Baby, it’s cold outside.
During the work week in the winter, I’m usually home for the rest of the day by 3:30 p.m. I go to work, I pick my Beans up, we come home. J doesn’t get home until around 8:00 p.m., so it’s just the three of us for the bulk of the evening. Sometimes, the girls will fall asleep in the car and I’ll gingerly maneuver them from their car seat to their cribs for a little afternoon siesta. Then, I’ll come downstairs, gaze longingly at the couch, festooned with soft pillows and warm blankets, and make my way, grudgingly, to the basement for laundry.
When they awake, it’s playtime. The dogs are fair game and we’ve got Christmas music blaring in the background. The Beans have dinner, I start dinner for me and J and we wait (im)patiently for J to come home. The minute he does, I’m quickly forgotten and continue finishing dinner while the three of them commence the act wherein the Beans pretend like they haven’t seen him in twenty-three years (which is, of course, impossible, as they are only 15 months old) and are all, “Daddy!” and “Hi!” and “Whoa!” and he pretends like he’s a slide and he lays on the floor and they climb all over him.
By Saturday morning, I’ve got a list this long of things that I couldn’t accomplish during the week and I give him a choice: either
stay home with the Beans and let me run my errands, or be my chauffer and maybe I’ll feed you. He almost always picks the second of the two. He’s never been one of those guys who hates to go to the mall. He has his breaking point, but he has no problem tagging along and catching a bite to eat afterward. It’s much more fun now, because he can show off the girls or take them to the toy store and “Wow!” along with them. The errands generally continue on to Sunday and by Sunday afternoon, J is
signaling defeat, waving his white flag in surrender and curling up in a ball on the floor while the Beans pummel him with Elmo books
triumphantly. Every Sunday evening, when the girls are put to bed, he collapses on the couch and mutters something incoherent that translates to mean that we’ve successfully worn him out.
This happens every week. I get cabin fever. I think the girls do too. They have to go out. Even if it’s just for a drive. A change of scenery is necessary for our sanity. We are never home on weekends.
So, when J had to work this past Sunday, I had a list of places running through my head that I wanted to get to. We kissed him good-bye after breakfast and I went upstairs to get ready. Only, I saw a book that had been sitting on my nightstand, unread for weeks because I can’t keep my eyes open past 11:00 p.m. anymore. And then I saw the four baskets of clean laundry waiting to be put away or hung up. And then I heard the girls laughing uproariously downstairs about something or other.
When I went downstairs, I found them chasing each other with stolen Christmas tree ornaments. I sat on the couch for a few minutes, enjoying the little show. Before I knew it, it was time for their nap, and time for my chores. And when they awoke, I was knee deep in laundry, still in PJs and glasses. When J got home, he asked if we got anything done. I was happy to report that we watched Cinderella, built a fort, colored several masterpieces, made banana bread from scratch and dressed Maximus up in Cookie Monster socks. We had just changed out of our jammies a half hour before he walked through the door.
Sometimes it’s nice to just stay at home.
MISSING: My Camera
LAST SEEN: In the Jeep, on the way to the Christmas Show on Saturday.
REWARD: Um….well, none, really, b/c it’s a P.O.S. anyway.
WEARING: A 1G memory card. Okay, so I want that back. You can keep the camera.
Until I either (a) find my camera or (b) find another camera underneath
my Christmas Tree*, I will be unable to post new photos of the Beans.
*J, this is in no way a veiled attempt to coax you into purchasing a camera for me for Christmas. However, should you feel the need to do so, please contact Stacy for suggestions on what to buy.
Five Things that I Don’t Want to Pass On To My Beans.*
1. I steal pens. J and I have an unholy desire to find the right pen.
We don’t agree on what the perfect pen is, mind you, but we agree that
it is completely normal to drive to three different stores to find the
right pen, if such a pen exists. We also agree that it is okay to
“borrow” a pen, if the situation allows, from people, if it is the
right pen, including but not limited to our waitress from last weekend.
He’s a ball-pointer but I’m above those. My sister brings an extra of
her favorites when she visits, because she knows that if she doesn’t,
she’ll be leaving Michigan without hers. Just this morning, I arrived
to work, went into my office and found that my favorite red pen went
missing. I panicked and immediately assumed it was D, as he was clearly
coveting it the other day when he borrowed it to scratch out some
numbers. Lucky for him, I found it underneath a file.
