If you missed them, here are Parts I and II of the saga. To recap, we moved into our house in 2008, and were inspired from the get-go by our tiny but lovely kitchen from our first apartment as a married couple when we lived briefly on Long Island.
Little by little, I pulled the kitchen apart and put it back together again, with help from my family. And I painted. Again. And again. And again.
At this point, the kitchen wasn’t getting a lot better without tearing everything out and starting over, but I kept pushing. I trimmed my open shelving out with 1x pieces of wood I had lying around to prevent dishes from being pulled out accidentally, and to make the edges look beefier. I made matching curtains for all the windows using fabric from Joel Dewberry’s Heirloom line called Opal in Dandelion. It’s no longer in stock, but I mention it because the fabric matches the kitchen perfectly, and I like all the words: Heirloom, Opal, Dandelion. 
Our house got featured on Design Mom in March of 2014, which was fun, and helped me up my photography game. But I have trouble leaving well enough alone.
A year ago today, we welcomed a silly, sweet boy with a chill disposition into our family.
When I started looking at photos, I was overwhelmed by the love we all feel for our rainbow baby. 
During this difficult year, Seven has been a ray of sunshine in the dark night. 
He isn’t interested in following anyone else’s program, but he is content to make his own way without creating a lot of waves. 
As the past few weeks have gone by and he’s sprouted teeth and started to stand on his own, we’ve gotten a glimpse of what’s to come – when we have to say goodbye to our baby and hello to a little toddler. 
I know that no matter how big he gets, he will still be everyone’s Little Brother and my baby. 
He’s got so many people to watch over him, defend him, and tell him what to do. 
Hopefully that won’t put a cramp in his style.
Something tells me it won’t.
The photo above was taken on June 15, 2017 at 8:29 a.m.
On June 14, 2017, around 8 p.m., I was at the hospital doing a Mock Code.
We’re required to do it once a year. In addition to knowing how to do CPR, which is a separate training, the Mock Code teaches us how to work together as a team during a code in a hospital setting. Knowing how to work with others and the sequence of events for emergency situations is essential for hospital workers.
I enjoy much of my nursing continuing education, because it makes sense. So much of our educational career, we are doing things and learning things that feel pointless and disconnected from our real lives. Almost all the training and education I do for my nursing career at the hospital feels important and necessary.
I need to know how to use the equipment. I need to remember the skills we use regularly to treat our patient population. And like I mentioned, automation is the key to success in emergent situations.
The thing that was different about this Mock Code is that at the time, I was nine months pregnant. At nine months pregnant, there is no more glowing beauty. There is the continuous preparation for and anticipation of birth. You are mentally done with incubating. Even with your first kid, you have some sense of the powerful process that will bring that baby earthside. It’s all you can think about. That, and how enormous you are.
This is me at the end of the day, a hot mess, hanging on for dear life. Or, alternately, a sloth at the Bronx Zoo. Your choice.
For years now, I have wanted to stop using screens in the evening, at least some of the time. I’ve always been a little jealous of married friends who casually say, “Oh, we don’t really watch TV together.”
But it is our default, after we get the kids to bed. We flop on the sofa in the living room, after both of us have worked hard all day. Then, we turn on the TV and watch something together. We’ve struggled to choose something to watch, even more so lately. A lot of the stuff the Chaplain would normally pick is just too cerebral for me to try to follow after I’m brain dead (NOVA, for instance? Fascinating, but I’m just too burnt to follow it.) The things I would choose are too girly (PBS’s new version of Little Women, for instance. Ah-mazing. But probably not of interest to the Chaplain).
So we were stuck in this rut where we would watch something we both were kind of ok with, but neither of us loved it. And I would trudge up to bed afterward feeling like I had wasted an hour (or two).
That’s One and Two, under the kitchen sink.
When I last left you, we were on color #2ish (while the faux finish took several coats of different colors, I am counting it as one color). I finally got fed up with the baby poop color when I was pregnant with Three. That was October 2008. 
Remember the definition of insanity? I tried another shade of green. For a little while, it seemed like an improvement. We had sprung for granite countertops like the ones we remembered in that first apartment, and that made everything look nicer. When we did that, we bucked the double sink trend at that time and got a single big, deep sink that allows us to pile in a ton of dishes before they start to peek over the edge of it.
But the new green I’d chosen, which I believe was called Scotland Yard, had a high sheen and was next door to a red room, which is only a match made in heaven for one month out of the year.
I knew it wasn’t a keeper, and just a week or so before Three was born in spring of 2009, I painted again.
