welcome baby Kieran!

Kieran Peterson, born at 10:13pm on January 3, 2012 at The Birth Center.

9 lbs. exactly, 21 1/2 inches long.

Born 13 minutes after arriving at TBC, after 1 hr. 45 min. of active labor. (It's a fun story; I'll tell it to you sometime.)

Loves nursing, snuggling with his daddy, and being swaddled.

yes and no

Yes, I'm still here. Yes, a belly shot post is in the works. No, I didn't forget. I misplaced my camera and just got it back on Christmas Eve, by which point I was (am) huge enough that the idea of posing in front of a mirror is, quite frankly, intimidating. Even as a skinny girl, I have body issues like the rest of us.

So, while I work up my courage, here's a Christmas Eve picture to tide you over. Lyndon, in his Christmas jammies, showing off his "camera smile". Yes, when you ask him to smile for a picture, this is what you get:

Merry Christmas everyone! Hope yours was wonderful!

thankful

This post is in no way affiliated with Thanksgiving. I've just been feeling particularly thankful today, which is a big deal for a pessimist like me, so I thought I would share (and record for posterity).

Today, I am thankful for . . .

• a hot water heater capable of providing two hot showers at the same time
• new tires on my car (finally the steering wheel doesn't pull to the left!)
• The Birth Center: the care, the warmth, the attitude
• my favorite midwife, and having my appointment scheduled with her on the day I started freaking out about going through labor again
• a fan.tas.tic son, who played happily during my appointment, charmed everyone he met, and didn't fuss once, even when mommy had to get an internal exam (that's huge progress)
• a perfectly-sized, head-down little boy #2
• Costco. a full fridge and pantry for $85? Lunch and a drink for $1.50? Yes, please.
• church family showing up at Costco just when I was wondering if my lightheaded self could push that giant cart one. more. step (nevermind how in the world a 42 lb. bag of cat litter was going to get into my car)
• $5 rotisserie chickens. dinner? done.
• my birthday tomorrow, my first full day "off" (except for sickness) since becoming a mom-- oh, and a pedicure (thanks mom and dad!)

I started the day just being thankful for a hot shower (I don't know about you, but at the end of my pregnancies, showers start to feel amazing), and things just kind of snowballed. Was it one of those days when everything goes right? Or did it just feel that way because I was looking for things to be thankful for? I don't know, and I'm not sure I care. It's been a lovely day, no matter what the reason.

What are you thankful for?

32 week belly shot: like puberty, but faster

My apologies for the prolonged silence; the stuff of life has gotten in the way of blogging (Thanksgiving, pregnancy, motherhood, stuff like that). But now I'm back! And what a post to be back with. Having reached 34 weeks of pregnancy this past weekend, I thought it was high time I posted my 32 week pictures. These were actually taken on week 32. (You'll see the difference in two weeks when I post the next set. Oy.)

I got to a point in my pregnancy with Lyndon where nothing fit. I'm not talking about that sweet 20ish week moment when you realize that you need a pair of maternity pants for the first time. No, I'm talking about somewhere in the mid 30s, when you put on a maternity standby you've been wearing for weeks and it suddenly doesn't work.

It reminds me a little of puberty, only faster. I remember, starting around age 12, going to my closet every 6 months or so and discovering that some things just didn't . . . work. It wasn't that I'd grown out of them, necessarily, at least not everywhere. It was just that they fit . . . differently. And not a good different. This stage of pregnancy is like that. The only difference is that instead of happening every few months, this happens every few weeks. So, I find myself employing the teenager method of dressing, you know, the one where you try and discard 5 outfits before you can leave the house in the morning.

Other than that, though, this third trimester is going wonderfully. I don't have aches or pains. I don't even have heartburn. I've only really had 2 leg cramps and can still breathe well enough to sing. If it wasn't for the extra 28ish pounds I'm carrying around, I wouldn't know I was pregnant at all. (If you're tempted to hate me for this, go back and read about my 29+ hour labor with Lyndon. I had a fantastic pregnancy with him too.)

Well, little one, it won't be long now! I can't wait to meet you!

gratuitous pics of a snuggle bug

"Lyndon, who do you love?"

"Dada."

"Anybody else?"

"Mmama."

Sometimes you teach your children, and sometimes . . .

At 21 months, Lyndon's training has officially begun.

Well, it actually begun the moment we brought him home from the hospital (training him to sleep in a crib, then to sit in a high chair, then to stay away from the stairs, and so on), but I'm talking about hardcore, Biblical, let's-memorize-some-verses training. Maybe we should call it discipleship?

