This I Believe - Jen's Essay

Here's Jen's This I Believe Essay:

This I Believe Essay
Jen Johnson
2009

I believe in breastfeeding.

I believe in breastfeeding, and not only for the reasons you might expect. It’s pretty easy to get on board with breastfeeding simply by looking at the health benefits of breast milk to a baby. Doctors argue that breast milk is the “perfect food.” Babies are even protected from disease by the antibodies passed through the breast milk. Some research has shown that babies who are breastfed actually have higher IQs than those who aren’t. Conclusion: I’d be an idiot not to believe in breastfeeding.

For me, though, my belief in breastfeeding is a lot more complicated than the information you could gleen from a La Leche League webpage. For starters, breastfeeding, for me, was HARD.

The most representative breastfeeding horror story occurred very early in our breastfeeding journey. We were hunkered down in the NICU with our adorable newborn, Rigley, concerned that pneumonia was marginalizing her ability to take in enough food. As a result, the doctors wanted us to weigh Rigley before and after every feeding, so that we could determine exactly how much milk she was taking in. Talk about pressure! What resulted is what I can only describe as a breastfeeding obsession. Here’s the scene:

Chris: Is she sucking?
Jen: Yep, she’s sucking.
Chris: Awesome! What about now?
Jen: No, not anymore.
Chris: (sigh). I need you to tell me when she’s sucking and when she’s not sucking.
Jen: Ok
Jen: Sucking…sucking…sucking! ….Not sucking.
Chris: (huge sigh).
Jen: sucking…sucking..sucking!…Not sucking.
Chris: (huge sigh).

When I said “sucking,” clouds parted, angels sang, and bugles played from the heavens. When I said “not sucking,” Armageddon was upon us.

I would say that we spent a good 72 hours repeating this routine, with a couple of brief interruptions to grab some stale biscuits and gravy at the hospital cafeteria, watch a few Michael Jackson memorial shows, and, oh yeah, pump my boobs so that my milk supply wouldn’t be reduced when Rigley got her strength up.

When I look back on this situation, or tell this story to friends, all I can do is laugh. I laugh about our dialogue. I laugh about how we managed to cope through something really hard. I laugh about how quickly two really well adjusted humans can become overcome by such tunnel vision.

This adversity, and the ability to maintain a sense of humor with my wonderful partner, is really the crux of my belief in breastfeeding. It hints at a greater, more important belief, which is my belief in all of the qualities required for good motherhood, qualities like perseverance, good communication, and of course, humor.

There are very few parenting decisions as clear cut as breastfeeding, and sometimes I wish I could approach motherhood in general with the same confidence as I do my method for feeding Rigley. Sometimes I don’t always believe that I’m a good mom, even though I really want to. It’s in those moments that I try to remind myself about my belief in breastfeeding:

I make good health choices for my baby, therefore, I’m a good mom.

I can survive things that are really hard, therefore, I’m a good mom.

I laugh at myself. A lot. Therefore, I’m a good mom.

In summary, I breastfeed, therefore, I’m a good mom.

And that’s about the most powerful belief I think I can have.

"This I Believe" Essay - Chris

This year Jen and I and a few members from our community wrote "This I Believe" essays. It's a segment on NPR for the people who have no idea what I'm talking about. Anyway, since both our essays have to do with parenting, I thought I would post them. Today you get mine, later, Jen's.

This I Believe
Chris 2009

I believe in the power of a baby’s smile.

Cheesy, I know, but I didn’t know about this power 6 months ago.

Deciding to become a parent is a leap of faith. Anyone who thinks that they will be fine navigating these uncharted waters; that the universe will provide all of the answers and skills when the time comes is an arrogant idiot. Believe me. It takes one to know one.

Living life as a first time parent is unexpectedly infuriating. Not because the little one is puking, or crying, or pooping at all the wrong times. In fact it has nothing to do with my daughter and everything to do with me.

Its disappointment and fear in the middle of the night when she’s crying uncontrollably and I simply can’t wake up mommy one more time because I don’t have all the answers. She has few needs now and I can’t cut it. What happens when her needs become more complex? It’s the sense of powerlessness that I can’t control this situation. No matter how hard I try, how smart or creative I am, I cannot control what is happening.

Worse, in these sleepless moments late at night, pacing the house, feeling betrayed by everyone who ever told you that you could do this (that you’d even be GOOD at it), you realize that old demons you thought were put to rest for good now rise up, look you straight in the eye and say, “You are not done with me yet.” Now I can really feel the defeat. Not only are you not good enough in this moment, but all this time I thought I was different, better, I was wrong.

And then, well past cracking, when I’m already broken, I get a smile.

So far I have seen three different kinds of smiles. The first is the “HEY! I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN LIKE FOREVER!” smile. The second is the “I’m so shy I have to hide my face” smile. And the last is the “You don’t have to worry anymore, I like you” smile. That’s my favorite smile. “I like you.”

In that smile, I get to see that I don’t have to have everything taken care of by myself. She has everything that I don’t have: the hope, faith, and optimism. And I have everything that she doesn't have: the bottle, clean diapers, and money for a tiny pair of shin guards. We complement each other. l don’t have to have all the answers and skills. The universe does provide you with what you need.

I believe that the challenge and the support come in the same package.

I believe that when I am searching for answers and doubting myself, all I really need is an “I like you smile.”

I'm ready for my parade...

We're modern folks in the Johnson-Leck household. I'm a modern dad. I'm changing diapers, I'm feeding Rigs with a bottle, I've got her in a Baby Bjorn and walking the dog at the same time! Please feel free to schedule my "Father of the Year Parade" any time you want. I will show up at the appointed time to ride in the back of a convertible and humbly wave to my adoring fans. I may have to wear ear plugs as the cheering may cause ear damage.

Sadly, winning "Father of the Year" this year has not been all that difficult. Apparently the bar is set pretty low. I walk around town with a baby in a Bjorn and people tilt their heads, make a cutie face and say "Wow, what a good dad." Little do they know that her pants are stuffed with restroom paper towels because daddy forgot to bring an extra diaper. Oops.

All I have to do is mention I have a kid and people will say, "You're a great father. I can tell." What do you mean, you can tell? Do I smell like a good dad? Can you see the bags under my eyes from staying up with a crying baby or the calluses on my fingers from all the diapers I've changed?

The problem isn't actually the "I can tell" part, its the "great" part. A great father is apparently just some dude walking around with a kid that is not currently on fire. Setting the bar pretty high there, huh?

