Living with a Princess

"Wrap the baby up better- she's cold." (Yosh) "Mom, I need to hold Kaia." (Dallin) "Close the curtains- the sun's in her eyes." (Yosh) "She needs to wear a dress today." (Porter) "You can't use those wipes- we have to use organic, home strung, feels-like-feather wipes." (Yosh) "I need to hold her again." (Dallin) "You have to wash your hands every time you touch her, boys. Even if it's only been 20 seconds since the last time you washed them." (Yosh) "Maybe we need a prettier dress." (Porter) "I need Kaia to cuddle with me." (Dallin) "We should warm her towel in the dryer for when her bath is done." (Ok, maybe that was me.)

Wow, I have definitely been dethroned. And completely demoted to boot- from queen to hand's maid all in one day. Baby girl- without any demand I might add- has taken her place as princess in this house. But I must admit, she responds well to luxury...two nights in a row sleeping from 10-5:30. I'll take it when it comes!

Glad all these boys are proving to be gentlemen and good big brothers and protectors and spoilers.

Thursday, January 20th was a pretty exciting day for the Hansen household. I woke up to my alarm clock and while getting ready thought I "might" be in labor, as I was having uncomfortable yet subtle contractions every 5 minutes. I went back and forth in my mind, since I wasn't yet convinced this was the real deal, about what to do. Finally, I decided to have the neighbor come over while I drove myself to the hospital "just to see" if anything was going on. That way I wouldn't get in a predicament while walking the boys to school, but also wouldn't call in all the troops for a false alarm. In my head, I have an erroneous- yet sometimes accurate- vision of about a 20 minute labor to delivery scenario.

They said they would keep me and I told Yosh to get his booty on over to the hospital. And the fun began.  I got to the hospital at about 8 am. Epidural finished at about 11. Yosh went to grab lunch at 11:25 before getting a frantic call 10 minutes later that he had about 5 minutes to get back or else he was going to miss the delivery of his baby. That was clearly an exaggeration- he had 17 minutes. And he made it. And I pushed- twice- and she was here at 11:55 am, weighing in at 6 lbs 15 oz, 19 1/2 inches long. And just beautiful. Kaia Marie is the official name.

Porter reacted by jumping up and down, chanting, "Kaia, Kaia, Kaia." Dallin was in a hurry to get to the hospital. The boys came and were gentle, loving, and enamored. Just wanted to hold her and kiss her. Except for Deetz, of course. But he didn't not like her so we were satisfied. On the way home from the hospital, Dallin declared..."I don't know what I'm going to do...I think I'm in love with her." There you have it- day 1 and she has all of them- Daddy included- right where she wants them.

The next day, when Porter went to school and was telling his teachers matter-of-factly about Thursday's happenings, he included, "But Mommy didn't come home last night. She's sleeping with a doctor." And I can only imagine the little man's facial expression that left no doubt- that was really how it was!

Deeter has warmed up to Kaia and is more generously yelling, "Baby!" and "Aia" and is even giving out a few kisses to her here and there. It's been a good first few days with our sweetheart and once again we feel blessed to have a healthy baby in our home. I think that fear never goes away and health is welcomed humbly every time.

Not the best picture but this is my favorite outfit!

For all of you that don't live in Southern California, I'm sorry. I really am. On a couple of different levels. First of all, I literally am sorry you don't live here- I think you would love it. But what I was really referring to is I'm sorry because this post seems like it's going to be rubbing in what a difference my weekend might have been from yours. But- even talking from a Southern Californian viewpoint- one reason this weekend seemed AMAZING is because we have been struggling weather-wise for say, I don't know, the last year. So the mid-January break with temps circa 75 and the sun brightly shining definitely got our attention.

As much fun as our MLK weekend was, we've had a lot more exciting news since then, so here's this unfinished post! Stay tuned for the real deal...

Saturday my baby girl (/me, or better yet, me using the guise of my baby girl!) was absolutely spoiled. I loved it. Every single detail of it. Every bright-colored outfit, with loud prints. The incredible food. The fun people. Spoke right to my heart.  

