The Great Trip to Oregon, Part 3: All's Fair

On our way back from central Oregon, we stopped at the Oregon State Fair.
I swear I've told Erin about this fair that I visited almost annually, throughout my childhood. I think she's under the impression I've been holding out on her, but I swear! I haven't! This year the stars aligned and all fifty of us made it to the Oregon State Fair and, well I think it's fair (HA!) to say that a great time was had by all.
 
You can't argue with rainbows AND unicorns. Ellie was in her element.
Erin and Ellie rode the bumper cars. Leo and I (and the babies) were content on terra firma.
After Leo had his face painted (Spiderman, natch) we moved onto the rides. He really wanted the pink
bike.
 
Ellie won that war. (Mostly Leo just really wanted to ride next to Ellie. True story.)
We made some new friends (can't visit Oregon without a hug from Smokey!)

 In between all these shots, we visited with the cows, horses, pigs, goats, sheep, rabbits...you get the idea. We watched people stand in line for a loooong time to hold a baby lion, surveyed the collections (one of my favorite exhibits) which this year included a cereal box collection. Leo and Ellie loved looking at the cakes entered in the cake decorating contest. Leo and Ellie donned fire fighter garb and held fire hoses. In short, small minds were blown at nearly every turn. This fair? It's a kid's dream. And as a bonus? I had just as much fun as a grown-up as I remember having as a kid.

 I can't remember the last time I went to this fair--I guess I must have been a teenager. I am here to tell you it has not changed AT ALL, which, in our times (geez, how old am I?) is saying a lot. You laugh, but this state fair is the epitome of good ole family fun. Funnel cakes and snow cones, jumpy houses and skee ball, miniature horses and long haired guinea pigs. I've tried to replicate this experience at other fairs and festivals in other states and I've yet to do so. Every fair I'll ever go to will get compared to this one. It just feels so comfortable and familiar. (I'll admit I was disappointed by this year's absence of deep fried pickles, but I soldiered on.)

And of course it was the source of one of my favorite pictures of all time (we were fortunate to have Grandma and Grandpa with us at the fair, too).

At the end of a very long (but long in a good way) day, we happened upon a playground built atop a mound of haystacks (only at the Oregon State Fair). The sandbox? Was made of corn kernels. Of course. This playground was serendipitously located not only right next to the beer garden (score!) but across from some more than decent live music. Leo and Ellie played for a good hour (the irony was not lost on me that one of their most favored things ended up being free!) against a backdrop of the setting sun, the sky a swirling palette of blues and pinks and purple. There was a marked chill in the air: autumn was on the way.

It felt so good to be "home."

Chapter, Closed

Lucy and Harry at eight weeks old, post meal, post tandem feed. There is not much that rivals the sweetness of a well-fed, satisfied newborn.

Last week, I breast fed my last baby. It was Harry. Lucy self-weaned a few months ago, with no fanfare.

Harry's end came after several nights of chewing and biting and not doing anything very close to what resembled nursing at zero o'clock in the morning (this was during the Great Trip to Oregon--no way have I been giving him middle of the night snacks in the "real world"). Yes, it was then that I realized it was time. No more. As it was, he was only nursing before sleep--naps or going down for the night. But then we returned to New Jersey and for a few nights, Softie/Chicken that I am, I continued to nurse him and he seemed to be able to take it or leave it--nurse, pull away, look around, cuddle, nurse. But it was very little actual nursing. It really was time to stop.

Harry hasn't seemed to notice one bit.

I have.

Six weeks old

I was, admittedly, ready to wean him, the last baby I will ever nurse. Although I would hold almost exclusively breast feeding twins up as one of my top accomplishments, it was certainly not the same as nursing a single baby. There is not a lot of snuggling and gazing down at your newborn. It is a lot of logistics. It is getting everyone (including yourself!) situated. There is clock watching and balancing and trying to burp one while another still eats. There is trying to set one sleeping baby into an apparatus while balancing the other, non-sleeping baby--proud to say I never let one roll off the nursing pillow though there were a few close calls!

With confidence, and after a bit of nursing experience under your belt, you can actually multitask while breastfeeding one baby. I've been known to make phone calls (duh!), cook dinner, follow a toddler around the house to keep him out of harm's way, all while breastfeeding one baby.

