I'm behind, but a week ago we had S's 5th birthday party. The invitations were ok, but not as cute as I've done in the past. This whole working a full-time job that entails actually working full-time puts a major cramp in my party planning time. :)
The party itself was pretty dang cute, though, if I do say so myself. The invitation told everyone to meet at our house but gave them the heads up that we would be going on an adventurous walk to help Dora and Boots find the birthday party. That way they could move their vehicles to the final destination and make sure the kiddos had on comfy shoes.
As the guests arrived, S passed out the favors: a purple drawstring backpack filled with a bottle of water, toilet paper roll binoculars, a few trinkets and Map!
Here we are going across the street...
And between the fences...
And around the gardens!
And look who we found!
Piñatas have been featured at the last three birthday parties we've been to, so S wanted to have one. I found this adorable one at Oriental Trading Company. (That's also where I got most of the party favors.) It was as cute in person as it looks online! And very reasonably priced. Even though the cavity was only the body and backpack, it held a surprising amount of goodies - almost the entire gross-quantity bag of piñata filler that included yo-yos, whistles and other large pieces.
Unfortunately, Dora was decapitated early on, then lost both her feet, but no prizes were released since everything was in the middle. At this point, S became distraught at Dora's demise which surprised me since she'd seen other piñatas broken open. Luckily, this piece has the ribbons you can pull to open it in case you can't break it, so we were able to finish without too much drama.
Then it was time for cupcakes. I heart Magnolia Bakery for sharing their recipe online via the Food Network. (But since I just went to the store's home link and see they now ship nationwide, I might go that route next time!) I got the cute ring toppers at a sweet shop around the corner from us.
After that, we opened presents then played on the park playground for a bit before saying our goodbyes.
All in all, I think it was a success. Now to start thinking about what to do for Baby R in a couple of months....
Today was a bit disconcerting. Let me preface by saying that S has preschool Tuesday and Thursday mornings. When I dropped S off at preschool this morning, her teacher said, "Hey, S, we missed you Thursday!" Then to me, "Was she not feeling well?"
. . . I'm sorry, what? She was at school Thursday, wasn't she? Um, apparently not. The teacher handed me the worksheets they had done that day for her to take home. Thank God S's teacher has been my best friend for 25 years and didn't think I was a total nut job for not realizing I hadn't brought my daughter to school.
I searched my mind frantically to figure out why S would have been gone. I'd had an interview that day, so I took the girls to my parents' house, but I could swear they only had Baby R.
When I left the preschool, I called my dad to confirm. Of course, he and Mom have no idea what they did yesterday, much less last week. So I looked at my calendar when I got home. When I did, I realized why it took me a week to post anything, and I felt slightly less guilty about why I couldn't remember the exact details of that day:
Tuesday
My dad had cataract surgery, and my mom can't drive anymore, so I needed to take him. Baby R went with us, and S had stayed late at school until I was able to pick her up.
Wednesday
Took dad to his follow up appt that lasted over an hour, even though time with the doc was less than 5 min.
Thursday
I had my second/third round interviews with a place in the morning. I was sure I had taken S to school and left Baby R with Mom and Dad? Where else could she have been? That evening S had a tantrum when I told her it was time to go inside for supper. She threw her scooter and it knocked her bicycle over causing the handlebar to hit just below her eye, scaring me to death that she'd poked it out. Once I knew she wasn't blind, I tossed her at my poor husband and left for the movies. (Cause that's how awesome and loving I am.) I had passes to a Nielsen screening for the new Adam Sandler movie "That's My Boy." I'm not allowed to comment on it yet, but when I am? You will definitely be hearing my opinion.
Friday
Kindergarten round-up. I wasn't as weepy as I thought I'd be. S did great! She didn't even panic when she and her best friend were put in separate groups. HUGE relief.
Saturday
Baby R and I cleaned the house while DH took S to Lawrence to watch the KU baseball game. We hosted a watch party for the Final Four that night - Rock Chalk! Undeservedly Shockingly, KU won!
Sunday
After church, we came home, had lunch, and then I took S to a bday party on the other side of town. It was a cool place, but we were gone ALL. DAY. Didn't get home until 6:30pm. And poor S was really struggling with her allergies. Her eyes are all red and puffy. I keep telling her not to rub them, but come on - she's 4.
Monday
Dad had been sick with a fever Friday and just had no energy through the weekend. He had asked me if I could take Mom to the store. Monday morning when I called Dad to say we were on our way over, he said he needed me to take him to the hospital or the doctor's instead since he was too weak to drive.
For those of you not living in the midwest, it was in the upper 80's, low 90's the last 3-4 days. I realize it's hard to break down and turn on the AC in March/April, but we walked into my parents' house and almost melted. They had a box fan running, but it was doing nothing to cool down the room, much less the whole house. I told Dad he needed to turn it on, he said he was going to but he needed to go downstairs to fiddle with something. I asked him why? He should just be able to change the thermostat. He said he thought when they had their new furnace and thermostat installed in February, they guy told him there was something extra that needed to be done to get the air going. I tried the thermostat. Nothing happened. No click. So he called the HVAC place to find out if there really was something special that needed to be done. There wasn't, but the woman told me to check that the unit outside was on and that the breaker didn't need to be reset. Done and done. Still nothing. She said they didn't have an opening until Wednesday, but if there was a cancellation, she'd let us know.
We all headed to the doctor's office, and the PA said his fatigue could be a sign of pneumonia even though he didn't have any other symptoms, so they did a chest x-ray. I mentioned his low hemoglobin problem from a few years ago, so they also did a blood draw. His lungs were clear, but there was a mass below his ribs they wanted to check out, so they told him they would schedule a CAT scan. The hemoglobin count came back slightly low - 10.5, but not enough to be creating such a dramatic state of fatigue. And he said it felt different than when that happened.
The HVAC place called and had a cancellation and could be there between 2-4pm. So I took them back to our house until then so they could stay cool. I put the girls down for naps - only Dad and Baby R slept, though. I went back to my parents' house to meet the HVAC guy and it turned out to just be a loose wire in the thermostat. Luckily, since they had installed it with the furnace, there was no charge.
