Earlier this week, after we put the boys to bed, I halfheartedly mentioned that I hadn’t had a bath in a while (*cough* grave over-exaggeration – it’s been years). Ken said I should have one. Right then. I invited him to join me. So we quickly cleaned out the dust bunnies, picked out a bubble-bath, filled ‘er up and climbed in. We spent something shy of an hour, being warm and talking about life and what’s going on with ours and where we want to take it. It was lovely. I said we should do it more often – like once a month or so.

Ken hopefully asked me, last night, if I wanted to take another bath?

Though he was worried it wouldn’t arrive in time, Ken’s White Day present did come on Friday. And it is white (sortof). Ken got me this:

It is partly white, it’s so tiny, and it’s personalized for me! My name and his part of our pet references for each other is engraved on that shiny, mirror finish on the back. As he knew, that was the part that touched me the most. We had those names engraved on our wedding bands, and it just makes me feel all squishy inside thinking about it.Now, I have music to upload!

I’ve mentioned before how Ken and I celebrate Valentine’s Day along the Japanese tradition – wherein I give him something small or make him homemade chocolates on Feb 14th and one month later on March 14th (White Day) he gives me something in return.

Last night he was bemoaning that he was having problems with my gift. “It isn’t the right time of year for it” he said. I figured it’d be something seasonal that I’d use maybe in the fall (gardening?) or winter (knitting?) or even summer (who knows?). I asked if it was that and he hedged. I asked if it was a shipping issue and he hedged. Finally I said that if it wasn’t doable, was there another “holiday” that he could use as an excuse to give it to me. “Yes,” he said, he could do it on Ethan’s birthday or my birthday “or Mother’s Day” I prompted (trying to help him solve his problem – I’m helpful like that ). So, I concluded, if it’s not doable maybe he should just tell me and we could figure out how to solve the problem.

One just like that (white, long-haired, fluffy). He’s such a sweetie!!!

(we later talked about how I don’t want to have long-haired cats and it has to be more than one at a time and we need to still wait a year or two at least).

Yesterday, with the morning stolen by the ice and snow, I was in a lot of a rush to get Ken’s bento done and his Sweet-heart’s Day “gift” finished. I short-cutted the bento at the last minute, substituting what I’d wanted to make with tamagoyaki (Japanese omlette). I did, however, finally get his proper V-day present made. Handmade chocolates. Truffles, to be precise. I didn’t get the whole batch done – but enough to tuck into the newest cute little bento box I have for him (I’ve been saving this one). They’re small, and aren’t “pretty” but they look like truffles (real ones) and taste great. I hope he likes them.

This morning, while we were curled up together between snooze-alarm outbursts, I dozed off and dreamt something was happening that wasn’t (something good). It was only after we actually got up that I realized this, and laughed with Ken about it. I’m so glad that we’re so compatible in almost every way. On today, the day to celebrate romance, I love knowing that our whole year is full of romance of one sort or another, and that just kissing him still sets us on fire. He gives me fever…

Ken’s out in the garage right now, sawing away at wood to make a work-bench for us both (since I’ll be doing my soap making out there, now) and making me a mold for my soap.  He won’t get done tonight because he got started late, but hopefully I’ll have a brand new, wooden mold for my soap making tomorrow.  If I’m especially lucky I’ll have more than one, but we’ll see how things go.  I’m hoping to make a more feminine scent tomorrow with more realistically shaped bars (the first batch, having been made in a milk carton, was an awkward 3.5″ square and though I cut them in half lengthwise in some and diagonally in others they’re still awkward.  But c’est la vie.  Better here forth.

I also picked up some nice paper today to make strips to wrap around my soap as labels.  I’m still not even close to being ready to sell, but at least the stuff I send my victims friends will might look nice.

This all is tangential to my point, that being how supportive Ken has/is being toward my soap making endeavors.  He’s always been super supportive of me in anything, but has embraced this with an enthusiasm he’s never shown before.  He really believes I can make a go of it, and that means so very much to me.

Ken won’t eat chicken.