Seven weeks old

But nursing two? Yeah, that's pretty much all you do. I did figure out how to type on my laptop and nurse Harry and Lucy. Believe me, it wasn't pretty, but it was functional. Desperate times calling for desperate measures, and all of that. And don't get me wrong--I'm grateful I was able to nurse them together. I'm fairly confident that it was because I was experienced at breastfeeding that it went as well as it did.

The summer of 2011 saw a lot of breastfeeding around our house.

September, 2011

This photo was not staged. I promise. Leo and Ellie were more than a little fascinated. Who can blame them? It's practically all they saw me doing from June to September. That pink pillow? That striped loved seat? Hours upon hours were spent with those items.

I stopped tandem feeding them when they were around five months. They just became too wiggly and the older they got, the more efficient they became at nursing, so it wasn't such a big deal to nurse one and then the other. I won't say I was sad to stop tandem feeding them (I didn't call the tandem nursing the pillow the *$&%ing pink pillow for nothing).

As "magical" as it was to provide nourishment to two babies at once? I've don't think I've ever felt more claustrophobic or trapped. I tried to be in the moment, to know that The Days Are Long And The Years Are Short...but I remember sitting on that little love seat feeling absolutely trapped. Leo needed a snack. Ellie was upstairs wailing in the bathroom for more toilet paper.

Eight weeks old
Let's say that tandem nursing #3 and #4 is a far cry from whiling away the days with a firstborn and hours upon hours of daytime television ("America's Next Top Model," circa 2004, to be specific).

When I was pregnant with the babies, a lot of people asked me if I was going to breastfeed and I said that I hoped so. I was cautious though, knowing from my experience trying to nurse Leo, that there are no guarantees.

I still remember being pregnant with Leo, perusing the pregnancy books a friend lent me. I smugly perused a book on breastfeeding, bemused that a whole book could be dedicated to something as basic as breastfeeding. You put the baby on, they eat, end of story, right? Ha. And then Leo was born and he was sleepy and smooshy mouthed with low tone in his lips and jaw. He'd latch his beautiful little heart shaped mouth and...promptly fall asleep. I tried a nipple shield, cold compresses (to wake him up), paid a lactation consultant hundreds of dollars. And ultimately, I exclusively pumped (I was a no-formula Nazi with Leo, which I cringe about now) for almost five months. The birth hadn't gone as planned, the baby wasn't who I expected, but gosh darn it, I was going to get this breastfeeding thing right!

But then I didn't. At least, not in the "official" way, in that I had to use that stupid, ugly, awful, uncomfortable, god forsaken breast pump to get him the milk. No, I'm not bitter, why do you ask?

I will always remember the chilly December day that I cradled an almost five month old Leo in my arms. He kept nuzzling up to me, moving his mouth toward a breast like he wanted...to nurse? How many times had I tried it and failed? Hundreds? Oh hell, I thought. Why not? I sat down and pulled up my sweater and whadya know, Leo latched on like he was born to do it (he was, of course, just in his own time, as he's done everything else). Now that I think about it, I'm not sure what I'm more proud of, breastfeeding twins, or not giving up on breastfeeding Leo. There are both high on my list.

And Ellie? Ellie's nursing story is boring. She latched. I nursed her. She ate beautifully. Sure I was filled with guilt for thinking (aha, this is how it's supposed to go) but what can you do?

I didn't expect weaning Harry to conjure up all these "My Babies!" feelings, but it has. And these so called "babies" are not so baby-like these days. They explore their world with intense focus. Harry opens all the drawers and cupboards he can get his hands on. He's already figured out how to open the DVD player (programming the DVR will be next, I'm sure).

Lucy "drives" her car around the house and this weekend mastered climbing in and out of a chair. Don't even get me started on the language (Oh, OK, I'll get started). She repeats words--is a total parrot. She shakes her head "no" when you give her something she doesn't like (egg yolks) to eat. The signing? It's ridiculous: She knows the sign for "play," "all done," "more," "milk." I'll stop there.

So yes, I'll say it. Where have my "babies" gone?