When I got back to the house, Dad was awake and feeling much better. I told him he probably had been too hot, and that's why he felt so crappy. While we were waiting for Baby R to wake up so I could take them back home, the cable went out. Oy. About then, DH got home from his first day at his new job. YAY!!! He was immediately trying to find out about the cable since the NCAA championship game was on that night. We knew a couple of other people with issues and they had been told they would be resolved in an hour or so - plenty of time before the game.
About 20 minutes til game time, the cable still wasn't working. So I told DH he could go to his best friend's house a few blocks away. He called the cable company and told them it was crap that it wasn't fixed yet, and we had to pay to watch it online when we already get internet service through them. So they comped us. I could have tried to stream it, but all the Facebook updates were depressing. Finally a friend said I should try to watch the TV without the cable plugged in since it was on a local channel.
DUH.
I did. It worked. It was very fuzzy, but it worked. Unfortunately KU was even fuzzier, and unable to make it happen, so Kentucky became the national champion. I can't complain. KU played terribly the entire tournament. I was shocked they got as far as they did. Not bad for a rebuilding year. Love my Jayhawks.
When DH got home he called the cable company and was very nice but firm about them needing to fix the problem. After awhile, he less nice and firmer about it. That's why we make such a good team! He's so good at that stuff.
Today
DH asked me if I had gone to the basement yesterday and turned off the booster that the cable guy had installed at his last visit. I had gone to the basement, but all I had done was... Oh. THAT's what the black box attached to the lightbulb was. I had pulled the string two or three times and the light never came one. Apparently I had been the cause of the cable FUBAR. Sorry... ahem....
After panicking about my memory lapse regarding S and preschool to my sister and one other friend, I finally remembered what happened on Thursday. (Hallelujah! I've held Mom's dementia at bay for a little while longer.) I had my interview in the morning. But DH had an interview in the afternoon. So he took the day off. I had originally asked my parents to watch the girls but told them never mind when I found out DH would be home. He was supposed to take S to school while I was getting ready. But since he's never in charge of that, he didn't remember to do it. And I should have reminded him, but I was focused on prepping for the interview. And having him home felt like Saturday, so I just completely spaced off that S had school. Ok, maybe the dementia's not that far away after all...
I'm not the stay-at-home-mom I thought I would be. For one thing, I thought I would handle the bickering over toys with diplomacy, tact and patience. Yeah, not so much. Today I hit upon brilliant approach that I credit to all the basketball we've been watching lately.
The girls were fighting over a toy we found in the basement at my parents' house while we were looking for my old records yesterday morning. For those of you 80's kids like me, you may remember this:
Fisher Price Sesame Street toy set
I had to explain to the girls that Mr. Hooper used to run the store instead of Chris, but other than that, most of the elements from the show featured in the toy are the same today as they were 35 years ago.
The girls helped me wash the figurines while I wiped down the apartment building, and then happily played together for awhile. Before long, I heard them arguing. They both wanted the trash truck. (I sort of remember that was the piece my sister and I fought over, too.) They came to me crying and screaming and claiming each had it first.
I sighed. I've tired lots of things when they fight over toys. Take the toys away, put the kids in time out, attempt to discern who really had the toy first to begin with and then set the timer so they can take turns.
But yesterday for some reason, the first thing that popped into my head was this: "Ok, the possession arrow goes to Baby R this time."
I was half kidding, but realized that this approach was pure genius! The next time they came to me about wanting Bert, I ruled in favor of S. It had no bearing on who really had it first. It didn't matter. I didn't have to try to figure it out. I didn't listen to any arguing. All I had to keep track of was who had the possession arrow.
The best part was that there was no post-decision tantrum, because it was over in a second. It was so liberating!
How about you? What's your approach to dealing with fights over toys?
This is the final entry of a 4 part story. For part 1, please click here. For part 2, please click here. For part 3, please click here.
January 21, 2012
Considering the stories I had been told, it seemed to me that the bleeding was never much more than a regular period. Until today. Which I thought was odd since it's been several days since it happened.
I was visiting my friend who was in that horrible air show accident in Reno last summer. She's doing really well. She's been working from home but will be going back to her office next week. Her prosthesis should be ready in the next couple of weeks.
Anyway, while I was sitting there chatting, I felt a surge of blood. It soaked through my pad, and I could feel it spreading across my jeans within a couple of minutes. I excused myself and went to the bathroom, got cleaned up, and thankfully, stopped bleeding.
When I got home I decided to call the doctor. He told me that it's normal after the medication I took on Wednesday to have a gush. If usually happens between two hours after to a few days after. I felt much better. Well, mentally anyway. Physically, I was wiped out. I finally told the girls I just needed to rest for a little bit on the couch. Then I started having pains, so DH got some hydrocodone for me, and I ended up staying there for the rest of the day. I felt better after dinner though.
It seemed fairly simple - not that I want to do it again, but it wasn't as physically painful as I had imagined. Granted, I also knew it was coming so had pretty strong drugs to help me through it, not to mention supportive family and friends, and God's peace surrounding me when I needed it most.
It's amazing to me how different people and things were put in my path in this time. The opportunity to meet with my friend - she's been through the most horrific thing imaginable, and still has an incredibly positive outlook. She's been back in KC for a couple of months, but the date we had set to meet was today. I had no idea last week when we planned it that between making our plans and actually meeting up I would go through this. Seeing her today couldn't have been at a better time.
Also incredible is that I just finished reading the book "The Hiding Place" by Corrie Ten Boom. I had never heard of this book, even though it is 40 years old. My best friend told me about it at Christmastime. I tried to check it out from the library before New Year's, but there was a waiting list. It wasn't available for me to start reading until - you guessed it - a few days before my miscarriage. It's about a woman who was in the Nazi concentration camps for hiding Jews and was able to give thanks for everything in spite of the unimaginable atrocities she endured. So inspiring.
And so I am trying to give thanks for everything - "even the fleas" as Corrie and her sister did. I know God has a plan, and everything will work out. Thank you all for your kind words and support.
This is the second of a 4 part story. For part 1, please click here.