Anyway, in the last few weeks, Adrian and I have noticed that our son complains. A lot. Now, he only has a few dozen words, so it's not the kind of verbal complaining older kids do, but it is complaining nonetheless. If you have or have had toddlers, you probably know what I'm talking about. They make this sound that's not quite a cry, but definitely not a happy noise-- some people call it fussing; personally, it reminds me of a police siren-- and they do it when something is happening that they don't like but know they can't change.

Moms, do you hear it yet?

Well, we decided to call it what it is. And we decided that our child is old enough to start recognizing it for what it is. So when I was, say, putting his jacket on, and he started making this noise, I began to say to him, "Lyndon, you are complaining." And then I would tell him what God says about complaining, which is pretty straightforward and comprehensive:

"Do everything without complaining or arguing."
-- Philippians 2:14 (ERV)

Doesn't leave much wiggle room, does it? It's exactly the kind of verse an almost 2 year-old needs: short, sweet, and to the point, with no loopholes. Within a few days of this, our little guy started to recognize this behavior, to the point where I can now ask him, "Lyndon, are you complaining?" and he will either nod his head, pout for a moment as if he just got caught, and stop, or shake his head no and stop. Either way, he has both connected the behavior to the word and realized that it's wrong.

And as I patted myself on the back for being such a good parent, I realized something . . .

I complain. A lot.

Lyndon and I were on our way to the grocery store last night, to try and throw together something for dinner-- after my husband came home and declared that he had a migraine and had to lie down upstairs, and no, we would not be going to (and eating at) Costco like we had planned, but he was really hungry and pizza sounded good-- and I did not have a good attitude. In fact, if you could have heard my heart, it would have been making that toddler police car noise I love so much. I grumbled and fussed in my grown-up way, and then it hit me: I was doing exactly what Lyndon had been doing. I was complaining.

And if I hadn't been training my son, I never would have realized it.

I repented to God and to the little guy in the backseat and decided to be grateful for the opportunity to serve my sick hubby the way he has served me so many times (early pregnancy comes to mind).

Sometimes you teach your children, and sometimes they teach you.

making chicken stock= life-changing

Ok, maybe not life-changing, but certainly attitude-changing.

A few weeks ago, I made chicken stock for the first time, using pretty much only ingredients that I would have otherwise thrown away.

I think I threw in a chicken carcass, some carrot peelings, a couple ribs of celery that were past their prime, and half an onion that I had cut up a while ago. I looked up a recipe for a "Bouquet Garni" from The Joy of Cooking and threw in whatever herbs I had that matched (probably parsley, thyme and some peppercorns, since that's what's usually in the house).

I simmered it for 3 or 4 hours, strained it through my colander, then through an actual strainer.

And it looked like this:

I did manage to strain some more of the herbs out of it after I took that picture, but it was amazing even with those little pieces in there. And this time around, I tied all the herbs together in a square of cheesecloth, and it wasn't a problem. I froze it in ice cube trays and used it anytime a recipe called for chicken broth or stock. Delicious. And nearly free. And way easier than I originally thought. You really can't mess this stuff up.

I made another pot yesterday, and I still can't get over how I was paying $1/can for this stuff, on sale! And I can pronounce all the ingredients in the homemade version, which, by the way, is way lower in sodium. Oh, and I've used one of those rotisserie chickens from the grocery store to make this, with equal success, so you don't have to cook whole chickens to do it.

This is the closest I could get to an actual recipe. Seriously. Don't feel any need to follow this to the letter.

Basic Chicken Stock
1) Place chicken carcass in large, deep pot. If you remove as much skin as possible, you won't have to skim as much fat off later.
2) Add cold water to cover.
3) Bring to a boil. If any fat or scum rises to the top and you feel like it, skim it off. Sometimes I do; sometimes I forget.
4) Reduce heat and add quartered onion, chopped celery and carrots, about [1 t. each dried parsley and thyme, 3-4 peppercorns, 1 bay leaf and 1 clove garlic]. Tie bracketed ingredients together in 1 small square cheesecloth or a coffee filter for easy removal.
5) Simmer for 3-4 hours. (Joy of Cooking says to simmer uncovered, but I usually partially cover it.)
6) Strain. How fine your strainer is will determine how clear and "pure" your broth is. Since we use it mostly in recipes and don't eat it as soup, I just strain it through a regular colander (which removes the chicken pieces and veggies).
7) Skim the fat off the top before using. (This is easier to do once the stock has been refrigerated, as the fat rises to the top and solidifies. It will even stick to your spoon if you use a metal one.)

Waste not, right?