It's Official (and Tritan's birth story)

We have a bona fide teenager in the house!

Tritan turned 13 on Aug. 19. I think he might have grown 2 inches that day, too.

January 1996 I decided it was time to have a kid. We'd been married for a couple of years and I was graduating in a year. I parked next to the old BSU gym for one of my night classes, and I could see toddlers jumping and balancing on gymnastic equipment in the big picture windows, and suddenly I wanted a tumbling toddler of my own so badly I couldn't breathe. So I went off the pill, and Brian and I got busy trying to make a baby.

We were pretty busy but 6 months went by without breaking open a pregnancy test. Brian trotted off to Brazil for a student exchange in June, and I went with him for two weeks. It was an awesome two weeks--we toured every inch of Curitiba, one of Brazil's most fascinating cities--the zoo, the botanical gardens, the shops; we rode a train through the mountains; we took a side trip to Iguassu Falls on the Brazil/Argentina border and explored Argentina as well. We dined on Nescafe and sweet breads for breakfast; we had little buns stuffed with meat for lunch; and we ate incredible barbecued meats at churrascarias. But I had a hard time not being distracted with the possibility that there wouldn't be more than just Brian and I in our family. Wasn't 6 months a long time? Should we see a fertility doctor yet? Each month the disappointment was more bitter and the desire for a baby more passionate.

It didn't help matters that Brian stayed in Brazil for 6 more weeks after I flew back to the states and started working. By October, I had made an appointment with a fertility doctor for the following month. I was graduating in Dec. and Brian had already been accepted to grad school in Phoenix. I could hardly be excited about either prospect: I was pretty obsessive over wanting a baby. I cringed every time someone in our student ward asked when we were going to start trying, and there seemed to be newborns everywhere I looked. Friends complained about swollen ankles and morning sickness and I longed to be sick and fat. I made a promise to never complain about being pregnant if I was ever blessed enough to be with child.

Of course, that month, probably around Halloween, I got pregnant. Just before Thanksgiving I was eating a turkey sandwich at work and suddenly couldn't stomach the thought of poultry. I thought it was just lunch meat gone wrong. But by the first of December I was brave enough to take a pregnancy test (I'd had several months of being late and still not pregnant, so I was afraid of another disappointment) and this time it was positive.

We told our parents on Christmas day. Throwing up Christmas dinner might have given it away, too. The sad part was, we were leaving for Arizona by the first of the year and suddenly I was terrified of going through pregnancy so far away from my mom and my friends. In fact it took a couple of weeks of living off credit cards before I pulled myself together and got a job through a temp agency.

I have to admit pregnancy was not all I dreamed it would be. I felt sick most of the time. I felt fat. I waddled. I was exhausted all the time. I broke my promise and complained plenty. But I was ecstatic that our baby boy was doing so well.

After starting off with an OK doctor, I switched to a dr. I loved and he suggested inducing me when my due date rolled around. I was a little hesitant since in my perfect birth plan (yes, I read all the books) I was going to go all natural. And also, as uncomfortable as it was to be pregnant, giving birth scared me to death--I wanted to put it off as long as possible.

My mom came in a couple of days before my scheduled inducement. She cleaned, and cooked, and got everything ready. Which was good, because I never "nested" with any of my kids.

They induced me early in the morning. My contractions started soon after. I walked and walked the halls of the maternity ward because it seemed to help the pain and it was supposed to hurry the process along. Brian and my mom took turns walking with me, rubbing my back, holding my hand. To be honest, I remember my mom more than Brian (sorry, honey). She walked with me the most, and when I lay in the bed trying to breathe through the pain, she would pretend to be doing needle work, but really she was trying not to show how much she wished she could take away my pain.

When the contractions got really painful, and the doctor said I was only dilated to a 5, I had to scale back my expectations, and gave in to an epidural. It worked great. Of course, as soon as the pain went away, I was sure I could have hung in there a little longer. But after I got it, I dilated quickly and before I knew it, Brian was cutting the cord, and I had my first squealing child in my arms.

We named him Tritan because it was the only name we could agree on. I wanted something traditional and Brian wanted something unique. We changed the spelling from Triton to Tritan so it would be more like Brian--plus we had no idea we had a line of gods and goddess waiting to come down. I didn't have any number of kids in mind; all I knew was that I had one perfect child, and for that moment, I had all that my heart desired.

