Kylie's Birthday Party

Yesterday we celebrated Kylie's 2nd birthday with a fun Abby Cadabby and Elmo themed party. It was a slightly hot day but at least most of the kids stayed cool playing in the kiddie pools, running through the sprinkler, and jumping in the bouncy castle. Here are some pictures from the day:

Kyra was such a good helper getting ready for the party.

Kylie decided "Baa" needed to join her for a swim.

Kylie wondered if cousin Emeline would jump with her

Kylie tried twice to sneak inside and open her presents.

Birthday hugs from Kyra.

Yes, I made the cake. It only took 5 hours.

Seeing Kylie shove it down made it all worthwhile.

Kylie wearing her Abby headband.

Kylie's Birth Story

Since I only started blogging a little over a year and a half ago, I don't have a written account of Kylie's birth story. I decided I'd like to have it written down before the details get fuzzy and so that I have something to refer back to when she's older and wants to know how it all happened.


Two years ago today I woke up, dropped Kyra off at Pop Pop and Mom Mom's house and went to my OB/GYN's office. They told me I was really close to having my baby girl. In fact her exact words were, "If I broke your water right now, you'd have this baby today." And I remember thinking, "Well, okay then, break my water!" But she didn't. And I felt kinda sad.

July 15th was my due date and as Jim was getting ready for work that morning we talked as if I were going to have a c-section that day because we spoke as if we were absolutely certain we'd meet our baby later in the day. I called him after my appointment and told him I'd keep him posted if anything happened. I then went to my in-laws to pick up Kyra and as I sat on their patio, I could feel mild contractions every so often. I ignored them and took Kyra home so I could finish painting the mural in her "big girl" room.

As Kyra took her nap, I hauled my 9 month pregnant belly up a ladder in an attempt to add the final butterflies to the mural. After an hour I found myself hunched over on the ladder, breathing through an intense contraction and I remember thinking, "Okay, Keshet, you have to stop painting now." I put away my paint brushes and laid down on the couch. The contractions didn't ease up, so I called Jim at work and told him we would need to be heading to the hospital soon.

He came home and immediately began his husbandly duties of timing my contractions as I tried to get last minute things together for our stay at the hospital and for my sister to take care of Kyra. After a while he informed me that my contractions were actually coming much closer together (every 3-5 minutes) than I had assumed they were, so we took off for the hospital.

He dropped me off at the door and I sat in the lobby as I waited for him to park the car and join me. As we walked together toward the maternity ward, we ran into someone who knew Jim. She began chatting us up and I did my best to seem pleasant despite the intense pain shooting through my abdomen. I remember thinking, "Hello people! I'm sort of in labor here!"

Finally we made it to the desk in the maternity ward and I signed in. The ladies at the desk sent me to triage and assumed I wouldn't be admitted as they had a hard time believing I was actually in labor. After about an hour in triage, the L & D nurse admitted me and escorted me to my room...right past the ladies at the front desk. They all stared as I walked past and finally one of them caught up to us to ask what time I had come in. They failed to fill out their records as they assumed I wouldn't be staying. (You know what happens when you assume.)

My OB came to the room to check on me and then decided she'd just hang out with us because she figured it wouldn't be too long before I was ready to push. Around an hour later she checked me and said matter of factly, "You're a ten. Let's get ready to push." When my L&D nurse wheeled in the delivery cart she told me that the ladies at the desk asked her, "Is that for the lady that just came in 3 hours ago?!" She said she grinned as she told them that it was.

Everyone got prepped quickly and now the time had come for me to push. It felt so casual in the room. We were having pleasant conversation between pushes. Nothing about the scene made me feel like I wasdelivering a baby. But after only ten minutes of pushing, she was here. The L&D nurse said she looked like she would be a red head. I was baffled at how she could tell through all the "gunk" covering her, but I completely hoped she was right.

I was so happy to hold her, my little Kylie Joy. I loved her so much from that very first moment. I remember wondering what she would be like. How she'd differ from her sister, how she'd be the same. There is something about holding your child for the first time and knowing that their entire life is yet to be written and it is full of amazing possibilities.

As I reflect on that incredible day two years ago, I realize again that I could not have asked for a better experience. The whole day, the entire extent of labor, the delivery process... it all went so smoothly. If I could perfectly design my future birthing experiences, this is how I would want them all to be.

Happy 2nd Birthday Kylie!

Today is a celebration of you, Kylie Joy.

You are my super bouncy, fun loving little girl. You jump everywhere, on everything, and off everything.

