and Scout. Scout occasionally gets a little carried away and I have to remind him to push gently, but most of the time they do their job very well. Since Timber has never experienced the rhythmic back-and-forth motion of a battery-operated swing he really doesn't mind that his swinging is a little more, um, sporadic.

**Flora and Scout are in Flora's room tearing paper into shreds and creating a huge mess. I am letting it happen because I discovered that I can easily type on Chris' laptop if I slouch on the couch with Timber asleep on my chest! Woohoo! I can blog again! And blog I will . . . I've been composing blogs in my head for weeks!!

the birth story

**ATTENTION**

Just in case the title didn't make it clear, this is Timber's BIRTH story. It's not graphic in my opinion, but there IS a chance that the words "cervix" or "placenta" will be used (actually, probably not "placenta" -- I can't imagine what I would have to say about that). If these words or the topic of birth in general disturb you then stop reading. Also, this is a very long post . . . but not as long as my labor so no complaining!! There -- now you've been given fair warning. Proceed at your own risk!

It was a dark and stormy night . . . but that doesn't have anything to do with the birth story because, despite my high hopes, Timber wasn't born on that night. He wasn't born the night after that either. In fact, we had to wait three more nights after that dark and stormy night before our little guy decided he was finally ready to meet the world.

I was due on Sunday, September 19th and became more and more grumpy as the 19th wore on and I realized that there would be no baby that day. I was not anticipating being overdue with baby number three! In fact, I was completely convinced that I would have him at least a week early. Obviously, he had other ideas . . . but I guess it's HIS big entrance into the world and he should be able to choose when he makes it.

I woke up at 4am on Monday, September 20th having contractions. They weren't strong but they were every six minutes apart. The doctor had advised me to come into the hospital when contractions were seven to ten minutes apart since this was my third baby, so I was immediately confused at how to proceed since I went from no contractions to contractions every six minutes. However, I knew they weren't strong enough to head to the hospital yet so I got out of bed, put the clean dishes away, and then wandered around the house for a bit before getting bored enough to head back to bed. When they didn't stop for several hours and started coming every four to five minutes apart I knew that today was probably the day -- although I was still confused because they just weren't very strong. We got the kids up and dressed, I called Mother and took a quick shower, and we headed to Stephanie's house to drop off the kids.

Days earlier I had googled "how long does a third labor usually last" and was startled to find a familiar thread through all the relevant hits google returned: "The first labor is long, the second labor is easy, and the third labor is unpredictable." This was the wisdom being shared around the internet. I chose to ignore this information and stubbornly believed that this third labor would be half as long as my second labor. My plan was to get to the hospital and have my baby boy delivered within an hour or two of being admitted. My plan was WAY off . . .

When we arrived at the hospital, I had been having contractions for six hours and they had been consistently four minutes apart for an hour or so. They took me to an assessment room and checked my cervix and I was only at TWO centimeters!! "Two?!?" I asked the nurse in disbelief, "that's no good!!" They left me in the room for an hour to see if there was any progression. After an hour I was two and a half centimeters so they gave me the option of being admitted right away or walking around for a while to try to speed up labor. I chose to walk, so Chris and I began pacing the halls of the labor and delivery wing. We walked and walked and passed the time by texting Stephanie about the kids. After an hour I was almost five centimeters so I got my IV and wristbands and was escorted to my labor and delivery room. They hooked me up to the fetal monitor and various other machines and asked if I was ready for drugs. I opted for a dose of Stadol (sp?) which did absolutely nothing. Well, not nothing . . . it made me slur my words and allowed me to fall asleep for a few minutes between each contraction, but it did absolutely nothing for the pain. Basically, for about an hour I was transformed from woman-in-labor to drunk-woman-in-labor. Lovely. To emphasize how ineffective Stadol is, I will insert a short side story here -- As I was pushing, the nurse (probably to encourage me to keep going) told the doctors that I was doing this all with no medication/pain relief. I managed to mumble something about the Stadol and she waved off my comment and replied, "Oh, that stuff doesn't do anything and it wore off hours ago." I remember wondering why they even offer it if it doesn't help. Perhaps they find the slurred ramblings of laboring women on Stadol amusing??