In his new book, Micheal Chabon says that being a father is like pulling into a parking meter with a nickle to find that someone left you a full hour. I get to show up unprepared and incompetent, but if I still show up, I get some real accolades here.

What the heck makes a good mom anyway? I don't really here people talk about good mothers until the kid is actually an adult. If the kid makes a lot of money, cures cancer, and rescues children from a burning building, then we can say "good mother." Anything less and the kid is just lucky to have escaped.

Seriously though, as long as you just compare me to other dudes, I think I come out looking pretty good. I fixed my schedule so I can provide a whole day of day care. Every night, I change Rigley's diaper and then pass her off to Jen for a feeding. I'm happy to be alone with her for any length of time so Jen can get out and get a break. Other dads that do this... keep it up! We're looking good.

Just make sure you compare me to other dads. As soon as you compare me to Jen...? Forget the parade. I look like crap. Compared to Jen I look like the laziest, most impatient, ignorant dude-iest of dudes. Picture George Bush, Fred Flintstone, and Larry the Cabel Guy wrapped up into one.

We try to keep it real in the Johnson-Leck household. And by real I mean balanced, equal, even egalitarian. And no matter how enlightened I think I am, I slip into the same gender roles crap that dominated the 50's (or the 60's... the 1900's?... um well, pretty much all of history). Part of it is that Jen is the primary feeder when we're together, so it sets us up anyway. I have to admit though, there are times when Rigley is in her swing and starts whining and I just happen to be real busy with something else so Jen just has to be the one to go pick her up and comfort her. I know, shameless, but true. There are plenty of times when I shirk my duty as an equal because I don't really feel like holding a baby or changing a diaper. I may even try to fix something or lift something heavy just to make sure that Jen knows I'm doing something manly. You know, guy stuff. Scratching, measuring, and grunting.

Even in my attempts to share power in our house I screw it up. When I ask "Do you want me to change her diaper now?" or "Do you want me to hold her for a while?" it may seem as if I am empowering Jen so she can choose what she wants. But just asking the question puts her in the role of maternal expert and me in the role of idiot helper. Like my help is some big favor.

Long story long, we can probably put my parade on hold. Don't get me wrong if Jen re-joins the Peace Corps and I am the primary care giver for Rigley for 2 years, I will expect a marching band and some Shriners at my parade. But not now. For now, I can shrug off the compliments I get and use Jen as my model for what a good parent does. And try, try hard, to be a better father and a better partner.

The Results Are In!

Johnson-Leck Family Voted Cutest Family Ever!

Eat it Mazurskys!

Eat it Kanda-Olmsteads!

Eat it Brandts!

See photo below for proof...

That's right. Pretty obvious now that you see the photo, huh? Despite Jen being a little under the weather, the Johnson-Leck's showed up in full force for Halloween. The Wizard of Oz never looked so good.

Guest Blogger: The Boob Lady (Jen) The Day She Traded in Sweatpants for Work Clothes

September 22nd marked the end of my maternity leave and the beginning to my new life as "working mom." First task: signage.

My hope is that this effort will reduce the chances of an 18-year-old male student seeing my boobs from 90% to about 50%. Bring 'em on!

I've been getting a lot of nervous questions and comments about my return to work, "Is it hard to be away from Rigley?" "Are you OK?" and my personal favorite "If you need to cry, you can use my office" (Thanks, Alexis!!).

So here's the 411 on how Jen is really doing with the whole return to work thang:

All in all, it's been a pretty smooth transition. I have my wonderful colleagues to thank for a "Welcome Back Dance Party!", complete with booty rap and tons of Prince songs (do they know me or what?). And frankly, the novelty of being able to meet my own needs (ie. eating lunch, going to the bathroom, and working uninterrupted on the computer) without negotiating a tiny human was so joyous for me that I felt manic for about 2 days. I'm not sure how the new schedule will work out in the long run, but for now, I feel pretty good.

I can understand why this is a tough issue for people, though. I have a job that I love and I am still challenged by feelings of guilt, anger, and being pulled in many different directions. Here is a snapshot of a fairly regular stream of thought for me while at work:

Woo hoo! I'm back at work. This is awesome. I can go to the bathroom.
I'm going to the bathroom everybody!

Look at me. I'm in the bathroom.

God, I'm so happy. It's nice to meet my own needs.

Should I be feeling this happy?

Oh shit, I probably should not be feeling this happy since I'm not with my baby.

Good parents don't feel happy when they are away from their children.

I feel guilty. I should be with my baby.

Oh no! I forgot to tell the day care lady that Rigley likes to sleep on her side with her arms around her head.

And that she has trouble sometimes eating from a bottle.

Speaking of food, my boobs are huge. I should pump.

I hate pumping at work.

This back to work thing sucks.

"Oh hi, Keith. I'm going to pump milk from my boobs now. I'll talk to you about that work thing in 15 minutes...and I won't look like Pamela Anderson anymore."

(while pumping) This is so Fing dumb.

Not to mention time consuming....I can't get anything done.

Does my boss think I'm not getting anything done?

Why do women do this?
Hey wait, it's not women's fault, it's the systems fault for expecting us to juggle so many responsibilities.

F the man!

I'm moving to France where women get 1 year (1 year!!) of maternity leave.

I'm writing a letter to congress about how we should be more like France.

But wait, I like my job.

Oh God, think of single moms. Who hate their jobs.

I'm so lucky.

This is a great job. I get to make a difference, work with some great colleages and students, contribute to my household financially, and show Rigley that women can do it all.

Maybe that's not a reasonable expectation, though?

Maybe I should just try to be at home more with Rigley...keep things simple.

But I like my job.

I think I'll go to the bathroom....

Bottom line: women have tough choices when they have little people. Call your mom today and say "thank you" ...and write a letter to your representatives about what we already know: when the system invests in tiny humans and families (afforadable/free prenatal care, maternity leave, onsite daycares, affforadable early childhood education), we all win. Everyone can agree with this. Let's put our money where our mouth is.

Reporting to you live from a CSU bathroom, this is Jen Johnson, signing off.

NEWS FLASH - Baby Climbs to 14,000ft! - Parents Celebrate From Jail

It all started by accident really. When Jen was still pregnant and we were interviewing doctors, he asked, "What are you struggling with right now?" Jen told him that she was struggling with a loss of identity. That she was afraid that she would be giving up a lot of herself in sacrifice to the yet unborn baby. And that this would be our first summer without climbing a 14er in a few years. To which the doctor replied, "Well, we took our 8 week old up a 14er." Not only did this guy immediately become our doctor. He planted a seed.