Well, he wouldn’t.  Since we’ve been together I’ve managed to get him to eat the bite-sized pieces you put in dishes like Zatarains or casseroles.  That was a huge step for him and blew away family and friends when they heard it.  You could say Ken’s known to be… obstinate where his dislikes of certain foods are concerned.  Lately I’ve been pushing the bill further.  I even got him to eat whole chicken breasts (skinless and boneless, but still! whole!).  Tonight we pushed the bill further, and willingly he tried quartered chicken.  I’d taken the skin off and it was marinated and grilled (Souvlaki marinate YUM!), but it was one the bone and he was required to remove it from said bones and eat it (knife and fork, naturally).  It was too much.  He tried, and he tried to like it too.  I love that he did.  He was, as always with my cooking, honest with what he thought.  Flavour good (we’ve had it before, on skewers), rice good, but the “whole experience” of the chicken was “too much”.  I absolutely respect that.  We’ve found the new line in the sand.  I love… LOVE… that he’s been willing to cross the old line with me.

For what it’s worth, he also now will eat brocolli, pink beef (cooked, naturally – think prime rib/roasts), lamb, cabbage and rice.  I love that he’s willing to experiment so readily with me and my cooking.  He’s even willing to try fish, as soon as I make it for him.

While leaving a strip mall from ordering Ethan’s glasses, today, we passed a “Family restaurant” that’s on the corner. Ken mentioned he could smell the kitchen starting up, and pointed it out, and I reminded him that I’d been there once before; with Dad, I reminded him. A moment later, Ken mentioned that he “had to get that blasted time machine working!”, a peculiar tone to his voice – determined and regretful. I asked him why and what time would he go back to (thinking perhaps back to before we had kids or college or something), and he said “no reason”, but I persisted and eventually he said he’d turn back to “roughly May, 3yrs ago”. He meant before Dad’s accident. I asked him why – if I was too whiney about missing Dad – and he said, quietly and sincerely, “I miss your Dad.”

It’s not often Ken mentions things like that, preferring to not dwell on things that can’t be changed and cause negative feelings. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one in my daily life who thinks about Dad, misses him, knew him. Then, and now, I tear up by how much it means to me to know that Ken feels that way.

The weather’s supposed to be nice – cool but sunny – and it’s our last, free weekend, so we’re going to Child’s Park tomorrow. I want pictures of my boys there. I want to breathe sniffle the air (I’ve caught another cold) and let it relax me. I want to introduce Victor to fresh, falling water and see Ethan’s excitement at being someplace super cool.

I call this the last, free weekend because I’m good at stressing myself out over the future (ask Ken, I’m a pro at the dramatic) and as of this Friday the old house closes (woohoo!) and we get a big.fat.cheque. Money is lovely, but is a responsibility. We have debt to pay off, first and foremost, but then there’s a long list of things to get (garage door openers, snow blower, water treatment system, yarn, convertible car seats – you know, important things) and an even longer list of things to do (landscaping, room finishing, etc). We’re tentatively planning on renting another U-haul for Thursday and getting the last of our things out of the house – the things that made it pretend to almost look lived in sortof. Furniture of which most goes into the basement, house plants, etc.

Ken’s also booked me a massage for Monday after he gets off work. Last weekend he hurt his back and has had a few trips to a local chiropractic office this week – they have an on-staff masseur and massages are apparently covered by our health plan. He’s calling it a preventative measure for me “in case there’s something wrong with your back!” but I know he’s just trying to get me out of the house and a little spoiled. He spoils me himself, but this time it seems he’s deferring to a professional. Damn but I love him!

Today marks our 4th Anniversary of being married, Ken and I.  I don’t really have enough words to say to praise him as a husband, best-friend, lover, father, or soul mate.  He is, though.  The past 4 years have truly flown by and I wish I could relive them, they were so good.  He’s so good.  I feel so unbelievably lucky to have him as mine.  There’s so much he does for me to support and encourage me, to make me laugh and feel loved.

Last night he gave me an all-over oil body massage.  The oil was a bit unusual (especially since he’s not crazy about the scent of it) though nice, but the massage wasn’t.  He’ll not usually do me all over, but on a very regular basis he gives me back rubs.  I don’t ask, I don’t even complain about having a sore back.  He just does it because he wants to.  I asked why, last night, and he said he just likes touching me.  We’re both really touchy with each other anyways.

And so, that thing you do to make me feel loved.  That thing you do without my ever having to ask and just because you want to.  That thing is one that I treasure about you.  One of a million.  One to remember.

Ken and I haven’t really been talking about Mother’s Day this year.  He won’t be here, so we’ve both been acting like it’s going to be just another day.  I figured, maybe, we’d simply push it off for a few weeks.  In one aspect, Ken thought otherwise.