The other day Erin came home with the news that a friend is pregnant with her second baby. I'm thrilled for her, of course. But I'd be lying if I said that with every pregnancy announcement I hear, with every swelling stomach that I see, that there isn't a little pang...that will never be me again. No more babies. No more nursing.

My cup runneth way, way over. There is no way I want more or need more, that I could ever have more than I already have. But a chapter has closed, that era has ended: the end of our baby days is here.

And it's remarkable to me, how one can feel both grateful and wistful at the same time.

The Great Trip to Oregon, Part 2: When in Rome

Our days in central Oregon alternated between lazy hours by the pool (well, not exactly lazy) and side trips.

One of our favorites was a visit to the fish hatchery in Camp Sherman. Look closely at the water. All those fish! Ellie is feeding them here. You'd throw a tiny bisquit in the water and hundreds--thousands? would rush to grab the food.

Cowboy Leo read ALL about the salmon and trout.

Why yes, the big kids were outfitted in their western attire (new cow boy hats and boots for both, I for one am seething with jealousy at Ellie's red cow boy boots...they did not come in my size). Hey, when in Rome...

Lucy, not in western garb.

I could have stood on the bridge overlooking this gorgeous water for a loooong time. Such an incredible bluish green color.

After the fish hatchery we headed to Bend where we had lunch at Deschutes Brewery pub (or as I like to call, it the Mother Ship). No pictures of our meal (and beverages) because, well, you can't drink the best beer in the world, wrangle small children AND take photographs.

Post lunch, the big kids and the grandparents went to the High Desert Museum in Bend. Meanwhile, just to shake things up, Erin and I spent a few hours with the babies at an urgent care clinic, suspicious that the lack of sleep and several hours of Lucy wailing the night before might indicate an ear infection. But no dice! Diagnosis: just nasty little colds (and probably the time change) = no sleeping! Ah well, what vacation is complete with young ones without a trip or two to urgent care?

When we weren't fish hatchery or museum going, there was time for dress up. Here's Ellie, channeling Michael Phelps, Dolly Parton and Stevie Nicks.

And morning snuggles with Grandma.

And more art with Grandpa.

A fairy, by Ellie

A fairy, by Leo

"Relaxing" by the pool.

As you can see, it was a rough life.

Still to come: the final Oregon installment, which includes this event, also known as, perhaps my favorite picture ever, of all time.

Do They Make Them Run Laps? Kindergarteners Are Tired, Cranky People

I promise to post the next chapter in the Great Trip to Oregon (I know all four of you are on the edge of your seats). But I wanted to jump in quickly and give a little kindergarten progress report.

Ellie brought this home on her first full day of kindergarten (week one was half days, Monday was the first "real" day).

So far, so good.

I wasn't really worried about kindergarten. Ellie is a very outgoing, social kid who seems to thrive on new situations.

One thing I am noticing though, is a new level of crankiness and exhaustion not seen before. Oh she's fine at pick-up and she's about the same in the morning (she's never been a morning person, ahem). It's later in the day that the tired, cranky little monster begins to rear her head. Ellie gave up her afternoon nap years (sob!) ago but there is rest time in kindergarten (it lasts maybe twenty minutes?). And Ellie actually speaks longingly of it. Seems to look forward to it.

By 6 p.m. Ellie is a puddle. A moaning, sighing, groaning shell of her former self. The best solution I've found is to throw her in the bath right after dinner while I'm dealing with the babies. Once they are out of the picture I can focus on her and her many maladies, which seem to go hand in hand with fatigue. A mosquito bite. Chapped lips. I channel my patience. I really do. I'm not always successful, I'll admit it.

We read a few chapters of Junie B. Jones and I rub her back and bite my lip as she moans a little more.

A few nights she complained about being "too tired to sleep" which, I get. I feel that way too sometimes. It's like your body is just keyed up. It's cruel, but it happens. I tried to reason with her, that if she didn't sleep, she would feel even worse in the morning. That she has to get sleep for kindergarten!

"But Mommy! I'm tired before I even walk in the door!" she replied.

Yes, I know that feeling too.

And in the End, It Was All Worth It: The Great Trip to Oregon 2012: Part 1

And we were off...

Erin, at the Portland International Airport, shortly after arrival. I'm betting we win the award for Most Carseats in Checked Luggage!