Fast forward to the end of July. Rigley is 6 weeks old and the parents are just starting to get their feet back on the ground. "Hey hun?" Jen says, "If we were to take Rigley up a 14er, which one would we do?" "I hear Quandary is the easiest." After just a tiny bit of research (aka looking in one book from our basement) we decided to go for it.

A team was assembled because we knew we would not be able to pull this off by ourselves. Sherpas Haley, Meredith, Ashley ("Whistle Girl" from our wedding fiasco), and Pops Johnson (flying in from St. Paul just for this) joined us on September 2 for an attempt of an assent of Quandary Peak, 14,265 ft.



It was a gorgeous morning. Clear skies but a little hazy because of the fires in California. (No joke. If they find that arsonist, add "hazy-ing up the skies for a baby's first 14er" to the list of crimes.) After loading up the car and packing up enough food, water, diapers, and wipes to hike up an orphanage we took off to find the trail head. This was our first set back. "Trail Head Closed" was the first sign we saw from the parking lot. A quick reorientation and some back tracking brought us to an alternative site. We would not be denied!

We headed up the trail at 8 am in good spirits. We had a steep 3300 feet of elevation to tackle in only 2.8 miles. No easy feat for your average people without a baby. Good thing we had an above average team.

Really our only trouble was Rigley's first poopy diaper. Or should I say poopy diaper, poopy socks, poopy sleeper, poopy blanket, poopy feet, poopy back, and poopy hair. Yowsers. I'm guessing the lack of air pressure allowed her to get a truly awesome force behind her evacuation of her bowels. Good thing Chris insisted that she wear 2 sleepers for the hike. Rigley only got really pissed when she had to get completely naked at 11,000 ft. Hey who wouldn't.

Everyone took a shift on this hike. Though some shifts were shorter than others. I was carrying Rigley for well over an hour. I think I took 36 steps.

It got a little cool and breezy near the top so Sherpa Haley used a gigantic rain coat to insure the precious cargo's warmth.

We hit the top just before noon and took just a few minutes for photos before heading back down.

I have to say that Rigley did amazing the entire day. We were on trail for 7.5 hours and Rigley started to get annoyed with being in the Baby Bjorn around hour 7. Not too shabby. Otherwise she slept and looked around and sucked on a pacifier in peace and happiness.

I am sure that many of you have been reading this with some reservations. Was this really a good idea? Did they have to do this? What's the point of taking a baby up a mountain anyway? Is there any way the payoff would be worth the risks?

Believe me, we asked ourselves these questions too. As well as several people on the trail. We had one person who stated that she was a pediatric nurse and what we were doing was "really dangerous." She wanted to know if we were monitoring Rigley's oxygen levels. Another person said her husband was a doctor and she was (frowning) "going to ask him about this." Meredith's response was that "You could kill a baby's soul by trying to keep it 'safe'."

So why did we do it? Part of it was for us, but part was for Rigley too. Jen needs that sense of adventure in her life. She needs to do something "epic" every once in a while. Little Rigley is going to need to get used to endurance challenges. The only one off the hook in this family is Euchre and he has a paw impairment.

Really this whole thing was a negotiation between parent's needs and child's needs. I really struggle with balancing this back-and-forth. I see children in my office that suffer from growing up in a house with extremes on both sides. Some kids have parents that sacrificed nothing. The parent's lives were the same (typically the father's) and the child was an addition that did not get due attention. Other kids (more common these days) had parents that gave up everything of themselves in order to give their children everything and protect their children from everything. The consequences of this style are no joke either.

So how to do you balance this? When do you know when to put your own shit aside because that's what's best. And how do you know when its time to take care of yourself because that's what's best. We're still working it out. It seems, like most stuff with kids, its a game time decision. Decide in the moment, because it changes all the time, every time.

For us, we didn't feel like Rigley's life was in any danger. We talked it through with our doctor. He thought her biggest risk was sun exposure or if we fell. We knew we would pull the plug if we saw any warning signs, even if we were just a few feet from the top. We always talked about it as an "attempt" just in case we couldn't pull it off, but we were dedicated to trying.

It was worth it to us. We will be better parents because of this hike. Just as importantly, I want Rigley to know that sometimes the best way to take care of someone else is to take care of yourself. There is a reason the airlines ask you to put your own mask on first before helping someone else. I know its a pretty American sentiment. To be oriented as an individual rather than the collective. She'll learn that individuality vs. collective is a balancing act too.

I want her to look at these pictures and feel permission to go off and have an adventure, become a musician, or even vote for a Republican. Whatever it is that she needs to do. For herself.

The Perfect Induction

Beautiful day for a ballgame, Ernie! Let's play two!

What a day it was. The Cubbies were in town to put on a show for little Rigley's first game.

It was a hot, hot day. (I am convinced though that my mother still would have insisted on Rigley putting on a hat, socks, and wrapped in two blankets. Sheesh, grandparents.) Hard to say if it was hotter in the sun or under the breast feeding shield we used to keep her skin from melting off. She seemed completely content and happy to eat and sleep through all the action.

And how about that action! Sweet Lou (the "gentleman" manager) got ejected right away. The Cubs had 17 hits, but only scored five runs. They tied their season high with 3 errors and the pitching staff gave up 11 runs. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

I have to say a big thank you to the Cubs. Thanks for being real out there. Thanks for not going out there and being something you're not. Thanks for not setting Rigley up for disappointment. Now, anything better than what we saw today would be a real success.

2 errors instead of 3?

Wow, that's improvement!

10 runs instead of 11?

Things are really looking up!

Rigley's first game as a Cub fan could not have been more perfect. She will be the ideal Cub fan from now on. She KNOWS now what it's supposed to look like. It rarely gets better than this. But when it does, she can cheer on the mediocre crappiness (as opposed to the major crappiness that we saw today) for the rest of her life.

This was Cubs baseball in it's purest form. This is why we get so excited, even giddy at the beginning of each season. The slate is clean. Completely, crisply, fresh and clean. But the memories are there. We wear them like badges of honor.

Remember the Mark Prior game we saw where he struck out 16 and still lost?

I tell people all the time that I don't think I saw a Cubs win in person until I was 29 years old.