When I called DH from the doctor's office, I knew he would be in his morning meeting. I left him a message and told him I'd be home around 10am, and to call me as soon as he could. He called around 10:15am and was already in the car on his way home. I have never been so thankful for him.
When he got home, I filled him in on the details. He choked up when he asked if they could tell if it was a boy or a girl. I told him it was too soon to tell. He asked if there was anything we could have done differently. I told him no, and even though I know it's true, I had briefly thought, except maybe if I hadn't worked out Saturday, or if I hadn't let myself get so stressed. But part of me had wondered last week if we were trying to force something that wasn't meant to be. The OB had even said that sometimes when our hormone levels are low, it's just our body needing a little help. But sometimes they are low because our body is trying to resolve something that's not going to work on its own.
DH and I sat on the couch, holding hands and leaning on each other. I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen him cry. I was a little surprised that he had gotten so attached so quickly. And so, so very thankful that I wasn't going through this alone.
I had texted a friend who has been through this - a couple of times, unfortunately - to ask her what she had told her girls as they had been around the same age as ours with her last loss. She called me as soon as she had a break at school. It was wonderful to hear her voice and advice. She told me it would suck for a long time. Then it would get better. Then August would come and DH wouldn't understand why I was upset. I would tell him because it was the baby's due date, and he wouldn't get it. And I told her that's when I'd call her. Though, after how emotional he was today, I might be surprised by him again when that time comes.
He went to pick up the girls at lunchtime. By then I was able to be calm. While we were eating, I told them we had some sad news. We weren't going to have a baby after all. S asked why. I told her that it just wasn't the right time. I was prepared for her to be upset, but I should have known she would just want to know more. She asked me where the baby was, how it got out, couldn't it just stay there and start growing again when it was ready, etc. Thankfully, she wasn't as upset as I had feared. She's definitely disappointed, but it's not as bad as I thought it would be.
After lunch we all napped. When S got up, she wanted to play with the neighbor boy, P. DH took her outside and chatted with P's parents while they were on the swing set while I stayed in and waited for Baby R to wake up. Apparently, S told P that we weren't going to have a baby anymore. He said, "What happened to Baby R?" Leave it to kids to bring the funny to a seemingly humorless situation.
I apologize for the length of this entry. I have broken it up going forward, but due to the nature of the outcome of this portion of the story, I felt it necessary to contain it in this first post.
December 21, 2011
I'm not good at keeping secrets. I mean, I can keep other people's to myself, but my own secrets - those are hard for me. Especially this one. It's been wearing on me. I feel so many emotions about it, and I want to talk it through. I haven't even told DH yet. Writing is the only catharsis available to me now, so that will have to do.
I'm late. My first reaction was panic. I'm about to be laid off completely from my main job. I won't have insurance. Things are already tight financially as it is. Will DH be mad at me for letting this happen? Then I think, it takes two to tango, honey. But I still feel like an irresponsible teenager.
At the same time, I'm ecstatic. We've been discussing a third baby but had put the idea on hold because of my job situation. But I'm not getting any younger, so I'm excited that it's happened.
Which brings me to my next emotion: guilt. I feel terrible that I'm even having this inner dilemma, because I have so many friends struggling with infertility, and I should feel nothing but blessed.
And then there's the fear. Fear that something will go wrong. We're messing with fate. We have two beautiful, healthy baby girls. What if something happens with this third one? What if it is the boy DH wants, but it has a serious health problem? What if we should have just been content with our perfect foursome?
Part of me knows it's the hormones. But part of me knows it's true.
• • • • •
December 25, 2011
Last night while DH and my brother-in-law were dropping off a new couch at my parents' house that we had gotten them for a Christmas gift from Santa, I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. I knew it would be, but the finality of the results was still a little unnerving. I wrapped it with a note and laid it on DH's pillow.
When we finally got to bed at 2am after a flat tire on the way home from his aunt's house, getting the overnight casserole I found on Pinterest put together and doing our Santa duties, he saw it. I told him I was giving it to him then because I wasn't sure what his reaction would be. He opened it and said, "I'm not sure what my reaction is either." But he was smiling. I imagine he feels the same way I do. Then he said in his fake, tough-guy voice, "It better be a boy this time." I knew everything was going to be ok.
• • • • •
December 26th, 2011
We told the girls at dinner tonight.
Me: "Girls, Mommy and Daddy have some exciting news. We're going to have another baby."
S: Groans. "Another baby?"
Me: "You don't want another baby?"
S: "No."
Baby R: (Has to follow whatever big sister does.) "No."
DH: "Would you rather have another sister or a brother?"
S: "Another sister!"
Me: "It's fun having a sister, isn't it?"
S: "Yeah!"
A few minutes later.
S: "Who's tummy is it going to come out of?"
Me: "Mommy's tummy, honey."
S: "Aw, I want it to come out of Daddy's tummy!"
DH laughs.
Me: "Well, sweetie, babies only come out of mommy tummies."
• • • • •
December 30th, 2011
I've been spotting the last couple of days. I'm debating if I should call the doctor to see if I can have my blood tests done today instead of waiting til my appointment next Friday. All the stuff I see online says it isn't unusual, so I'm going to wait for now.
• • • • •
December 31st, 2011
S wants to name the baby the same first name as her with Santa as a middle name. I told her we'd talk about it. She wanted to know when we could feel the baby kick, and I told her it wouldn't be for a few months. She asked more questions so I got out my "What to Expect" book and showed her the sketches at the beginning of the first month and second month and read the description saying that the embryo is only 1-inch long. She put her hand on my stomach and told the baby she loved it. My heart wanted to burst with love for her.
• • • • •
January 1, 2012
DH has been under the weather the last few days, so we had vacillated about what we were going to do for New Year's Eve. Yesterday afternoon, he decided he felt well enough for us to go to a party we'd been invited to, but we couldn't find anyone to watch the girls on such short notice, so I stayed home while he stopped by for a little bit. When he got home, we watched a couple of episodes of "Criminal Minds" because we're trying to clear off the DVR since we're switching our cable back to Time Warner next week. It was a super exciting evening. Especially when I started worrying about the spotting since it seemed heavier and pinker.
