Fairbanks Family

Millions of Peaches

Paul and Anita — Tue, 21 Sep 2010 13:15:00 +0000

We love picking our own fruit. It’s delicious, and the task in itself seems to consecrate the taste. When we were dating, Paul took me cherry picking. Since then, our family has gone apple picking, strawberry picking, pumpkin picking, tangerine picking, peach picking, and coconut picking.

Charlotte peach picking this year

Charlotte apple picking last year

We just finished off our last pint of homemade freezer jam. Our peaches are gone. The peach pecan pie is only a memory. How will I ever last until next summer?

small, but the best I've had

This year we were invited by Sarah and Maxwell. Sarah was 8 1/2 months pregnant and I think it gave her a home-canning itch. She did most of the picking! I was content to pick one and spend the rest of the time watching and sampling.

Max

Max is one of Charlotte’s best friends. He’s got a streak of mischief to match, although I admit she’s usually the instigator.

The Temptation

“And when the woman saw that the tree was good . . . and pleasant . . . to be desired, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also”

The Fall

“Does it need milk?”

Paul and Anita — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 17:40:25 +0000

I really wish we had a video of this one. On Family Night, it was Atticus’ turn for the treat (brownies), with Papa as the designated helper. When Paul saw me mixing the batter without them, he slung Atticus over his arm and took over. As he reached across the bowl to give Atticus the spoon handle, and not sure where I had left off in the recipe, he asked me, “does it need milk?” And with perfect timing, Atticus threw up 1/4 cup.

Dreaming

Anita — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 21:23:48 +0000

This is a little game we play at night with Atticus, when he is fast asleep:

I’ve noticed that he has an automatic sucking reflex when he hears the sound of my voice. ”Aaaaatticus . . .”

“Suck, suck, suck, suck, suck.”

Now Paul’s turn: “Atticus.”

Nothing.

Mama: “Aaaaaaaatticus . . .”

“Suck, suck, suck, suck, suck.”

Paul: “Atticus?”

Nothing.

That’s it. That’s the game. Gosh, maybe we should watch t.v.

another funny sleeping habit

"My mommy call me Chubby, my daddy call me Chubby, even my little goldfish call me Chubby . . ."

Yeah, so uh . . . we moved

Paul and Anita — Thu, 05 Aug 2010 03:43:09 +0000

Okay, so everybody already knows that 2 weeks after Atticus was born, we packed up a truck and high-tailed it to Tennessee. This is old news. But I couldn’t move on before telling everyone how wonderful my (other) Mom and Dad are. This is not the first time they’ve packed and unpacked all of our belongings as we transitioned to a new stage in life. They’ve done this three/four times since I met them, and I don’t doubt they helped Paul with several more moves. I am not the most cheerful person to be around on moving day (if you saw me that day, then you remember). Stephen and Toni were there for all of it. Thank you, thank you, for putting up with my post-postpartum hormones, for making our apartment glisten, for driving our stuff across three states, for making our kids laugh through it all, and for shoulders to lean on while we held our heads high and pretended that we aren’t just a couple of dumb kids playing house, scared to death to be grownups. We love you so, so much.

We were overwhelmed with help from friends and neighbors, both in Ohio and in Tennessee. The services rendered ranged from tasty meals, to carpet-cleaning, packing, loading, patching, cleaning, last goodbyes, final zoo outings, babysitting, and much-needed hugs. I am so lucky to know people like you. Life means more because of you. Thank you for everything.

Did you know we had about 60 boxes of books? I didn’t load or unload a single one. Now I wish I could say we had room for all of them . . .

Our new kitchen

Our new living room

Our new bedroom. Notice the little guy?

My Mom and my son. Aren’t they beautiful?

I wish we had spent a little more time doing just this.

My fabulous other Dad. It makes me laugh that he has a shopping list in his hand. He went to the store for us at least 9 times in 2 days, always coming back with something that needed installing and then installing it himself. Having a functional house when Mom and Dad left meant that we could finally get back to doing this:

I have one final comment. We’re unpacked now, having thrown out the last cardboard box about 2 weeks ago. Wanna know how we did that with a newborn and a two-year old? I think this video should explain everything: (click on the link)

falling asleep in swing

I love pictures of my kids

Paul and Anita — Sun, 01 Aug 2010 04:39:53 +0000

When Atticus was 10 days old, I took him and Charlotte to a photo shoot at my awesome friend BreAnne’s. She did a wonderful job and it was a fun first-time experience for me. Her website is: http://bephotodesigns.com/ .