Now, Rigley can say, the first game I ever saw was the doozey at Colorado in 2009. But..., but..., wait until next year! (Now, Rigley, in order to be a true Cubs fan, you can't officially say, "Wait until next year," until an Alphonso Soriano strikeout on what would have been ball four, ends the season for us all.)

Eternally optimistic in spite of any supporting evidence.

Rigley, welcome to a lifetime of suffering.

Welcome to a lifetime of ridicule (especially from your fair-weather-fan grandfather, Pops Johnson).

Welcome to the most loyal, most dedicated, most steadfast, simply the best group of fans you will ever meet.

Rigley, welcome to a life as a Cub fan!

Guest Blogger: Grandparent Dave Johnson

Greetings from St. Paul!

I just returned from my first visit with Rigley. She is a very impressive tiny person. Jen is a very impressive mom and Chris is a very impressive dad. They both seem much more capable than I was with Jen. Thinking back, it seems to me that my only contribution was to crank up her swing in the middle of the night. Now I see that they have electric powered swings.

As each day passed I could see a little more brown in Rigley's eyes - a good thing. Jen and I keep checking for signs of high arches and good feet - our only expectation for the child, but too early to tell if that will be. She looks exactly like Chris. Jen and Chris call her Big-Rig. I thought parents were supposed to protect their children from name calling. Hmm...

My last day there Jen and Chris were planning a summit attempt of a Colorado Fourteener - with Rigley. This is a worthy challenge and I plan to be part of the summit team. It's never too soon to involve a young person in a team building exercise. I can hardly wait to see the Hero Shot at the peak.

All is well in the Johnson-Leck family. They love Rigley and each other.

She looks sleepy, doesn't she.

Oh my goodness!!! Soooooo sleepy.

But...

DON'T BE FOOLED! Apparently babies actually only need 2 hours of sleep each day spread out into 5 minute chunks. This can be somewhat difficult for your average parent as we apparently need slightly more sleep than a baby. Something really interesting must be going on in the middle of the night because Rigley is doing her best to make sure we don't miss out. As soon as we drift off into the sweet, sweet, soothing sensation of sleep, Rigley shouts out (in baby language) "Hey, everybody in the house, and perhaps the neighborhood, WAKE UP!! Some really interesting stuff is going on that I want you all to know about!" Then she farts and we can all go back to sleep for another 5 minutes.

Forgive us if we seem somewhat distracted.

They say you lose IQ points for every hour of sleep you loose.

We are getting dummer...

slowleee, dummer...

dum...

i luv NASCAR...

and guns...

n stuf...

Palin in 2011!

gaa, gaa, goo, goo

a brief moment of peace.

Guest Blogger: Euchre the Dog

What


The


Hell.



I go off to play with my buddy Tonka for a week and I come home to find what...?! These crazy parents of mine were left alone for a few days and what do they do...?! I come home after a hard week of playing and destroying pillows and who is in my chair...?!

A puppy!

That's right. Apparently one child was not enough for my parents. They went out and got another puppy. It's kind of a weird puppy too. It doesn't do anything. It just lays there. I tried to bring it one of my bones (not one of my good ones) and it just flailed its arms around. Sheesh.

I'm pretty sure this puppy is broken so I thought it would be gone soon, but my parents seem intent on keeping it. So that means its now part of the pack and I need to protect it by barking a lot. Pretty much anything that moves could be a danger to this helpless puppy so I bark at everything, just in case.

I have to admit... It is kind of growing on me. I haven't figured out how it is getting its food, but it isn't taking any of mine. Once I figure out how its feeding, I plan on getting a little bit myself! Hey, it what big brothers are for.

The Homecoming

We made it home today. It was a long week. Actually today was her official due date so maybe we can just pretend the last week didn't happen.

We are so stoked to be home, but really, more than anything, we're stoked Rigley doesn't have any more wires and tubes hooked up to her. Changing a diaper as a rookie is hard enough (that's right, my first diaper change EVER was last Sunday). Changing a diaper and putting her in a burrito is really hard when you have tubes coming out all over and if you bump them they set off alarms across the county and everyone comes running. Ooops. My bad.

We actually found out yesterday that coming home on Friday was a possibility. There was some discrepancy amongst the docs as to what exactly constituted 7 days.
...

It was going to come down to putting on weight so Jen and I loaded up our pockets with rocks that we could sneak onto the scale if need be.
"That's funny, how come the scale says she weighs 27 pounds?"
"She's eats all day and doesn't exercise, what do you expect?" *nervous smile*

All in all, the hospital was a little rough, but we really got through because of our friends who could visit, the love of family no matter how far away, and some amazing nurses and doctors (Carleen and Donette, you made everything so easy).

We're enjoying the quiet, the fresh air, and the chance to try out the 3 swings, 25 slings, and 850 outfits we have inherited over the last few months. That and the chance to be parents trying to bumble their way through this. This should be awesome.

Many people have asked (when they could get a hold of us) how we're feeling about being in the hospital after really wanting to avoid this place and have a home birth.

Here's what we believe is true for us (other people get to decide what is true for them so we're not trying to preach to anyone else): Giving birth is not a medical condition that requires hospitalization. It's a lot like digesting food, keeping your eyes moist, or growing hair (insert your own joke about my head here). Giving birth is a little less common than those things and a way bigger deal, but the body still knows what to do. You're not sick when you're pregnant, nothing is broken that needs fixing. So it was an easy choice for us to birth a child in a place that increases our chances of no medical interventions.

A kid being born with pneumonia IS a medical condition. It's what hospitals are for. They got turned into birthing centers over the years, but hospitals are where sick people go to get better. It was an absolute no-brainer to get Rigley to the hospital ASAP. We feel great about it. We have gotten great care and Rigley is going to be better off for it.

Jen has survived remarkably well being around so many needles and machines. Who would have though that the woman who gets sweaty palms when she drives past a hospital could live here for 7 days.

Update: There is a good chance we'll be home tomorrow! Hooray. Rigley has so far proven that she can pound some calories and put the weight on (Atta Girl!). We're not getting our hopes up, but the chances are high. Either way, we're looking forward to locking ourselves in our own house and sleeping in our own bed. Maybe the dog could have a homecoming this weekend too.

Best Joke So Far...

Jen loves Halloween so much, she gave birth to a kid in a Smurf costume.

Everyone say hello to Sumo Smurf!

Rigley-Watch 2009 Continues...

