Straighten up and... listen

Willa likes listening to Diana Krall's cover of "Straighten Up and Fly Right" (click here to hear Nat King Cole sing his song. Don't bother watching the video part). At first, I thought it was only because there's a monkey in the song. But this morning, I heard her humming and then she stopped while listening. "Mommy, there are drums in this song!" And then she noticed the piano. We talked about how a string bass sounds, and now she knows about a jazz trio.

The music nerd in me is pretty excited about this. We'll be listening to more jazz in the car now. And then - deliberately - move onto other genres.

T&A. My Ts, Henry's A.

I pump. I dump. I tear up a little.
Turns out it is indeed the breastmilk (w/ antibiotics) that have caused Henry's diaper rash.
In 7th grade, Mr. Prevost taught us the scientific method. We followed it. Henry's rash cleared up after 30 hours of only formula. But maybe that was a fluke, you say? We reintroduced, and hours later - woosh! Bottom on fire.
I have about 2 gallons saved in the fridge downstairs from last week. I can't bring myself to dump that. But for the next 2 days, my pumping is all about maintaing supply for when my body is free of the medicine.

Truth

In the backyard this evening with Willa and Henry:

"Mom, I waannnnttt that."
"Willa, that's Henry's special popcicle*. It's going to help him get better quick."
"But I wannnnnttt that."
"You can have your own popcicle after dinner."
"Okay."
a minute later while I'm talking with Jim:
"Mom, I want a popcicle."
"After dinner. If you eat your vegetables."
"But we got to share. I want some. Henry wants to share."

"Willa, I have to go inside for a minute. While daddy's watering the grass, can you be my assistant and keep mosquitoes off of Henry?"
"Okay. I'll be your insistent."


*Popcicle chock full of electrolytes

Lots of nipple discussion to follow

Dear medical community, please grow a pair. Also, study up on breastfeeding.

On Thursday, I woke up with what can only be described as a feeling that the 7 dwarfs had escaped from Snow White, had shrunk to even dwarfier, and were using their mining axes on the inside of my left breast. Bastards. Off to the doctor I went.

I saw a great substitute doctor because my own doc wasn't available. She examined me and declared my breast to be infected. She sent me on my way with sympathy, a prescription of antibiotics, rest and a warm compress.

Over the weekend, I spent a lot of time sleeping. And feeling warm, when I was awake. I also spent a lot of time nursing Henry in an effort to unclog any pipes that might be causing the infection.

Over the weekend, poor Henry developed diarrhea (no, family, not the same as MaKenna's new book that we're not allowed to look in - quick awwwww and tee hee for the 5 year old who has given the wrong name to her diary). And quickly his poor bottom a diaper rash that made up for all of the other diaper rashes he never got.

He cried. I cried.

We got home late from up north and he screamed from pain and I cried from feeling that the milk my body was producing was hurting my little pal. We found the can of formula we left the hospital with when he was born and cracked it open. Through tears, I started mentally composing a blog entry titled "when Breast is not best..."

The next morning I pumped and left a message for the doctor through a nurse. And then pumped while leaving a message for the hospital's lactation consultant. And then pumped while leaving a message at Baby Beloved, a local lactation organization.

Slowly calls came back.
"It sounds like thrush to me, you both need to be treated." Except there are no white patches in his mouth and my nipples are not red or painful, it's inside.

"You'll have to pump and dump." this means work really hard at expressing breastmilk and then... pouring it down the drain.

"No, I don't think you'll have to dump, it's just teething that's causing this rash." Except the timing?

"I can't tell you about probiotics, you should call your OB/GYN." Thanks pharmacist.

We took Henry to the doctor, another substitute because our doctor doesn't work on Mondays. She was the one who blamed the rash on teething. And then told us we needed to change his diapers more often. And said there were no contraindications for the antibiotic I was on; despite the red, blistered contraindication naked right in front of her. She would not listen to my real issues. We left with a script for magic butt paste in Jim's hand and the wrath of a mother wronged in my (feeling better by then) chest.

Finally, the lactation consultant at Baby Beloved gave me the time to voice my concerns and suspicions. She listened. She asked probing questions. She told me I wouldn't have to throw my milk away. She was supportive and smart and knew about breastfeeding. And wasn't too afraid of liability to give me input. And I love her.

Next time that's my first stop.

Working vacation for Jim

By virtue of his employment compensation package being similar to that of a state employee, Jim gets gobs more vacation time than I do.
Additionally, by virtue of him not having a uterus in which to implant a baby, it was me taking maternity leave. The leave impacts how much vacation I earned for this year. This means Jim has waaaayyyy gobs more vacation than I do this year.
So, while I'm working today he is not working at his job. He is currently outside standing over a wet saw cutting tile for the kitchen backsplash. Just typing that makes my heart skip a beat with excitement. Soon it will be complete!!!
Have I shared that I no longer sit in an office chair? I work while seated on an exercise ball. When I type kitchen backsplash, I realize that I'm bouncing up and down.

Lake Michigan, Sunday evening.

lost in translation

Willa: But daaaddddy, there's a monster chasing me.
Jim: You tell that monster that Daddy says you need to get your shoes.
Willa: Monster, daddy says go away, I need my shoes.
Jim: Tell that monster go away.
Willa: Monster. Go away!
Jim: Tell that monster "your ass is grass."
Amy: Jim!
Willa: pauses... "Monster, you eat grass!

I saw the light at 2 am

"It's always in the last place you look," goes the old saying.

Of course "it" is. Why would one keep looking if "it" has been found?

I've been doing some thinking this week about the way people do things. Style: mommy style, partner style, worker style, boss style, getting mom and dad up in the middle of the night because I can now stand up in my crib but I don't know how to get down style.

I've been thinking about how we all get wrapped up in our individual styles - consciously or not - to the point that not only are we sure that our style is right, but, sometimes, everyone else's is dead wrong.

Parenting has become a method of expression, and ideas are packaged as techniques or lifestyles and worn like Paris Hilton's dog. "Do you do Babywise?" "No, no... we're into Attachment Parenting..." I'm a mother who can not commit to ordering "the lumberjack breakfast" and instead, prefer to order a la carte. Are there nights that Henry is lulled to sleep by Jim or I patting his back? Yup. Are there nights that we close his door and let him cry a little? Yup, particularly lately. Are we better parents for one of those nights than the other? Don't answer that, I'm just trying to make a point.

I am a "live and let live" kind of driver. It works for me to do my thing while being aware of others doing their things. Jim is a driver who flips people off when they are not practicing safe or sensible driving techniques. He does this in a very subtle way and not so much that the other driver is aware they've offended, but that he has recognized their jerkiness and has reacted and has put it behind him. At first I thought "my husband is a passive aggressive driver." Now I know he's just living his own form of vigilante justice. Just like Chuck Norris. If we're both safe and sane drivers, are one of us better for our driving styles?

