Leaves, leaves everywhere and not a rake in sight

Anyone who has seen our yard would agree raking is a futile activity. And now I can't even locate the rake.




Too many leaves. Too much "yard," if you can even call it that. I prefer to think of it as indefinite forest.


It makes a nice backdrop, too.

Tunes

I recently took up the piano because a) I can no longer play the violin and terribly miss making music and b) Reagan's great-grandmother surprised us with a piano this fall.

The best (or worst) part of all is that I'm teaching myself to play. Tracy's mom recently took pity on my plight and hooked me up with a stack of piano books. The kind with big notes and large print designed for the kindergarten crowd. Tracy and his siblings worked their way through them eons ago. Right now I'm playing pieces my husband and in-laws played back in '89. That means I'm only 20 years behind.

OK. Time to fess up. The real reason I'm playing "Crunchy Flakes" and "Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore" multiple times until I get them right? So my little boy gets to grow up with music in the house.

It sounds a little cheesy, but music is such a gift.

Goodbye, summer!

Tracy and I thought we would wrap up the official last week of summer by taking Reagan out on the water one last time ... before cooler fall temperatures set in. Chilly Labor Day weekend weather beat us to the punch, so we settled for a bike ride. Reagan loves riding in his Chariot, so he didn't mind the change of plans, as evidenced by that big grin.

Welcome, fall!

Reagan goes for a swim

Uncle Matt outfitted Reagan with a snazzy new Hyperlite life jacket from Scheel's, so we thought it was time for the little guy to test the waters a bit.

Four generations

Reagan met his great-grandmother last weekend. Grandma Harrelson lives in Omaha and can no longer travel, so Dad, Mom, Reagan and I made the trip to see her. We took a four-generation photo to show Reagan when he's older.

This was the little guy's longest car ride, but he was such a trooper. And my parents loved spending time with their grandson. (Nana insisted on riding in the backseat the whole way there and back.)

Reagan's weekend on the water

Reagan went out on the boat for the first time last weekend. He wasn't quite ready for wakeboarding, but he sure dressed the part.

Cool shades? Check. Rashguard? Check. Board shorts? Check. Frontside 360? Maybe we'll save that for next summer.

Here's one for the Gipper

My husband and I put off picking out a name for our firstborn the greater part of nine months. It wasn’t that we didn’t care. We just realized early on that naming your child isn’t like naming the family pet. Fido down the street doesn’t mind if you call your pooch “Fluffy.” Give your kid a questionable name, and the neighbor kids can be downright cruel.

It wasn’t until the little guy arrived that we settled on a name: Reagan.

The name parents choose to give their son or daughter always invites commentary, and our experience was no different. Our son’s name elicited its fair share of “that’s unique” and “oh, how cute.” A few brave souls dared ask if we named him after the late president, a question I was more than happy to entertain.

See, there’s a reason we didn’t name him Carter or Clinton.

I was 5 when the space shuttle Challenger went down. I was too young to understand the political implications of such a disaster, but I understood this much: The men and women who boarded that space shuttle were special. And when I watched it fall to pieces in the middle of my living room, my heart broke for those mommies and daddies and the children they left behind.

Tied to my memory of what befell those seven astronauts is President Ronald Reagan’s response. The president was supposed to deliver his State of the Union address that evening. He didn’t. Reagan understood it was a time for mourning and remembering, not for boasting of his administration’s grand plans and accomplishments.

That night, rather than balking and drawing rank in the face of such a disaster, the president renewed America’s commitment to space exploration. And then he spoke to me. Or at least it seemed his next words were just for me. Reagan took a moment to reassure the nation’s schoolchildren. Tragedies like the Challenger explosion, he explained, are “all part of the process of exploration and discovery.

“The future doesn’t belong to the fainthearted. It belongs to the brave.”

Say what you will about Reagan — during this election season, every pundit and politician seems to be taking his or her turn — the man was fearless.

June 5 marked the fourth anniversary of the Gipper’s death. I was blessed to grow up in the shadow of his presidency. I wonder if a man of his caliber will rise to the occasion during my son’s lifetime.

My son was given his name because I hope he, too, will not back down in the face of adversity. That he would exemplify the strength and courage of Reagan and, while he may not take on Kremlins and Cold Wars, that he would acknowledge the evil in this world and fight for what is good.