My awesome friend Leslee made beautiful announcements which we sent to a few family members (we love you all, but there are so many of you!) She has her own company too; her website is: ttp://www.wahyupress.com/wahyu.html

Anyway, here are some of the pictures:

CharlotteandAtticusisms

Paul and Anita — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 03:33:08 +0000

What do you do when you have a bunch of random portraits? Post them together with a bunch of equally but separately random events. They don’t go with the pictures. I just wanted to throw them all out there.

Today I told Charlotte that it was Nap-time.

She said, “Wait–let me look out the window . . .

nope, it’s not Nap-time, it’s Happy-Time!”

(thanks to my new but wonderful friend Christina for this pic)

Charlotte can swim freely in the water (with the help of floaties inserted into her swimsuit). After watching the big kids diving into the pool for some time, she called over to me from the deep end:

“Mom, look! I can go all the way under the water!” She then squeezed her eyes and mouth tightly and bounced. Only her chin got a bit wet. I didn’t tell her.

So far, Atticus has endured littlebrotherhood patiently. He’s been bitten, force-fed, screamed at, and hit upon the head with a tape-dispenser, but he still smiles when he hears his sister’s voice.

He smiles whenever we say “BOO!” Unless we say it a little too loud, which we are prone to do. Then he gets frighted and wails until we feel simply awful.

Today he bit me. I rebuked him sternly. He just laughed and laughed. I laughed too.

A Conversation at Dinnertime:

Charlotte: “Whatcha makin’, Papa? Is it yummy?”

Paul: “A concoction.”

Charlotte (to Mama): “Makin’ a yummy concoction!”

Anita: “Ooh, how delectable!”

Charlotte (to Papa): “a yummy delectable!”

Paul (to Anita): “isn’t that a redundancy?”

Charlotte: “OOOH! A DELECTABLE REDUNDANCY!!”

When he’s really relaxed, but awake, he’ll start to blow little bubbles. Usually by the time I notice he’s got a miniature goatee of bubbles all stuck together and spilling out his mouth. It’s so cute.

As is often the case, I was finally putting a shirt on Charlotte after letting her run around half-naked all morning. ”There,” I said, “now you’re modest.”

She pondered a moment and then gently corrected my error: “No, I’m not modest, I’m Charlotte.”

This must be the most boring song ever written by a two-year-old: (but sweetly dedicated to her baby brother)

to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

I love you, I love you,

I love you, I love you.

So much.

Yesterday she couldn’t remember the term for corn dog, but she really wanted one. So she helped me understand with the following monologue:

“Corn? No. Hot dog? No. Hot corn! Yeah!”

My husband and Charlotte are very close. She won’t let him leave–even to fetch the mail–without first making him promise to come back.

Did you know this kid will sometimes take naps lasting 5 hours? (Try to keep that a secret . . . I’m still riding on the “she has a newborn” excuse for my lazy lifestyle.)

At the grocery store today, I mumbled my shopping list to myself and then gave the cart a push into the produce department. Charlotte took the list from my hand, turned it sideways, and opened it. She pushed her nose into the fold and with the paper only an inch from her face, “read” it to me:

“Bring . . . bananas, and cookies. Okay.”

Hmmm. How about Zucchini squash and leeks?

Lately, we have found Charlotte disciplining her baby dolls in similar manners to how we might discipline her, such as putting them in time-out for hitting, taking something, or not listening in important situations (like holding hands in the busy downtown streets of Memphis). While driving in the car as a family, we suddenly heard Atticus cry out and Charlotte say to Atticus, ”Oh Atticus, I’m sorry. I not do that again.”

We both turned around to look at her and said, “Charlotte, what did you do?” She looked at us and said, “Atticus told a lie.”

Charlotte’s 2nd Birthday

Paul — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 20:57:11 +0000

Charlotte’s birthday, May 20th, falls 50 years to the day after her Grandma Karen’s and is only one day short of her Grandma Toni’s. May 20th is also my half-birthday (which is equidistant from both my daughter’s and my mother’s), and the anniversary of my becoming a mother. Atticus was born on Charlotte’s due date, but I’m not sure how that fits in to all of this.

We kept it simple, but a celebration was in order.

The Columbus Metropolitan Museum of Art,

Lunch at Northstar Cafe and Ice Cream at McDonald’s . . .

. . . and cake!

We held a small celebration at our house with a couple of Charlotte’s closest friends. Sadly, not all could be there but it was still fun.

Its amazing how with just a little preparation…..

and a few guests….

you get a raging PARTY!!!!!!

with timeless classics such as…

Ring Around the Rosy,

Balloon animals,

Smother the Brother, and of course

Take the presents away from the birthday girl!! Unfortunately we don’t have a photo of this last game seeing as we were refereeing at the time! Oh well.