Today, I called the OB about it. She told me to come in first thing Tuesday to have some bloodwork done. At first, I was thinking, "Tuesday? That's two days from now. Shouldn't I go to an ER or something?" But then she eased my fears by saying that since I wasn't cramping or gushing blood, not to worry too much as 50% of pregnant women do bleed through their first trimester. She told me to take it easy - not bedrest, but no unnecessary activity. That alone seemed to help.
Last night I was up until after 1am, not because it was New Year's, but because I was worried and playing out horrific scenarios in my mind. But this morning I remembered to give it over to God, and I've had a great peace about it. Why don't I remember to do that in the first place?
• • • • •
January 4, 2012
The doctor's office called today with my test results. My progesterone was low: 7.2 (supposed to be between 9 & 47), and my HcG was also low: 5,252 (should be 7,650 - 229,000 for where I think I am in my cycle). They want to check my levels again tomorrow, but in the meantime put me on a progesterone script that seems to be helping. I'll be 8 weeks Friday when I go for my first official checkup. If I can just get through 4 more, I should be in a more stable place.
DH and I hatched a plan last night that incorporates our current situation, and if we can make it work, would be ideal. He suggested telling my boss that I don't need to go back to full-time status if I can keep my benefits the way things have been, and offering to change my hours from Monday/Wednesday/half-day-Friday to everyday from 10am-2pm. That would be better for my clients if I was there every day, and it would probably be easier on my parents to only have the girls half days (part of which corresponds with nap time). Then we talked about him taking over my part-time night job since he could probably work 15-20 hours/week in comparison to my 12, so I could focus more time on my Etsy shop.
When I dropped the girls off at my parents' house this morning, I mentioned it to my dad and he said he doesn't think they can watch the girls much longer. It's just too hard on them; they're 70. I understand, but was feeling a bit deflated.
Then I got to the office and one of my co-workers said he'd discussed the state of the company with the owner Tuesday, and the long and short of it is that if we don't get one of the projects we're trying to cultivate to come in soon, we'll be closing the doors at the end of the month. That completely knocked the wind out of my sails.
All I can do is laugh.
• • • • •
January 5, 2012
DH came home today and told me his boss let him know the owner wants to go in a different direction. DH will be let go sometime between tomorrow and three months from now.
All I can do now? Is cry.
• • • • •
January 7, 2012
Yesterday I had my first actual OB appointment. More blood, but at least she got it on the first try instead of the third. My arms look like pin cushions after three days of blood draws! The sonogram looked like I was only 6 weeks so they want me to come back in 2 weeks to verify. Currently my due date is August 21. The nurse and I had a good laugh over the fact that when I went to my yearly in October we talked about getting me on birth control. And then I cried when she asked me if things were better at work. She gave me some more hormone samples and prenatal samples and told me to just get the cheapest script for vitamins with DHA.
Today I went to pick up my prescriptions and the cheapest prenatal was $40/month. And my insurance doesn't even cover the hormone script, so it was $300. I bought the vitamins but passed on the hormones and will call the doc on Monday to see if there's anything else I can take instead.
• • • • •
January 15, 2012
I was able to get a different prescription, but I have been spotting again. I tried to workout one day, but that made it worse. I think it would be better if I was less stressed, and working out helps that, but it didn't seem to help my uterus as much as I would have liked, so trying to take it easy.
S has suggested a new name for the baby. Bug Belle Santa. She is so funny!
I decided I love the name Amelia, but I can't bring myself to use it since it was the third most popular name last year. Sigh. Of course, if it's a boy, we won't have to worry about it. We'll see. DH likes Madeleine for a girl, but we already know several kids with that name.
• • • • •
January 16, 2012 (Martin Luther King, Jr. Day)
The spotting turned red around 1am. I had a mild cramp and passed two tiny clots. I went to bed, and tried to lie very still in the hopes that maybe I had just overdone it this weekend. Maybe if I just rested, the baby could hold on.
As I fell asleep, the chorus from David Crowder Band's song, "He Loves Us" ran through my head. We sang it in church yesterday:
Oh, how He loves us, so
Oh, how He loves us
Oh, how He loves
S came to our room around 6:30am. I told her it was too early to get up, and she could snuggle with me or go back to her bed. She crawled under the covers, and we laid on our sides facing each other. She wrapped her tiny arm and leg around me, because she wanted to "snuggle with the baby." She cooed at my belly and told it how much Big Sister loved it. It took all my strength to hold back the tears. "You would have been so loved," I thought to myself.
I dropped the girls off at my parents' house, and called the OB's office on my way to work. After I told them what was going on, they told me to come right in.
As I sat in the exam room waiting for the doctor, I focused on those lyrics. I'd been hearing them every waking moment this morning. It was a great comfort.
The OB came in and started the sonogram. As soon as the image appeared, it verified what I already knew in my soul. My perfect bean-shaped baby was nestled in its little home. Motionless. There was no heartbeat. Tears were already sliding down my temple into my ears when the doctor spoke the words.
She let me know my options, then gave me some time to call my husband and get dressed and cry. I decided to let the miscarriage just happen on its own. In the meantime, I have to figure out how to tell S. It will break her heart.
This post was originally done in January of this year, and is being republished for your viewing pleasure.
It's funny how people in the same family remember the same events differently. Or in my case, how my sister, J, just doesn't remember them at all. It's really hard to enjoying reminiscing when 90% of our conversations go something like this:
M: "Oh my gosh, J, you'll never guess who I ran into yesterday! So-and-so! Remember her? We both had a crush on you-know-who! Wasn't that hysterical? That time we took you to such-and-such a place was so much fun. We were so dorky! "
J: Pauses. "Um, no, I don't remember going there."
M: "Oh. Well, you remember her, though, right? The one with the really long blonde, curly hair and huge bangs?"
J: "That pretty much describes every one of the girls at school."
M: True. "Yeah, but so-and-so was tall and had that jean jacket?" Wait that doesn't really help. "She had a sister who was in cheerleading with you... what was her name...."
J: "You know I don't remember anything from our childhood."
J: Sigh. "I know."