Forks up or down to dry? Toilet paper to the front or to the back? Communicating hurt feelings or quietly frowning? Paint the toe nails or leave them be?

This week I'm trying to stop buying into my own style hype, and be consciously more accepting of others. I'm also trying to seek out other ways that might make life at Camp Sinki easier, more orderly, cleaner, fuller, smilier. I'm trying to not settle for finding something in the last place I've looked, even if it seems like I've found "it."

Garden check in

It's cra-zy hot outside. I know these guys are happy, so long as they get water this evening.

In the photo above is our single (not yet ripe) blueberry. One is better than none. We've had 2 bushes for 2 years. I moved them to a location that gets more sun and presto! Happier plants.

Oh Snap! Peas.

Lily + Clematis = true love always

The blooms in front: geranium, lavender, coreopsis

The strawberries are done for the year. The corn is just about ankle high (lots of growing to do before the 4th of July) - but it's there, so I'm happy. Beans are growing, growing, growing. Tomatoes are enthusiastic. Pumpkins bloomed last week. We'll see... Cucumbers on the way. Eggplant happy, as are the squash. Peppers. We will have all sorts of peppers.

Happy flowers. Happy gardener with new and expanded beds. As always, I'm excited about this season, but next season? Will be awesome!

Surviving teething and an onslaught of "why"

Last night I hit a wall of exhaustion. Tooth #4 for Henry made for two fairly sleep deprived nights previous. Last night I fed Henry in bed at 8:30, and didn't get back out until this morning. Just before dozing off, Jim, Willa, and I were in bed together eating popcorn and watching "I Survived a Japanese Gameshow." Willa wants to know "why?" everything.

"Why did that car stop?"
"Because the driver stopped it."
"Why did the driver stop it?"
"Because the light turned red."
"Why did the light turn red?"
"Because the road commission's study found that 94 seconds is the optimal time for traffic flow at this time of day."
"Why...."

I don't know if you've ever watched the "... Japanese Gameshow." It is zany at it's best. And watching it with a curious three year old makes it better. Though the questions are difficult to answer. She does not understand that there are no answers when it comes to a lot of television in Japan.

After Jim took Willa upstairs, I went right to sleep. And didn't wake up until 7 am. I can't stop smiling.

Henry's first sock hop

Kiddo can dance!

Outdoors

The chipmunks. We spent nearly all day in the backyard. It was a productive, relaxing, wonderful day. But those darn chipmunks hopped in and out of the strawberry patch while we were right there watching. And then they chirped at us as though to say, "human beings! This is our turf!"
Anyhow, I was feeling kind of garden zen today. Carved through one little bed that was getting overrun and weedy, made it bigger, transplanted a few of the hens and chicks into it. Moved some lilac... saplings [? What are young shrubs called? Onward.] to create a natural barrier between us and the neighbor's yard. Weeded like a maniac. Filled the wheelbarrow dumped, repeated. Moved more plants around.
In between, we filled up the baby pool, put out the hammock, Jim put up a canopy tent and we had ourselves a summer day in the yard, complete with icy lemonade.

Random spouting (this is a clever title, considering the last line - just making that clear)

Henry slept all night. Willa woke up dry again this morning.
The switch from analog to digital TV happened this morning, and it looks like the world continues to spin on its axis.
The tomatoes have enjoyed the recent rain and are shooting up.
The lavender is in bloom. Poor plant doesn't know that it's about to be dug up and made into a few different plants.
Jim's hearing is coming back after over a week of his deaf ear being his good ear. Yikes. He pressured the doctor into really working for him and they'll be discussing possible re-reconstruction (not a typo, he has a man made eardrum in one ear, and it never worked the way it should have) methods in a few weeks.
I continue my feud with the neighborhood chipmunks, ironically the same week that Jim and Willa bring "Alvin and the Chipmunks" home from the video store again. They have clear cut some of my sprouting sunflowers, have bitten off more than they can chew and leave parts of ripening strawberries in the driveway, and are ruining my bean crop. I am a pacifist - especially when it comes to animals - but these guys? Call me Ahab, and they are my white whale.

Rain outside, dry inside

We haven't pushed night time potty training with Willa. We kind of figured she was doing great during the day, and her life changed a lot with Henry's arrival, so why stress her out about this? Last night after her bath, she went to her PJs drawer and noted aloud "oops. There are no diapers here anymore. I guess I'll wear underpants."

And she woke up dry this morning. I can't stop dancing in my seat as I type that.

The kids had their well child check ups last week, and I didn't record the stats here.
Henry (at 7.5 months): 28.5" and 23.1#
Willa (at 3 years, 2 months)39" and 34.8#

*Thanks to my editor dad for calling to remind me Willa is 3, not 2 as was previously typed here.

So sweet, it would melt in the rain. Which is why we stopped.

I think once I get over the geeky coolness of blogging with video, I'll try to keep it down to one movie a week. But for now...

Willa dotes on her little brother. She frequently makes noises like this at him. It reminds me of a litter of puppies who yelp at each other for identification and comfort.

A wild hair

I have heard about people who, when stressed, clean like their life depends on it. I am not one of those. When I feel out of control of my life, I do something drastic to my hair. When I was pregnant with Henry I took hormonal mood shifts out on my hair and grew it long. Then he was born and I had marvelous Erin cut it all off (which was the plan all along).
I'm don't write much about work here, and I'm not about to start (hi boss, in case you've found me here), but things in professional Sinkiland are rocky right now.
So, I invited Erin and her cutie one year old Brody over. She gave me a perm:

Do you like it?
I'm kidding, that's a wig.
Stay tuned for the official unveiling on Friday after I have washed the permed real hair.

Crocodiles (in a brave new video world)

Our house has been invaded by alligators and crocodiles. We don't have to feed or clean up after these guys, but we do have to be careful about where we step or sit. Willa is constantly scolding us for smushing her pals.

I'm cool, damn it.

I must confess, we headed to a big box store to purchase a point and shoot digital camera yesterday. Sorry local stores. I'll do penance, I promise.

Now that that's off my conscience... hey pals! We have a point and shoot camera that takes video. Know what this means? Blogging at a whole new level! When the internet blows up, I will take full responsibility. The adorability factor of Willa and Henry in motion will surely overwhelm the servers at blogspot central.

Now. At big box store, there is a new section of musical instruments. Mostly the kind that you need to plug in to hear. For a tenth of a second I considered being a woodwind dork and asking for clarinet reeds (Sarah, I still haven't made good on my goal to pick up the clarinet again). But a quick glance told me those wouldn't be in stock.