Busy summer days

Well, I put as many miles on my car this week as if I had driven to Miami but we didn't go anywhere. Paris was in Cub-Scout camp all week, and I had to drive him back and forth because Apollo was still in summer school. (Normally, I walk with the cub scouts because our week long day camp is AWESOME here, but couldn't this time because of Apollo's school.) He had a great time, as usual, and made some great friends.
And Tritan was in computer camp all week at Princeton. Here is a video CNN did at his camp this week. Tritan's not in it, but it gives you an idea of what a cool camp it is. Tritan took 3-D design and learned how to use MAYA which is the same program that film-makers use to make CGI effects and 3-D animation. Mostly it's awesome because Tritan fits in seamlessly there. He loves learning new techniques and programs and everyone speaks his language there. The instructors think he is crazy creative and a hard worker. Which is good for him, since I don't really understand what it takes to create a truck in 3-D, and maybe don't appreciate it as much as I should.
Athena has been taking dance camp for the last 6 weeks as well. So now I feel like the lazy days of summer will officially begin this week--no camps, no school. We are sleeping in and swimming in the pool. Drop by if you have time...

Dorney Park

We promised the kids a trip to an amusement park this summer and realized suddenly that this weekend was the last free weekend we had until school started. So somewhat spontaneously we packed up and headed 2 hours north to Allentown, PA to Dorney Park.
These pictures are mostly of Apollo because his rides moved slow enough to take pictures. It's hard to get a picture of roller coasters going 75mph or hanging upside down. Apparently middle age is already settling in on me: my inner ear was having a tough time--after going on Hydra, a roller coaster that goes 360* and Monster, one of those up and down, round and round rides, I was as white as a sheet and broke out in a cold sweat. Hopefully, that was just this trip for some reason. Anyway, I volunteered to take Apollo on his rides while Brian braved the older rides. We all had a great time.

Don't the older kids look thrilled to get their picture taken with Linus? Ah, at least we have Apollo, who thought it was great.

Summer school and soccer

So all I know is I am getting up way too early for summer.

Apollo has summer school this year and his bus comes at 7:15. Which means I set the alarm for 6:30 so I can haul my butt out of bed by 6:45 so I can slowly wake Apollo (rubbing his arms, stretching his legs) so I can dress him while he pretends to be asleep by 7 so he can eat the cereal I've poured for him by 7:12.

I always feel a little bad when I put him on the bus and wave good-bye. He only goes for half a day, but c'mon--summer is for swimming, sleeping in late, watching re-runs of shows your parents used to watch in the middle of the afternoon, peanut butter jars on the counter all day--not SCHOOL! I've tried to be upbeat about it--Lucky you! You get to play with your friends all day! And I hear today is Pizza day!--but of course, Apollo knows this isn't Normal Summer Behavior. When he gets home he plays with an intensity only a kid who is trying to make up for lost time plays with.

And then it kills me when I have to call him in from jumping on the neighbors tramp for homework. Or call him in to go to bed in the darkening twilight just as the neighbors are starting to play Bloody Wolf (which is really flashlight tag, but they call Bloody Wolf for reasons that are beyond me--I blame Stephanie Myer). On good days I say to myself, "Someday he'll thank me for getting him caught up in school." On bad days I say to myself, " Someday he'll hate me for taking away his summer." I suppose only time will tell.

So then after Apollo is off, I have time for breakfast and then wake up Paris for soccer camp. We are a soccer family and Paris is the king. Not only does he play like a little tornado but somehow wins the World Cup family pool every time.

The neighbor kid who is a freshman this year went to the same camp this year and so we carpooled. The first day I took them, the neighbor kid went on in the bravado of youth about trying out for high school teams, and how much better high school will be than middle school, etc. Paris, quiet for once, took it all in, and I'm sure was daydreaming about trying out for high school teams, too. When I dropped them off, I asked Paris if he wanted me to walk him up to the field. "No, I'm good," he said as he scrambled out of the car, hauling out his huge soccer bag, trying to keep up with the neighbor kid who ran up to his high school friends. So Paris was left to walk up to the field by himself, his bag heavy with water and Gatorade bouncing on his hip, looking tiny and lonely. (Of course, he was probably fine. I was feeling tiny and lonely watching my kids become themselves, walking away from me.)

The next morning I was smarter. I asked Paris if he wanted me to walk up with him before we picked up the neighbor kid. "Sure, if you want," he shrugged. And I smiled to myself.

And it's a good thing I did walk up with him. Because when we reached the field, he turned to me, and said timidly, "I forgot my ball." He said this timidly because my normal reaction is to sigh an exasperated sigh and start in with the This Is Why I Ask You To Get Ready the Night Before speech and end with If You Would Put Your Things Away Where They Belong You Would Have Them When You Need Them speech. But this time I surprised him with a Where Do You Think It Is? sincerely asked question and raced off to find it. Because after all, that's what summers are for, right, making sure your kids have a good time.

When I came back 15 min. later he ran up to meet me. "Thanks, Mom," and he cocked his head back like he was going to give me a kiss before he realized where he was and instead ducked his head while I rifled his hair before he ran off to play.