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

Moment with Benjamin

I unwrapped the tiny bundle to get a look at my nephew's hands. His fingers are very, very long. I listened to Bill and Jackie tell the story of his birth. I peeked under his hat at the mass of thick, black hair. He sighed in his sleep. My heart sighed. "He has the sweetest lips," I say. He does.
Bill walked over and, without a word, subtly tucked the baby blanket back around his son.
My brother is a daddy.

She learns

I've been singing and spelling Willa's name to the tune of Skip to My Lou here. She's been in a funk and kind of glossing over paying attention to anything that isn't shiny, or packed with sugar, or Henry.
Last night, I was sitting next to her at dinner. She was humming, and suddenly turned to me and sang her name with a grin: "W. I. L. L. A. and will was her name -oh!"
The flu has given up the kids as hostages, it was a sunny day, and my kid listens to me. I'm smiling.

Stuff on our heads #7

Doocesque: Greta channels Chuck.
Photo and idea credit to Jim.

Willa's new cousin

I've just showed Willa photos of her new cousin. Who she immediately demanded to go see "right now."

"Poor baby. He is sad?"
"No, sometimes babies cry."
"Because they're sad?"
"No, maybe they're scared a little."
She looked at me, widened her eyes and whispered, "of monsters?"
"No, they're scared because it's loud and cold -"
"- and there are monsters."

Newly minted family

Dear Benjamin,

I will not meet you for a few days. But I don't even need to be in the same room to know I love you. Know that we love you so much that we won't visit you until the flu has officially left the Sinki family.

Dear Jackie,

You did it! I can't wait for all of the gory details. It was fast, and you're a tough gal. Welcome to the sisterhood of motherhood. Benjamin is fortunate to have such a wonderful mom.

Dear Bill,

You. Are. A. Dad. I am so excited for you to grow a bond with your son. I can't wait to hear about his development through your voice. Benjamin and his daddy are in for some mighty good times.

Willa and Henry are excited about playing catch in Grandma and Grandpa's yard with Benjamin and MaKenna in a few years.

Congratulations, new family.

With so much love.

Photo credit and my gratitude to my sister Lisa who posted these on her Facebook page so I would feel maybe a little less far away.

Project Valentine"s Day

Cabin fever has Willa (and the rest of us) bouncing off of the walls. If I can keep her busy, my sanity stays in tact. We've done a lot of projects this winter. Above you'll see the Valentine's Day treats that Willa and I made for her friends and both of the kids' teachers. This was an easy project for Willa to help with. We just melted the chocolate disks into ice cube trays with fun shapes. A day later, we popped them onto pretzels and microwaved them for 15 seconds.

This particular package was for Seth. Seth is Willa's best friend and her buddy since they were both 3 months old. She told us a week ago that she was going to marry Seth. And they were going to have 10 kids. And 10 doggies. And 10 ponies. And 10 jellyfish.

Karma?

When I was younger and [pretended that I] didn't know better, there were a few times that I may have overindulged in libations. And then paid for it the next day.

I shared with you the highlights my decadent Amy Da- I mean Presidents Day. And last night the karmic hangover showed up in the form of a mean ole bug in Willa's tummy. From 2 am on, I dozed with one ear constantly connected to her needs. I'd hear a gurgle and would present her with "the bowl."

She's such a sweet kid. Right after she'd finish and we got her cleaned up, she'd smile and say, "I feel better now, mommy." Then she'd nuzzle her feverish forehead against my neck. Poor kid. She's napping in our bed now, with Arlo and Greta standing (more like co-napping)guard.

Jim has a fatalistic view of good times on a roll. He worries when things are going too well. And when the occasional bad thing happens, he tells me it's the balance of the universe. I tell him it's just Life unfolding, and there's no message there. And then we watch "My Name is Earl."

Over the weekend, while on our tour of NW lower Michigan we were having a wonderful time. The kids were great traveling buddies, the meals were good, the pools were fun, the room was more than we needed, Jim and I were really, truly enjoying each other and the kids. I was thinking, "this is what Valentine's Day should be." Kind of a floating holiday/kick in the pants to express appreciation for the folks around you. Like Thanksgiving, but with more chocolate. Jim, it turns out, was worried about what bad thing was going to happen.

Life happened while we were giggling with the kids in the pool. It was fun, we were smiling. Willa and I emerged from the locker room, showered and dressed and ready to venture outside. Jim was holding Henry in the hallway, also dressed, but his feet were bare.

"Where are your shoes?"
"Someone stole them."

We spent some time that day trying to shake off the feeling of violation. "People suck," he said. "Naw..." I replied, "just one person in this instance."

Willa sadly declared, "I want daddy to get his shoes." And I reeled at my disappointment in some people who do, indeed, suck.