There were two gents in their early twenties working behind the counter in this section. One wore a terry cloth head band and a smirk. It's cool because it's ironic, I could see him explaining to his dad that morning.

They watched me as I carried Henry and followed Willa from one drum machine to the next, from a Hannah Montana guitar to another equally sparkly model that probably sounded like junk. I could feel them rolling their eyes and immediately branding me "not cool."

Willa sat on the floor and strummed a small electric guitar. Henry rocked back and forth in my arms. I pretended to hear the music and played air drums.

Hey big box store instrument sales guys: moms do not need irony to be cool.

The watermelon story

So. We went up North and spent some time at my parents' cottage at Higgen's Lake. Mom, dad and I were chatting in the kitchen. After setting a watermelon on the back burner, she put a pot of water on the stove to boil (likely to kill the awful germs the Sinkis brought along).

A minute later, I said, "is it supposed to crackle like that?"

We chalked it up to water on the bottom of the pot.

And then was a... a scent. Because she was out of cooking at the cottage practice, mom had turned on the wrong burner. Resulting in:

Yup, a branded watermelon

I mentioned that we were all horribly ill with a stomach bug. The malaise gave some of us "cottage fever" resulting in:

Updatelets

Willa's mind is fast at work and is becoming more vivid. Tonight when she departed her bath, she brought two baby alligators. One was sleeping, the other was awake. We couldn't see them because they were "magical." *One must say "magical" with bug eyes and in a whispered tone.*

Henry is now pulling himself up on the ledge of the bathtub. We anticipate that he'll be joining the X games by fall.

Jim's ears are under attack again and he's lying in bed with a double ear infection. I've been shouting all evening because he can not hear.

We got cucumbers, zucchini, peppers (banana, Hungarian and Thai chili), eggplant, pumpkin (just for fun), and 1/2 of the tomatoes in the ground yesterday and today. Add those to the peas and beans already in and corn that's slated for tomorrow, and we'll have a rich harvest.

Monumental day

Let it be known that on this day in history, Henry rolled over!

Henry is home with me today. Teething/illness related screaming got him the boot from school. I'm getting work done and balancing his needs. I wouldn't want to do this every day, but it's not been awful. I did have to officially take an official 1/2 day, but time with the little guy and making sure he's getting all the one on one time that he needs makes it worth it.

He and I were in the living room on the floor just now. His motivator is not me, or the dogs, or any of his toys, or even food (which is saying something for this 23 pounder). He rolled so he could crawl after an envelope.

Emptying pockets of random

We had a minivacation that started Wednesday afternoon and ended Monday. We hit the road and an hour into the trip, Willa started to vomit. Optimistically, I chalked it up to car sickness. Turns out, we were 2 adults, 2 kids, and 2 dogs on a trip with a rather sociable flu-bug. There was no fun. Wait, there was 2 minutes of fun that involved a watermelon (and if I don't post about that later in the week - with photos- bug me about it). This little bug danced from Willa to me, and then to Henry, and somehow got to Jim on Mackinac Island before getting to my mom and then my dad.

The silver lining was that when the kids were sleeping or otherwise engaged, I got to read a book. From one cover to another in a few days. I haven't done that in a very long time. I read the Kite Runner. It did to my psyche what starting an exercise regime does to a physical body. It was painful to read, but important. It's a wonderfully heartbreaking story. Read it.

Changing the subject to a few random points:

Mr. Sinki = smarty pants. Check this out: 6 classes down in his Master's program, and dude's got a 4.0 GPA. I'm so proud of Jim.

I spent some time yesterday reading through the 2006 posts just to see how our lives were when Willa was Henry's age. Turns out we're kind of reliving late November of 2006 in the sleep department. Some other quick calculations show that Henry and Willa were the same age when first teeth showed up and when they became mobile by crawling.

Grand Rapids probably went to bed with a bottle of wine (I don't know... GR pals, is GR a wine city? beer? the hard stuff?) last night after a very tough day. Before the sun came up, a GR landmark restaurant burned down. And then a very large water main downtown broke, closing the street. [Dear Amway: that will teach you! Trying to keep the public from gazing at your fireworks show...] And then the food court at Woodland mall had a small fire that made the mall close down for a while. And I won't post a link there...

I will love her and squeeze her and call her...

Starfley Cawmer.

That is what Willa has named her stuffed pink monkey. When I asked if it had a name, she looked at me like I was crazy for not knowing, kind of... "where have you been, mom?!" and she very matter of factly told me:

"Oh, her name is Starfley Cawmer."

Do not say "Calmer" or she rolls her eyes.

She also has a monkey named Eyebrows (because he has eyebrows) and a horse named Salad.

Duh.

he said, he said, he said, she said...

"These woods are so dense. You know, they drop SEALS in the woods for training."
"Somewhere way back there is an antenna that 100 feet long. The ELF is for transmitting to submarines."
"And if you hike through the woods and over a few dunes, there are nudist beaches."

"So you spent a lot of time up here in high school?"
"Late high school and early college."
"Mmmm hmmmm...."
"What?!"
"Well, not that I don't believe any of what you're saying, but you absolutely sound like a high school version of Jim: covert military training, 100 foot long antenna, nudists..."
"HA- oh, shut up."

Trees to the left of us, Lake Michigan to the right...

If you are not from Michigan, or if you've never been close to a Michigander (old school! Whatever "Michiganians"....) you may not be familiar with the travelling state map. Hence the photo I've lovingly posted here for your reference

The Sinkis packed up and headed north for the weekend. Mama Sinki (that would be me) had a work program in Petoskey - marked by the blue diamond above - and I brought the clan. While packing, Mama Sinki thought of her lovely son who eats his fruits and veggies well, but not so daintily yet, and packed double the clothes necessary for a one night trip.

We got to the fabulous Holiday Inn Express on Friday evening. Pushed by Willa's enthusiasm, we were in the pool moments after checking in. Willa was a fish. Henry was... a screeching, stretching, kicking fish.

The program on Saturday morning went wonderfully (pat on back).

After the program we loaded up and headed out. Papa Sinki had a wild look in his eye and suggested we not go home that evening. So... road trip! We took 2 lane highways from Petoskey to Traverse City to Sleeping Bear Dunes (purple smiley face). It was a chilly day and windy, so we opted out of hiking up the dunes with a 3 year old and a hefty infant. Instead we drove the scenic road in the National Park. We got out for a moment and walked to a dune lookout. Lake Michigan was beautiful for the minute we could bear to be in the cold wind.