2. I am addicted to chocolate. Never
mind. Thanks to Grandpa M, this trait, that can be traced back to my
grandfather, who made my father sneak chocolate into his hospital room,
is alive and well in my girls. In fact, yesterday, when I arrived at my
parents’ house to pick up the girls, I found their fingernails filled
with Oreo crumbs and the scent of Frango Chocolate Mints on their
breath. We just can’t break the cycle.
3. I’m blind. Is this genetic? I’m not sure, but I am. Not legally or
anything, but I challenge anyone to be a passenger in my car at night
to believe otherwise. My parents wear glasses, my sisters wear glasses,
J wears glasses. It’s inevitable. But I don’t think anyone is nearly as
bad as me. I scare myself at night. Everything is all starbursts and
blurriness and quite disorienting. I get from point A to point B by
starring intently at the vehicle in front of me or, in the alternative,
driving precariously close to the white lines. I’ve confessed to J on
several occasions that I do not trust myself driving the Beans around
after nightfall. Probably not a good thing huh?
4. I cry when I’m angry. My sister has this affliction too and it can
become quite embarrassing. It’s a sign of weakness and I just can’t
control it. I’m not sad or succumbing or insecure in my argument, but
I’m so filled with emotion when I’m angry that my eyes rebel and fill
with tears at the most inappropriate time. How can I be taken
seriously, if I’m crying at the drop of a hat?
5. I can’t cook. You know when someone asks you what talent you’d like
to have if you could have any talent, or what superpower you’d want to
have if you were a superhero? I don’t want to be a concert pianist, nor
do I want to be able to read your mind. I’d just like to be able to
make a great filet with aus jus and a side of whipped potatoes and rice
pilaf. I’d like to look into my refrigerator, pluck out just the right
ingredients and in thirty minutes or less fill my house with mouth
watering scents. Hell, I’d love to feed my husband and kids something
more than (a) macaroni and cheese; (b) spaghetti; (c) hamburgers; (d)
chicken stir fry; or (e) taco bake. Last Friday, I made my first
lasagna. It’s a step in the right direction, but still fell a bit flat.
*I could come up with list much longer
and stranger than this, but I don’t want to scare you, dear reader,
just yet. Maybe another entry, another day.
FIFTEEN MONTHS
I hate doctor appointments. It’s even worse when it’s your children’s
doctor appointments. And, yes, Dr. B again brought up the idea that the
girls must have gotten their father’s metabolism. Here’s why.
Maggie is now back up to the 5th percentile (from 3rd), at 18 lbs. 13 ½ oz.
She gained almost two lbs. in three months, which is excellent! I was
noticing her feeling a little heavier just the other day! She is just
over the 25th percentile for height at 30 ½ inches (up from 28 ½
inches). And she is over the 50th percentile for head circumference!
Audrey, on the other hand, has only gained ½ lb. in 3 months. She is just
barely at 17 lbs. (she has now dipped below the 3rd percentile) and
25th percentile for height at 29 ¼ inches (previously at 27 ¾ inches).
Since she has been born, she has been steadily gaining 1 ½ lbs. every 3
months. Due to lack of growth this time around (and she was a little
concerned last time and wanted to watch for a pattern), the doctor is
concerned about a condition called “failure to thrive”. We’re taking
her in for bloodwork on Saturday to check for anemia, thyroid and blood
sugar issues and have been instructed to feed, feed, feed. The thing
is, this girl loves to eat! She eats all the time! She doesn’t prefer
meat, especially red meat, but she will eat it. Just not as much or
with as much gusto as she does with carbs (just like Momma Bean). My
dad thinks this is the green light for Oreos and M&Ms!!
Otherwise, the girls are very healthy and doing well. The pediatrician isn’t
concerned about Audrey not walking. She indicated that she would be
concerned if she was 18 months old. Plus, Audrey has been practicing
for the past week or so with one or two steps. Maggie is doing just
fine and in fact the doctor was impressed with her language skills and
said that her skills overall seem to be advanced for her age! The
doctor will continue to monitor Audrey’s breathing and also stated that
they still shouldn’t have nut products (including peanut butter) until
they turn 3 years old.
My dad went with us and he was more traumatized than the girls! He can’t stand to see them cry.
Any suggestions for healhty calorie dense foods are greatly appreciated!
