Everyday Susa

It's happened many times this Christmas season. A well meaning adult will come up to my four year old in a public space and gleefully ask him what Santa Clause/Father Christmas is bringing him this year. And each and every time, my son cocks his head to side and clearly announces, "Santa isn't REAL." The reactions vary - there's shock, confusion, and even a bit of bemusement. Yes, Santa isn't real, but my four year old isn't supposed to know that. We've taught him to say "Santa isn't real at MY house," when other children are around, keeping the excitement alive for his friends and classmates. Despite that, plenty of Christmas time threads on mommy forums insist that parents like us are ruining Christmas, not only for our own children but for theirs. Even still, my four year old knows all about Santa and has asked for an Elf on the Shelf. (That's a no from me, son.) Most of the time he's content to muse aloud on the logistics

Hiya, blog! I've taken a bit of a hiatus. Her name is Nova. Now that the first trimester is almost finished--she's 12 weeks tomorrow--I'm mostly back to my regularly scheduled programming. I won't be fully back until we night wean, but who knows how many months or (prayerfully NOT) years that will be. This week,  took our family of four on Nova's first trip. And where did we go? Scotland! I have an extremely detailed, careful way of picking out destinations and planning trips--not. My method is simply to pick something easy and go with it. I chose Scotland because UK, yay, and who doesn't want to go to Scotland. Edinburgh was our destination because all we had to do was drive to Peterborough, hop on a train, and boom, we would be there. (I'm skipping over the agony of driving, finding parking, hauling children, and all the gross, gritty, exhausting parts of travel. But don't fret, that part definitely happened.) The train ride there wen

Part 1: Nova's VBAC So where was I? Oh yes. Fresh newborn in my arms, my husband by my side, and my preschooler being cared for by a dear friend. I had VBAC'ed. I had pushed a giant head out. I had succeeded. I was on a high only hormones and euphoria could bring. And then it all crashed down. Nova was born at 7pm on a Sunday, and the doctors planned to release us on Tuesday - barring any issues. They wanted to monitor my pre-E to make sure that it was going away on its own, as well as monitor Nova since she had been a meconium baby and I was GBS+. No one was too worried about my pre-E diagnosis since it had occurred only a couple hours before birth and birth is supposed to be the ultimate cure. I spent that first night wide awake, staring at my precious baby while Stephen slept on the world's hardest, narrowest couch beside me. My extroverted self thrived off interactions with  various medical personnel, and I remember thinking that this hospital stay wasn't ba

CAVEAT: Birth involves the female body and frank discussions of it. If, for whatever reason, you feel uncomfortable reading such terms and descriptions, stop here. Fair warning. Seriously.  My due date with Nova was Friday, June 8th, and like with Landon, I was in a bit of a time crunch to get the baby out. While Landon's birth had a deployment looming, Nova had a "Report No Later Than Date" of 41 weeks simply by virtue of being a VBAC. Her 41 week mark was June 15th, and lucky me, the hospital did its planned C-Sections on Wednesdays and Fridays. So, at my 38 week appointment, we scheduled a C-Section for 41 weeks and the awesome doctor told me she hoped that I would go into labor before then. Right before my 40 week appointment, Dr. Awesome called and apologized profusely: we had to move my scheduled C-Section date up by two days. I was heartbroken. Convinced that this was the end of my VBAC hopes and dreams, I made my friend E process my feelings with me...over and

Pregnancy log: 38 weeks, 2 days. 12 days until the due date. 19 days until her final, final eviction date. I just had the happiest week of my pregnancy. Truly. When we landed in England, I was a day shy of 6 weeks pregnant. None of our family even knew I was pregnant until we heard the heartbeat three weeks later. I've spent this entire pregnancy a continent and ocean (since our families are in the western US) away from the organic support system that is family.  And there's just something about siblings. Something about those people who know precisely  how to make you squirm in five seconds and laugh in two that are essential for my ultimate mental and emotional health. For this past week, I got to have my sister. But, she didn't come alone - she brought a sweet friend whose quieter demeanor complemented our obnoxious Manthei socializing style. We are so loud. The loudest. Somehow, M. tolerated us--and even claimed to love us--and our little family of three was hon

What's with that title, Suz? That's how I feel when the UK springs a bank holiday, ie, my child can't go to his favorite place (preschool!)  on me and dubs it a long week. Who actually celebrates May Day? Not this kid and his mother. Nope.  England, that's who. Today a dad at Landon's school told me that Brits deal with the weather by wishing they lived some place else. I laughed because it's May and the endless winter seems to have mostly ended. On to to the important updates. I drove on--what we would call the freeway--road the wrong way. And by wrong way, I mean that I entered a one lane exit ramp because I miscounted my roundabout exits. This is the Do Not Enter Because You Might Die sign. And this is the Do Not Stop/Wait/Try Not to Break Down sign.  No, they don't really look similar. Yes, I still got them confused. No, we did not die. Yes, I swore and prayed and almost cried.  We survived.  Landon has a

I may never be able to convince myself to splurge on maternity pictures, but I do have pictures like this.  France was fabulous. The journey there was epic and exhausting and filled with mishaps, but we arrived! Disneyland Paris was Disneyland...just with Euros, benigets (but otherwise sub-par food), and copious amounts of cigarette smoke. Paris, itself, was delightful. The city is beautiful in its ancient opulent way, and quite different from England. For instance, the French designed and implemented boulevards, which I prefer to England's cart sized roads. A couple notable facts about Paris!   The security is multi-layered and detailed. If you're opposed to baggage searches, visible weapons, and security checkpoints, you might not want to tour Paris. We loved it, as it was organized and intentional. I've provided a visual for you right here. Also, my adorable preschooler and his squint. We did discover that my freckles, customer service smile, baby b

I think it's time for another baby+Susie+life update. Disagree? Navigate away! First: I'm pretty sure the Pilgrims came to the United States in search of sunshine. Put away your history books, folks, because I have found THE reason. England takes rain and grey skies to an extreme. Back to the exciting stuff. Baby girl is 24 weeks along, and simply a delight to gestate. My life is physically so easy right now, and I know that's causing me to have the gentlest second trimester. I don't think a person can fully appreciate a pregnancy when she's not painfully on her feet at least eight hours a day - unless she's gone through one when she has been on her feet. The ability to sit down when I need to is such a gigantic blessing. I'm certainly not taking it for granted. With Landon, I spent the entire pregnancy annoyed that I would one day have to do it again and trying to scheme up ways of avoiding that. With this pregnancy, I'm relishing it in the k

Dear world, She's a GIRL! Or, as Lando says, a grrrrirrrl . I booked a private ultrasound for 17w,1d because the anatomy scan for Baby wasn't until after 22 weeks. It felt ridiculous to pay for an ultrasound when I'd be getting the same thing for free in just a few weeks, but I wanted to know. Badly. As a bonus, Landon was actually allowed in this ultrasound room--since the one at our hospital is in Radiology and children aren't allowed there--and I thought it would make a fun family outing. So away we went. Over the motorway in some unknown direction--I have no sense of direction here--to a cute little boutique in the middle of Nowhere, England. The waiting room was equipped with toys, which worked in our favor since we had to wait an extra twenty minutes since the other womb dwellers ahead of us weren't cooperating. That made me nervous. Maybe this was a horrible, rotten idea, and Baby would cross its little legs and that would be that. Finally, we