And then I said honest-to-goodness prayers out that the shoes would be found. That, maybe, someone accidentally grabbed his size 13 shoes thinking they were their own.

The hotel has not called. Jim, graciously, has not said, "I told you so."

So, tell me, pals... do you think that the universe has some mechanism that slaps you around a little when you get too comfortable?

Missing shoes aside, it was a terrific 2 days. Here's photographic proof:

Like Disneyland for moms

Yesterday I had the day off so I could, you know, properly honor the current and past presidents. I did so by kissing Jim goodbye (his workplace does not observe Presidents Day) and taking the kids to day care.
And then I went to a fabric store. And a craft store. And a Target. And I walked nearly every square foot of these places, just looking. Just enjoying the muzak. Just blissfully taking my time because there was no one needing a diaper change or telling me that she needed the snow globe with the Easter Bunny in it. I bought a book. I bought a box of chamomile tea.
I drove home in the sun and made tea and read many pages of the book.
I thought - just for a second - that I should be starting dinner or doing some cleaning or...
... and then I stopped. And sipped some tea and wallowed in me-ness.
When I was younger I used to take pleasure in spreading my toes in the fresh spring mud.
It was like that yesterday a little.
Then I took the longest, hottest shower.
And then I read more.
I also ate chocolate.

When I picked up the kids, I was more relaxed (all the better to mother you, my dears). When Jim came home, I felt like I had more to offer him (all the better to partner with you, my love).

It was a good day.

It has happened.

Henry is no longer a patch whip-stitched onto our backpack for family journeys.
I don’t know when it happened – it wasn’t the moment I knew I was pregnant, it wasn’t the first time I held him… though it was love at first “oh my gosh, that test says ‘pregnant’!” and adoration and devotion when the doctor first laid him, white and gooey, on my chest. He has fully become a part of me, my life, my family. We are at the point where I could not imagine us in this moment without him.
Over the last (2 days short of) four months, through his patient eyes and his full body smile, he has gently woven his being into mine. Into the fabric of the family Sinki.

While in the pool over the weekend...

A little girl swam up to Henry and I. "Is that a boy or a girl?"
"This is a boy."
"He's really cute! Did you cut his hair like that on purpose?"

Henry naturally spots a mohawk. All of his baby black hair has fallen out except the strip up top. His little boy hair is coming in all downy and very light.

Sprucing up the neighborhood a little

Family de Sinki spent Friday and Saturday in Traverse City. Amazing how refreshed we feel after getting away for just a bit. I'll share more tomorrow, but thought I'd play around with the blog's look a little. What do you think?

stuff on our heads #6

this photo's subtitle: geez, Amy. Get to the post office and mail that hair.

Great Grandpa

"Willa," I said, "what would you like for dinner?"

"I not hungry."

"How about soup?"

"Nooo... I don't like soup."

"Sweet potato?"

"No. I don't want sweet potato."

"Frawstaches?"

"Otay. Frawwww - schases."

I play this joke over and over again on our unsuspecting daughter. Growing up, Grandpa (above) would offer us frawstaches to eat. Pals, frawstaches are the culinary equivalent of snipes. No such thing.

He's good with kids. You can see Willa's adoration and Henry's comfort above.

Vitamin D, the way nature intended

I am loving this sunny weather! It's like a conjugal visit from Spring.

I've decided that we could turn off the humidifiers in the house. Young Henry is starting to drool. And drool... and the windows are steaming up.

Stuff on our heads # (where are we?) 5?

Her giggling made me nervously curious. I turned the corner to see this coming at me:

Yup, that's Willa with her Elmo big girl underwear on her head.

Everyone is on the mend, including Jim and I who were a little sore after moving my entire office into our basement. The sun is shining, I don't have to lug the breastpump to an office every morning, and we're preparing for a quick visit to (the indoor parts of) the zoo. Happy in Sinkiville.

follow up

After writing the previous post, I scooped up my crying baby and rocked him in the sunlight. He fell back asleep. I looked over to see our orange tree has started to bloom.
Minutes later Jim came home.

And now the three of us are off to pick Willa up from daycare. She has a fever and is getting the boot.

A muffled cry of "uncle"comes from under the bed.