So on Christmas Eve when we were filling the stockings and eating Santa's cookies, we started talking about one Christmas in particular that stuck with both of us. I was excited to relive those memories with her. It's rare for that kind of thing to happen, and I was shocked at the details she could conjure up. But I also understood why. That Christmas was different. It was the one year we peeked.
Our mom is from Manitoba, so we never took vacation per se; any traveling we did was to visit family. The trip to Mom's hometown is a 14-hour car ride, and we usually went in the summer to escape the sticky midwest heat, but occasionally made the trek twice a year and braved the bitter cold around Christmastime as well. Since dad was a mailman, he didn't get time off at Christmas, so when we started talking about this specific trip, he insisted we were mistaken. I imagine there were years we went before or after the holiday, but one year, my sister and I both agreed, we were definitely there on Christmas Eve.
We stayed at Grandma's house like we did with every visit until her stroke when I was in high school. The aunt and uncle who had cousins closest to our age were there, too. All nine of us kids slept in the basement. We, of course, stayed up as long as we could to try to catch Santa. I think I was 10 or so, and J would have been about 8, so we were of an age to be in on the secret that he wasn't real, but we played along knowing he wouldn't bring presents to those who thought he didn't exist. And we were sensitive to the presence of our younger cousins.
Inevitably, we all fell asleep. My sister remembered that one of our cousins set the alarm clock for 2 or 3am. Everyone got up and stealthily crept up the old stairs that had chips in the brown paint. We leaned against the worn railing and paneled walls to avoid the creaky spots. I remember it feeling like it took forever for all nine of us to get to the top. Whenever someone made a noise, we all froze and held our breath, afraid we'd get caught.
Finally, our anticipation having reached a fervor, we arrived at the kitchen and silently made our way across the linoleum floor, past the counter laden with Grandma's delicious baked goods and the curio containing tchotchkes. Our feet found the soft carpet of the living room that had yet to obtain updated furniture so it was like a time warp to the late '60's, early 70's. There were so many of us that the presents almost filled the room. Though it was dark, there was reflection from the snow to send enough moonlight through the big front window that we could see which presents belonged to each of us.
Oddly enough, though I'm the one with the better memory in general, I don't remember what presents we got that year. I think our cousins got Cabbage Patch kids, but maybe that was the year we got them. (That would have made it 1984 since '83 was the year of the craze, and our parents refused to succumb to the insanity.) Anyway, the specifics of that part of the night are lost on me. I had thought we just checked the stockings and big, unwrapped presents. J, though, distinctly remembers carefully unwrapping her gifts, a locket in particular.
We were all giddy with the adrenaline of doing something forbidden and the joy of discovering which of our wishes had come true. Shushing each other and prodding everyone to finish re-wrapping gifts, we snuck back to the basement. It was tough to settle down and get back to sleep, but we eventually did.
Christmas morning we got up and joined our parents. I don't know how our cousins felt, but J and I were incredibly disappointed. It was such a let down to already know what we'd gotten. We all put on a fake smile and tried to be excited, but J remembers being unable to convince our parents that she was as thrilled with the locket as she should have been and giving us away. I don't think we were in trouble really, but even if we had been punished, it wouldn't have mattered. That disappointment was the best instrument in teaching us not to peek. We never did it again.
- Another Memory game [we have 2 already] that's easy-peasy for Baby R
- Another elf because I love elves
- Books we don't have to take back to the library [which makes us sound nearly barren of books, yet we easily have over 100 between her bookshelf, Baby R's bookshelf and the shelf in the playroom]
- My own, OWN TV [you are your father's child]
- A TV for Baby R's room [so, sooo your father's child]
- A special library book light for Mommy that Mommy doesn't have to take back [I'm a bit perplexed by this one, as I have a book light that I've never had to return...]
Then you signed your name, and it was really well done. So you signed it again. Then I asked if you wanted to write your last name since you worked on that at school last week. So you did. But now when I look at it, all I can think of is Rosanne Rosanne-a-danna from SNL because of the repetition of your first name.
My sweet girl. You are so precious. You may have asked for your own TV in your room, but half the things on your list are things for others. I love you.
I've posted about my love of Thanksgiving before. This year was wonderful, too, and I'm continually amazed at the blessings in our lives. Unfortunately, my SIL's BFF's mom passed away suddenly this week. My SIL had not planned to come home for the holiday until she found out the funeral was yesterday. Wednesday night, S went with my FIL to pick up Auntie E from the airport. I think E was glad as her presence lightened the mood. They ended up having a conversation about what DH wears to bed. (Not sure how that subject came up. Not sure I want to know.) Anyway, here's the general idea:
S: Daddy sleeps nakeypants.
Auntie E: What do you mean? Does he where a shirt?
S: No.
Auntie E: Does he wear shorts?
S: No, just panties.
DH about died, and I cracked up when we heard about it. Can't blame S for not knowing that shorts are boxers or briefs, but clearly we need to have a conversation that explains the nuances of underwear terms.
Thursday
I always enjoy going to DH's family's Thanksgiving. It's his dad's side of the family, and about 30 of the 50 or so relatives were able to be there. Now that the cousins are having kids, there are little ones around to play with. S didn't want to leave when it was time to go because she was having too much fun. Love that!
The best part was when we said Grace before dinner. Everyone held hands in a huge circle that wound through the kitchen and dining room. I was holding Baby R so put her little hand in her teenage cousin's. DH's aunt began to say the blessing, and Baby R whispered "God is great, God is good, mumble mumble mumble food, Amen. God is great, God is good..." So sweet!
That night, Auntie E came over and chatted. We drank way too much wine and hung out with the neighbors for awhile by their fire pit. The weather was absolutely beautiful. I stumbled to bed around 2am. Oy...
Friday
In the morning, as expected, I was regretting my bedtime as well as the bottle and a half of vino I'd consumed. Small children have no ability to sleep in. Plus I needed to start baking since my family was coming over for Thanksgiving Round 2.
I realized I was missing an ingredient for the pumpkin pie, so I took the girls to the store for the fastest yet longest trip in my life. We walked in, I put them in the cart, and literally in front of me was the evaporated milk I needed. It was all I had come for, but decided to swing by the in-store Starbucks as I was in desperate need of some caffeine. While in line, the girls whined for apple juice which we had at home, and since we were leaving right after getting my coffee, I told them no.