It was about this time that Mother showed up and Chris said my blood pressure shot up. Ha! I was glad she was there so I don't think there was a connection between the two . . . but it was a funny observation! She arrived at the hospital at 3:30pm and things were starting to get intense. Note that it has been almost twelve hours since contractions started. According to MY plan, I should already be settled into my recovery room, perhaps contemplating a nap with my sweet little sleeping baby. But no . . . instead I was counting slowly to ten, reciting my multiplication tables, saying the alphabet backwards, and repeating the Lord's Prayer in an effort to take my mind off the painful contractions and stay somewhat sane. Of course, I was doing all these things silently in my head -- I didn't want the nurse (or Chris and Mother) to think I had completely lost it! It was also about this time that they noticed Timber's heart rate was dropping during contractions, so they gave me an oxygen mask and instructed me to lie on my right side only. From that point on, I irrationally thought that the contractions would be so much easier to handle if I could only turn to my left side. Also, Chris said I was a little bit psycho with my oxygen mask and would not let it slip away from my mouth/nose even the slightest bit. I probably just liked having something that I could control. I think the nurse eventually pried the oxygen mask from my hands during the pushing process. Otherwise, I might have still had the mask on in all the mom-with-brand-new-baby photos!!

If I had known ahead of time how long this labor would be and how big Timber was going to be I might have opted for the epidural. I didn't have an epidural with Scout because it was too late for one by the time we got to the hospital. Three hours after checking in, Scout was born. He was 6lbs 11oz and his head circumference was so small it didn't even make it onto the growth curve chart (don't worry, it's "average" now!). Needless to say, delivering an 8lb 11oz baby after almost eight hours at the hospital was a completely different experience. Why no epidural?? After reading lots of books and even watching a documentary on the hospital birth experience I was convinced that epidural = pitocin = c-section. I know this isn't always the case (I had an epidural and pitocin with Flora and no c-section), but studies have shown that one medical intervention often leads to the next in a snowball effect. Basically, once the doctors start "helping" you it is hard to get them to stop! Obstetricians are trained surgeons and many are more comfortable with performing a "safe" c-section than they are with letting the birth process happen naturally. Obviously, that is a general statement and there are many OBs who encourage drug-free childbirth, but in my opinion, the best way to have Timber was without an epidural. But they are very nice and I realize that what was best for me is not best for everyone, so I'll get off my soapbox now!! :-)

Overall, I think I was a very nice laboring woman. I only asked Chris to stop touching me once (and possibly Mother too???) and I think I was very polite about it. He did the one thing I had requested of him ahead of time -- he fed me ice chips. Other than helping me stay cool, there really wasn't much that anyone could do to help. Labor really is a good word for it, although it's really more of an internal struggle with the pain than actual physical labor. I'm glad I did it without the epidural though -- it's probably the coolest thing I'll ever do -- which is why I'm okay with bragging about it just a little bit. :-) "What a woman!" my nurse said in encouragement as I was pushing (Chris and I laughed at that later). She was very encouraging, but I was more encouraged by what Chris was saying to me. He was reminding me that I would never have to do this again! Now THAT's encouragement!!

Finally, after 13 hours and 40 minutes of labor (but thankfully only 20 minutes of pushing), Timber David Borkert made his appearance. The first words little Timber heard his Mommy say were, "Oh, I'm so glad that's over!!" At 8lbs 11oz, Timber was much bigger than 7lb 5oz Flora or 6lb 11oz Scout. He is a big boy and he just keeps growing! We are so happy to have Timber and feel that he really completes our family. He is such an easy baby -- he eats well, sleeps well, and only cries when he's trying to make a poopy (which I'm confident he'll outgrow eventually!).

Hooray for Timber! Hooray for babies! Hooray for not having any more babies!! :-)

cola . . . not crack

Let me start by saying that overall I think things are going very well. Timber is an easy baby and Flora and Scout are usually easy to handle too. Of course, some days are just worse than others . . .

I was summoned out of bed at 8am today. I know that's nothing to complain about, but Chris put a new fluffy mattress pad on our bed last night so it was really hard to force myself out of bed today. Within 15 minutes of waking up, Flora had already served a time-out for hitting Scout and Scout had already suffered a bloody lip from falling into the back of the couch. I wasn't even halfway through my morning Coke and already thinking this was going to be a bad day. In fact, I decided that today was going to require more energy than my daily Coke could provide so I made it a two-Coke morning. Thankfully, Timber likes to sleep, so he was sleeping peacefully through all the morning commotion and didn't require any of my attention.

Somehow, despite the bad attitudes and injuries, everyone managed to get dressed and fed in time for Sesame Street. Elmo is magical. He seriously has some kind of special power over toddlers. Once Elmo settled everyone down, the day got easier. Flora and Scout have been playing together nicely for the past couple of hours and after being awake for a nice long stretch, Timber is back asleep. Now I'd better stop writing and start fixing some lunch because there's nothing more dangerous than a hungry toddler. Also, I smell a stinky diaper and, unfortunately, I'm the only one here qualified to take care of a situation like that. Although now that Flora is three, maybe she could learn to change Scout's diapers??? No . . . that must be the extra Coke talking.