what's up weekly. (no final baby news to report yet.)

This week was kind of busy, and I was thankful for that!  On Saturday, we celebrated Atticus' 13th birthday (even though his birthday wasn't officially until Sunday).  He requested waffles for breakfast, which Todd was kind enough to make for him.  After breakfast, Todd and the kids made our Amish run (I was still struggling with Covid symptoms, though not nearly as badly as I had been before, so I stayed home and put out a nativity set.  That was all I had energy for), then it was back home for a parrrrrtayy.

I literally didn't even take the price stickers off the bottle brush trees because I was too exhausted.

Little tiny bits at a time.  I have some red wooden bead garlands that I want to swag along the shelf, but I haven't mustered the energy yet.  BUT I did pull out our old Ikea pillow because I thought it might look festive.

Someday I will make curtains/roman blinds for the basement.  And then as soon as I get that done, it will be time to move.  That is how life works.  So maybe it's for the best that I still don't have curtains.

When Todd and the kids got home, we had sandwiches at Atticus' request, and then opened presents.

I had forgotten I used to do big deli meat sandwich spreads all the time for the kids' birthday parties!  Then we switched to tacos and I forgot all about sandwiches.  But Atticus didn't.

I love watching the faces of the givers of gifts - they love watching the birthday kid open what they got!

From Finneas.

The sweetest part of the whole day was when Atticus surprised the younger boys with toy army men he had purchased for them for his birthday - he thought they would like it, especially since he knew he'd be getting presents that day and that likely the younger boys might be tempted to feel jealous.  THIS KID.  I am always impressed by him.

He is thoughtful and so kind.  He is wonderful and patient with the younger kids.  He talks often about how he can't wait to be a dad (and he will make a great one).  He is hard working and reliable, and he is not a grumbler.  He will eat whatever you serve him, with a thank you, even if he doesn't like it.  He cheerfully helps me literally whenever I ask him - he will stop what he is doing to help me lift something heavy or grab something from the basement.  He is respectful and funny and self-reflective.  He is an amazing artist and hopes to be a published graphic novel artist someday.  He loves being outside and working with his hands.  He has the best belly laugh in the whole world.  I could not be more proud of him than I am, or enjoy his company more than I do.  He is a delight.

After a second afternoon nap for me (shocker), we ordered his birthday dinner from a local barbecue place, had cupcakes, then we watched a Christmas movie as a family.  

After bedtime, Todd surprised him by getting him out of bed, gave him a couple special coming-of-age gifts, and then the two of them sat up late, eating popcorn and watching the movie 1917 - a movie about WWI that Atticus had been really desperate to see, but had been too young.  They stayed up past midnight, so that was how they ushered in his actual birthday.  I think Todd did an amazing job marking such a special milestone for him.

On Sunday, I was still down with the COV, so we did home church.  (I slept through it.  I am not lying when I say this virus kicked my butt.)

Monday was St. Nicholas Day, so I put out the kids' wooden shoes the night before and filled them up with some of our favorite Dutch treats - chocolate letters, chocolate shoes and windmills, little chocolate Saint Nicks and coins, and this year we tried some marzipan candy that was painted like tiny tiny fruit.  I may or may not have bought Ophelia a tiny stroopwafel-shaped teething toy.  And the ever-classic taai-taai cookies that taste like black licorice, because if there is one thing Dutch people seem to love, it's black licorice (and chocolate and marzipan).  As usual, I let them eat most of their treats with meals throughout the day, starting with breakfast.  It's just not St. Nicholas Day without candy for breakfast.

I found these really beautiful, unusual blue-painted shoes at the antique mall this year, and they have easily become my favorites!

Digging in to see what all is in there, and to pick their inaugural piece of candy.

I was tired Monday night, and a friend brought a casserole over, so I warmed that up, completely forgetting that I had planned a cheeseboard for a celebration that night.  In fact, we didn't get our St. Nick cheeseboard made until Wednesday, but that just extended the celebration farther into the week, so the kids actually said they liked the fact that I had forgotten.  Dear, sweet, forgiving kids.