That's it. I'm waving the white flag, and asking for mercy. God? That sense of humor of yours? Tone it down, okay?
Monday night I got very little sleep as the little guy woke up at least once an hour, thanks to his cold (Henry's contracted his own daycare cold for the first time! No help from big sister Willa this time. We're soooo proud.) On a positive note, the company that makes the vaporizer fan that we've used when Willa is sick is replacing the fan that broke when the contact corroded the battery. I am a good little consumer.
Dragged myself into the shower anyway on Tuesday morning. Just before putting on my coat my coworker called to say the work phone line installer would be to our house anytime between right that second and 7pm. While Jim waits at home, I get the kids to school, go to the office to get a bunch of files and come home. I kiss Jim goodbye for three days (the Winter Games are this week), and wait for the installer. Who never came.
Tuesday night Henry again has troubles sleeping. His nose is plugged.
Wednesday morning I reason that if the phone guy blew me off, I surely would be at the top of the list for that morning. I don't leave home, entertaining Willa with a movie and Henry with something shiny. I work at the kitchen table, phone calls with coworkers and volunteers occasionally interrupted by the clucking chicken (see yesterday's post). At 1 pm, I got an email from the phone company to let me know I'm not on Wednesday's list at all, and that we're now shooting for Fri. Maybe Monday. I curse the phone company.
I am feeling stir crazy. Bundle the kids up for a little walk. We get 5 houses away before turning back. I curse the cold and lazy neighbors who haven't shoveled. We meet Maribeth and Allison to play. That. That was fun.
Don't sleep much on Wed night. Henry's sick continues. Drive 2 crying kids to daycare. Willa is sad that... I don't know what anymore. Greta licked her? Her granola bar broke? The earth is rotating? She's been somewhat sensitive this week. I think she's off because she misses her daddy. Also, mommy is being driven slowly mad by the phone company. Leave a now happy ("we're making playdough!") Willa and a sleeping Henry at daycare. On my way out, I notice that I won the "guess how many candy hearts are in the jar" contest. I guessed 432. There were 435. $15 tuition credit for this. I feel awesome for a minute. That was the uplifting moment I needed.
Get to the office, get organized, participate in staff meeting via phone. While on call, my cell phone rings. Henry's eye is suspected of harboring conjunctivitis. Blasted pink eye! I finish phone meeting, go get him and am now at home taking a break from getting more work done.
Jim should be home in a few hours. I plan to wait a whole 5 minutes before heading to bed with a beer.

Madam, kindly silence your chicken

Almost 2 years ago, I saw this clock and immediately coveted it. I finally ordered it. Every hour, when it's light out, the little chicken comes out and clucks. And every hour that I've witnessed it I've laughed loudly. I can't help it.

Jim was over the novelty after 2 hours. Just yesterday it clucked while Willa was dealing with the deep sadness that she had eaten the last mandarin orange piece. "Mama," she said though tears, "I do NOT like your clock." I am not counting this as an official vote, as only hours before she jumped up and down laughing, "MAMA! Your clock! Is [and here she said either clucking or clocking, I'm not sure]."

I know I have a little foam piece that matches the color that we can put over the light sensor to quiet mama hen down. I just love that darn little chicken too much to be motivated to find it.

Phil vs.Zoloft

Pals, I forgot to post the post partum depression text I had worked on and promised to share. Yesterday was Groundhog Day (this may seem like a big jump, but read on to see the connection). I normally celebrate the silliness of this high holiday. Jim and I usually host a party in honor of the prognosticating Phil. This year we're dealing with a family of 3 to 4 transition, and I'm moving my work office into our home, and Jim's got work stuff for most of the weekends this month., also we're still in negotiations about the kitchen remodel. So, no logistically possible time for the party. Yet... I don't really feel a need for it this year.

The party has served - for me - as a pick me up in the middle of winter. I hate winter. I get a little down during the winter, so gathering friends and family for merriment in the name of a groundhog? Perfect.

But this year I had the seasonal affective thing nipped in the bud when my wise doctor said, "um... let's get you on a little something for the post partum stuff before winter really kicks in." And then I sent her a truck full of flowers.

So, not needing a party reminded me that I hadn't shared my PPD stuff with y'all. I think (very appropriately) we'll reschedule the party for 6 weeks from now, when Phil says Spring will start. I'm not kidding myself: we could still have a blizzard in mid-March. But by then we can celebrate the cusp of melted snow and damp soil and crocus peeking...

Here is what I wrote about two months ago and didn't post because of technical problems:

Pregnancy, we all know, has ups and downs. One of my downs with both kids was some rotten morning sickness. Pregnancy 2 was a little more severe from the start, and I found some relief from Zofran, an anti-nausea medicine.
Both pregnancies ceased with beautiful and healthy children.
They also produced "just a touch" of post partum depression. Pardon me while I go all Brooke Shields here.
I'm not having a problem bonding with my baby. I don't (often, kidding, really) want to mail him to someone else. I am not having terrible thoughts about him - just want to be clear. I adore him. I adore Willa. I really like being a mom to both of them.
It's the small stuff that I found overwhelming: doing laundry, sorting mail, driving anywhere, what to make for dinner, when to take a shower... it feels so ridiculous to write this. It's true though; picking out a new shampoo brand nearly brought me to my knees in the store. Was I ready to go back to work? Nope.
Also? If I could, I would build a moat around our house and family and not let anyone in or out. Post-pregnancy, I've learned, I become a hermit, and I try to take the rest of the Sinkis with me.
If I haven't been in your life as much as normal lately, don't take it personally. I've been kind of blowing off everyone.
So, at this post birth doctor’s appointment, I talked to the doctor about it. "My name is Amy, and I have post partum depression." I left the appointment with a prescription for a breastfeeding safe antidepressant.
It's been two weeks, and I'm feeling more in control of my anxiety, emotions, and time. It's the medicine combined with the fact that Henry is finally getting over his cold. The few glimpses of sun we've seen have helped, as does Willa's enthusiasm for the season: every time she sees Christmas lights she yells, "it's CHRISTMAS!" Jim's hugs and words and actions are like cookies and band aids.
The other night we were in the car. Henry was wailing and Willa was next to him singing a Mary Poppins song at the top of her lungs. A few weeks ago, I would have been grinding my teeth and calculating the minutes to our house. Thanks to medicine, understanding, and time I was able to laugh at the irony of the moment "just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down..."
On the mend, pals. Stick with me.

Amy + Arlo

I was living in Baltimore six years ago. I had moved there for what I thought would be a dream job. It probably would have been if the director there wasn't insane.
I lived in an row house apartment in the artsy region called Bolton Hill. My landlady was in her 80's and swore like a sailor. My neighbors came in the door and quickly retired behind closed doors. My coworkers - all 3 of us - were so exhausted by the chaos of the previously mentioned insane boss, that we rarely socialized at night.
I was lonely. I found too much solace inside my apartment and in books and on the radio. I went to a Unitarian church, but was too painfully shy to "turn left" in the minutes between the service and social hour, and always found myself in my car instead of talking to strangers. I took books and letter writing materials to coffee shops and the local brewery, thinking I could be the interesting stranger that someone would strike up conversation with. I went to a neighborhood wine party. Once.
I was lonely, but it was also during this time that I found how enjoyable alone time could be. I got to know a foreign city pretty well by myself. I stayed in touch with people from other parts and places in my life. I read and cooked and learned and listened to new music and made day trips in my new Ford Focus.
But through all of this exploration I wanted a buddy.
It took 2 months to find the right one. I was looking for someone who was mid-sized, brown, and not too fluffy. Animal shelters are full of BIG dogs. Big black lab or Rottweiler or I don't know what it is, but it's too big mixes. And prior to moving in my sweet landlady agreed to allow a dog in my lease, so long as I could carry it up the stairs. She lived next door and didn't want to hear nails on the wood steps.
So, two months on the hunt, and one visit to the SPCA there he was. A small dog, standing near the front of his cage looking friendly, but worried. He was healthy, and one and housebroken, according to his profile. "I'd like to spend some time with this one," I told the volunteer. He ushered us to a play room. I sat on the floor and "Baby" (as they called him) smelled my hand. Soon he stood next to me. A few pats later he was on my lap staring into my eyes. We were in love.
A few days later, we were leaving the shelter. He was nervous and threw up (in my new car). The war was recent and I was listening to Arlo Gutherie on the radio. I couldn't call my dog baby, and was tossing out names. He vomited at the suggestion of Ernie (after Mr. Harwell). But when I said "Arlo?" he glanced at me with interest.
Days later I had to fly home for Lisa and Ken's wedding. Arlo stayed with an intern of mine. She ended up keeping him longer when the storm of the year came and Baltimore airport was snowed in.
Arlo and I have been together 6 years today. He changed the way I experienced Baltimore. I was still reading and listening to NPR and walking the neighborhood to fill my days, but I had another breathing being with me. Happy Anniversary, Arlo.

A small prayer of Thanksgiving

Yesterday I experienced one of the most perfect hours in my lifetime.
Henry was tired and couldn't calm down enough to sleep. I held him close and rocked him until he sighed and got heavy enough that I knew he was asleep on my left shoulder.
Willa climbed onto my lap, curled herself around my right arm, cuddled her face onto my right arm and asked me to sing with her. We sang "itsy bitsy spider" and "you are my sunshine" over and over. Eventually she trailed off, and moments later she was heavier too.
I rocked them both for an hour as the afternoon sun cast shadows through the windows. I listened to the melting snow drip from the porch and the breath of my sleeping children.

Henry in motion

Last night, Henry grew weary of his view of the ceiling and, a little closer, the activity mat stuffed animals that dangled over his head. So he turned on his side. He'll be rolling over soon.
Earlier this week Jim said, "look! He's used his hands to pick up the towel, bring it to his mouth, and gnaw on it. That's huge!"
All of this autonomy means our little guy isn't a newborn any more.

stuff on our heads, #4

Stuff on our heads #3

Uh... Willa? Pardon me, Princess Willa? You've got a little something on your head there...