I came home ready to keep the party going. I was excited to get clothes sorted and hung up, get the crib set up and maybe even start a little bit of decorating. Yosh had already said this was a good afternoon to assemble the crib. So, we walked in the door and with very little procrastination I cautiously asked if he was ready to put the crib together. Granted, he had been alone with the kids alone for a few hours, which isn't his everyday routine and might constitute a little bit of rest and recouping. But I was really hoping to not have to give him that. And we had already talked about doing it, so he had to have been a little prepared. Well he answered in his "I-know-I-already-told-you-I-was-going-to-do-this-but-I'm-blatantly-going-back-on-my-word....AND-I-don't-care" tone of voice. He said, "Nope, I just don't want to do it today." And that was enough to get my blood boiling in 2.2. And he purposefully did it in front of my mom and sisters thinking he might get away with it. Like maybe he'd get some sympathy for baby-sitting his own kids. But I did what any 8-month-pregnant, hormonal girl with a crew on hand would do...I put my hands on my hips, my nose in the air, and said, "Well fine. I'll do it myself." In my most snotty voice possible. I could feel my sisters getting a little nervous telling me to not make a big deal of it. Not today, girls. So I marched my big-body self right up those stairs, hoping I had an entourage in tow- because there was no way in heck that I could really do this by myself- and kept walking right in to the baby's room. To find this.

An assembled cuna! I'll tell you what, the things we do for comedy in this house! Yosh loved having me all fired up, and to think that somehow my sisters already knew it was put together so they were very nervous for poor, abused, over-worked Yosh. Haha!!! Apparently him and the boys put in some good hours getting sweet baby Kaia's crib up and running while we were gone. Yosh said his favorite quote of the weekend came in the very early stages of the crib assembly... "Dad, let's take a break and get something to eat like real workers." That's what I'm talking about Dallin B! 

We're all getting ready for the debut of our little angel. Three weeks left and I think we'll actually survive it. And fyi, I quickly forgave Yosh for being so mean to me. Yes- being mean to me and not vise versa. Do not do that to your wife, for real, unless you want to be cussed out and beat.

Do you know what I have felt like doing the last couple of days? ......whining. Really. I have just wanted to whine about my terrible predicament. Thursday night Yosh and I went car shopping. I had found a car I thought suitable for our situation- a Buick Enclave. Granted, I'm not 60 years old and don't know if I should be driving a Buick before that age, but still, it seemed to fit. I want a car that has two captain seats making it easy access for the third row, and then I also want to be able to just throw my stroller in the back easily without having to rig it to get it to stay in, or not have to worry about opening the trunk and it falling out on top of me. So the Enclave filled the criteria. After that stop, I told Yosh that of course we could go next door and look at the minivan. I mean going into that situation, I already knew two things: 1)The minivan is far more economical/convenient/practical than any other car. And 2) I don't want one. So absolutely nothing to lose by looking.

    Except for the fact that on more than one occasion I've told Yosh that if he wants me to drive a minivan, he needs to have the car just show up in the driveway. Because I can't bring myself to ever say I "want" one or be the one to actually make the purchase. I played with fire walking onto that car lot with him. And it is now very obvious that I was burned. He saw it, sat it in, I think we drove it (I seriously can't even remember) and he was sold. An added element being that there is a "wait list" so the game has begun. Can he get the unattainable? Last thing we need is an adrenaline rush to add to this scenario. But that's what we have. He's just a chasin the win.
       To help ease my mind, I've been trying to think of validation. I've been rattling off the cool people I know...that also drive minivans. Laura is very stylish, modern, hip, fun...and will soon drive a minivan. Lindsy rocks her minivan with her three boys in tow. And she's a young 31. Christy gave up driving a Range Rover to roll in the minivan. I can do this. And if I dig deep enough, I have experiences of myself that support coolness. I mean I was 16, rolling with the whole party in the minivan. Surely that was cool, right?
    The other part of the scheme that has been talking place in my mind.... Yosh has taken it on himself to pick my car and he sure as heck didn't pick the car of my choice (show up with the Navigator, the Qx56, or shoot even the Enclave and I'd be okay), so I feel every right to pick out his car. Not that he's even getting one. That he knows of, at least. But I might fulfill my third-life crisis by picking out a sporty little convertible to show up in our driveway. And then I will tell him he has to ride his bike to work. I will make him ride his bike to work. And while he works, I will cruise the PCH. With the top down. While the minivan sits in the driveway. Revenge is sweet.