At approximately zero o'clock in the morning we woke the kids and took all seventeen bags and fifteen car seats to Newark airport.

Thirty years later (in case you were wondering, a cross country flight with two fifteen month olds? It's long.) we arrived. Sidenote: there were three sets of twins on our flight to Portland. How funny is that?

Less than twenty-four hours after we arrived in Portland we hit the road for Black Butte, where my family has a vacation home and where we've been going since, well, before I was even born. I have so many memories there, which is part of why it's so special to be able to bring my family there now.

Tired yet?

This is the view you see much of the time at Black Butte.

I think you can see why we make the trip. One look at that, and one breath of that mountain air and I am done. In a good way. Stick the proverbial fork in me. Oh and the readily available and plentiful Deschutes Brewery beer doesn't hurt either.

Prior to Black Butte, we stopped in Eugene to see my aunt and cousins. My family has a food booth at the Eugene Saturday Market.

Leo and Grandpa Rog shared an intimate lunch.

The kids frolicked with their cousins (some of whom they'd never even met, ah the plight of cross country living).

Now, let's be honest. With four kids, two of them toddlers, it wasn't much of a vacation as much as it was a relocation. Keeping the babies safe in a non-baby proofed cabin was exhausting (to say nothing of the sleep--or lack of it-they never quite got on Pacific time, not that I expected them to, but Harry? The waking up every hour thing? That was a bit much, my friend. Ahem).

But as a friend said to me when I told her what we were setting off to do, it was a chance to make some wonderful family memories. And that we did.

Leo fished. (For the first time!)

Ellie and I rode a surrey

The babies, as usual, played hard.

By the way, this picture? This encapsulates Lucy and Harry's personalities To a T. This is it. The end. Done.

The big kids got to do art projects with Grandpa Rog.

Days dawned early, as they do wherever we go.

And I'm pretty sure that we broke Grandpa Rog more than a few times.

There was plenty of time to practice walking. Oh! I buried a lead--Lucy learned to walk on this trip!

Video proof of the Lucy walking that runs a bit long and might only be of interest to relatives but hey--if you want to know why we now call Lucy "Lurch"--well, take a look.

And there was time to sit and rest too.

Harry gave Lucy tips on the old verticle moves.

We took a lot of walks.

To be continued...

Sunrise, Sunset: Back to School

Aaaaand we're back from the Great Oregon Vacation (otherwise known as Sleep is for the Weak).

And our return means one thing: School.

Leo, first day of third grade

Ye Annual First Day of School Portrait by the Front Tree. Can someone please tell me where these giant children came from?

Walking Ellie to kindergarten (OMG, OMG, Breathe--that's me I'm talking to--she was of course, cool as a cucumber). This photo, blurry as it is, really sums it up for me. It could have been taken from a merry-go-round, which, I'll admit, is sometimes how life feels, spinning and spinning, sometimes (often) a little out of control.

Time, it flies. It just keeps marching on and on and on, ready or not, like it or not.

Ellie, first day of kindergarten

I was a little unprepared for how emotional I felt this morning, when I gave Ellie a hug and a kiss and a squeeze and an "I'm so proud of you, I can't wait to hear about your day!"

After all, I've been dropping her off at "school" for more than four and a half years but this...felt different. This is an entirely new beginning. The door on Ellie's baby and toddler and preschooldom has been slammed shut forever. It's wonderful and inevitable, of course, but it stings a little. The beginning of this new life for Ellie is thrilling but yes, it does leave me humming "Sunrise, Sunset." Because really, where does the time go? I know that I will be turning around in a few years as I drop Harry and Lucy off at kindergarten, asking myself the same damn thing.

This morning I lingered for a few minutes in the school yard after Ellie and I said our goodbyes, careful that she not see me. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I stay and watch her go inside with her class? A lot of the other parents seemed to be staying. Ellie fidgeted with the straps of her supply-laden backpack and peered in the window of one of the classrooms and finally, when I realized I had done everything I needed to do, that this was Ellie's experience to have, I turned around and started toward my bus.

Deep breaths.

***

I leave you with this. A teaser of our amazing, exhilarating, exhausting and altogether wonderful trip to Oregon.

More soon.

And here's hoping your back to school season, whatever that might entail, is off to a good start.