As we drove we played "eye spy" with Willa. There was no guessing, just exclaiming, and the most often spied and declared item was forsythia. Toward the end of the game, she was chanting and then mumbling "I spy a forsythia." When she was silent, I turned to see her totally asleep. Jim and I talked and talked and talked.

Red barns and trillium carpeted woods. Twists, gentle curves and hills... Visions of tourism encouraging "Yes Michigan!" This state we live in? Gorgeous. We saw cows, chickens, horses, sheep, a llama, deer, turkey. When we had to stop the car so I could nurse Henry a man on a bicycle asked Jim if we needed help. And then we watched him walk his bike up a long, steep hill.

Henry and Willa entertained each other in the back by making noises at each other. In a few years, I know they will be much less entertained by each other, but will still be making noises...

They were such good kids, especially considering how long they were strapped in the car.

We landed in Manistee (yellow moon) Saturday night and found dinner and a place to stay. Again a pool. Again smiling kids.

In the morning, Henry had his first waffle and shared about 1/2 of it with the floor of the Days Inn. We got on the road again (no pool in the morning. "Sorry Willa, someone pooped in the pool, and it's closed." Motherhood has made me a liar. She immediately blamed Henry.).

Manistee to Ludington where we enjoyed the beach from behind the windshield at the city park while the kids slept. We stopped at a produce shop and I bought still sandy asparagus and flavored honey sticks.

Ludington to Pentwater where I opened my eyes from a little nap when I heard Jim say, "I drove to Pentwater to show my family this view and everyone is sleeping." I think I said, "it's nice!" and closed my eyes again.

Pentwater to Little Sable Point (orange sun)where we all got out to walk over the dune and stretch a little. Willa and I put our feet in Lake Michigan. It was cold. I fed Henry on a sand dune, gazing at the Lake and then at Willa and Jim who were hunting for ladybugs. Serene (unless you were a ladybug).

From there in search of lunch. We wound up at Turks (Jim where were we?) a very sweet little place that you should visit if you're ever in _____ (Jim?).

From lunch to Leonard Street all the way home.

It was a pretty awesome weekend. Soon, we'll be headed north again to Mackinac Island (pink starbust). Where we'll be able to experience a deepening green and spring flowers unfurling all over again. For that, we'll remember the camera.

moodiness

Chapter 4 in the handbook for teen pregnancy prevention

I am feeling like the poster child for the reason several industrialized countries give new mothers a year of maternity leave. In other words, I'm kinda of an exhausted mess.
Today. Today the little feeling of messhood has a big ole magnifying glass over it. I promise, I'm all right, but geez...
Last night during her bath Willa looked at me after laughing while floating in the water and said, "my ear hurts." At 2am, I finally got her to sleep. Between those times she cried and yelled. She wanted go lie down with me upstairs in her bed. We'd get to her bed, and she "needed" to be downstairs on the couch. Or in mom and dad's bed.
I did not sleep much the night before (thanks, teething).
I was worn down and pretty much willing to let Willa have what ever it took to quiet her down and get her comfortable. Watching Annie on the couch with me? Sure. Telling her stories about my pet chicken? Okay, 1 am is a good time for that. Rocking, head stroking... Hey, who wants ice cream?! Just kidding, there was no ice cream...
She would not let Jim comfort her. So, he worked to get Henry back to sleep after Willa's wails woke him.
Finally, after holding her very close and shushing her for 20 minutes, she fell asleep in my arms.
I felt my muscles relax, laid her in bed with Jim and went to the couch. My head hit a pillow.
And then Henry woke up.

Five years ago, I went to hear Gullah music at Grand Valley. It was a fun night that reinvigorated my appreciation for live music and other cultures, and the weight of history. In between the music and the after concert milkshakes with Heather, I met Jim.

Jim, who said I should share more about the SEED school here. Okay...

My closest friend there was Nancy, a woman from NYC who was a little younger than me. When the kids went home on Friday nights, we would sit in the common areas on couches and try to figure out how to improve the way the school worked. We tried to figure out how to reach the snotty 7th grade girls who wouldn't let go of their protective shells. We laughed about how the nearly 100% African American, very urban DC student population reacted to being "guided" by me - a white girl from Michigan. I'm pretty sure they thought I nearly Amish. Nancy and I got through the DC sniper together. We presented united fronts to our bosses and the girls who thought they were our bosses. We encouraged each other nearly every day. Because we needed to (I've mentioned we were both in charge of twelve 7th grade girls when they weren't in the classroom, right?). We drank wine. Because we needed to.

Nancy and I were together in suburban DC for a day out with other friends/coworkers/people we put up with because we were all in battle together. She was a shopper. Wait, she was a Shopper. I? Am not. We had gone to what felt like our 80th store when I protested. "I am tired of shopping! Let's do something else."
"Amy," said my friend who was raised on concrete and bus fumes, "I would go into the woods for you. If you said, 'lets look at just one more tree' I would do that for you. Now, we're going into this Banana Republic, and you're going to like it."
And she probably would have, despite her fear of any bug and disdain for soil or... nature.

Speaking of nature... the bunnies have left the nest. They were grown, and now it's time for them to move on. Like any self respecting pseudo parent, I am quickly changing their bedroom into a den.

I planted a wisteria vine and basil last night. My Mother's Day/in honor of Henry Plum Tree needs to be planted this evening. I'm excited because it's beautiful and symbolic and we might get fruit.

How's that for tangental?
Jim -> Nancy -> bunnies -> garden?

Sweet Jim, who would have guessed 5 years ago that we'd create this?

Daycare pick up conversations...

"Henry is going to start visiting the older infant room."
Silence from me.
More.
More.
"Already?"


"Willa's in the corner over there. She's at 'the doctors having babies'."
"How many this time, Willa?"
She proudly hold up 10 fingers.
"Well, maybe we'll get a reality television show..."

I-r-o-n-i-c

Last year in an effort to quell the strawberry patch raiding chipmunks and rabbits, Jim made a cage of chicken wire and surrounded our plants.
On Saturday I did my house walkabout, inspecting the progress of all of our plants. I did a double take in the strawberry patch. There, behind the cage (again built to keep out critters), was a nest with several adorable baby bunnies.

On the move

Between point A and point B is a flash, and his name is Henry. The fella is getting around in two ways. First, he slithers along on his belly, elbows pulling him along. Second, he sits upright and bumps along on his behind. He moves centimeters at a time, but gets there. I hope to get a movie to share here.

Inside and out

We're fine. I haven't posted here since Tuesday, which made my mom wonder who in the house was sick. There is no sick. There is only teething, and sunshine, and bubbles, and "who is making dinner tonight?" Also? Where did the last few weeks of April go?