Yesterday's backseat complaint

"Da suunnnn.... is too bright. My EYYYEEESSSSS hurt."
Poor kid's forgotten what a sunny day is like. So trudges on winter in Michigan.

Full ears, full house

Our house sounds like a blend of pet shop and playground.
Willa sings! Runs! Skips! Laughs because, "[I] like to laugh!" Everything she is doing is with enthusiasm, hence the !. A simple request for milk turns into a musical with singing and dancing and sometimes the splits. The cranky times are just as much a production.
Henry has found and is amused by his vocal cords. Last night he was in his exersaucer and yelling for 20 minutes. He was not upset, there were no tears. He was grinning and screeching at the same time. He sounds much like a parrot: similar sounds over and over.
Right now our house is a loud mess. The kitchen is getting closer to being done, we're preparing for my office to move home and getting used to baby gear - all over - all over again. It is loud and messy and completely full of life.

Stuff on our heads, #2

Pride and its difficulty to swallow when laughing

I am not ashamed to admit that I am very proud of our kids.
Henry is adorable and strong, and a project that is coming along nicely.
Willa is also adorable and strong-willed and creative and bright.
She can tell you she lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Genius, I know.
With last week's hoopla and headlines, we taught her that our country has a new boss and his name is President Obama. The information weaved itself in her head, and when asked who the president is she would say, "Oh, bama."
I beamed.
We were at my parent's house this weekend for Bill and Jackie's baby shower (my mom did a GREAT job). When we came downstairs on Saturday morning, Willa noticed a gift sitting on the fireplace bricks.
"Lurk* mama! Present Oh bama!"

*She does not say "look" hence, we do a lot of "lurking" at the Sinki clubhouse.

70's in review

This begins the "stuff on our heads" collection. More to follow.

Small, small world.

Facebook is magic. I am now convinced. An old college friend looked me up. He asked if I had a sister named Erin. After 2 more messages we figured out that my cousin Erin babysat his daughters twice a week last year. Facebook + an unusual last name means connecting with a lot of folks from slightly faded photos.

Dear kids,

I wish I could fully encapsulate the anticipation your mom - and a lot of your country - is feeling right now. This very minute we're awaiting the announcement of the president elect for his swearing in.
Knowing that behind all of this pomp and circumstance is hope in a man who was elected through grass roots efforts, someone who was noticed by character and acts before a big party machine could officially adopt him as theirs to offer up to voters has warmed this politically cynical soul.
I am listening to Yo Yo Ma and his contemporaries play right now, and the music is fresh and uplifting. Like today's sky: brilliantly bright, no clouds, blue...
I am stuck by how alone I am while looking at images of millions of people gathered in DC. I am in an office by myself, pumping milk for Henry.
And though those images remind me of how big this country is, how many opinions and interests and hopes are represented by few elected leaders, I am feeling very integral in this process. I ask myself: how has my life and what I've done with it lead this country to this point? I have had the opportunity to formally serve our country as an Americorps member and have assisted individuals, families and communities beyond that committment. I have assisted in building houses and educating young people and cleaning up parks and environmentally protected areas. I vote like my life depends on it (because I believe it does). I am outspoken about equal rights and believe in our Constitution.
I am one. And those millions are made of many, many ones. And if we all worked together in the spirit that the world has caught in it's throat today...
Just last night Willa and I talked about Martin Luther King Jr. I told her he worked to make sure that people were treated the same - no matter how they looked. I told her there are many people who are doing that work still today. I like to think that her parents are among those people working for the rights of, and to improve the lives of people with physical, emotional, and intellectual disabilities.
I am hoping to lead you, Willa and Henry, into lives that benefit others somehow - not just by making shareholders of a company a little wealthier.
I voted for this President. That's something I can proudly declare for the first time in 8 years.
Kids, it's a proud moment for this country. How special that you're alive at this moment. How amazing that someday you'll take it for granted.
Until and beyond that day, I dedicate myself, and will continue to challenge myself, your dad, you both, and everyone I know to help this country (in every little pocket we find ourselves in) become a more actualized version of the ideals of truth, justice, equality and promise.
Right now our new leader is speaking, and it's time for us to listen. And directly afterwards, act.

Dear Henry,

Well, here we are on our first day apart.
I'm back at work, surrounded by files and bare walls; a result of having prepared to move into a home office before we knew the technology would delay it.
You are experiencing your first day at day care. I have been thinking about you all day.
Are you napping now? On your back? Are you giving your teacher an easy time of that?
Are you enjoying new faces and sounds? Willa met Seth on her first day there. 2 and half years later, they're best friends. I hope you've found a little buddy.
Are you taking your bottles all right? How much have you eaten? I need to know how much to stress about only pumping 13 ounces today.
Has Willa been in to visit you? Did you give her your full grin? Was she happy to see you at "her" school?
I am wondering if babies have the ability to miss people.
Because I am counting the minutes until I can scoop you up, bury my nose in your wispy hair and smell your sweet baby breath. I am excited about feeding you, and hugging you, and even changing your diaper.
26 minutes until I leave. Tick, tick, tick...