You LOVE your Baa, especially rubbing her fraying tail on your nose.

You hum/sing (because you don't know all the words yet) Jesus Loves Me, the ABC's, and the theme to Elmo's World.

You drag me by the hand, skirt, shirt, whatever you can get ahold of to show me what you want or where you want me to go.

You love to climb. Most likely so you can jump off whatever it is you're climbing.

You want to keep up with your big sister and get frustrated when you can't do all the things she can. Like climb the rock wall at the park or go in the Toddler class at church.

You give the sweetest kisses and you're very generous in giving them.

You have the cutest little sing-song voice. Daddy and I especially love hearing you say "I don't know" and we often ask you questions we know you can't answer just to hear you say it.

You are fearless. You jump in the pool, even if no one is there to catch you. You love to dive and tumble and get tossed around. I pray your guardian angel has reinforcements!

You love Elmo, Abby Cadabby, Mickey (and friends), Pooh, Bob and Larry, and many more fictional characters. You can spot them from a mile away.

You are talking SO GOOD. You even say full sentences sometimes and blow me away.

You get really excited and love to point out things you recognize like balloons or the moon.

You always stop to smell the flowers. Even if its just a picture.

You are unique, precious, fun, energetic, and exactly who God created you to be. But most of all you are LOVED!

Things That Make Me Say, "Ew"

I'm a mom.

I clean snotty noses, change diaper blowouts, and handle getting puked on with poise. I kill spiders that sneak into my house, remove dried worms that have baked on the driveway, and dispose of flies that have fallen victim to the cunning stalking skills of my Schnoodle. The sight of blood doesn't make me queasy. My stomach stays perfectly fine when I see food dried on the faces of my children. I've scrubbed poop out of underwear and off bedroom walls with no more than a scrunched nose. But ask me to stick my nose in a milk carton after it's turned and you're guaranteed to see me gag.

There aren't a lot of things that truly gross me out, but milk, and some milk products, is definitely one of them. If the gallon in the fridge is approaching its expiration date, I make my husband smell it first. If the kids sippy cups of milk end up sitting on the table for an hour after lunch, I have to dump them out just because the thought of them possibly having gone bad gives me the chills.

I recently discovered one of the kid's milk cups had been left in our (hot-ish) van overnight. I brought it inside and opened it in the sink to clean it. As soon as I saw the warm curdled milk stuck to the edges of the cup I began to gag. I did my best to clean it whilst holding my breath and trying to avoid actually looking at it, but despite my best efforts, I continued to gag as I cleaned it out. Even after washing it by hand AND running it through the dishwasher, I still felt like I could smell the spoiled milk in the cup.

Other milk products that turn my stomach if they go bad or even get too close to their expiration date include sour cream, yogurt, ricotta cheese, and cottage cheese.

Next on my list would have to be eggs. Not all eggs, just ones that aren't cooked properly. If I were to order eggs "over easy" at a restaurant and they were still raw around the yolk, I'd definitely gag. Which causes a dilemma for me every time I order breakfast out. I'd like to order my eggs scrambled when I'm dining out because there is less chance of undercooking them, however, a lot of places make their scrambled eggs from a powdered box mix these days, which I also don't prefer. Hence the dilemma.

Also, two nights ago my husband was making fried eggs for sandwiches and one of the eggs he opened had blood in it. I was semi-freaking out as I asked him to dump it out and start over. Blood in an egg just can't be good, right?

Finally, the last major item on my list is closely related to the egg. In fact it's raw chicken. I love eating cooked chicken. And I cook chicken a lot, but handling it when raw really messes with my head. I get so grossed out at the thought of the possibility of salmonella bacteria infecting my kitchen as I prepare the meat. I wash my hands at LEAST a dozen times during the process and in the winter all it takes is one night of making a chicken dish to completely dry my hands out to the point of cracking. I have lysol or clorox wipes conveniently under my sink and whip them out to wipe down every vertical surface and my sink after the food prep is done. I even change out my kitchen hand towels afterwards too, just in case I hadn't killed all the bacteria when I washed my hands and it got onto the towels when I dried them. Crazy, I know, but it just grosses me out that much!

Years ago, I was having lunch at a restaurant where I had ordered a chicken sandwich. When I bit into the sandwich, the inside of the chicken was STILL RAW. That experience made me so crazy I didn't eat at that restaurant (including any of it's other chain locations) for about 5 years.

So if you ever invite me over for dinner, you can serve me your great grandmother's spinach casserole and I'll be fine, but add a a glass of warm milk or undercooked chicken on the side and be prepared for the repercussions!