Thanks to everyone for their gifts. Charlotte loves them all.

And they get great use!!!!

Coming Home

Paul and Anita — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 22:08:33 +0000

One Day Old

Paul and Anita — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 21:47:04 +0000

The Birth

Paul and Anita — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 02:50:58 +0000

“Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here

Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then . . .”

–from “The Windhover”, by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Today we played peek-a-boo. He’s cooing on the floor at my feet (don’t worry, we sprayed for spiders) and I thought I might have a little time to share some of the joys and challenges of the last 8 weeks. A full week after my due date, little Atticus seemed content to stay where he was in my tummy, so we offered a little bit of encouragement in the form of Pitocin. The advantage to induction, however strange it may seem to check yourself into the hospital feeling perfectly healthy, is that we arrived rested, fed, and showered.

I even got to bring my labor buddies, who had sworn to do my every bidding for the duration:

I’m so glad that I had my sweetheart Paul and my wonderful mom there with me.

Dad was left with the challenge of taking a regressing potty-trainer to church, a task nearly equal to giving birth.

I won’t say much about the labor here. It lasted 7 hours. Here we are playing Settlers of Catan during the early stages:

We had just enough time to finish the game before they broke my water. If you’re wondering who won, it was Mom, as usual. (If I had won, no one would have believed it.)

After the game, it was time for the real battle. I don’t like to think about this part of the story. It’s still too soon. Everything went fine.

It was awful.

Pushing was shorter than with Charlotte; I had a better idea of what I needed to do and how close I really was to meeting the baby. Atticus bruised his face purple on the way out, and somehow managed to get his shoulder stuck for a push or two. The medical team did a great job.

I’ll always remember his face in those first few moments of birth: still and discolored, so still it looked almost cold. I must have froze too, waiting, watching, nearly alone in that room full of bustling people. All the time, I was warmed by a feeling, a stillness itself, that everything would be okay, despite my waves of panic. The seconds divided, and then he gasped a great breath and gave his first tiny cry. My joy came in floods. I am so happy to be his mom.

They checked him out, especially his troublesome shoulder that got in the way; everything looked great.

I felt such an immediate closeness to him. We each understood something of the other’s suffering, relief, and the thrilling happiness at life.

The bruising on his face changed from a purplish gray to a tomato red over the following days, before settling into a perfect newborn pink. The doctors tried to forewarn me about it, but I was already in love.

He still makes this face (below) when he’s feeling disappointed; for example, when he thinks I’m going to feed him and instead I lay him down for a diaper change. He’s perfected it since then; now it’s far more pathetic.

According to the camera, I finally got to hold him 14 minutes after his birth. If I hadn’t been restrained by that IV . . . Truthfully, however, I’m lucky. They didn’t have to rush him over to the NICU while I was forced to wait on the sidelines. Just a quick look-over and then he was mine to keep. Forever.

His first phone conversation:

I’m trying to remember why I look so happy and peaceful in this picture . . . there are a million reasons.

He aced the breastfeeding class in Heaven. Knew just what to do.

I finally let Paul hold him:

It was then, as I watched the two of them together, that I started leaning toward the name Atticus Paul. He even has his Papa’s toe.

It’s also the same toe as his Grandpa Stephen’s.

My dad rushed over to the hospital to meet us. I used to picture this moment over and over, when Charlotte would get to meet the baby. It was bliss. She was so purely happy. I’ll never forget her laughter.

She smothered him with kisses.

He blew her a raspberry.

We hope they will always be such good friends.

I was so proud to show him off to my dad.

Atticus cozied right up.

Mom was fantastic. I have her to thank for most of these photos. Not to mention blazing the trail to motherhood with kindness and love.

Charlotte was begging to hold the baby again and again. When the nurse tried to hold him, she burst into tears.

Inseparable.

(I’m in the chair holding Atticus; Charlotte was not about to let either one of us out of her sight. )

Paul suggested that the baby likes songs. Charlotte was giddy to oblige him with a loud and boisterous version of “Jesus Said Love Everyone,” smack against his eardrum and including her special ending, “when your heart is filled with love, Brother will love you”. She still sings to him every day.

It had only been about 45 minutes or so, and his face already looked so much better. He did not like his bath. He did like Grandpa’s finger. (Paul has spent hours with his pinky in the baby’s mouth. Atticus doesn’t care for mine at all. To keep Charlotte’s fingers out, we often tell her that “only Papa’s finger has milk.”

Despite being half-starved from fasting and exertion, I somehow didn’t get much of that first meal. It turns out my family loves hospital food. “Free cookies!’

The end of a long day.

I love this little boy ferociously. He fills my life with sweetness. I would do anything for him.