We had a great weekend. I planted about... ten thousand zillion peonies (probably closer to 20). A woman on my "mom's board" agreed to swap some tomato seedlings for those. While I planted, Willa did her part by plucking all of the worms out of the newly dug soil and carried them around. She thinks they're cute. She'd lovingly place them on her pillow at night if we'd let her. The kid shrieks if she sees a spider in the house and will bolt if there's an ant, but she dotes on worms.

We had an adventure this weekend: a few hours at Blanford Nature Center where we saw frogs and turtles and a snake. We were out on a trail when Willa announced she needed to go to the bathroom. I am hoping that she has stopped telling people, "I got to go potty [deep breath in and eyes wide] in THE WOODS!"

Henry's tooth #2 has finally broken through the gums. He is getting around on his own now, one centimeter at a time. I set him down on the floor in front of the full length mirror on Saturday while I brushed my teeth. From the other side of the wall, I heard a clunk and then a Henry giggle. I peeked around the doorway to see him licking the wall. I put him back in the middle of the hallway and watched as he hopped on his bottom toward the wall.

Jim and I spent a good portion of the weekend doing yard work and dreaming about an ideal design. A small platform deck under the maple tree? Some wood chips there? Leveling out the pile of grass clippings and leaves and composted produce? Vinca vine where the grass won't grow? Transplanting more of the lily of the valley?

I'm going to need some new work gloves.

I noticed a pair of cardinals over the weekend, spending some time on the front porch. Turns out, they're nesting in our huge pine tree. No sign of rabbit nests yet, but I'm sure they'll come.

Before getting all withered and grouchy

If I worked at the Secretary of State office (before time ravaged my good will toward man and all) I think I would keep little candies or stickers or something at my station. I would share them with the folks who came in on their birthday to renew their license/tabs. I know some would rail against procrastinating, but those are my people.

I spent 30 minutes yesterday at the Plainfield SOS office. It was smaller than the one I normally go to and grungier. But it was no less entertaining.

I did not have the paperwork they mailed me because I put it off long enough that it got lost, or Willa colored all over it, or Greta chewed it, or all of the above (which have, indeed happened to documents deemed important by others). So I watched with some envy as a woman stood at their self serve machine, tennatively punching the keys. When it spit out new tabs, she literally did a fist pump and shouted "YES!" as though she were at a slot machine.

I had a book. I read it while standing in the first line. Here, one stands in line for a number and to be told if you sit and wait or stand in another line. So, I read while the gentleman behind me stood on my heels reading over my shoulder and talking on his cell phone about the robot. "Broken! We need it looked at asap (he said those letters as though it was a word)." I got my number and waited. He got his number and sat 2 seats away from me, making more calls. "Is it the Toshiba? I've called Cal." He was put on hold. "Good book?" he asked. I glanced his way and nodded, "it is." I continued reading. "My wife likes to read," he said, "it's like her desert." I was wondering if he interrupts his wife's dessert time when he was taken off hold. My number was called, I paid for my new yellow plate sticker and went outside.

I hope his robot is fixed.

It's interesting to spend time with the random mix of humanity on ones birthday.

Blessings: counting them

This one. Lies on the floor and does not roll over. He pivots from his belly and gets around; toes where his head was only seconds ago. On Saturday, from a sturdy seated position, he lunged his mouth at my finger and I felt the little splinter of his first tooth on this lower gum. This morning he woke up laughing.

This one. Sat on the bench under the lilac with me yesterday after the rain. She was in her princess dress and fancy shoes. The bright pink popped against the grey skies and deepening green grass. She swung her feet under her and cradled, in her hands, a worm.

This one (the one who isn't bronze). Woke up when I got back into bed at 6 am. He rolled over and sighed, taking my hand in his. We both fell back to sleep while the neighborhood birds started their routines.

Greetings - electronic, phone and paper - have found their way to me today. I am so pleasantly and serenely... full. Today I am thirty-four years old. And it is a very, very happy birthday.

For my GR peeps

Jim and I were discussing this in the car on the way to having 2 of his teeth removed.

I'm just glad they didn't send out press releases a week ago. The media only had a day and speculated all sorts of things. Did anyone else have dejavu of Suzanne Geha hyperventilating because she was so excited about the BIG development downtown? Remember last year's River Grand development on the public works land? Anyhow... some of the guesses were way cooler than what's actually happening. Or maybe the actual event will be a lot more exciting than it looks to be in print.

"We should do that!"
"What?"
"We should put out a press release that an event will be coming in a year and that it will change the face of Grand Rapids forever. And wait to see what the media and public speculate. We'll choose the best idea and try to get financial backing..."

Pals, the conversation on the way home was even less amusing. Poor post sedation Jim asked me five times if I had met the doctor and if he said things went well. Patient is resting comfortably in bed now. I need to go make him some scrambled eggs.

Curious overlap, with lots of back story

I used to work at the SEED School in Washington, DC. I searched the blog here and it looks like I've never written about it. I went there after working at Habitat for Humanity. I was looking to work with kids. They were a public, charter, boarding school (not at all a typical boarding school) looking for someone who would be a house manager for incoming 7th grade girls. A house manager is someone who is with students while they're not in academic classrooms. Waking them up and ensuring they were showered, dressed in uniform and had their homework was my responsibility. After classes, I tutored them, monitored their computer activities, help work out the social snarls of being twelve, took them to dinner in the cafeteria, ensured they were in touch with home, hung out, and got them to sleep at a semi-reasonable hour. It was a pretty cool job. Except that the school was fairly isolated, we worked 6 days a week, 13 hour days, and there wasn't a lot of support from the school administration. Or the parents at home. It was trying, and when the founder of an organization in Baltimore called me to say the position I had applied for months ago was now open and she'd like to meet with me, I jumped on it.

I was only at the SEED School for 5 months. Leaving broke my heart. It hurt some of the girls. I made some real friends (as one does in the middle of a "battle"). It was this time of my life that drinking wine and roller skating in the parking lot on a Saturday night (when the kids weren't there) was really the only thing that made sense. I left DC and headed a little North for what turned out to be a disaster. That job that opened up? Was held by 8 other people in the past 3 years. Eight people who share a "whooooo.... she was kinda batty, eh?" story with me about our former boss.

Anyhow. That is all to say, I used to work at the SEED School.

I am a proud Americorps alum. I've written about that here.

Yesterday, a whole bunch of people for whom I would love to make grilled cheese sandwiches gathered at the SEED School to listen to and watch President Obama sign the SERVE act into law. Read Obama's speech here and then put on your work boots, pals. There's a lot to do.