Life in the hospital is strange. Completely disconnected from the outside world. We left yesterday to grab something from home and get some food and there is a whole world out there that seems peaceful and unaware of our plight! How inconsiderate!

We sometimes find ourselves getting greedy and asking 5 million times, "When can we go home?" "How much does she need to eat to be able to go home?" "Our blankets are dirty, can we get some fresh ones?" And just when we start to feel indignant that our kid is not on the top of everyone's list, they wheel another kid in followed by another worried family. Your heart just breaks for the babies that need surgery to survive or are still touch and go. We feel unbelievably lucky and have been sent here to be humbled. It forces us to absolutely recognize the gift we have been given for what it really is, a miracle.

It makes me sad to think that the universe believed that we needed this lesson in order to treat this blessing with the respect it deserves, but who are we to know? No matter how painful, annoying, and exhausting this process can be for us, we have the easiest road of all the families in the NICU. I say this not to diminish our experience, but to enhance it. To stay conscious of the truth: we'll forget all about this soon and we'd be lucky to retain even an ounce of the appreciation we have right now for little Rigley's life.

Brief update: Things continue to improve every day as a whole. People here all talk about the "two steps forward, one step back." We have had our steps in both directions. Feeding is hopefully going just good enough for us to leave. As tough as breast feeding is anyway, success of feeding is what will send us home. No pressure there, thanks. She'll get it eventually and we have lots of support. We just need to keep our spirits (and energy) up. We use a lot of humor and Jen has begun referring to one of the nurses as "The Vampire" because she is always having to stick Rigley's foot to draw blood.
Peace.

Born a Cub Fan - Doomed to a life of misery or new good luck charm?

Just wanted to pass along an email from my brother:

"So while you were busy giving birth to your kid the cubs were coming back from a 7-0 deficit. Lee homered in the ninth off of wood to tie it and they won it in the 10th. today they came back from a run down in the 13th again off of wood. Could rigley be our good luck charm. i think so. hope all is well."

I'm pretty sure the Cubs were down until Rigley came out. This year is the year.

I'll take this as a good sign!!!

Link to the photos site

Hey All,

Update for today: Things continue to go well! Rigley is completely off all breathing support. Hooray!! We are going to be here at least until Friday. They are going to administer all 7 days worth of antibiotics, just to make absolutely sure she's cool to go home. Fine with us.

We've had one positive nursing experience so far and looking forward to more.

Thanks for all the warm wishes and support!

Here is where you can find more photos:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/39447467@N08/?donelayout=1

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!

You bet your ass Happy Father's Day!

We're looking pretty good here people. If you check out the picture on the top, you will see (or not see), the absence of a breathing apparatus. We got to come off all breathing support this afternoon and she is still doing really well.

Today we have been working on nursing. Seems intuitive doesn't it? Well, it is not intuitive for us. Yet. But we're being patient. It's hard to be patient though when everyone is getting so frustrated. We are a little lucky though because she is getting all the nutrients she needs through an IV in her umbilical cord. If she were nursing well, it would just be a bonus.

Mom, Dad, and baby are all doing well right now. Sleep, eat, poop, that's the routine for now!

June 19th, 2009!

Howdy folks!

Well, the moment we've all been waiting for has arrived. It arrived yesterday. Or should I say, she arrived yesterday. That's right.

Rigley June Johnson-Leck hopped out into the world at home on June 19th 2009 at 4:01pm. She weighs in at a healthy 7lbs, 12oz. I forget how long she is. Long enough. She's not missing any parts as far as we can tell.

More about the birthing story later, but here's what you need to know: She went a little purple/blue as she was coming off the placenta. We put her on oxygen and she pinked right up. Took her off oxygen, back to purple. Well, it was pretty clear the she needed some help so we rushed off to the hospital and were admitted to the NICU. They did a bunch of tests and got her on oxygen. After lots of time and tests, it turns out she was born with pneumonia. I always thought Jen was cold blooded but, who knew you could catch a cold in utero?

So they started her up on antibiotics and a breathing machine to help her not have to work so hard and she settled in on her first night's sleep.

Today things continue to progress along. She's on regular air just like everybody else, no extra oxygen, and she's been stepped down to the lowest breathing supporter machine you can get. Good news for everyone. We may even try breast feeding tonight. And you can't suck a boob without having breathing figured out.

We should be here for a few more days maybe a full week and then back home with a clean bill of health and a new, more feverish obsession with her breathing. We'll trade shifts just making sure she isn't blue.

Otherwise the family is doing well!

Guest Blogger: Jen Johnson and the long walk.

Hi all, it's Jen. I've invaded Chris's blog. I get to make a guest appearance to tell you about my "long walk." The idea for the long walk started to develop in early February. I was at a retreat in the mountains with some of the college students that I teach when I got the idea of doing a 100 mile walking meditation over 5 days in preparation for parenthood. I thought this was the GREATEST idea ever!


As most of you know, I'm naturally kind of a "do-er" so I don't leave much time in my life for reflection, and reflection seems like a kind of important thing to do prior to a huge life change like having a munchkin. As I shared this idea with other folks, I was SHOCKED that they didn't think it was as awesome as I did. My well-intentioned colleagues were concerned that I'd go into labor from walking so much or get abducted (even though they think I'm borderline crazy 90% of the time, these are perhaps the most loving coworkers a person could ask for). They insisted that I take the office cell phone "just in case." I complied.


Believe it or not, the big walk evolved into something a little smaller over time (as is usually the case with "Jen Johnson 'hairbrained ideas'"), but turned out to be awesome.


So, as you can imagine, our life has been pretty busy lately. School just ended in mid-May and we are swamped with commitments until then. Meanwhile, we (and when I say "we" I really mean "I") had quite the pre-baby "to do" list. Time just kept slipping away until the Friday before Memorial Day weekend and I hadn't planned (let alone executed) the big walk. If it was going to happen, this was the weekend.


The walk ended up being a 2-day, 30 mile trek, mostly on trail. I stayed overnight at our friend Mark Benn's house (thanks Mark!), who has a stunning place with a beautiful view of Horsetooth Reservoir just west of Fort Collins. I got to walk on the Blue Sky Trail, through Horsetooth Mountain Park and Lory State Park, and then took roads and the paved Poudre Bike Trail home. I got to see some wildlife (thank goodness no rattlesnakes, though) and even slept on a few picnic tables. :)


I expected the walk to be about me getting "mentally prepared" for parenthood, but it turned out to be something completely different. Ultimately, it ended up being a really cool bonding experience between me and the little person. At one point on the trail, I ran into a heavily tattooed mountain biker who enthusiastically asked, "so, you're taking the baby for a walk???!!!" Exactly! I thought a lot about how cool it is going to be to have a munchkin in Colorado: I can't wait for the first 14er climb, camping trips as a family, and even exploring the Poudre River in our own backyard.

