Utah Jazz vs Milwaukee Bucks

Last year Dash followed in his father's footsteps and became a big Duke basketball fan.  It was especially fun to watch the Blue Devils because their star player, Jabari Parker is a Mormon.  After Jabari went as the number 2 draft pick to Milwaukee, Dash became a big Bucks fan.  I didn't even know there was an NBA team in Milwaukee.  Of course, I know a lot of things now I didn't know before courtesy of Dash, such as the shoe size of the starting forward for the Oklahoma City Thunder (another new name for me).

For Christmas, Dash asked Santa for tickets to the Jazz/Bucks game in Salt Lake on February 28.  Santa came through and Dash (and Colt and Sport and Brandan) has been anxiously waiting for the big day to arrive.  There was a few moments of crushing disappointment, like when Jabari tore his acl in January and Brandan Knight, another start on the team, was traded to the Phoenix Suns on Feb 20.  Dash was a good sport though and still excited to make the most of opportunity.  The week of the big game, the boys spent their time crafting homemade jerseys to show support to their teams.  That's right, teams.  Colt rooted for the Jazz and Sport and Dash wore Bucks colors.

All the boys were up by 5 am on February 28th, the one Saturday Brandan had off since Christmas.  Even though the game didn't start until 7 that night, we could only hold the boys off until about 10:30.  Dash really needed a new pair of sneakers so Brandan volunteered to take on the chore of shoe shopping.  They stopped in Park City at the outlet mall and all three boys ended up with new shoes.  Dad's a pushover.

The guys killed time by wandering around Temple Square and McDonald's until about 5:30.  Brandan's friend tipped him off about going early enough to watch the teams warm up.  It was a great idea.  They made it in with the first 150 people and so they all four were given free Jazz ties and the boys were able to get three autographs!  Overall, the day was a huge success and the boys had a blast.  Thank you, Santa.

Watching the teams warm up.

The boys with Giannis Antetokounmpo "the greek freak" in the background.

Getting autographs.  The security guy in the green jacket took a special interest in the boys.  He pull them to the front of the lines and help them get their papers signed.

Autographs from OJ Mayo.

The view.

A lady sitting next to the guys thought they made such a cute group she asked if she could take their picture.  I think the homemade jerseys really put them over the top.

February

A picture says a thousand words...

Grandma and Grandpa Clayson came the day after Tag was born and stayed a couple of days.  They were lots of help with the kids and the house.  We were sad to see them go.

Dash took this picture of Tag using my phone one morning before school.  Everyone loves our little brother!

Everyone, including and especially, Sport.  In the mornings, Sport loves to snuggle Tag (who is inevitably in our bed taking up a disproportionate amount of space!). 

At 5 days old, Tag accompanied Sport, Sis, Grandma and Grandpa and myself to Dash's school to listen to his author presentation.  He wrote a fantastic nonfiction dinosaur book.

Wearing a new outfit and living up to the label "Captain Adorable"

Grandma and Grandpa Madsen came to meet Tag the day he turned a week old.  The next day we all went to support Brandan while he coached his 9th grade basketball team in their final tournament for the year.  Brand's team played great and finished with a 500 season.  By the time Tag was 15 days old, he had attended 5 basketball games.

The boys and their Valentine Day boxes.  Dash made his bag at school, but Colt and I took on the project of making a Batman car for his card box.

Cam and the kids came for a short visit mid-February.  The weather was unseasonably warm and the cousins took full advantage!

Cousins!

On Tag's 10th day I was snuggling him on the couch when he started making a funny little noise in his sleep.  I looked down and he was laughing! It was the most beautiful thing ever.  Luckily my phone was nearby and I was able to snap a picture of his happy smiles.

Cute little Tagalong.

Soaking in some rays to help with a slight case of jaundice.

Two weeks old and taking his first bath.  Tag actually really likes a good soak, but the picture would appear to say otherwise.

Colt performing at his Kindergarten readers' theater.

Towards the end of February we got quite a Sunday afternoon snow storm. Brand decided to take advantage of the weather to use his "One Free Snowball Fight" coupon the boys gave him for Christmas. 

Tag decided to sit the snowball fight out.

Siblings

Saturday morning, Brandan headed back to Mountain View to pick up the kids and bring them back to meet their newest sibling.  It was so cute to see the looks on their faces when they first saw him.  Sport was in such awe he actually whispered.