In that same speech, Reagan remarked that the Challenger Seven honored their country by the manner in which they lived their lives.

I pray the same can be said of Reagan.

The Koskans head south

Tracy, Reagan and I flew to Phoenix last week. I had an appointment at the Mayo clinic in Scottsdale. It was time to see a specialist for my dystonia.

We decided we should make a mini-vacation out of it as long as we were down there. So we took in a Diamondbacks game at Chase Field, toured the Grand Canyon, sampled a few good restaurants and hung out by the pool. Reagan loved chillin' out poolside in his cool new board shorts (thanks, Nana!). And he was such a trooper about flying. He never made a peep the whole way down and back.

Visitors from Colorado

My friend Jessie and her son Griffin paid us a visit this week. Jessie and I met in Steamboat Springs, Colo., in 2001. I had just finished college, taken a job at the local paper and was determined to make my mark in newspapers. We were six months apart, but our goals, interests and personality couldn't have been further apart. I thought she was a jock; she thought I acted older than I was. But somehow we became the best of friends.



Friends like Jessie are few and far between. God knew how much I needed a sister like her when we bumped into each other along life's path. She taught me to not take myself so seriously, that spontaneity is a good thing and that it's OK to fail. She's seen me at my worst and my best and still calls me friend.

So here we are, seven years later, married and with children. Who would have thought we'd all be hanging out with George, Tom, Teddy and Abe, getting snowed in with our boys (a blizzard hit the morning after Jessie and Griffin flew in), swapping tips for washing Fuzzi Bunz and reaching for our Hooter Hiders?

Jess, if you're reading this: I'm so blessed to call you friend.

Master Reagan, your Chariot awaits ...

The pile of instructions that came with our Chariot recommend waiting several months before taking infants out for a ride. But this last week was just too pretty to follow some manufacturer's instructions. So we bundled our little bundle of joy up, threw in a few pillows for extra padding and went on our way.

Reagan snoozed the whole time. And Lucy? Well, she practically pulled me and the lad along.

April showers

The funny thing about having children ... suddenly, presents addressed to you and your hubby are no longer for you. They're for your chillins.

Tracy and I have been so blessed by the generosity of friends and family who have showered our little guy with gifts. Reagan's wardrobe is covered through 18 months. Many thanks to "Auntie" Amy Engwall (pictured with Reagan), who threw a shower for Reagan on April 3, and "Camp Grandma" Marilyn Kallander, who threw a shower for Reagan on April 8. Master Koskan scored lots of cool stuff!

Hey, at least I got to open the gifts.

One month ago today ...

... Reagan Michael arrived kicking and screaming. It's hard to believe the little guy has been a part of our lives that long. The weeks have flown. And they'll continue to fly, I suppose. He's grown and changed so much since Tracy and I brought him home.

I can't tell you exactly how much he weighs or measures. The only thing I have to go by are his clothes, the smallest of which are starting to get a little snug.

Here's to many more months of feeling blessed.

Numero Dos

Lucy the Wonderdog has some competition of late: Reagan.

Tracy and I jokingly refer to our cocker spaniel as "the granddog." My parents spoil her. I'm talking spa-like treatment. So much so that when Mom and Dad take Lucy on the weekends, Lucy is said to be going to "the spa."

Now that an actual grandchild has arrived, Lucy is no longer No. 1. She is Numero Dos, as my little brother Mattchew likes to call her of late. Or just Dos.

But as you can tell by the photo, the pup still holds a special place -- and a spot on the couch -- in the grandparents' hearts.

Giving Reagan back

Dear Reagan:

In case you stumble across this blog when you are old enough to use the Internet (which should be in about three months, at the rate kids are grasping technology these days) and wonder why Mom would even entertain the thought of giving you back, please read further. You're not going anywhere, kid. At least until after you finish high school.

The book of I Samuel opens with Hannah asking God for a son. She promises to give the boy back to God if God grants her request. God does bless Hannah with a child. Hannah keeps her word and brings Samuel to live with Eli, a priest, when he is a small boy.

Like Hannah, your father and I gave you back to God on Sunday. Our church held a child dedication service, and you were dedicated along with four other tots. You probably won't remember anything from that day because you slept through the entire service. But you made Mom and Dad so proud because you didn't cry when we handed you to Pastor Gregg.

God entrusted you to us for a time. But, like Samuel, you were never ours. You are His. Our prayer is you grow to love and follow hard after God during the short time you are in our care. Trust us, buddy, it will go quick. You're already three weeks old today.

