Girlie

I was thinking last night about Girlie's birth. It was a traumatic experience for me- I don't know how Girlie took it, I can't remember. After being induced I had a short-ish labor (5 hours), no drugs except that sleeping pill which the nurse promised me would let me sleep during the early stages of labor (not really) and ended up in the OR after delivery. I'm guessing the hospital birth was a better plan than the birthing center with the midwives.

One of my favorite pics of Hubby and Girlie. Both taking a nap. I'm guessing the birth was traumatic for them too.

If you look close you can see Girlie smiling. Sorry for the quality of the pics. I had a terrible room for recovery.

Girlie is now 6 years old and I am amazed at how she has grown and changed. She is a sweet, loving, funny, opinionated, dramatic, "balls to the walls" kinda girl.

As we are getting ready for a test at the hospital next week, that will require Girlie to be sedated, if you have a moment please send some good wishes her way, and for Hubby and I too, as we are all a bit concerned over the procedure. Even though we have been assured that it is "routine" and "nothing to get excited about" she is our baby and the thought of what is to happen is scary.

Do you remember the day?

For every generation there is an iconic day. For my husband it is the day of the moon walk. He remembers watching it in his house in Cuba as a 4 year old. I can see him sitting watching on that old TV looking very much the way Boyo looks but probably with a better tan.



But for me, my iconic day is Sept. 11, 2001. And like everyone else today I think back to where I was when I heard. I was 8 months pregnant working at Catholic University in Washington DC. Hubby was home on sabbatical watching the talking heads on CNN. He called me at work and told me about the first plane. Honestly my first thought was "What a terrible accident, I wonder what was wrong with the plane?" Followed by a brief prayer to protect the people and that there wasn't a child care center in the building. When hubby called back a little while later, he said there was a second accident, and still confused (like many women with a baby in their belly- my mind worked oddly) I thought, "Guess that pilot shouldn't have been rubber-necking the other crash." Then hubby said it was terrorism and he was coming to get me.



By the time the towers fell and cell service was cut, the University gathered in the main hall with the priests and there was a prayer service going on. All of the staff and I were in the balcony watching and praying when a call came into the receptionist desk. It was hubby and he was downstairs.



It is a terrible feeling seeing the destruction of hate while holding a new life in your belly. On one hand there is terror but the other hand is hope. Can I protect this baby? What will his life be like? Will he grow to be an adult or will hate cut him down like so many others? Or will my child make the difference? Will he find a way to solve these problems? Will he grow up as a protector to the people he loves?



Two years later when September 11th rolled around again, I again held a new life, this time a 7 day old baby girl but my feelings were different. There was still the terror, but it was a more common new baby terror. But with the strides our country had made in only 2 years I was hopeful. I knew my daughter would have a good chance, I prayed that neither of my children would ever be touched by hate. And as a sat feeding Girlie, I remember marvelling at the loss so many had felt and the pride at what had been accomplished since then.



Now 8 years later, I still pray for those families. That they have found peace, that all the mothers who had newborns or were pregnant with their husbands in the towers have found a way to survive and to thrive. But most of all, I pray that something like this never happens again.

Home from Sapphire Joust

First a thought about today- As the Baroness of Care Bear (not the real name but funnier) mentioned yesterday. As a Medieval recreation society, we play at war. But there are those who are fighting the good fight and serving far from home and loved ones. Let's give them a moment in prayer or good intentions or thought that they may be safe and protected. May they come home whole and hale. May they be forever remembered if they do not.

Now to the playing at war...

We were at Sapphire Joust this weekend to some fighting, camping and general good times. This was the first camping trip for both kids that wasn't Pennsic and they both loved it!!!!!

Boyo authorized and fought in his first tournament. He is in Red.

He fought double sword the entire tournament and did exceptionally well with them.

And he won the division!!

Boyo with his prize, a treasure box full of chocolate. There was a bit of a mix up at the first court but it was all straightened out and Boyo had a large cheering section with Heads and Anglesey there to support him. The populous made funny comments when he walked down to the Baron and Baroness. Silly things like "Awww, he's so little" "look how cute he is!"

Then when Boyo took a knee in front of the Excellencies (he all but disappeared from sight given his size, hopefully Ursas got a picture of that) There were more Awws.

It was a wonderful presentation for Boyo and he was so proud!!

Some of the mix up was because Boyo wasn't identified as Hubby's son. All the paper work on him was under my name so Boyo is trying to decide on a medieval name.

His choices...

A. Boyo of Headclan

B. Boyo Borsson

C. Boyo the conqueror.

Personally I am voting for A or B as Girlie could be Girlie of Headclan or Girlie Borsdotter.

Log your vote and I'll try and convince the boy.

Another tooth

Boyo lost another tooth.


This makes 6 teeth gone from his darling little head. And Girlie has a loose one too. When did my babies decide to grow up?

Boyo lost his bottom two teeth at 5. It was almost exactly a year (to the week) before his lost the top ones. We are still waiting for one of those to grow all the way in.

By the way, the newest one lost is the hole on the bottom.

Boyo is already talking about how he is saving his $1 that he will get from the Tooth Fairy. (Boyo likes to save money. Girlie likes to spend it. Oh well.)

When we had our first Tooth Fairy visit, Hubby and I talked about what the going rate on teeth was and we each had different stories on what we got. I remember one year I got a new book, and for the teeth I had pulled, I got $5. Hubby was lucky to get quarters.

How much did you get from the tooth fairy?

Remembering Big Al

I was thinking about my grandfather today. He passed away last year.

When my sister and I were born, I guess he didn't want to be called Grandpa, or pop-pop, or any of those sorts of names so we called him Big Al. At over 6" tall in his prime, it sorta fit.

Anyway as I was saying, I was thinking about Big Al today as Boyo was trying to convince me that at 7, he is old enough to make a bow and arrow and all he needed was flint.

Do we have any flint Mama? Oh it's a rock, do you think there is any out in the yard?

I'll put a coat on (cough, cough, wheeze)

I said no. He went off to another project from the Dangerous book for Boys So far in the past 40 minutes, aside from the previous conversation, he has made a paper water balloon and was banging out Morse code on the floor to see if I understood him (nope).

So how did all this make me think of Big Al you might ask? Well, Big Al was an impressive man and while he had his faults (seriously old school thinking, caveman mentality on some topics). He was always up for trying new things.

At 70 years old he went on a canoe trip with my family and instead of coasting along and relaxing (like the rest of us), he paddled the entire time and made it to camp 2 hours earlier. A few years before he died, he bought a new computer. In his effort to learn how to work it (as it was different than the one he had previously) he reformatted the hard drive at least 2 times that I know about. Big Al was all about learning. When he heard that it was important to continue learning and taking classes as one gets older, he took it to heart, by taking celestial navigation at least 3 times before he passed. He never gave up.

Big Al was the product of a mother from Denmark and a father from Sweden. Both fresh off the boat. While he didn't teach us much about Sweden or Scandinavia in general, the genes were there. It wasn't until I met a boy from Sweden in high school that I learned that the "humpf" of Big Al's was a Swedish thing. Then hearing my baby boy do it at a year old, and knowing he hadn't heard it from Big Al, I knew it was carried on the genes.

I know Big Al didn't have much use for us girls, but he was happy to see Boyo. I wish he could have lived long enough to see Boyo now that he is "interesting." (Big Al would have let Boyo outside to try and find flint even though it is snowing and the ground is frozen. That was how he rolled.)