We like doing logic puzzles, and tend to have two magazines on the dining table of them at any given time.  While bouncing Victor to sleep for his naps, they’re enjoyable to do.  I was doing such, and got tired of being frustrated by the one I was working on so I grabbed the other magazine to see what I had last worked on in there.  I opened it up and found a red envelope inside with my name on it.  Though tempted, I’ll leave opening it til tomorrow.  I had a sneaking suspicion he might get me a card, and that he did and hid it where he knew I’d find it…

One of the blogs I read is a wife/mother who tends to complain about her husband… a lot.  Recently she had a post asking commenters to bitch about their own husbands.  As I read through the first few it struck me.  Ken is completely and totally NOT like that!  He *doesn’t* wash just his own laundry, he *does* do the dishes, he *does* share child-care equally – hell, on weekends he does most of it so that I can have a break and get other things done!  He doesn’t bitch and complain about me bitching and complaining.  He doesn’t moan about not getting enough sleep with a new baby (unless we’re both moaning together about it).  He doesn’t get upset when I’m not in the mood for sex.  He doesn’t do any of that and a whole lot more.  He does everything he can to make life easier for me and better for us all and he does it willingly and without complaint.

No, I don’t know how I ended up so lucky either.

Ken was a bit worried that I wouldn’t like what he’d gotten me; that much he confessed a week ago. He shouldn’t have worried, though, since it’s stunning and I just love it! He bought me pearls! (those, but in traditional white for White Day)

I’m not a huge jewelery person, but I’ve always wanted a set of pearls. My mother’s favourite and best piece of jewelery was a lovely pearl necklace and I have a *lot* of memories of her wearing it when she was dressed up to go somewhere. She was cremated in it, in her best dress. Ken’s never bought me jewelery before, either. We bought our wedding bands, together, online. I don’t wear a diamond and he never “officially” proposed – we just knew we were going to be married and there was no need to ask.
So here I sit, in my earings and necklace and bracelet. I changed into an evening gown since my yoga pants and tank top just weren’t cutting it. I shocked Ethan, being dressed up, and scared Victor with my hair down (instead of pulled back), but Ken thinks I look beautiful and I feel beautiful. I love him so much!

I feel I need to apologise.  So often I find myself thinking about my journal… wishing I could beam thoughts from my head to the computer to save for later.  Questions to ask you.  Ponders to save.  Moments to cherish with you.  Instead I find myself writing out the minutia… the boring details of our life.  I sit to type out my entries and forget the important things that happened during the day.  I hate that.

Tonight, because he was exhausted and way over-tired, I lounged out in Ethan’s room, on his poof chair, with him on my chest at bedtime.  Lights out, no sound but his water white noise machine.  Normally he makes loads of noise and moves all over the place.  He squirmed, but stayed where he was and snuggled up on me.  It was as though he’d have been happy to stay that way all night (likely he would have) and that was a very tangible thing.  I miss snuggling with him more.  I try throughout the day, to get lots of hugs and kisses.  I give him little touches to let him know I’m thinking of and loving him.  I love him so much.  He is my treasure, he is my sunshine.

Victor has started feeling tickles now.  In his chest, and he’s not quite sure what to make of it yet.  Not like it’s hard to make him laugh.  He loves smiling and laughing.  He laughs every time I do at him, and laughs just when he’s happy.  His smile is so spontaneous and huge and addictive.  I lay him on the floor, get on my knees with my elbows on the floor on either side of his head and my face right over his and I smile and laugh and talk to him… just for those smiles.  He finds it funny when I stick my tongue out at him, and tries to do the same.

Ken is such a wonderful father and husband.  Not that that needs to be repeated, but it does.  Without my asking or even him asking if I’d like it, he takes over the care of Victor for almost the entire weekend to give me a break.  He orders me out of the house sometimes.  He rubs my back when we have a half moment to snuggle while the boys are both asleep or when we stand in the kitchen and hug.  He listens to me bitch and whine and repeat the same bitches and whines over and over, without complaint or asking me to shut it.  That, despite his being a man and only wanting to hear about things he can  actually fix.

After all of this is said, I wonder what you think?  Do you tire of the minutia?  Of the sometimes emotional gushing?  I wonder if my children will value what I write.  I hope they will, in some way.  There’ll be a lot for them to go through, and in a way I regret that.  I guess I’m like most parents to their kids, in that sense.  I wish I could do better, but all I can give is all that I am; and I do, and hope it’s enough.