Photos from visit to the Motherland

Oh boy, do I have the photos to post here.
Breaking it up into pieces, we'll start with a few from Easter weekend which included a birthday party for Willa and MaKenna.
First up, Benjamin and Henry, hanging out.

Over here, we have my dad and Willa:


Grandpa (Grandma pictures for another post) and Henry:


A second later, a crack could be heard; we did not eat those eggs:



Here are all the yahoos:

The littlest yahoos:

Willa either admiring her cousin or thinking about "one. million. dollars..."

MaKenna cracking Henry up:

It was a great visit. These cousins are going to keep us grown ups on our toes.

those wacky offspring

Henry does not like to be written about here. How do I know?

I write "Henry slept through the night and the village rejoiced" and the next night he's up every 90 minutes.

I write "Mr. perma-smile is a delight" and the next day he's the crankiest he's ever been.

The seas are disturbed under the good ship Henry James. I'm sure it's teeth. I can see the outline of most of his uppers right under his gums. It looks like he's going to get all of them. At any second now.

Given the pattern I described above, I just jinxed us into more days of teething purgatory.

Quick! Change the subject!
Willa was singing her name the other day. I've mentioned it before, but she sings it to the tune of "Skip to my Lou"
W-I-L-L-A
W-I-L-L-A
W-I-L-L-A
it normally ends, "...and that spells Willa."
She was singing in the bathtub, while I was hanging clothes. I heard her sing, "...and that spells trouble."

One day short of 6 months

Today Henry is the exact age Willa was when I started this blog (190 days old, to be exact).

I have written so much about Willa lately; the wacky things that comes out of her mouth astound me. Her personality is so vibrant, so capriciously the essence of 3...

Henry - at this time in his life - is steadily happy. He grows and learns every day, but so much of that is internal, difficult to detect and record. I have noticed him reacting to his sister: he laughs when she gets near him and he reaches for her. He does this with the dogs and his toys too, but not to the degree that Willa gets. Henry has started eating veggies and loves them. Carrots first and sweet potatoes and peas next. He eats them faster than I can spoon it. He is an efficient eater and, as a result, does not get too messy. He is not the greatest sleeper yet - we have a standing date on the couch at about 3am still. And then again at 5:30 (if he wants to stand me up like he did last night, I'd forgive him). But he gets what he wants (needs?) and is immediately content.

Someday he'll ask me what he was like as a baby. I can tell him that he was genuinely the happiest baby I have ever seen. He smiles with his whole body (happy kneecaps, shoulders, toes...). He flirts and gurgles and rocks with a huge gummy grin.

Henry has made the transition to family of four-hood easy. He is fun to be around, it is such an honor to be his parent.

Sleep and "All that Jazz"

I don't know if y'all are big musical watchers. It seems that in just about every one, there's a big scene where people begin to sing and dance with elation a la "I Want to Live in America" in West Side Story, or "We Got Annie" in the musical about that lovable redhead. Who does that?!

Me. Today. I am singing and dancing and jumping to click my heals today. No lightpole will go un-swung around by me today. Mr. Bluebird's on my shoulder and zip-a-dee-do-dah!

Pals, Henry slept through the night. Which means I slept through the night. *jazz hands*

He slept from 9 pm until 8 am. This is the first time he's slept more than 4 hours in a row. I'm not expecting him to start (know what? it's hard to type and whistle with joy at the same time) doing this all the time, but it's a habit I wouldn't mind him picking up.

Looking for some fun musical entertainment? Click here.

Birds and Bees, the first conversation

"Henry's bagina is funny, mama."


Big breath in -

-and out.


"Henry does not have a vagina, Willa. Henry has a penis."
"A peeeeeeee-nis?!" [insane sugar-hyped laughter] "that's silly!"
"Boys have a penis and girls have a vagina."
"I have a bagina, mama. You too."
"MmmmHmm."
Then she listed every person she ever met, and guessed their gender anatomy with good accuracy. This took a good 20 minutes. I can't wait to hear a report from her teacher this afternoon.

A conversation reported by Miss Whitney

Willa to Seth (Willa's school pal since she was 3 months old and he was 4 months): "I am three now."
Seth to Willa: "I'm three too, Willa!"
W -> S: "No you aren't. I'm three!"
S: "I'm three!"
back and forth for a minute
Miss Whitney: "Willa, Seth is 3, just like you."
Willa to Miss Whitney: "I don't want Seth to be 3."
Miss Whitney: "There are some things we just can't control. Seth is three."
Willa: "I can't control that Seth is 3. Sometimes I can't control my mom and dad at home either."

Three

Oh Willa,

Well you went ahead and got another year older on Monday. Three.

I woke up with the sun, and couldn't get back to sleep, I was so excited for you. We were all staying at home to celebrate and hang out. I went to the kitchen and made pancakes. I got a small bowl of fruit together for you. I put the fruit, a sippy cup of milk, and your special "3" shaped pancake on a tray and went upstairs. You were awake and reading books in bed.

"Is my birthday here?"

I laid in your bed with you while you ate your special breakfast. I told you about the morning of the day you were born. How you came in the middle of the night and in the morning, you and I danced in the hospital room, the light just right...

We came downstairs and started the day.

Which meant that daddy and Henry played for a little while before leaving mom and dad's room. You and I watched Sesame Street. Did you know I was talented enough to see Sesame Street from behind my eyelids? Hey, I was up at the crack of dawn making pancakes...

You opened a few presents in the afternoon:

We made a birthday crown:

We went to the zoo, where even this normally reclusive lady came out to wish you a happy birthday:

We went to the park where we walked and played:

We came home and played around:

Then we ate dinner, sang "happy birthday,"ate cake and ice cream. Later we opened and played with the rest of the presents.

Daddy gave you a bath, and I took you upstairs to read 3 stories from your new Harold and the Purple Crayon book.

It was a great way to celebrate the day you entered this world.
Happy third birthday, Willa bird.
Love always,
Mom

Hint of Christmas card letter...

Y'all are so nice. Thanks for the kind words of support in the comments after my bad, awful day post. I am like the Pointer Sisters with "a new attitude" today. They sang that one, right? Yes I did just reference the Pointer Sisters. See how totally not hip I am?

Some reports: house finches are trying to squat in our awning. We have had them reside there with bad results in the past, so despite my delight in the males prettiness, I'm rattling around in hopes of discouraging residence.

Henry... aw Henry... I hope everyone knows a baby like Henry. I'm not sure what we did to have the privilege of nurturing such a happy kid. I know I'm biased, but he seems to be loving life. He smiles, chortles, flirts, and flings himself - laughing - at whatever interests him.