Sun sets on a great chapter and other mixed metaphors

T-minus 13 hours, 15 minutes of maternity leave left. Jim asked today if I was all right with going back. Sure, I said. 'Cause, really? Not being all right isn't going to change much.

I'm thinking back over the last three months with a sense of accomplishment, tenderness, and empowerment.

In the past 3 months I've:
- had a baby come out of my body
- fed, bathed, diapered, and clothed said baby
- fed a healthy child entirely from my body

- fallen completely in love with our son
- started and completed Christmas shopping
- spent a lot of quality time with extended family through visits to Jim's parent's, my parents, visits from mom to GR, many phone calls with siblings...
- spent not enough time with friends via email, phone calls and personal visits
- made dozens and dozens of fantastic Christmas cookies
- made pies, breads, caramel corn, and great dinners (and a few not so great)
- spent more time with Willa, after my body and mind were ready for her to spend only 2 days at school.
- done numerous projects with said Willa including melted crayon "stained glass", ice bird feeders/luminaries, foam Christmas decorations
- developed and recovered from a tv crush on the Bonnie Hunt show
- scoffed at Kathie Lee and Hoda's 4th hour of the Today show
- learned to function on 4 hours of broken sleep and 2 cups of coffee for weeks
- developed gratitude for sleeping a solid 4 hours

- grown closer to my partner, friend and true love. I'm feeling more interwoven and in love with Jim than ever before. Friends, my husband is da bomb.

- cut about 10 inches off of my hair to donate to women with cancer

- lost pounds that were there even before pregnancy

- followed the election and resulting transition. George W., the Obamas, America, and I are both going through big changes this week.

- assisted with our kitchen remodel (photos to come soon!) by painting or wrangling kids while Jim laid tile in relative peace

- learned that Greta and Arlo want nothing more than a kind word, a few minutes of scratching and maybe a piece of cheese every so often.

- affirmed that being a mom is a tough, tough gig. And I'm pretty darn good at it.

Back to the grindstone tomorrow. My home office isn't fully ready yet (the phone and computer lines aren't ready), so I'm back in an office that is fully packed. We'll see how this week goes there.

the horrors...

It's too bad Locks of Love won't accept a zip lock bag full of hair. Henry and I are both doing the 3 month shed. Ew.

What's neat

When Willa was a (cranky) baby, I made up lyrics to accompany the music on her crib mobile. It was a survival technique: if I could control what was coming out of my mouth, I wouldn't concentrate on the wails coming out of hers. There were many times that I would cuddle her ear to my mouth, hoping that my calm voice would settle her down. It worked sometimes. We still occasionally sing the song to her, and now Henry (who is infinitely less cranky than she was, and Willa was fairly easy).
Last week, after reading her bedtime stories, Willa snuggled into me and started singing:
"Daddy loves you
and Willa loves you
and Henry loves you
and the dogs love you
and we're so happy that you are here with us
oh, my beautiful mommy."

silver lining

5 reasons to be glad about the opportunity to work from home:*
- unless I have meetings, I won't need to even consider nylons.
- not needing to use a public restroom
- I won't have to worry about the public coming into the office while I'm pumping breast milk.
- I won't have to worry about the window washers descending while I'm pumping breast milk **
- during lunch hours: walking dogs around the block, weeding garden, starting dinner, grocery shopping, laundry, newspaper on the front porch***....


*trying to be optimistic about this
** this happened when Willa was a baby
*** when it's not, you know, 2 degrees outside

Thanks to us, Kleenex will never need a governmental bailout

"I wish you'd stop acting like you invented being sick with a cold."
"I didn't invent it - I'm just perfecting it."

Knut, Knut...

Willa and I are watching baby animal videos on You Tube.
Take a peek at this one, and don't smile - I dare you.
I think I'll learn this song and put Henry's name in there.

Funny kids

On the way home today, in the car:
"Willa, are you kind of sleepy?"
"A little bit."
"You had a big day, eh?"
"No... I a little girl. I have a little day."

Willa's fears continue to be influenced by Christmas and child -oriented tv specials. Bill and Jackie (and "Otis da puppy") gave her the box set of retro Christmas special dvds. She's watched Frosty the Snowman a few times already. The past 2 mornings, she's greeted me with, "good morning momma. I not melt like Frosty today, otay?"