Dash is a great big brother.  He is great at helping take care of baby Tag.  He is quick to volunteer to hold him when he fusses and I'm busy with something, or even just bringing him to me when he needs fed - or his diaper changed.  Dash still hasn't volunteered to change any of those!

Beautiful as he is, Tag is covered in the finest little down.  Just like a little mouse.  The other day, while Dash was admiring his brother, he asked me when I was going to trim the hair on Tag's face.  I laughed a little and replied - Never.  In exasperated disbelief, Dash cried, "Really?! So he'll be 1 year old with a beard?"

Dash and Tag

Before the end of their visit, Dash had Tag sitting on the bed with him watching college basketball on the tv.

 Colt has always been a loving little guy and he was quick to fall for Tag, but Tag's arrival has taught us something about Colt - he's a little squeamish.  Colt loves to talk to Tag and stroke his head and face, but when it came time to change a diaper or give Tag a bath, Colt would bolt.  The sight of his drying umbilical cord made him seriously uncomfortable.  He repeatedly asked when we could expect that to fall off and then counted down the days.  When it finally fell off after a full two weeks, Colt was eager to snuggle his baby brother without reservation. 

Colt and Tag

 Sport was absolutely convinced the baby would be a girl.  Fortunately, he hasn't held Tag's gender against him.  Sport is smitten.  He loves snuggling up to him and writing Tag's name on every picture he draws.  His biggest concern: Tag's ears are so tiny (proportionally appropriate, but still), Sport didn't believe it was possible for him to hear.  For the first few days, any time anyone talked or cooed at Tag, Sport would be quick to remind him they were wasting their breath - he can't hear anything!

Sport and Tag.  Sport was absolutely convinced the baby would be a girl.  Fortunately, he hasn't held Tag's gender against him.  Sport is smitten.  He loves snuggling up to him and writing Tag's name on every picture he draws.

 I was anxious to see how Sis would react to a new baby since she can be a little jealous.  I was surprised to see her act almost afraid of Tag.  I think she expected the baby to be a little bigger and more fun.  She was pretty hesitant around him at the hospital, but that didn't last long.  Now she loves to be right in his face and has offered (threatened) to carry him.  She did, however, refuse to learn Tag's name for the first 2.5 weeks of his life.  She insisted on referring to him as "that baby".  Where's that baby?  What's that baby doing?  Why are you holding that baby?  When someone asked her his name she would dismissively tell them his name was "three".

Sis, Mom and Tag

Dad, Sport, Sis and Tag.

Tag William Madsen

The day we had our ultrasound and found out Sis was a girl, I made a decision.  I knew that if I had another baby, I wouldn't find out what we were having through ultrasound.  We would have clothes and blankets and such for either gender and so I would wait to be surprised.  I really overestimated my own patience.  By 37 weeks, I was ready to meet our baby and finally know what tub of baby clothes I would need to launder.  I could have over-killed it done both, but what a waste of resources.

At least one part of my impatience was brought on by the fact that for the first time in my life I was actually progressing towards labor on my own (and a little early).  At 37 weeks I was dilated to a 4.  The rest of my agitation I attribute to a nagging pain in my back.  Despite my eagerness, I willed myself to hold off any signs of labor the weekend before I reached 38 weeks.  Brandan left for a weekend of coaching basketball in Powell and then Cody.  An 8 hour bus ride away.  He left Friday morning and I felt continually twinges all day.  I had many serious mental conversations with the baby where I willed him not to come.  Forbade even.  It worked, a little too well.  I had hoped to get through Friday and Saturday and then welcome a baby on Sunday, Feb 1, but after Friday, all signs of labor stopped.  I think Dash had said too many fervent prayers that I wouldn't ruin the Super Bowl with a baby for that plan to work.  The game might be on Sunday, but Heavenly Father loves 8 year olds. 

At my last appointment, Dr. Hansen had told me to come to Evanston on Friday the 6th with a bag packed in case I had progressed enough to be admitted to the hospital.  He had no intention of starting my labor since I'm a VBAC mom, but, just in case.  I did everything I could to start regular contractions before that day, including, but not limited to, jumping on the trampoline, riding a bike and long runs.