Despite other's hesitations (and our midwife asking us a week later, "did you consider asking me about this?"...oops...), this was was one of the best decisions that I've made in pregnancy and is something that I will remember for a very long time. I'm now even considering the name Blue (as a middle name) because we spent so much time on the Blue Sky Trail together!

The Unshower

So last weekend we finally caved and threw ourselves a shower. We got a little bit of pressure to have SOMETHING for people to show support, but we both were having nightmares of sitting in a room full of people opening cutely decorated presents filled with onesies and an electronic baby wipe warmer-upper. To avoid the nightmare scenario we tweaked the typical shower thing and funneled people's generosity and support into categories we felt reflected our values. It became know as - The Unshower!

For those of you who were there, thanks so much. It was awesome. about as perfect as we could have hoped for. For those of you who weren't there, you can still participate if you want to.

We shared a meal (courtesy of Carmen, Monica, Linder, and Dora), stories and even had a couple activities.

We set up a video booth where people could record a quick video that we will watch during early labor. Songs, jokes, stories, support, whatever. We ended up with 22 videos that we have not watched yet, but are very excited about. Feel free to submit a video if you want. Since we're at home for the birth, we'll have plenty of time at the beginning to watch the videos and feel connected and supported by all of our community!

People could also sign up for meals and dog walks (didn't feel comfortable asking people to help with cleaning and gardening, but you can offer that as well). Anyone not signed up can contact Meredith, who has graciously volunteered to coordinate people. You can email her at meredith.dickinson@colostate.edu

Finally, we are creating a "treasure chest" for the kiddo that we will give her/him on her/his 18th birthday. What we're asking people to contribute is a small token/symbol/charm/whatever and then attach a note to it with a wish or some advice for an 18 year old about to embark on a new part of their path. (Maybe a rock from your favorite hike and a note wishing the kiddo many adventures.) The treasure chest will be open for a while so there is no rush if you still want to contribute something.

Sorry not everyone could make it to the Unshower, but since there are a couple things people can still do to participate, I don't feel too bad.

(*The above photo is someone's idea of a joke. We did get our picture taken holding up a onesie, though this one is signed by all the guests and will go in the treasure chest too.)

Picasso. Monet. Johnson-Leck.

Go ahead.

Take a few moments.

Take it all in.

The beauty. The detail. The love that has been poured out in acrylic form.

If you can peel your eyes away from the photo above for a few moments, I'll tell you a little about our art project. This is from the book "On the Day You Were Born." It's a great book. A little human-centric, but it does make you feel pretty special. The text on the right hand side is talking about the various migrating animals of the world(Arctic terns, reindeer, sea turtles, etc) that are spreading the word that our child is being born. Nice of them, considering it'll take a while to get out the birth announcements. CLick on the photo and see if you can find the migrating puggle. We really like the book and the artwork that goes with it.

We painted it in one weekend (and did not argue ONCE!) doing a little freehand, but used a projector for the hard parts. Important to note that we chose not to paint it on the wall because apparently "weird parents" paint murals on kids' walls.

So the kid's room is coming along. Actually, it's the "kid's stuff's room." Tons and tons of stuff in there, but no kid. No kid for probably the next year!

The kid isn't going to be down there for a while because we plan on having the kid sleep in our bed with us. Don't worry. Calm down. Euchre will still have a spot in the bed. The candidate most likely to cough up some space is also the largest mammal in the bed. Some people may have some reservations about "co-sleeping," but it is really beneficial and safe for all parties involved. A friend of ours said "Hey, you're going to be up all night making sure the kid is still breathing so you might as well roll over rather than walk across the room." Makes sense to me.

So the beautiful piece of artwork will have to go unappreciated for a while, except by visitors. And us. And we're pretty proud.

She's gonna blow!!

*Before we begin, here's a tip for all you inexperienced people out there: On the list of Top Ten Things NOT to Say to a Pregnant Person, number four is "Oh, you're so small!" or "Oh, you're so big!" Really, "Oh you're so (anything)" is going to get you into some kind of trouble. The truth is, Jen is exactly the size she is supposed to be and the midwife thinks she's doing swimmingly.

Well, here we are finally at week 36. Can you believe it? You probably would if you lived here. And have had to (err, I mean gotten to) enjoy the wonders of pregnancy.

Actually, things continue to go amazingly well. Jen continues to feel well, sleep well, and eat well. I continue to do a lot of thumb twiddling and helping out where I can. And Euchre continues to be oblivious that ANYTHING is going on. That dog is in for a rude awakening and this is a guy who has never had a rude awakening in his life. His idea of a rude awakening is not getting fed in the first 5 minutes after he wakes up and starts whining so things could get dicey for the dog.

I'm not making any promises here, but blog posts should be coming pretty fast and furious now. With the end of the school semester, we now have some time to do some projects. Blog topics to keep an eye out for include: setting up the kid's room (isn't it a little weird that we're working so hard to set up a room that won't be used for a year?!), art projects (our friend linder said that she always thought parents who painted murals were weird... um... well, no surprises here), and the completion of the diapers (how a small craft project turned into the equivalent of building the transcontinental railroad (though many fewer indigenous people were killed sewing these diapers)).

Birthing Class Cont. or How Crossing Your Legs Will Damage Your Kid's Brain

As much as I'd like to really roast our birthing classes, 75% of it is actually really useful. Don't get me wrong, there is plenty of crazy stuff going on in these classes, but it does touch on some things we need to discuss, but haven't yet. We've read some books and have a great midwifery team so we know a bunch that we don't need covered in an 8, 10, or 12 week class. It might sound weird, but we really benefit from the art therapy part. It just has to be packaged in absolute craziness.

As you may remember from our previous entry, Heather, our instructor, loves to talk about "Lucy" the chimp and how she gives birth in the wild. So Heather grabs her little "Lucy" statue, a chimpanzee holding a baby chimpanzee, and bounces it around in the air saying "Now what if Lucy leaves her cave (closed on one end) and goes out looking for some food?" Heather reaches behind her and grabs a tiger statue and viciously attacks Lucy. "She comes upon a tiger!!!" OH NO! "Now if Lucy tries to walk away from the tiger, what will the tiger do?"