Henry cracks us up too. He's easy to amuse: even in the saddest of crying jags (his, not mine) all you have to do to get him to laugh is to stick out your tongue.

These things help when a winter hater like me has endured Western Michigan's 2nd snowiest December and has started receiving seed and bulb catalogs in the mail. Jim is not keen on a move to somewhere (anywhere!) in zones 8-10. And I suppose the rational side of me agrees that family is more important than the ability to grow calla lilies outdoors year round.

how do i dress now?

Yesterday Henry had his belated (thanks to the holidays) 2 month check up. At 11 weeks old, dude weighs 16 pounds, 4 ounces, placing him squarely in the giant end of the spectrum. He is a healthy boy and the only thing we are slightly concerned about is getting him to look to the left more. So, I'm switching up resting on shoulders, and lying him down in different directions.

After the appointment, and before picking Willa up from school, I decided to do a little shopping. I have $13 left on a Kohls gift card and my pocket felt like it was on fire. 90 minutes after walking in the door, I walked out with nothing.

Except a little anxiety.

On the 19th, I go back to work. This maternity leave has been lovely. I am bonded with my new baby. Jim and I got to spend a lot of time together. Willa and I have done many art projects, snuggled during movies, and baked dozens of Christmas cookies. I've had nice visits with my extended family, and have made mental "to-do" lists that have largely been left untouched due to a 16 pounder who is both charming and demanding. Here's the algebra on that one: 16 lbs(charm+demands) = 0 done.

Anyhow, back to work. When I go back, I don't have far to go. Due to staffing and budget changes, my office is now in my home (or, it will be soon). And there are some positives to this, I know... dinner started and laundry on my lunch hour... but there are a lot of negatives too. I like people, and with the exception of my post partum hermitude (new word there), I like maintaining relationships and seeing people. There will not be a lot of folks going through my basement on business.

This combined with the weirdness of my post pregnancy 2 body (I'm 18 pounds less than prepregnancy which is a win, but no jeans in the history of pants fit me) left me uncertain of a purchase at Kohls. And none of the socks were calling my name.

I'm at a crossroads right now, and looking forward to seeing how this all pans out.

When you have a 2 year old and a 2 month old...

Jim has been on vacation for 2 weeks now. Spending this much time together over the holidays has been a fun treat. We've spent a lot of time doing errands and getting the house in shape. We had hoped this would entail more time on the kitchen project and less time shadowing Willa who has recently picked up the habit of leaving a trail of stuffed animals behind her. In the event that she gets lost between her bedroom and the living room, she'll be able to find her way back.

It is 2 in the morning as I type this. Willa is upstairs asleep. Henry is in his crib (!!!!! He's sleeping! In his crib!). Jim is in the kitchen painting the walls a shade of green that makes something inside me feel more vibrantly alive. This is the only time that we can get anything done. This sacred time when our offspring with her curious hands and his multitude of needs are - blessedly - asleep. We paint, we pick up, we sometimes watch tv like zombies who don't have control of the bulk of their day. I am breathing deeply and enjoying being able to hear Jim's brush on the wall. Lately Willa has been living life like a musical and singing everything. Today after an all too brief nap, she sat in the car behind me singing, "I don't like.... anything" over and over. The whisp-whisp of the brush is nearly zen.

And now Jim has finished and it's time to brush our teeth and get some sleep before Henry wakes for his 4 am feeding.

2 glimpses

Christmas Eve church service.
Both kids have been wonderful.
5 minutes left.
Willa's getting restless and starts talking louder and louder about the music, about the candles, about her tights...
I whisper that she needs to be quiet for just a little longer.
The minister announces a time for quiet prayer.
Willa talks louder.
I again ask her to be quiet.
She yells, "Mama, you're driving me CRA-ZY!"
Surrounding old ladies chuckle.

Minutes after this, the choir is singing "Silent Night."
It's beautiful.
Jim is holding Henry.
I turn to smile at him and notice he's wiping his eyes.

I leave church feeling very, very blessed.

Willa's imagination and Sinki status check

Willa just told me she'd like to go to 10 more stores today. All by herself. She's planning to go to the caterpillar store and the star store (where she plans to pick herself up a worm). When asked how she's going to get there she informed me she'd drive herself in a purple van, and she'd turn on music by herself. Soundtrack of choice? "Go for G" by They Might Be Giants.

I have in my back pocket a little post about my ride on the postpartum depression water slide. I'll be putting that up in a few days. For now, please know that having a baby (both times) make this naturally inclined homebody an outright hermit. If you've been feeling neglected, you're probably not alone. Time, a healthy baby, and medication have been making things much, much better, so Feliz Navidad to my psyche.

As I type, Willa is sharing her recently acquired fact that caterpillars turn into butterflies with Jim. Her eyes get wide when she whispers, "they turn into butterflies."