And in other news, today marks three weeks since I got sick, and I can officially say I think I'm through it.  I stopped my meds yesterday, and have a minor lingering cough and some fatigue, but that's all.  I am so glad that's behind me! Now, on to gird up my loins and face labor like a man.  I mean, woman.

My water sprung a little leak Tuesday morning, and I've been laboring at night the last few nights (but contractions stop during the day) so I think we're getting pretty close.  I've been trying to lay low, since my midwife is on vacation until about noon today and I would love to not have to call the backup midwife, so I have tried to stick close to the couch or the bathtub the last day or two.  It has worked so far (though it is actually 11 pm Thursday night as I write this, and I've been having contractions, so I suppose I can't say for certain I will have made it to my midwife's return without having the baby, but as far as I can tell at the moment, it looks that way).  

Hopefully I will have some more definite news to share soon - I am just wanting to get through actual birth.  I have some anxiety about it, and I kind of just want to get it over with and meet Ophelia!  So I'm praying for a quick, easy delivery soon - will you pray that with me?  Thanks!

what's up weekly. (Thanksgiving, a lonnnng Covid saga and some Christmas prep.)

Whew, it's been a full two weeks since I last filled you in.  A very not-full two weeks as well, but also... very full.  So plan on settling in and reading for a while.  (Or don't; it's your loss.)

We took the week of Thanksgiving off from school, so we spent the first half of the week trying to get the house straightened up and some food prepped for later in the week.  I had the kids deep clean their rooms, I cleaned bathrooms and did laundry, and I made sure to have on hand the groceries we'd need for Thanksgiving.  I had been dealing with a mild cold - a cough, fever and fatigue - but we were still able to get quite a bit done.

But when it came time for food prep, I had so little energy and so many helpers that I was able to pass off basically all the prep work to the kids.  I had a team of potato peelers, and then once everything was cooked down in the pressure cooker, I had a little Lolo-shaped potato masher.   (I love making potatoes ahead - so easy and good!  I just cook them in the pressure cooker with broth and seasonings, flavor with tons of butter, and stick in an aluminum pan in the fridge to await their quick warm-up in the oven before dinner.)

My little Potato Taters.

Making cranberry sauce while the dry bread cubes await their time to shine.

They're not exactly tidy about it, but sweeping up potato peels later is much easier than peeling six pounds of potatoes myself.

I showed Atticus how to cut and cook the ingredients for homemade stuffing, and then set him to it.  He did an amazing job, and at Thanksgiving dinner, Penelope kept exclaiming, "This stuffing is EXQUISITE! It is just FANTASTIC!" (Again, we make it ahead, slightly undercook it so it doesn't dry out, then store it in a take-and-toss pan to heat up before dinner a few days later.)

I had purchased frozen pie shells, and Penelope made pumpkin pie filling and pecan pie filling from scratch.  She also made her famous cranberry sauce.

Laurelai made her signature (beautiful) green salad the afternoon before our meal, and Atticus helped me set the table.  We skipped making rolls, so the only thing I had to do on my own was throw the turkey in the oven and make the gravy at the end.  It ended up being the tastiest, most beautiful meal I think we've ever served, and the kids did almost all the legwork themselves.  I was so proud of them!

Isn't Lolo's salad stunning?  Every year.  Here's a salad game changer: serve it on a platter rather than in a bowl.  All the ingredients are on display, and stuff doesn't sink to the bottom or congregate in weird chunks.  Just evenly distributed prettiness for all to see.

Penelope's pies, along with the homemade whipped cream the girls made.

It was a good thing I could depend on them for so much, because my cold was getting worse and I was pretty strung out.  I spent much of the day sleeping, popping Tylenol and trying to breathe.  I did rouse myself long enough to help get things prepped for the table, but the fatigue was no joke and I had to do everything, including slicing the turkey, sitting on the kitchen floor.

Looks a little less appetizing here, doesn't it?

By Saturday, though, my breathing had become extremely labored and painful and I was taking four to five naps per day.  I was barely able to get out of bed, and things were not improving but getting worse.  So I got in touch with a Christian doctor in our area who is very knowledgeable about treating Covid.  I hadn't taken a test or anything, so we started not knowing exactly what I was dealing with - we suspected Covid or pneumonia.  (A home Covid test later came back positive.)  We tried a few natural treatments first, and while those did help take the edge off, I still wasn't improving much. 