I don’t think there was any doubt with Mere that she was having another boy. I was secretly holding out hope that she’d have a girl, but I knew that she wanted a boy, had a boy’s name picked out and was destined to have a football team’s worth of boys. When she told me she was pregnant with her first child four years ago (and five weeks after her wedding), I bought her a pretty little pink girl’s outfit. One year, after G#1 was born and we were staying in her guest room, I saw the little dress hanging in the closet. When she was pregnant with G#2, she knew he was a boy right away and just last week, I told her that I was sure that
G#3 (yes, they all have names starting with the letter “G”), could still be a girl. G#1 overheard me and stated, very matter-of-factly, that the baby couldn’t be a girl because he is a dinosaur and dinosaurs eat baby girls.
They were right. The doctor confirmed it yesterday. No lunch for the dinosaur.
When I changed the girls’ diapers in front of her, Mere said that she wouldn’t know what to do with a girl, if it was one. I replied that I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy either. Knowing us, I could have told you ten years ago that we’d be where we are today. Me with my girls and her with her boys.
She’s already talking about G#4, but she’s not one of those that will keep trying to get her little girl. She has always wanted a
big family. Of boys. Maybe she’ll return the pink dress for my next girl.
Moms. I love them.
And, in case you didn’t know, the Beans will be Fifteen Months Old next Friday. Cake anyone?
Labels: getting all mushy on you
two months to the day that HRP took her first steps, A Squared made her
first attempt. She’s up to two or three at a time before falling into a
fit of giggles, but she’s a determined little bean. She gets right back
up and tries again. The problem is that she’s too busy giggling to
regain her composure and balance to continue. Plus, little Twinkle Toes
is always at the tips of her toes while trying. That same day
(Saturday), A finally mastered the art of food to spoon to mouth, and
repeat. Go A!
Labels: milestones
How five days off can seem like one day
We visited my alma mater on Wednesday. Rather, my best friend and I sat in a condo on the outskirts of my alma mater for half the day, scolding/chasing/soothing our four children while intermittently catching up on events since our last chaotic get-together. And she’s going to bring another kid into the mix?!?! What happened to dinner and drinks?
Thanksgiving. Visiting with the in-laws. Allergic reaction emergency. Stopping at parents for medication and to put up half of
their Christmas Tree. Visiting with the extended family. Thinking, why do we, on holidays, get the girls all dolled up, take the Beans to an unfamiliar home and subject them to [well-meaning] strangers who coo and fawn and beg to hold them when clearly it’s the last place they want to be? The end result of every family get-together is us carrying our limp and defeated little Beans up to their safe crib and then falling into a pile on the couch, wondering why we left the house in
the first place.
Black Friday. Or rather, “Yeah, right Friday.” I don’t love anyone enough to stand in a line at Target that is wrapped around the perimeter of the store. Nor do I need that twenty dollars I would have saved had I waited three hours. The bonus was that I got to sneak out for a bagel and coffee while J manned the fort. Later that day, we braved the crowds for lunch with Gramma M and a little sale at the Baby Gap. Later that evening, after the Beans were in bed, J and I put up the tree. The Sixth Annual Christmas Decorating Extravaganza was likely the last one we’d spend alone for the next twenty or so years. We passed out on the couch watching Home Alone. A success!
On Saturday, Gramma M. had a little post-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving Dinner for our wee little family, since we missed out on Gram’s Dressing (my paternal grandmother’s recipe – the grandmother that M is named after). We purchased half the lights available at Target and scoured the internets for instructions on how to hang outdoor Christmas lights. Yes, you read it correctly. Remember, this is a couple who refused to move into any home with such incentives as, “A cozy fixer-upper!” or “Just waiting for your personal touch!”
Sunday, bloody Sunday. Well, we put the lights up. In light of the fact that the event did not result in threats of divorce or more
than one injury (and really, it is just a little bruise, who are we kidding?), I’d say that it was a success. And it was confirmed with a
resounding “Wow!” by both Beans when we showed off our handiwork later that evening. After the lights but before the light show, we took the girls to Borders and B&N to grab a magazine (J), a book (M&A) and a coffee (MB). Let me just tell you, M may be the shyest of the two when it comes to relatives, but she was all “How’s Your Day?” when we were at the bookstore! She practiced her more graceful walking all over the store, befriended a little boy who was making a Christmas list and passed up a little whipped cream for the lady with the big red bag. As evening crept in and the Beans were in bed, I surveyed the house for
signs that things were accomplished on my vacation. I concluded that it was a wonderful five days but wondered if I was being a little selfish if I lobbied for a sixth day off to rest.