Friday morning, I half-heartedly threw a hospital bag in the van and Brandan and I dropped Sport and Sis off with a friend and headed to Evanston.  After determining that I was dilated to nearly a 6, Dr. Hansen seemed genuinely confused over what to do with me.  I couldn't report feeling any real contractions, but he didn't really want to send me back home only to have me try and make the 40 minute drive back to Evanston in full-blown labor at a 6 with my sixth child.  I suggested he strip my membranes, let me walk around town a bit and see what happened.  After the appointment, Brandan and I wandered around Wal-Mart (actually Colt had given us an ultimatum - we were to either buy him some spray paint to make his Valentine's box with, or he would ask to borrow some from the neighbor) and then we headed over to the Evanston bike path.  We stomped along the trail for a solid 40 minutes and then got some lunch before going back to the doctor.  I thought I noticed a few twinges, but I was pretty discouraged to not feel any regular contractions.

Back at the doctor's office, Dr. Hansen was pretty discouraged as well.  He decided to leave the decision in our hands, but strongly suggested we keep in mind that with my positive Group B strep test, I would need 4 hours of antibiotics before giving birth, otherwise, we would be required to stay in the hospital 48 hours.  We decided to go a head and have our baby.

After getting checked in and having a contraction monitor attached, I was super pleased and very surprised to learn that I was having contractions fairly regularly, but just wasn't noticing them.  The IV with the antibiotics was started shortly before 3:30 so we knew the doctor wouldn't want things to hurry too quickly in order for the 4 required hours to pass.  Just a very small drip of pitocin was added to my IV and then shut off again when the contractions started coming closer together.  Brandan and I watched a considerable amount of ESPN for a few hours while we waited for the medicine to be administered.  I started noticing contractions within about an hour or so after settling into my bed, but they were very manageable.  Around 5:45, Dr. Hansen broke my water.  It was about the time the nurse announced that I was at an 8 (and just passing the point of an effective epidural) that the contractions became strong enough to get me rocking back and forth in the bed.  Just like I spent hours "banging" as a child (okay, and teenager and adult..), I spent the majority of my hard labor sitting completely upright swaying back and forth like the guy in the movie Rain Man.  Sometime shortly after 7, Dr. Hansen came back and announced that I was at a 9.5.  That seemed awfully specific.  He told me to let him know when I started feeling "pushy" and then he left to watch the basketball game on tv in the adjoining waiting room.  After listening to the sounds of ref whistles and squeaky sneakers for a few minutes, I decided that I was tired of contractions.  I wanted to push.  I definitely wasn't feeling pushy like I remembered feeling with Sissy's labor, but the idea of enduring an unknown number of contractions (who knows how many basketball quarters that might take!), was more than I could handle.  

I knew I wasn't quite at a 10 by the look on Dr. Hansen's face, but because he knew what was best for him, he told me I could push anyway and he would help by holding down any cervix that was left.  Pushing was all my worst nightmares brought to life.  It only took 3 pushes and maybe 4 minutes to deliver my baby, but in that time, I may, or may not have, but definitely did, announce that I couldn't do anymore and shout at the doctor to "just pull it out!".  (I'm still feeling a little ashamed to have to face the doctor at my follow-up appointment in 6 weeks.)

After the baby's head was delivered, I heard a nurse announce that "her head was out".   It makes no logical sense that the nurse would know the gender of the baby based on the head, but there is no logical thought process that goes through a woman in labor anyway, so I felt sure that the baby was a girl, a confirmation of the suspicion both Sport and I shared through my whole pregnancy.  So when the baby was born, at 7:48 pm, and the doctor held him up, I think the whole room said "A boy?" 6 lbs 10 oz, 20 inches, and all boy.  I was thrilled.  Suddenly it made perfect sense that our baby was a boy and nothing in the world could have made me happier at that moment.  Actually, nothing has made me happier in any moment since.  I love my little Tag William Madsen.

A Boy!

Brand New

Tag had the perfect little lip quiver the second he was born.

Howling

Still mad

Yelling in the nurse's face.

Still mad

Snuggling Mom

Calm and happy

Mom and Tag

Looking at Mom

Dad and Tag

Super unhappy about his bath...

until the warm water rinse.

All Clean!

Our Wyoming baby!

Going home 24 hours later.