 I really feel like my best features, and many of my best chins, are on display here.

So Monday she prescribed some steroids, an antibiotic and an anticoagulent, to treat the Covid and the small lung clots she suspected, and I have felt a MILLION times better since starting those.  (My doctor is willing and able to prescribe both HCQ and Ivermectin, but I was too far into my illness for those to be effective treatments.  They work best early on.)  I am still not out of the woods, and I still sleep a lot, but I can breathe and talk and actually get out of bed.  I am a full two weeks into this, and I'm hoping to fully kick it soon - I have been worried about not having enough energy or lung capacity to labor well, but I do think I am past needing to worry about that.

I am going to take a second to clarify here, for those that may be wondering: my thoughts on Covid and the vaccine haven't changed.  

I am still very glad I have not been vaccinated (it wouldn't have done anything for me anyway, other than expose me and the baby to vaccine risks.  According to the data, it wouldn't even have prevented me from getting Covid or suffering with it.  And now I have antibodies, which are a better protection than the vaccine in the long run anyway).  

I still think Covid is dangerous for a small group of people, but a large majority can recover fine at home.  I still think that hospitals and hospital protocols, like venting patients and denying them safe, proven medical treatments, are killing more patients than Covid itself.  If these patients were under the care of a professionally free and knowledgeable doctor in a professionally free and Hippocratic medical system, there is no reason that our death rate would be so high.  

And while there were definitely scary moments in there for me (it was probably the sickest I've ever been), I don't think the global hysteria is proportional to the actual illness.  

So there's that, if you were tempted to start slinging "Ha-ha-has" around.  (And if you were, please understand that you were tempted to be happy someone was sick.  That's a pretty low place to find yourself.  Could be time for a little soul-searching, I don't know.) 

Okay, now that that's out of the way.

Because I've been out of commission, Todd has basically been our rock.  (We're pretty sure he already had Covid over the summer, so he seems to be immune.)  I couldn't even begin to name all of the ways he has kept our house running, our kids fed, my med schedules organized, and everyone thriving.  He has been such a steady source of comfort and routine for all of us.  He has spent a lot of the time with the kids, and even made them special breakfasts a few times (pancakes, waffles, sausage, ON A PRETTY PLATTER - GOOD breakfasts).  He even took them by himself to pick out our Christmas tree on Black Friday.

They found the perfect one.  He has been dubbed, "Bonifer."

He also took them for a walk on Saturday, when the weather was in the sixties and gorgeous.

Rocco got beaned by a stray rock.  Also, his eyes are suddenly getting much darker for some reason.  This isn't just a trick of the camera - his eyes and hair are changing color.

On Sunday, I did manage to rouse myself enough to get the lights on the tree so the kids could decorate.

This week has been kept low-key so that we can kind of move forward where we can, but I can also have a lot of margin for rest and recovery.  Todd took Monday and Tuesday off of work to help me.  The kids have done their independent school work in the mornings, but we've taken the rest of the day off each day because I don't have the energy or the breath to spare for read alouds.  I've made a little headway on a few things that fell behind - I got our sheets washed, our laundry caught up, and a grocery pickup placed for tomorrow.  I also try to get one or two Christmas items pulled out at a time when I'm feeling decent, so things are going up slowly but surely.  

Todd does amazing chalkboard drawings for holidays and new months.

We kicked off our Advent celebrations with a viewing of Muppets Christmas Carol.

This is where I've lived for the last two weeks, so it's looking pretty destroyed, but it contains all the things I need to survive: cooler full of meds, doppler for checking on the baby, electric heat pack, nebulizer, blood pressure cuff, pulse oximeter, bath robe, pillows for all my naps.  You know.  All The Things.

And the kids kept the house full of joy, as usual:

Juni was dressed so cute, but she wouldn't smile.  The magic trick to getting a big smile out of her is to tell her to do her Donald Trump impression.  Up go the thumbs, and the smile just kind of happens alongside the thumbs.  It can't be helped.

And THAT was what we were filling our time with around here for the last couple of weeks.  Whew!