(Absolutely silence, confusion, and some expressions of panic at how viciously the tiger just attacked Lucy.)

"That's right. The tiger will follow her. You have to work through your fears or they will follow you."

Okay, now I get it. The tiger represents your fears. Why couldn't we just say that from the beginning? Why the production?

Now it's art therapy time. We make a list of all the fears we can think of and write it on the side of the paper. We've got everything from death to grandparents showing up unannounced. We've probably got a list together of about 20 fears. Then you have to pick one of your fears and draw what it would look like if you gave in and were absolutely overcome by the fear. I picked Jen being in a ton of horrible pain and me standing by uselessly. A medium to medium-high level of fear. I don't have permission to share Jen's fear with the world, but its about equal in severity. Then on the other side of the paper you have to draw what it would look like if you worked through and over came the fear. What would success look like?

In all honesty, this was some helpful stuff!

Who the hell wants to talk about their fears? This started a great conversation between us and I have to say, just as it was uncomfortable (the non-manly word would be scary) to draw you losing to your fear, it felt pretty good to draw me being successful and getting through the fear.

See what I mean? 75% is actually some helpful, cool stuff. The other 25% is re-enacting a battle between a chimp and a tiger using figurines and scolding people for how they are sitting.

Apparently "scientists" have linked ADD to mothers crossing their legs when pregnant. All you people with ADD can now glare at your mothers. After spending some time talking about posture, and this really is my favorite quote of the night, we talked about the benefits of being up and around a doing a lot of walking.

"I mean, in Europe they don't have cars. They walk everywhere they go. They walk to the store, they walk to work, they walk all the time."

They must have really low rates of ADD in Europe.

Birthing Class or How to Find Your Birthing Tiger

When selecting a birthing class there are many strategies. Some people may look for a class that was recommended by a friend. Some people might look at the method being taught. Bradley? Lamaze? Hypnosis? Still others may interview the instructors to find someone they feel is knowledgeable and supportive.

That's just not how Jen and Chris roll. We decided we wanted the craziest, hippiest birthing class that would lend itself more to good stories than good information. (Wait till we have to start real parenting.) So we found Heather. And the Birthing From Within method.

Our first class was Thursday and it did not disappoint. Not only do we talk through nutrition and coping with pain, we also get to do art therapy.

Art project #1: What comes to mind when you think of labor pain? The picture of me above is my artistic representation of ripping flesh. Note the lightning bolts shooting out to signify that I bet it hurts like a mug!

Art project number #2: What does true "openness" look like to you? The picture above of Jen is her artistic representation of being really, REALLY open. Around the outside of her picture, we also had to write some things that we thought would be really supportive to have during labor. I thought of a "Do Not Disturb Sign," Jen thought of "Blasting Booty Rap Music." Both sound helpful.

We also talked about how chimps in the wild have babies.

Teacher: What does a mama chimp need in order to have a baby?
Class: A safe place?
Teacher: You mean a cave?
Class: Uh... sure.
Teacher: Good, a cave. Good answer. And is this cave open on both ends so the wind can go HOWLING though?
Class: Uh... no?
Teacher: Good. No. It needs to be a warm place too. What else does a chimp need?
Class: A partner?
Teacher: Actually no. The mama chimp goes off on her own to have the baby.
Chris: So, it's unnatural for me to be at the birth? Sweet, I'm going golfing.
Teacher: No, Chris. This is the part where we stop being chimps.

So we used the chimp model for a little while until it stopped being convenient. No golf for me.

Finally, we had to practice dealing with pain. Each couple gets an ice bucket and you have to squeeze ice cubes in your hand for a minute each time to symbolize a contraction. You're welcome to try this at home, but I have heard from people who have had real labor pains that this is a pretty sad recreation of the kind of pain (remember, ripping flesh here) you actually go through when passing a football through your crotch.

It was helpful to get a sense of how you respond to pain. For instance, I learned that when I'm experiencing pain (ice-cube-in-your-hand pain, not football-through-your-crotch pain) that I start laughing. Actually giggling. And I have a hard time controlling it. It really is pretty funny.
Not sure how the teacher took it though. Apparently chimps don't laugh in the wild either.

Diapers, Diapers, Diapers!!

We went to a Diapering workshop this week. That's right, a diapering workshop. (Hey, this stuff is complicated and if there is one thing that we know about Jen, it's that she LOVES information. That is what is soothing for her. So at this point we'd go to a workshop on "Your Child's Nails and You," "Coochie-Coo: The Pros and Cons of Tickling Your Child," "How to Wipe Your Kid's Ass" (front to back if it's a girl), if they had them.)

Who would have thought there'd be so much to learn during a diapering workshop? Actually we have decided that we will be using cloth diapers so we went in with lots of questions. (I know, I know. Disposables are so much more convenient, right? The difference in resources used in cloth diapers vs. disposable diapers is practically negligible, right? Well... at least water is a renewable resource. And, cloth diapers have the potential for waaaaay more stories which benefits you, the blog viewing public.) So there are pocket diapers, pre-folds and all-in-ones. Plenty to learn there. We even got to practice changing a few stuffed animals.

Another disadvantage of disposable diapers is that you can't make them yourself. You heard me right. Jen has decided that she is going to make some of our kid's diapers. I don't know about you, but I'm impressed. She's set her sights on making 11 diapers. Not nearly enough in the long run, but a great first shot. There's not going to be anything better than wrapping a tiny tushie in a homemade diaper, made of material that we have picked out ourselves, sewn by Jen's own hands, as it leaks all over everything. You'll really get to admire the crafts-personship as pee pee and poopie seep out on to your hands, shirt, and pants.

Welcome to Week 26!!

Wow. Week 26 already!

Time has really flown by. I think that's mostly because Jen has felt so good throughout this whole ordeal. (Apologies to people who have had hard pregnancies.) There has still been no vomiting, heartburn, headaches, or pain. I can't say that Jen has been chipper, but she definitely feels very lucky.

These days we have been talking a lot about some ceremonies that we may want to do. We're not into showers (shocking, I know), but we are interested in what showers used to mean before being overtaken by gifts and eating melted candy bars out of diapers. We're really interested in creating a space that is honoring of the parents and what we have gone/are going through as well as getting that strong sense of community support. We're not really sure what that is going to look like quite yet and unfortunately many of the people who would want to participate won't get that opportunity. So far we have thought of:

having everyone bring a charm to put on a bracelet that Jen (and I) can wear during labor,

having a video booth that people can record jokes, stories and encouragement that we can view during labor,

and for people who have to bring a gift, we could collect the gifts and then donate them to a local shelter for struggling parents to give to their children.