I have shared that Willa is a little more girly than what would make sense, given her mom is somewhat anti-pink. Actually, I guess that would make a whole lot of sense... that goofy universe... This morning I pointed out a blue jay. "I want it to land on my finger," she said. Like, suddenly she's Snow White singing in the forest? Actually, she's never seen Snow White, but the thought of her making that connection amuses me. Have I shared here that she won't let us cut her hair because she wants it to drag on the floor? No more reading Rapunzel for her. Willa, our sweet, imaginative kiddo will turn 3 on Monday.

Jim has finished up his insane March and is plunging into his somewhat less insane April. He's back in Master's classes, which means full Thursdays for him. He's got the week off to destress. He's probably plotting to read a lot. I'm hoping to cajole him into getting the kitchen backsplash done.

I took a stroll around the house to take garden inventory this morning. Wild violets are blooming. Peonies are pushing red stalks up. I know we may get snow yet, but I'm liking this hint of Spring weather. Things are moving and stretching. I'm doing the same.

I had a fortune cookie last week. It read: a surprise announcement will free you. Isn't that a cool one?

Keep an eye out here, pals. I sense big doin's on the horizon.

night and day

Last night she sat in the bathtub while I paged through a guitar songbook.
'"I want you to play ABCD, mama." I played it and we sang together.
"Play catch da moon."
"I don't know that one, Willa. Sorry."
Whines about "da moon" got louder and louder.
I played and sang "Happy Birthday" instead.
She started growling and then yelling. I watched closely to be sure her head wasn't spinning.

This morning while the family was hustling to get out the door, she dragged the mandolin (what she thinks of as her own guitar) over to the hallway where I sang to her last night. She opened the song book and started strumming and singing "Happy Birthday."
She looked at me and smiled.
"Willa, do you know whose birthday it would have been today?"
"I don't know."
"Great Grandma P's."
"Is someone singing to her?"
I hugged her, "you just did, sweetie."

Showing signs of wearing

Pals, I am tired.

If wishing made it so, Henry would be a better sleeper. Also, I'd have fresh watermelon on my kitchen table while I typed this.

Yesterday was kind of a rough spot for me. We got up, I took the kids to daycare. Got Willa out of the car and had her waiting on the sidewalk. Pulled Henry, in his infant carrier, out of the car and we walked in. I set Henry down and his teacher said, "uh-oh... it's looks like he spit up."

Which was her way of nicely saying, "holy moly! The kid is drenched from chin to toe!"

He's normally not a spitter. I think this was a reminder that mom needs to be mindful of garlic intake.

On the way home I started to get upset. I took my baby out of the car. I walked him 40 yards into his room. I set him down. All without looking at him. All because I was too distracted with "what's next."

The morning was actually a good morning after that. But I was consumed with "what the heck is wrong with me?!".

It still troubles me. I think the working full time, and being a mom of 2, and not sleeping has finally caught up to me.

2 days off next week. Should be good.

Stuff on our heads #8 :and stuff in Henry's belly

Jim's got a Willafly on his head. This was 2 weeks ago at the Meijer Gardens.










We've been feeding Henry rice cereal for 2 weeks. See how blurry he is in this photo? When he's eating, he WON'T stay still. He rocks and shrieks and his hands fly into the air. Dude loves a spoon.
This was his first feeding, and since then hasn't been in the exersaucer for meals. Too much freedom of movement.
We're going to have some interesting messes when we start with veggies.

Like Lord of the Flies... with pizza

In our little bubble of family time, Willa, Henry, and I (Jim was at class learning about Accounting practices) had a great outing at Chuck E. Cheeses last night. We started off with a pocketful of tokens that slowly dwindled as she passed anything that looked like a car. Henry joined her for a few rides. We got our photo taken by the sketch machine. We ate dinner, watched the show, and played some games. Willa attempted the tunnel crawl twice, but backed out after the first ladder rung and then the second. She wanted to say hi to Chuck, but backed off when we got 12 feet away from him. She instead hid behind me and waved with a pretty worried looking expression. Henry was happy to watch the lights and the buzz around us.
It was a pretty relaxing and fun time out.
Except for, you know, the other people there.
There were 4 birthday parties. One of the parties had about 40 guests. I am not exaggerating. They were all hopped up on birthday cake and the power of a small cup of tokens and parents who were not watching them.
I am not a crowd person, I recognize this. But this was no crowd, it was a mob.
Someone broke into a skee ball ticket dispenser, pulled the tickets out and threw them on the floor in ribbons. A 3 foot tile pile of tickets nearly caused a riot. We moved on to a different area.
After we had our fill of Chuck E. fun, we went to cash out our tickets. Right behind about 20 kids with over 300 tickets each. So, the line...
But my kiddos did great and waited without even whining.
We left with a pink rubber worm (pretty close call with the lizard, eh?) and a pink beaded ring. Last night she placed the ring on the worm and gently placed them on the window sill next to her bed.
She sighed and said, "I have a grrrreat time at Shucky Sheeses. Night mama."

Me, the kids, and a 6 foot tall mouse

Willa has finally filled up her sticker chart. So, wheeeee, we're heading to Chuck E. Cheeses tonight. Jim has class, so I'll be negotiating the token to ticket to prizes (can't wait to take home our small rubber lizard) and her alternating fear/adoration of Chuck when he comes out to walk around.

Side note: I think I've shared here before, I was Chuck E. in high school. Once, while kneeling down to be at eye level with a tot, a hooligan came up behind me and knocked my/Chuck E's head off. That poor tot is probably terrified of all costumed characters as a result.

When Henry was born, we expected some issues to arise with Willa. I know about regression, and expected it. Nothing happened until Henry was about 2 month old and then Willa, who still sleeps in a diaper because of night time wetting, started pooping in her diapers.

So, we changed the incentive chart to be specific to this issue and darlin' got a lady bug sticker every time she came downstairs with only a wet diaper. 12 stickers fills up a chart, and as a prize, she's received various trinkets. This time around it's a destination.

Truth be told, if we were parents with scruples, she'd have filled up this chart and gone to visit Mr. Cheese about a week ago. I know this is kind of defeating the whole system. Rewarding behavior at the time of behavior is the way to go. I'm all about catching her doing good stuff. But March has been insane in Sinkiville, and so the occasional forgotten sticker was swept under the rug.

Skiball here I come!

Passing notes.

"LURK mommy! A Robin!"

Someday she'll say look, but in the meantime, when she says "lurk" I giggle at the vision of us tiptoeing around.

"Who told you what a robin is, Willa?"

"Oh.... Dwamma P..."
"Grandma is pretty smart, isn't she?"