Tag William Madsen

Winter Sports

When most people think of winter sports, skiing, ice skating, and hockey come to mind.  We haven't had enough snow to mention this winter, but we enjoy our "winter sports" anyway.

Indoor goal posts constructed by Dash and Colt.

An NFL playoff bracket.  Dash tracked the games and printed off the pages and Colt colored them all.

Indoor basketball "hoop".

Sport's Speech

On a Friday morning in January I took Sport to the public preschool center for a developmental screening.  We've been concerned about the clarity of his speech and we decided to get a professional opinion.  After chatting with Sport for a bit, the Speech Pathologist determined he has an articulation delay.  His language development, vocabulary, sentence structure, ect are on target, but his pronunciation needs work.  Turns out we didn't need a professional opinion.  Anyone who has heard Sport ask to play on the "pompooter" (computer), call for "Tolt's" (Colt's) attention, or describe his favorite animal the "zep-ah" (zebra) could tell you he either has a pronunciation problem, or a thick foreign accent.

Because of this delay, Sport qualified for free preschool a few hours a day twice a week.  Within minutes he was signed up to begin class the following Monday.  I was really torn.  I wanted Sport to get whatever help he needed, but I wanted to provide it.  Sport has major separation anxiety (maybe I do too) and I really didn't want both of us to fight this all the time.  Plus, Sis and I would miss him.  Especially Sis, who would in turn demand more time and attention from me.  I can be practical as well as emotional.  I called Brandan during his prep hour and he shared the same concerns.  We were going to have to think about it over the weekend.

And then, about 1:30 that afternoon, the time Sport would be in preschool the next week, I was unloading laundry when he came up and started asking questions about Davey.  It started simple (did Davey live in my belly like our new baby that was coming?), but the more I told him, the more he wanted to know.  Did he ever live in our house? How big was he? How come he died?  I finally sat down on the floor, took a deep breath, and started from the beginning.  I told him about the day Davey was born and what he looked like, his heartbeat, and fingers, and lips, the little outfit he wore, how we held him, blessed him, sang to him, and how he went home.  I held it together amazingly well (I was 8 months pregnant for Pete's sake), but even so, when I finished my story, Sport wrapped me up in a hug and buried his own teary eyes in my shoulder.  After a minute, he pulled back and very seriously told me he knows Davey is happy because he lives with Jesus now.  He said he knows Jesus makes Davey happy because Jesus makes him happy.  And then he also told me that he is sure Jesus is wearing His white shirt, not his red one, because its heaven.

It seems like all the boys about the age of four have developed their own personal connection with Davey, Heavenly Father's way of allowing him to continue in our family.  I would never claim that preschool would disrupt that for Sport, but it felt like a sign to me for me that he needs to stay home with me for as long as he can.  What a pity to have missed that moment with him, or any other that might come up.  I'm so grateful that Sport's speech has never gotten in the way of our conversations.

Other notable Sport moments:

Sport - Mom, are unicorns real?
Me -  No, honey.
Sport - (perplexed) Really? Because rainbow are.

Discussion about building our new house.
Sport - We don't have a ladder or a hammer.  How are we going to build our roof?
Me - We'll have to buy some I guess.
Sport - Or I can sit on Dad's shoulders and tape the stuff on.

During story time at the library.
Librarian to children - Who are your heroes?
Sport - (shouting) Jesus!

One day Sport dressed up in camo from head (literally, a camo hat) to toe.  He repeatedly asked me if I could see him and I kept distractedly telling him no.  When we piled in the car to meet Brandan I told Sport he needed to get his seat belt on.  Sport reassured me that wouldn't be necessary because the policemen wouldn't be able to see him other than the blue of his eyes and he would just shut them if he saw a cop coming.  Logic is airtight.  Then when we picked up Brandan, Sport posed the same question to him - Dad, can you see me?  Noticing his get-up, Brandan played along and pretended to search around for the source of Sport's voice.  Delighted, Sport tried it out with Sissy.  "Sissy, can you see me?"  Just like the child from the Emperor's New Clothes, Sissy stated with blunt honesty,  "Yes, you're right there". Sport was shocked.  Game over.

New Year's Eve

On New Year's Eve, we were invited to our friend's, the Birds, house.  There were several families with littles in attendance, so the hosts planned a NY countdown at 10 o'clock, which felt way past midnight to most of the adults anyway.

Counting down to the New Year!