And it began.
Huge tantrums by both of them. I finally got S calmed down, but then when it was time to get out of the cart, Baby R threw herself on the ground, kicking and screaming. I wasn't angry or embarrassed. I simply didn't have the energy to care.
I started walking toward the door and tossed a nonchalant, "Bye-bye!" her way. If it had been S, she would have come running. But Baby R didn't buy it. I stood by the automatic door, the heater blowing to push the cold air back outside, and looked at her for a minute. A cashier came over and asked if she was all right. I said, "She's fine. She's two. She's having a tantrum." I wanted to let her work it out, but I knew the employees didn't need to deal with it, so I snatched Baby R up and headed out.
For those of you who've never tried it, I don't recommend walking through a parking lot holding a hot cup of coffee, a grocery bag, a purse, the hand of your 4YO and a thrashing toddler. I'm just thankful none of the coffee spilled on the girls.
Thank goodness the Elf on the Shelf is back; S didn't remember her at first, but now that we've re-read the book and reiterated the correlation between good behavior and Santa bringing presents, she's back on board. Hopefully we can avoid a repeat of Friday morning.
Saturday
Nothing too exciting. My sister and BIL had spent the night with us Friday, so we had breakfast and then left for STL. It would have been nice if they could have stayed longer, but they had had a rough week. Their cat was hit by a car, my sis had a terrible week at work in NYC and was stuck on the runway of her return flight for a couple of hours, and she had to go back to NYC today. I don't blame them for wanting to get home and relax for a little bit.
DH and I finished cleaning up the house. I went in to my PT job for a couple of hours to make up being gone for the holiday. I did a little bit of work for Jaborandi Grove as it was the biggest shopping weekend of the year with Black Friday and Small Business Saturday as well as Cyber Monday coming up. It was hard to coordinate stuff for Etsy with the family stuff, but I'm still a small enough shop that it didn't matter much.
Sunday
Today we missed church as we had brunch with my in-laws for one last hurrah with Auntie E before she heads back to Cali tomorrow. We also drew names for Christmas presents. Tonight we put up the Christmas tree and some of the decorations. We all napped this afternoon so we were a bit late getting around to it. We'll have to finish up tomorrow.
It's fun to watch S start to remember things and see Baby R really take it in now that she's bigger. Though S is getting tricky with her questions about Santa already. Not sure how well I will do answering them.
While I did the dishes after supper, S was "talking" to Auntie E on the phone. She said she was sorry we hadn't invited her over to eat, but it was too late now. She chatted a few more minutes and then told me after she hung up that C (Auntie E's boyfriend) didn't want her to come back to Cali tomorrow, so she was going to stay with us tomorrow night and go back Tuesday. So funny!
My beautiful girl. You are so amazing. You insist on keeping up with big sister, of course, like most younger siblings. But unlike most babies of the family, you don't let her talk for you. You talk more than she does at times. I think to show you can do just as much.
You like to go for the reaction - pretending to be a kitty cat, pretending to be asleep when it's time for me to get you out of the car, screeching an earsplitting cry when you are unhappy, hiding under Blankie Boo for as long as it takes for someone to ask where you are. Most of the time it makes me laugh. Reminds me of your Aunt J.
And you are so very sweet. You say Grace at every meal - often times more than once. You say, "Sorry, Sissy," when S is the one who is supposed to be apologizing. You said your baby had a wet diaper and started to take yours off to use for her. You offer to help pick up your toys. (I'm sure that won't last, but I'm enjoying it for now!) As a general rule, you are very agreeable. You don't even mind going to bed (though lately, the stalling has kicked into high gear).
There are definitely Terrible Two moments when you throw a tantrum for an inexplicable reason and can't be talked into calming down. No matter what we say, you answer negatively: Do you want to stay? No! Do you want to go? No! The fit you threw outside on Halloween that the neighbors several doors down heard - inside - was a doozie. But it turned out you were getting sick. And you still managed to last through the whole trick-or-treating excursion, saying "Trick-or-Treat!" and "Thank you!" at every door, and carrying your green, monster bucket which was so heavy it was dragging by the end of the night. I offered to carry it for you several times, but your teeny voice piped up, "No, I got it, Mama!'
Sometimes I'm better at being patient with you because I've been there before. Some days I am less patient because I'm being pulled by your sister, too. It's difficult to treat you both equally, but I'm trying. I love you both so very much. I'm enjoying having a crazy schedule right now, because I get Tuesday and Thursday mornings to spend one-on-one time with you. It's been such a rare opportunity until now, and often we spend it running errands, but it's fun to listen to you sing along with Veggie Tales and Laurie Berkner.
I love you, my sweetheart. I wish you happiness and joy in the coming year. Happy birthday.
She was "reading" her Pooh & Eeyore book and said, "Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday" followed by some more counting, "2, 3, 7, 9"
That was about a month ago. Now she can count to five pretty consistently.
She also sings her alphabet, though she sometimes misses T, U, V.
She knows her colors.
And my favorite? She can put on her Dora Velcro shoes all by herself.
Baby R's new favorite is crawling around and meowing like a cat, and then saying, "Pet me! Pet me!" The funniest part is that she usually starts panting like a dog at some point during her cat act.
Update on S.
When DH or I leave the house, she says, "Be careful out there!" I feel like I'm leaving the precinct with the Captain ending roll call on "Hill Street Blues."
Now when I go to my part-time job, she says, "Don't get dirty! Don't get stinky! Have a great day!" I think it came from when I was playing volleyball this summer and she'd say, "Don't get any sand on you!"
It's hard to believe when we've had temps in the 80s for the last week. Don't get me wrong; I'm enjoying our Indian Summer. It made our trip to the pumpkin patch yesterday very comfortable. Though, it was really dusty as it hasn't rained in three weeks. But I'm ready for slightly cooler weather, just enough for jeans and a light jacket, a little nip in the air so the fire pit sounds inviting instead of just hot.
My sister was in town over the weekend, so we were lucky to have her and my mom join us on our quest for the best pumpkins. Here are some pics of our fun!
