Happy Halloween 2012

Happy Halloween from zombie argentina soccer players

and a fat baby dressed up as a fat baby.

All good things must come to an end...

On Friday night, Elliott and I, along with many other members of my family, froze our little and big butts off at the Hunter High School vs. Fremont High School state tournament football game.  It was the first round.  Hunter was the top seed and we had high expectations.  Unfortunately, things didn't pan out the way we wanted and our boys walked away without the victory, losing 14-6.

My parents have always taught us kids that no matter what happens, when you are involved in something, you do your best.  You give it your all.  You go hard or go home.  You finish whatever it is you are doing knowing that when you walk off the field, the court, the job, you did your absolute best and be proud of your accomplishments.

Well, my brother did just that.  His football career has come to an end, and he finished the final game of his final season with his head held high and a game well played.  And the first personal foul of his entire career, just for kicks.

As Elliott and I left the game, we walked past Willie's car. I knew that he was going to be sad and wanted to leave him a little note. Not having any paper, I left him one in the next best thing.

Lip gloss.

Do the Haka....

IMG 8111 from Annie Howden on Vimeo.


One of the best parts of the end of every game where the wolverines are victorious (at home) is the Haka.  The boys shake the hands of the opposing team, gather at the center of the field and lay their helmets down in a long line.  Then the boys form loose lines themselves as they gather up, get riled up, and prepare to do their Polynesian war dance.

I've missed the Haka most of the season because I either wasn't at the right game or the boys and I left early because of the cold.  But, on senior night I wouldn't have missed it.  I especially wouldn't have missed watching my brother stick his tongue out all scary like while making his eyes wide and crazy.  I didn't know that the cuddly "meow meow daniel tiger" was capable of such warrior-ness.

Senior Night

My mom has already written about it here.

My sister copied and pasted what my mom wrote and added her own comments here.

I don't have a lot of thoughts of my own to add except that I'm proud of my brother.  He is a talented athlete, smart, handsome, and apparently though I didn't see it, has some pretty good dance moves.  It's hard to believe that all my years of watching this brother of mine play football are coming to an end, but there is just one, maybe two or three more games to his football career.

I've been watching him play football for 9 or 10 years, I cannot remember and I've never really been able to "see" him play.  But, I know he's on the field being big, being in charge, and smashing the little people that try and get past him.

He has done well.  He is finally bigger than me, but he was wearing cleats and I was slouching in the picture.  My grandpa came to the game and walked around the track to watch the senior night presentation.  I know that he was there representing all the grandparents - Willie's grandma's loved him dearly and I know that they were there in spirit yelling at him to play hard and ready to bop him with canes.

And now, the only thing I'm really good for....

The pictures.

Having three...

It's officially been 6 weeks since I became the mother of three boys.

The first time I saw Elliott, though I couldn't hold him, I knew that he was going to be THE BIG BROTHER.  I knew that there were children to follow him and that he would pave the way (poor boy!) for them.

No joking, the first time I held Wyatt, smelled his little baby head, wrapped his fingers around mine and looked at his giant monkey feet I thought to myself, "You my boy, are the middle."

Hopefully I am not the only crazy person who, the moment she first spies her newborn babe starts thinking about the next one.  Or, maybe I am.  But, I am a planner and a nerd and crazy so it just made sense to me to be thinking forward.

The first time I held my little Quinner six weeks ago I thought, "I love you, baby!  Thank you for getting here safely."

On Monday, at my appointment with my OB he asked me if I was planning any more babies.  I said, "No, I don't think so."  He asked how sure I was and I said that I was 80% sure.  He agreed that 80% was pretty sure. (My husband however, when I shared the conversation with him said he felt my answer should have been 95% sure.)

In the last few weeks, I've had hundreds of hours pinned in a chair holding a sleeping baby.  Feeding a hungry baby.  Soothing a crying baby.  Burping a baby that refuses to burp.  Yes, may of those hours have been spent playing on my phone with a free hand, but even more have been spent in deep reflection.  What better time to think about your family and your future than when you are nestled into a comfy chair, smelling the sweet head of a brand new baby?

So yes, been thinking a lot about whether or not my family is complete.  If we are all here.  Or, if at least all of us that are supposed to get here through me.  I  am 34 after all.  If I were to think about another baby, it wouldn't be for at least two years, when I could mentally handle it.  That means I'd be having a 4th baby when I'm 37 or older.  It's something to think about.  My grandma, I believe was 42 when she had her 8th.  My mom was 40 when my brother was born.  My aunt was 40 (right?) when she had her third two years after my brother.

And what have I decided?  I have decided that I love my children and my husband.  I have decided that I am tired.  That I love babies, but not car seats.  That my body needs a long time to get fixed and better (blood sugars, blood pressure, weight, general health).  That I can already see ahead to the day when the 5 of us go to Disneyland and the four of them all get up for early entry and ride everything together before I even wake up and then I wander the gift shops with a diet coke and a Dole pineapple whip with some grilled asparagus wrapped in bacon for dessert.

Realizing that I don't know what the future holds, and that the plan isn't mine, but my Heavenly Fathers, at this moment I feel safe in saying, "Yeah, I'm done having babies."  As easy as it is for me to type that, and to think that, and to say it to someone, it's still sort of hard to come to terms with such a definite response.  I feel a little guilty and sad at the thought and I suppose I could change my mind.

But, I think instead, I'll be gratefully for what I've got.  Enjoy the life I've been blessed with and  I'll just ignore the questions until I'm too old to do anything about it.