Rounding out the rest of the family check in, Henry is asleep and snoring on my lap. Jim is sitting on the floor with Willa on his lap rhapsodising about Christmas cookies. He's on day #3 of antibiotics, waging a war against ear infection #438 of the year. It's in his good ear, and making him nearly completely deaf. The doctor's connected him with a specialist, and next week we might find he needs tubes.

Merry Christmas Eve, everyone. Drive safe, hug your family, don't forget to leave treats for the reindeer.

Fa la la la la

Whoooo-wheeeee, I'm beat. We just had an exhausting 5 hour shopping extravaganza, and - save 2 $5 purchases at the grocery store - we're done! One might think hopping from store to store with a 2 year old and a 9 week old would be tricky, but it was a breeze. Even at the end of the night, Willa wanted to go to "more stores, please." There was a bit of a rocky moment when, faced with Santa, she turned shy. We have a lovely photo of Henry on Santa's lap (coming soon to a blog near you), and a less lovely photo of Willa's face with Santa about 15 feet behind her.

Christmas shopping has made Henry and I more familiar with fitting rooms along 28th street. In a pinch, sitting on the floor is a comfortable nursing environment.

I'm so, so, so excited for Christmas morning - and the Saturday after (when my family will gather)!

Off to bed...

brief

"I want to write a letter for my cousins."
"You do? What do you want the letter to say?"
"C. And E."

Snowy days

While Henry was turning 2 months old, it snowed. A lot. And then it snowed even more.

Luckily, the snow removal crew works for snow nibbles and hot chocolate.

The dogs have been enjoying the season too.

Our happy fella

No John-boys around these parts

Some examples of final words before going downstairs, leaving our sweet 2 year old to read a final book to herself by the dim globe night light:

"Goodnight, Bert."
-giggle- "Goodnight, Ernie."

"Goodnight peanut butter."
"I not peanut butter! You peanut butter!"
"Okay, goodnight jelly."
"Goodnight peanut butter."

"Goodnight Miss Piggy."
"Goodnight Kermit."

"Goodnight cutie-pants."
-giggle - "Goodnight cutie-pants."

"I love you soooooo much."
"I love you too."

Right this second...

Henry is in his bouncy chair cooing at the Christmas tree. Willa is playing with her train set. Jim is going through today's huge newspaper. He asked Willa what he should get me for Christmas. Her response? "Umm..... a dino-saur. Willa would like a dinosaur too." She held up both hands. Jim said, "10 dinosaurs?!"
"Yes! I would hold them a lot," she said while fixing the livestock fence from the train set.

More on the Santa Claus birds

I should say that I did not invent these guys. It's a fib at least 2 generations old now. Growing up, my parents saw the birds while my sister and I were arguing, or my brothers were getting into something they should. They also checked in on our cousins. And on Christmas Day, there were little notes in a special stocking ornament. The notes were reports Santa received from the birds about good behavior they observed: Lisa's been good at setting the table. Bill's been doing his homework, Brian is picking up his toys, Amy is -as always- the benevolent eldest sibling (ha ha, right mom?).
The Birds are evolving, as our Santa Claus Birds were invisible. I've changed that up - I think Willa would see right through the claim of invisibility.
HA! Get it? See right through.... invisibility. peeking outside to see if my invisible Santa Claus birds appreciate a good pun.

A related holiday tidbit: Willa is worried about seeing Santa right now. We watched Shreck the Halls on tv the other night. It showed Santa eating the head off of a walking and talking gingerbread girl. Anyone else have to convince a 2 year old that Santa is not likely to chew on their head?

Deception in the name of good oral health

Willa's gone on a tooth brushing strike this week. Protesting sibling-hood through the promotion of tooth decay, that one. Lucky for me - and her 20 precious baby teeth - Christmas is around the corner.

"Willa," I said this morning, "remember when mama told you that Santa Claus brings presents to boys and girls if they've been good? Well, Santa can't watch all kids all of the time, so he has helpers watching. His helpers are birds, and mama just saw your Santa Claus bird peeking in the window. So... do you think you should brush your teeth now?"

On the ride to school this morning, Willa and I talked about the Santa Claus birds. Hers, she told me, was a red bird. Instantly I thought of Cardinals, one of the birds we might actually see out the window this winter: jackpot!

Some bloggy business:
Jim asks that I mention that it's MaKenna on my lap in the photo below, and that Willa has not had a remarkable growth spurt that turned her into a four year old. HGH, to answer your question, she liked the new do.
Thanks to all of you for your words about both the haircut and the birth story. Kerri, I imagine that the docs okayed stadol and not an epidural because an epidural may have stalled contractions again and we did NOT want that.
Heather, I would totally be there to coach you on Wed, but I think I'd be too late by then. Good luck, I know you're doing a great job.