We also may be decorating a "belly cast," reading poems/blessings, and some other crazy hippie stuff.

We're open to other ideas as well. Does anyone have any suggestions?

(We also want to do a "Welcome to the planet" ceremony after the kiddo is born, but the planning for that will come AB (after birth).)

The heartbeat...

That's right folks.

We have a heartbeat! Jen has NOT been lying this whole time just to score some extra sympathy and donuts.

So we had a visit with the midwife. Actually the midwife's apprentice and a replacement midwife. Our head midwife was having back surgery. Don't worry though. The apprentice and the sub were equally new-agey and hippy-ish.

So they whip out the fetus-scope which basically looks like a stethoscope for the hard of hearing.

The apprentice goes first, "Ooooh, I can hear a hearbeat!"

The sub goes next, "Ooooh, I can hear a heartbeat!"

Jen's turn, "Ooooh, I hear it too!"

Chris's turn, "Ooooh, ..."

"What am I supposed to hear again?"

To get a good sense of what I'm hearing, go grab a seashell, put it up to you ear, then grab a cell phone and have someone riding in a car on the other end. Now have someone across the room think a tapping sound in their head and see if you can hear what that other person is thinking.

So here I am with a mega-stethoscope in my ears and the other end which looks like a hubcap sitting on Jen's belly. Three pairs of expectant (female) eyes are staring at me waiting for my face to light up and the tears to start flowing. And all I can hear is the sound of one midwife saying to the other midwife after we leave "Well, that guy was a tool. What crappy father he's going to be. How is he going to hear his kid crying out for love when he couldn't even hear something so obvious as the heartbeat?!!"

So what do I say?

"Ooooh, I think I hear it!!"

"Wow, what an incredible experience. What an amazing day."

...

So I lied about hearing the heartbeat. Does that make me a bad father? I'll probably hear it someday right? When the kid is twelve I'll get a glass from the kitchen and put it on his/her chest. "There it is. What do you know. A heartbeat."

Where have we been?

Good question. I'm glad you asked. Well, we don't have a whole lot to report these days. Jen is busy brewin' up a mini-human, but all of her efforts are pretty much behind-the-scenes.

We actually planned a couple trips this spring so we could get some wild oats sewn before we go on lockdown. I think that's really the thing we have been struggling with these days. We both share some concerns about being parents. Jen's concerns are about losing her own personal identity. This has been an ongoing issue for her. At first she was worried about just being a "womb" for people. That she would stop being anything else in other people's eyes. That's true when she becomes a parent as well. She's afraid that everything that makes her who she is will be affected and I think that's really hard. "I used to be a runner." I used to go to film festivals." "I used to make homemade dog biscuits." If those things don't disappear entirely, they'll at least be altered.

So sayeth the universe, "Say goodbye to the person you were and get ready to be the person you will be, even though you have no idea what that is. Trust me."

For me, I feel like as soon as the kid is born, I'll become my kid's employee. I work, clean, save money, think, read, travel exclusively for the benefit of the kid. We'll stop saving money in our retirement in order to have a college fund. I'll go to work so that my kid can go to a good daycare or be able to have a pass to the science museum. Does that happen? Do you get swallowed by the role you now have as a parent? When Jen and I became a couple, we retained pieces of ourselves even as we joined to form something new. Can you still do that when someone's survival, education, well being, and development are exclusively in your hands?

When the kid is born, it won't be the only birth. Jen gets born into motherhood and I'll be born as a father. So really we're in utero as parents right now. We'll figure it out on the birthday, but until then I think we're all in development. The little person is growing eyelashes, and we're growing a new sense of self and place.

We're trying to move through this phase right now, but we're still a little stuck. It seems (I say "seems" because who the hell really knows) like we know what we're giving up and losing, but we don't know what we're getting in return. Not that it won't be worth it. Of course it'll be worth it... Right? Of course it'll be worth it, but it's really the complete lack of knowledge about what things are going to look like that is really scary. And it's hard not to dwell a little, grieve a little, on the things that we know we are trading in because that's all our brains know. The same thing happened when we bought a house or got a dog. There was some nervousness because we knew what we were giving up (freedom, money, etc). Both of those things have worked out perfectly (as I'm sure the next big thing will as well) and we wouldn't trade either for the world. In my heart, I know we're doing the right thing, but my brain is having a hard time conceptualizing what this will even look like.

It's a real test to trust in the process. The harder you fight, the more likely it is that it'll suck. Release control and have faith and we'll end up in the perfect spot. Exactly where we're supposed to be.

Great advice. Damn it's hard though.

Week 16

Welcome to week 16 everyone!

Take a look at the picture. You may have to take a close look, but there is a belly getting started there. Just don't make any comments about size or shape. Apparently, pregnant people think that's a sensitive issue. If you don't think so, just ask the bruises on my arm.

Crankiness has been a new issue for us these days. I guess one of the worst things you can do is make bread that's too dense. We had a real meltdown here about the bread and almost saw some serious casualties. Remember, pregnant people like their bread just so, and if you tweak the recipe, you are only inviting doom upon your head.

We went to Baby 101 class on Saturday. Basically it was "How not to kill your infant" class. It really started to make it real for us because there were some VERY pregnant people. We had to line up according to due date. We were very, very last, but hey, Jen likes her information and she likes it early. One couple looked like they were ready to pop right there.

We practiced changed diapers ("be careful, dads will put these on backwards"), burping ("be careful, dads will use a flat hand and hit too hard"), and engaging the baby ("be careful, dads will rough house too much").

We left thinking, "be careful, dads are idiots."

We also had to go around the room and say one thing you could do to stop a crying baby other than shake it to death. I suggested Mountain Dew and a Nintendo Wii.

Everything else is progressing fairly smoothly for now!

Old, but cute picture

Happy New Year everyone! And to celebrate the holiday, let's post a picture from an old holiday.

This has taken me a while to post this. We knew the week before Halloween that we had finally followed through on what we have been practicing for all these years (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). We carved this pumpkin and suprised 2 of our friends with it (we had to tell someone).

Again, for those of you just finding out, don't feel bad that we didn't say anything before now.