You are asleep with your knees tucked under your chest and your bum up in the air. The right side of your hair is sticking out wildly; a knot has formed on the back. I stealthily creep to your closet to get a set of clothes and shoes, then gently quiet the babbling brook emanating from the machine on your changing table. You become aware of my presence and pop your head up. A smile brightens your sleepy face.
"Good morning, pumpkin," I whisper, crossing to your crib. You stumble to your feet, tripping over White Blankie, Pink Blankie (previously known as "Two Blankie"), and the latest addition, Checked Blankie, as well as your musical, glowing Seahorse and Pillow Pet, Duckie. It's a wonder there's room for you to sleep in there.
A smile blossoms on your petal-soft lips. "Time go, Mama?" your teeny voice queries.
"Yep!"
You reach for me, and I lift you to my chest. You bury your head in my neck, and I gently squeeze you and breathe in your scent - no longer a baby, not quite a little girl. You are getting too heavy to lift out of there, but you haven't quite made the transition to your Big Girl Bed. Nap time, occasionally, but only once or twice for Night Night.
"Sissy?"
"Sissy is already downstairs. We've got to take her to preschool."
Your precious mouth makes a perfect "o" shape and you suck in air with a genuine look of surprise, even though we do this every Tuesday and Thursday. "Oh! Sissy go school!"
I quickly change your diaper, and you insist on closing the diaper cream and putting it in your drawer. As I place your favorite Elmo shirt on your head, you challenge me, "I do, Mama! I do!" Together, we finish getting you dressed and head down to the kitchen. Some days you want me to carry you, and some you must walk down on your own, holding my hand and the spindles of the railing for support.
Your eyes light up at the sight of S. "Sissy!"
S is glad to see you, too, most mornings. "Hi, Baby R!"
I set you in your booster seat and you ask for "email" which is oatmeal to the rest of us. You're getting better at using your spoon successfully, but you love to tip the bowl and drink the milk. Which you don't always wait to do until the end. Inevitably there's oatmeal in your hair. It adds a lovely dimension to your bedhead.
First, I just want to apologize for not responding to comments this week. I'm struggling. Monday I found out that my company needed to cut my hours in half. It wasn't a complete surprise. It could have been worse; another colleague was laid off. I was feeling pretty ok about it at first. "It will be rough, but we can get through this." And then support I thought I could count on wasn't there. And then I had to tell our part-time daycare provider that we had to stop going. Which made me realize how sad the girls would be. Ironic since I've been feeling guilty about sending them to daycare! But they have friends there, and I know they will miss them.
The decrease in hours is temporary (hopefully only three months). But too long for me to wait. We have slowly depleted our reserves since last November. And every month the cost of gas and groceries goes up. The Etsy shop will help - I hope! - but I will be getting a part-time job and updating my resume tonight.
I'm sad to the point of exhaustion. I could use prayers - and leads if you've got them. :) I know it will all work out for the best. Actually I really hope we can figure out a way to make it work so I'm part-time all the time - that would be my dream. But as long as the economy continues this way, it's not going to happen.
In the meantime, I need to take a break from blogging and tweeting as often. I will have a wonderful guest post tomorrow, so be sure to stop by for that. And I'll try to at least update you once a week. Thanks for your patience!
Baby R likes to dunk her bread in water. Future hot dog eating champ in the making?
S has been having weird dreams about sharks. Wha? She had another one Tuesday night.
Last weekend, S had a fake phone conversation with her best friend's mom, hung up, yelled “Unbelievable!”, stomped upstairs to her bedroom, and slammed the door. Le sigh.
It's been 100 degrees (heat index of 112 at times) for the last few weeks. Our AC was out on Tuesday. We had to fix it immediately. For $700.
Baby R has hit the "I do it!" stage. When I change her diaper, she wants to take it off. She wants to wipe her bum. She wants to close the diaper cream. She wants to put the tabs of the new diaper on. She wants to put her shorts on. All by herself. No helping Mommy. Just her. She does pretty well with putting her shorts on, actually. Though she usually ends up with both legs in one hole. :)
Took S to see "Cars 2" a couple of weeks ago. Her first time to the movie theater! She really enjoyed it, but was ready for a nap by the end. :) It was ok - much more violent than the first one. But had a good message about friendship.
During the thunderstorm a few weeks ago, S said that the thunder was "disgusting." Apparently we need to redefine that word...
Baby R has been asking to use the potty seat. Yay! Not quite there, but interested.
Sunday, S was riding around on her Winnie-the-Pooh car that she's much too big for now in the living room. She rolled into the kitchen. I reminded her that toys need to stay in the playroom and she said she was on her way out of town. She was going to visit Aunt J and Uncle K in St. Louis.
When she came back, I asked how her trip was.
"It was good. J & K had some toys they wanted to get rid of, so I brought them home."
"Yep, they painted it themselves."She set it down and picked up my old Samsung. "And they made me this phone."
"Wow! They are really talented to be able to make that phone for you," I said, suppressing a smile. "So how are they doing?"
She made her concerned face. "Not very good. Both their doggies and their kitty died."
What? "Oh my. How sad. What happened?"
"Well, not really, they thought they were dead, but this guy took them, and then J & K found out and they wanted to kill him."
"What? I don't think that's a very good thing for them to do. I think it would be better for them to call the police."
She looked at me defiantly. "Well, this is my story."
"You're right. Sorry."
"But yeah, they did, they called the police and the firemen, and the police went to the guy's house and got the dogs back, but not the firemen, just the police. But the kitty was still dead."
(She threw a "Seriously?" in there, too, at some point. I really need a built-in recording device in my palm that I can turn on and off discreetly. I always miss the best phrases.)
"Well," I said, "I should probably call them and let them know how sorry I am that all that happened."
"No, you can't call because they are really sad. Nobody can go anywhere because they are all sad. And it's a secret. But I'm going to tell everyone in town." In town?
I always thought we would keep our kid's parties low-key. I would hear of these insane parties with 100 guests, live ponies and a bounce house and think, "Those parents are CRAZY! And spoiling their kids!"