Like I said yesterday, we spent the weekend at my parent's house. It was the first time all 4 of their grandkids were in the same room. It was chaotic and loud and absolutely wonderful. My Grandpa joined too, for 4 generations of fun.

It's a big job, I have: being a conduit between my parents and their grandkids (W. Michigan campus). Ensuring that the kids know they're being thought of by my folks, telling the grandparents what the kids are remembering from visits, how they're being spoken of in absence, keeping everyone up to date and know that they're loved. In person, it's easy. My dad gets on the floor with the kids to play. My mom takes them for walks... This distance and increasing communication... important stuff.

Full speed ahead!

I sat on the floor of my parent's family room, marking the tags of the clothes that Henry has grown out of. Was it just 5 months ago that he could fit in these newborn clothes? And then 3 months ago that I had to box up the 3 month clothes? How lucky for us we didn't have many 6 month outfits. Our gigantor of a 5 month old is wearing 9 month clothes. My "little" happy baby... growing so fast. At least nephew Benjamin might get some use out of some of these...

A few hours later, I was on the sidewalk of the house I grew up in. Grinning and tearing up a little bit. My mom walked aside Willa, who was atop a small bike with training wheels. "I can push da pedals. I know how it works." I heard her say as she rode two houses away, three, four... She'll turn 3 in a few weeks.

I could have taken both of these at once, but the double whammy was almost too much to bear.

... and now a shout out to my breasts

When I was doing this breastfeeding thing the last time, I often commented on it. Feeding Willa, the feelings about her publicly groping me when she was hungry, the weird awe that feeding my baby from my body calls for, pumping... all of this was well documented on the sinki.
This time around, the novelty is kinda gone, and it's just practical and something I do. No lessw of a magical thing, but not new, you know? This time around has been so much more successful.
I am typing this with a pump hooked up to me right now. Yup, lactating right this second. And gracious! I'm producing like a champ. 6 oz from one side - I know! Look for me at the State Fair this summer (if the state budget allows for a fair this year)! I am not only keeping up with Henry's demands, but exceeding them. I've a tidy stash in the freezer.
Willa wanted 8oz a feeding while away for 3 or 4 feedings. Henry is content - and obviously thriving - at 5 oz 2 or 3 times while at school. By 3 months with Willa, we were having to purchase formula to keep up with her.
Today Henry is 5 months old (!) and my breasts have been - until Saturday's leap into cereal - his sole source of nourishment. Happy anniversary, gals! Keep up the good work!

Irish eyes, smiling

St. Patricks Day: the Hallmark holiday of the beer industry.

Y'all know I love all things

silly, and this is one of them. It's funny how over the years my celebration of this holiday has evolved. My mom - every year - cooks corned beef and cabbage. When we were little cardboard shamrocks and leprechauns and rainbows were put up on the walls. In college, having bar plans was a must. I celebrated once year in Savannah. It was like Mardi Gras. This year St. Patricks Day means to me: stimulating the economy by purchasing duds for the kids. Maybe a green dessert tonight (if the lunch hour allows), and smiling at the pride my Grandma P had in her Irishness. Happy day, folks. How are you celebrating?

Sweet discoveries

This week I entered the bedroom to discover 2 sleeping kids. And - super high 5 for Jim and I -we got them into their respective beds for the night without waking them. The next day, I walked around the house to inspect the flower beds. And this was my happy find.

On the other side

This morning I was walking out while another mom was walking in. She was there to drop off her 20 month old son. And in the crook of her elbow was her 2 week old, nestled in his car carrier. She looked exhausted and a little alarmed. Usually she's kind of a walking ray of sunshine with a huge smile and a chipper greeting.
She looked at me blearily.
"It gets easier!" I told her.
"Ohmygosh, thank you for saying that."
And right at that moment, I wanted to follow her home, make her a cup of tea and do her laundry.
We have friends who are expecting their second in a few weeks. I really hope she takes me up on any offer to help. Those first few weeks of family expansion are rough.

Just for the record...

Henry had a check up yesterday. He is 27.5 inches long (this falls in the 75% on the growth chart) and 19.5 pounds (off the chart here). He had 2 shots and an oral vaccine. He cried harder when I tried to put him back in his car seat than he did immediately after the shots.
Doctor says Henry is lookin' good.

trying to pack up winter

I've been feeling kind of quiet lately. I'm noticing a lot of my blogging pals might be too. Either they're not posting, or are posting pictures instead of text. I wonder what this is all about?

For me, it's a phase. I'm quietly wishing away winter and noticing the green tips of bulbs climbing through the hard packed ground. Greeting tiny crocus buds, shut tightly against the last of the winter. Looking for old friends: tulips and daffodil, lilac and forsythia. Watching the ground for the greening of the bleeding heart. Awaiting the mornings when humidity rushes into my lungs when I take that first morning breath outside. And watching the thawing yard for the first bouncing robin.

I am making the last batches of soups and chilis and homemade breads. Soon, I will change out to fruit pies and salads.

I am forcing myself to enjoy the last of sweater indoors weather. And keeping myself from storing away boots and mittens too early.

All of this anticipation takes some energy. And that is why I've been quiet. I am certain when Spring bursts open and I post my favorite Spring poem, I'll be full of words and images again. But right now, I'm trying to nourish my tap root after this lonnnnnggg winter.

One track mind

This morning, Willa woke up pretty determined to sway me to take her to Chuck E. Cheese's. What? We haven't been there in probably 9 months, but we were out on Alpine last night and she saw it, and her little mind started whirring...
So, I'm asking her what she wants to wear and she responds "I want to go to Shucky Sheeses." I pick out her outfit. I ask her to put her big girl underpants on, and she responds "I want to go to Shucky Sheeses." I get her dressed. I ask her to brush her teeth, same response. I brush her teeth and tell her it's a school day, and there's no way I'm taking her there today. She starts crying and chanting about "Shucky." And then she starts undressing. Uncooperative kiddo this morning.
I told her, "the answer is no." While I'm in the shower, she busts in, slamming the door open and yells with her her hands on her hips, "the answer is YES mama!" and walks away. I laugh silently at my headstrong daughter while rinsing my hair.

Sick shame?

Does anyone else feel like a personal failure when they get sick?
Colds and coughs get into our family pretty easily via the Daycare Express.
We've been battling the stomach flu for three weeks now (three seperate waves for me). And I'm feeling like it's my fault, like I am less than my health enhanced peers. I am ashamed of being sick. Is that normal?
I am washing my hands so much, they're cracked and raw and no amount of lotion or oil is going to heal them. We've cleaned and disinfected. I've scoured the fridge and pantry in case the germs are coming from a food source.
It should be warming up a bit later in the week. I'm opening all doors and windows.

She loves being a girl