We love you,

Mom and Dad

Baby boot camp: Week one

One week down. 52 (weeks) x 18 (years) = 936 - 1 (this last week) = 935 weeks to go?

Since the birth of our son, Tracy and I have come to understand what "exhaustion" means. I'll be honest. I always thought parents were stretching things a bit when they reminisced about the sleepless nights that accompanied the birth of a child. Apparently they were telling the truth.

All those slumber parties I wasn't invited to or Mom nixed when I was a kid? Let's just say Reagan is helping make up for all the fun I thought I missed out on. Since the little guy came along, it's like a pajama party every night. Except he does all the snacking. And staying awake doesn't come as easily. And then there's the 3 a.m. blowouts.

OK. So it's maybe not quite a pajama party.

But sleepless nights aside, Reagan has brought such joy to our lives. I'm so glad God gave him to us.

Welcome to the world, Baby Reagan!

Reagan Michael Koskan arrived March 11 at 2:30 p.m. He weighed 6 pounds, 10.4 ounces and measured 19.5 inches long.

We checked in to the hospital at 11:15 a.m., and the little guy arrived at 2:30 p.m. It was a quick delivery (but Mom's not complaining).

Any day now ...

OK. Seriously. This kid can come any day now. Mom and Dad are ready already. I'm officially unemployed. Friday was my last day of work. I've cleaned the house a dozen times and thought about cleaning it a dozen more. How many times can a person clean out their closets?

My doctor tells me the baby is so low that it should be a quick delivery. Too bad "quick" and "painless" aren't one and the same.

My little brother celebrates his 23rd birthday today. He's rooting for his sister to deliver today. Apparently Uncle Matt thinks it would be cool to share this, the day of his birth, with his nephew. And, he points out, 03.05.08 would be easy to remember because 03+05=08.

I'll try my best not to disappoint, Mattchew.

Chilly ride

What do people do in South Dakota when the mercury rises to 45 degrees in late February? Go for a bike ride, of course!

Tracy suggested we try out the Chariot bike jogger/trailer he bought me shortly after we learned Baby Koskan was on the way. We didn't have a kiddo to tote around, but that didn't stop us. We grabbed Lucy the Wonderdog and pedaled down to Winter Street (i.e. Main Street) in Keystone, which, come to think of it, is essentially Keystone's only street. And it will probably be the only time Lucy's allowed to run down the town's main drag without a leash. The pooch was in love. I swear I heard the strains of "Born free ..." coming from one of shops.

I can't wait for our little guy to arrive and grow big enough to ride behind Mom or Dad in the Chariot. It's one sweet ride! We returned home just in time to avoid the rain, which eventually turned to snow and sent our mild temperatures packing. Lucy, who ran the entire way, was dog tired and immediately plopped down on our coats. We're anxious for the weather to clear so we can go again.

Who says you need all this stuff?

Baby Koskan now has the green light (almost) to make his grand entrance. We've got the goods. Baby stuff. Burp cloths and onesies with annoying statements like, "If you think I'm cute, you should meet my daddy (seriously, who writes this stuff -- canned Hallmark writers?)" Binkies and blankets. And much to the relief of family and friends, a crib.

With four weeks and counting until D-Day, Tracy and I were making more than a few people nervous by not having a crib. Apparently there are unspoken deadlines for purchasing this stuff. I must have unsuspectingly breezed through the fine print when we drew up the baby contract last summer. Telling people we would just swing by Target and pick up a crib on the way to the hospital didn't go over well.

So world, rest at ease. Baby Koskan will not be wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger upon his homecoming. He'll have a sweet crib to chill in.

Like he would know the difference.

Opening day

Props to Jessie for kicking me in the (maternity) pants to get a blog going. She started a myspace page for me last April. Which I have updated all of four times. Let's hope this new endeavor gets a little more TLC.

I'm visiting Jessie this week to meet the newest member of the Pollard fam: Baby Griffin (which we learned tonight means "strong in faith"). Speaking of baby names, Baby Koskan's arrival is six weeks away, and Tracy and I have yet to settle on, much less sort through, names. Anyone, any ideas? Bueller, anyone?

The cute kid with me is Grif. What a cool kid. The only bummer is that this cool kid will have grown so much by the next time I get to hold him.