The One Where Bert and Ernie Made Me Cry
It’s the eve before the beginning of Christmas Season. We mark this celebration with a feast of turkey, dressing and pumpkin pie.
Thanksgiving is just the meal the fuels me for the weeks to come. On Friday, we will put up the Christmas tree and cross our fingers that it doesn’t come crashing to the floor once in the next several weeks. I’ve almost convinced myself that there won’t be an incident, despite the fact that said tree will stir much curiosity amongst the Beans. I’ll also begin Christmas shopping this weekend. I’ll coax J into putting up Christmas lights. I pull out my favorite Christmas movies and put them on rotation for the next month. J is worried that I’ll get worse now that the Beans are here. Last year I didn’t have the time or the energy to dive into the season, as the girls were only three months old, I was just back to work and we had just moved into our home.
Yesterday, I caught A Sesame Street Christmas Carol with the Beans at my parents’ house. I was preoccupied with the latest People Magazine, but A began chanting fervently when Rubber Ducky came on the television screen, “Duck! Duck! Duck!” I started watching with them.
It was the part where Bert and Ernie each think of the perfect gift to get their roommate. Bert decides to get a soap dish for Ernie
to leave his beloved Rubber Ducky. Ernie is determined to get a cigar box where Bert can safely keep his prized paper clips. Both of them go to Mr. Hooper’s to get the gifts, first Ernie, then Bert. Neither of them have any money, but they want to get just the right thing for the other, so both of them part with their most prized possession. Bert trades his paper clips for the soap dish and Ernie trades Rubber Ducky for the cigar box.
It is actually possible to see the range of emotions on their faces. Really! My eyes began to well up when they exchange gifts and realize what the other had sacrificed to bring joy to his friend. In the end, Mr. Hooper visits, bringing gifts for Bert and Ernie. You guessed it. He was so touched by their act of friendship and sacrifice that he brought them their things.
A Conversation Between Mother and Daughter
A Squared: This?
Momma Bean: That’s Momma’s shirt.
A Squared: This?
Momma Bean: That’s Momma’s necklace.
A Squared: This?
Momma Bean: That’s Momma’s body.
A Squared: This?
Momma Bean: That’s Momma’s chest.
A Squared: This!
Momma Bean: That’s…erm…Momma’s chest.
A Squared: THIS!
Momma Bean: That’s Momma’s cheh-esss-tah!
A Squared: THIS!
Momma Bean: Boobies! Alright!?!?!?!?!?!? Now, where’s your Elmo book?
One day, twenty years from now, one of these girls will have a blog entry about the stupid hat her mother made her wear.
Well, the first illness has come and gone. Everyone chided me for bragging that my girls have never been sick before, but if this is what sick is, then bring it on! I told my sister-in-law the other day that when J caught M&A’s cold, he was a bigger baby than they were. But, isn’t that the case, with men?
The girls took it like a man! Hah! Sure, they were a little more subdued and were covered in boogers (as was I) and didn’t eat as much as normal, but they still played, they still smiled, they still survived! One evening, A went to lay her little head down on the floor while watching Sesame Street and M grabbed her Cookie Monster and curled up next to her sister. They were both feeling it and needed the comfort. They were only laying there for a little bit and then, with renewed strength, they made their way into the kitchen to help me bake cookies (photos to follow).
Everyone in the house caught the cold, including yours truly, which I guess is karma if you believe in it, but I too feel like this is a pretty mild and manageable cold. We have had our first colds and we have stronger immune systems for it. So there!
Testing out the new seats. It is an adjustment because we don’t have
the infant carriers to set the girls in while we free ourselves to get
the other girl. J doesn’t like it. At all. I don’t mind it, but then I
don’t have to carry the girls into my parents’ house at 7:30 every
weekday morning. The girls like them, I think, because it allows them
to look outside the windows and it gives them a lot more room. I
L.O.V.E. the Britax and it was worth every minute of the wild goose chase
to purchase them. Now I know what everyone raves about. If you are in
the market for a car seat and haven’t purchased one yet: GET A BRITAX.
ETA: The car seats in the photo are actually the Graco Comfort Sport, which are wonderful car seats in their own right. Here is the Britax Roundabout.