Is really good.  Victor has started eating a lot more (we’re giving him half breastmilk, half formula, and it’s a good combination for him) and consistently.  We’ve discovered he’s a sucky-baby (pacifier, though we don’t use it to pacify him but rather to give him comfort he’s needing for his mouth), which I’m not crazy about but will deal with any pacifier addiction later.  His head control gets better daily, and still amazes me.  His eyes still show that jaundiced-yellow, but I’m not too concerned.  His bili level was 6.3 when we left the hospital, which is only mildly high.  I know it can go up from breastmilk, and figure if that’s happened/ing the formula mix will help with that.  He’s developing a schedule, too, which is super cool.  I sleep from 10pm to 3am, then take over Victor-duty and tend to get in an hour or two of sleep after that curled on the couch with him, before Ethan wakes and it’s breakfast time.  Ken gets an hour or so of sleep during his shift too, so we’re doing pretty well all things considered.  Once Ken goes back to work we’ll have a bit less time to sleep each night, but I’ll be sleeping during Ethan’s afternoon nap since Victor tends to sleep then, too.  He’s a funny little thing, and his differences surprise and intrigue us.  He’s a noisy little thing when he’s awake – squeaking and squaking a lot.  He gets *serious* hiccups – like violent, adult sized ones.  However, when he sleeps he’s super quiet unless he’s waking up from being hungry.  Ethan used to be super quiet when he was awake and a noisy sleeper.
Pumping is going well – better than last time due to way less stress and a present baby.  I’ve finally outgrown the first-week-of-pumping nipple owies, which is heaven.  I’m producing fair amounts (3-6oz) each time, and freezing the excess (since he’s only eating approx 18oz/day and half that is formula).

Ethan is doing really well, and has pretty much adjusted to the new baby.  He’s currently enjoying playing with the playmat and rattles we brought up for Victor – we figure if he gets used to/bored with them now, Victor will be more free to use them when he’s ready.  (We give Victor tummy-time after Ethan goes to bed, now, and he spends lots of time on our chests too.)  Ethan has also mastered counting to 20, and is working on learning to count backward from 10.  We’re trying to introduce the idea of words and spelling to him, slowly.  He’s getting a phonics toy for Christmas so that may help.  Ken read an article the other day about a gifted child who was in university at the age of 12 and who read at the age of 3.  I think he’s of the opinion that Ethan may be capable of that.  I’ll wait and see.  We’ll never push/pressure him, but we will maximize his learning when he’s interested in it.  We’re pretty sure Ethan went through a growth-spurt while we were in the hospital.  Granted, our perspective has changed somewhat, but he was ramping up for one before we had Victor, and really does feel heavier and look taller.  I need to remember to weigh him and confirm that.
Ken’s been suffering from vacation-syndrome the past two days – wandering about the house doing stuff that needs to be done and being anxious at getting things done.  I am, of course, years beyond that and in the mindset that things’ll get done when they’re done (instead of now now now).  I think it frustrated Ken somewhat that I’m so casual about it, but ahh well.  We’ve therefore got our bedroom rearranged (changing table, basinette, feeding/pumping station, baby clothes/accoutrements), cleaned up Ethan’s toys 2-3 times a day and edited out older stuff he’s not playing with, brought up old baby toys for Victor, cleaned the kitchen and made room for the bottling stuff, etc etc.  We’ve been busy, beyond the new baby busy.

And me?  I’m wonderful.  No PPD yet, which is a relief.  I feel really good, physically and mentally.  I’m loving how much and how differently I love my boys.  I love Victor in such a different way than how I love Ethan.  They’re both so precious and marvelous and I feel so blessed to have them.  I feel grateful, too, for having the birth experience we did this time around – despite the negative aspects it was wonderful and I’m blessed for that, too.  I’m most lucky in having Ken.  He’s such an amazing father and dedicates so much of himself to his boys, while still maintaining a healthy self.  He’s a wonderful husband, too, and naturally makes me feel wonderful and beautiful and desirable.  I love our relationship and how completely we fit each other.

Life right now is so perfect.  I know it may not last, but I’m glad that I’ve had it to experience.

The past week, every time I call Ken at work, he doesn’t say “hi” to me.  Instead he quickly asks “Is it time?!?”   So excited.  Such a goof.  Gotta love him.