I used to think my birthday parties were typical for the time. From kindergarten through 4th grade or so, we celebrated my December birthday with kids just coming over to our house. We played a couple of games, I opened presents, and we ate cake. I think that part of it is/was pretty normal. But I never thought about how many kids were there before. Each of those years, I invited the whole class. That was around 20-25 kids. My mom had to corral 25 kids - in her house - for a couple of hours. Insanity!
We are planning S's 4th birthday party. The big question is who to invite. Last year we had a crazy thing happen where every single person we invited actually came to the party. And since the kids were 3 or under, their parents came, too, often with siblings. Which meant that even though she only invited about 8 kids, by the time you added in their families and our families, there were 50 people at this party.
And because Baby R was only 9 months old at the time, she was still taking a morning nap, so I had to schedule the party between naptimes, which meant it overlapped lunch. So we ended up feeding those 50 people hamburgers and hot dogs.
How did something so small turn out so big?
This year, hubs and I are determined to keep it under control. Being able to shift the time a bit will help. But inviting fewer people is clearly the biggest factor. I know, everyone says to only invite the number of kids equivalent to your child's age, so for S's 4th birthday, there should only be 4 kids. That's a great idea in theory. But what do you do when there are kids from preschool, daycare, our friends' kids and neighbors? She sees all of them on a regular basis.
I've come to grips with the large quantity. We have to have the party outside to accommodate them. My fear now is that it will either be record-setting hot next weekend or raining, and then we'll have 50 people in our house. Pray for nice weather...
I'm stealing the idea of a bullet point update from my friend KLZ at Taming Insanity. I'm so behind, I'll never catch up if I try to actually, I don't know, WRITE what we've been up to. But there's so much, bullet points would even be too long, so this is just an installment. (Keep in mind the days referenced are relative. These are notes from the last month or so.)
S yesterday singing: Twinkle twinkle little star, How I wonder what's in my tummy. ?
S kicked the back of my seat while I was driving, and I asked her politely not to. She was making vroom noises, so I asked if she was driving. No, I'm vacuuming with my leg. Of course, you are.
We lost Baby R's blankie for a couple of days. It was NOT good. Luckily she has adopted a second one which she lovingly refers to as "Two."
I had a nightmare that coyotes took Baby R when we were playing in the unfenced back yard. Woke up, terrified. Finally got back to sleep. Then I dreamt they attacked us in the playset. Not a good night's sleep.
This morning S said the thunderstorm must have broken the water on the refrigerator so we needed to call the water helpers.
S playing that she was running a store and had to close up shop for a bit. "If you need anything, just call me, ok? My phone number is 913-69."
This morning Baby R woke up asking to play with the neighbor boy, P. Awwww....
S, driving her Cozy Coupe, put her arm on the back of the seat and turned around so she could back out.
This am S was talking about the tantrum she had last night when I left, and I told her I was sorry she was so upset. She said, "Oh it wasn't you, it was me."
Baby R has started putting things in her "pocket," i.e. down her onesie. So now when I change her, interesting things fall out.
She has also started walking down the stairs. And now can turn doorknobs. Look out!
S asked if I could wash off her drumsticks after she ate, and she could use them to play drums. I've decided maybe we recycle too much.
And there you have it, folks. The first Baby Bullet update! More to come...
As a follow up to Shell's fun link up, Rockin' the Bump, she decided to take it to the next step so we could show off our cute baby pics!
My kids are CLEARLY the cutest babies ever, so it was tough to narrow it down to just a few of each of them, but I wanted to spare you the thousands of pics I have of each. Not to mention to incredible ones our professional photog, Miss Rebecca, shot (including those on the masthead here).
Without further ado, here are my fave amateur pics of S:
Happy girl!! Big smiles at 8 wks.
The sitter sent this to me at work. I was having a tough time going back to work after maternity leave.
Getting ready to go for a walk with Mama!
This one always makes me laugh because I think she looks like a pirate with that headband on.
And of course, not to be outdone, here are some pics of Baby R:
Brand new - buckled in for the car ride home from the hospital.
We had a fantastic time in St. Louis for our Fourth of July, but now I'm playing catchup, so I'm going to recycle a post that some of you may have missed. It was featured on Studio30 Plus a couple of weeks ago. Hope you enjoy it!
• • • • • • • • •
She runs away from me, squealing, as I try to put her Pull-Up on.
"S, come here now!"
Frustrated, I chase her down and thread her legs through the night-night diaper as we call it.
"What book do you want to read?"
Still laughing, she starts baby talking to be silly.
"S, choose a book or we aren't reading one!" My pulse is racing by this point.
"Ok, ok. Umm, this one."
Inwardly I groan. "Hop on Pop" is longer than what I have time for tonight. I'm supposed to meet the neighbor out front in 10 minutes to go for a walk. I need to start exercising again and finding a partner to walk with is a huge step in the right direction.
"All right." I begin reading quickly and skip a few words here and there.
S interrupts me, "Why did they fall off the wall?"
"I don't know, honey." I continue reading, and S continues peppering me with questions. "Let's just finish the story, ok?"
The day's unfinished tasks scroll through my mind. Finally, the book is over. I turn off the light and turn on her music. Currently, she's fond of listening to Journey's Greatest Hits. I lie down with her for two songs, our agreed upon timeframe.
"Let's snuggle," she says, wiggling over to me.
"Ok," I say, a bit surprised. Lately she's more interested in Daddy than me.
She puts her arm around my neck. "I love you, Mama."
My heart melts a little, the beat slows. "I love you, too, baby. So, so much."
"Don't Stop Believin'" ends. The iPod shuffles. "Who's Crying Now" starts. Lying still, I decide to just go for the walk and not worry about the laundry tonight.
"Mama?"
"Mmm-hmm?"
A long pause. "I..."
"What is it, baby?"
"I really love you."
"Aw, honey, I really love you, too."
A small, three-year-old hand reaches for mine in the dusk. I remind myself to savor these fleeting moments. I breathe in her freshly-washed hair, feel her soft fingers tracing the shape of my hand as I used to do to my mother. I knew Mom's hands as well as my own and wonder if S will remember mine when she has a child someday.
The second song ends. I kiss S on the forehead, and start to get up.
