Boggart

For some reason the thought just pooped into my head the other day of what my personal boggart would be (and if you don't know what I'm talking about, read Harry Potter would ya' already?) A vivid picture came into my head of a killer whale (because of my marine life phobia) standing upright holding out a can of refrigerator biscuits (because of my opening the can by pressing a spoon on the seam phobia), followed by an infinite number of other killer whales holding cans of biscuits just like him (because of my fear of any living thing in large numbers. The word swarm used to describe a number of animals sends a chill up my spine). So, what would your boggart be?

Amelia's Blessing

Here are some pictures from Amelia's blessing day, Jan 20. It was great to have my parents come out for it. I think Amelia looks so cute in her very large bow. For some reason it makes me think of Pollyanna.

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

So, I seem to have lost my wedding band. Well, lost isn't exactly accurate, because that would imply that I don't know where it is. I do know where it is. However, it is completely inaccessible. Where is this place? Why, it is in my clothes closet. This area is inaccessible not because there is a huge mountain of discarded clothing items strewn about the floor (although until about eight hours ago that would have been true), but because the ring, through a series of unfortunate events, fell behind my very heavy dresser. What happened was this: I keep my rings on top of aforementioned dresser when I'm not wearing them. I know some people wear their rings 24/7 and never take them off. I am not one of those people. You will not catch me 20 years from now having to have my rings cut off of my finger because the flesh has grown over them and the circulation has deteriorated to the point of strangulation of the digit. So, the rings were on the dresser. For some reason that is still a mystery to me, I chose to actually iron some item of clothing one day. I put the iron back in its rarely removed from spot on the top shelf of my closet, but I guess the shock of finally being used was too much for the iron to handle and it tried to make a desperate leap to the ground. In the process of it's descent it knocked over the can of spray starch, which knocked over my empty temple clothes bag, which fell on top of the dresser creating a backlash that sent my rings flying and one of them, the wedding band, ended up in the dark and secluded crevice between the wall and my dresser. I still have my engagement ring, so that's something. Not like my poor friend Mendy who, in a tragedy involving bread dough that truly could bring tears to your eyes, had her much loved oval diamond engagement ring ground up in the garbage disposal by an unwitting friend and washed down the drain, never to be seen again. If you're reading this Mendy, post a comment about if you ever got a replacement...last I knew you magnanimously refused your friend's offer to pay you back for it and were doing without.

I do miss having the band though. I like the idea of the symbolism of wedding bands. the symbolism of engagement rings I don't enjoy as much...that whole idea of a man claiming you and "marking" you as his through a piece of jewelry while he walks around unmarked as an engaged man raises the hackles in the stridently feminist little portion of my heart, but I do like owning a real diamond. It makes me feel fancy. Although, technically I've owned a real diamond since I turned 16. It was a tradition in my family to get a birthstone ring for your 16th birthday. This worked out wonderfully for my sisters who got beautiful amethyst and aquamarine rings, respectively, but when it came to me my parents were a bit worried. I'm an April baby, so my birthstone is a diamond. They kept to their tradition and got me a ring with a real diamond in it, although to tell you the truth I'm not sure it scientifically meats the qualifications to be called a "stone". I think it might more rightly be called a "fleck" or perhaps a "chip", but stone is a bit ambitious a term for it. It is smaller than even one of the prongs in its setting, but I still love it that my parents gave it to me. So now I feel extra fancy, remembering that I actually own TWO diamond rings! (Plus a wedding band with tiny diamond inserts, if I can ever retrieve it...)

ABC's

Some things definitely improve with time. I don't know how many of you have enjoyed a bowl of alphabet soup lately, but I have! And let me tell you that the quality of the letter shaped pasta has improved dramatically. When I was a child I remember fishing out blobs of pasta and saying to myself, well, that could be a "W", or maybe an "X" - then again maybe it's an "H". It made spelling your name with your lunch kind of a challenge. Now the letters are big and distinct. And this was Great Value brand soup (you anti-Wal-Mart people might not know that's their store brand). I can only imagine the alphabetical delights that may await in a can of Campbell's soup. (I say this even though I'm pretty sure they would use the same pasta. I am convinced that store brands of most things come off the same lines as national brands and just get a different label. My mother strongly disagrees with this and says that all store brands contain national brand rejects and aren't fit for refined tables. Admittedly, some store brand items are distinctly different from their national brand counterparts. Cheetos, for one thing. Yogurt, for another. Creamed soups are never as good from anyone but Campbell's. I'm sure you can think of several more.)

On another note, here is a picture of what my children did while I was putting away a basket of laundry the other day.

They drew all over themselves with white board markers, and boy were they proud of it! We have a Christmas tradition that Tyler and I each make one gift for the children and give it to them on Christmas Eve (so as not to have all our hard work unceremoniously brushed aside in favor of the toys from the Jolly Old Elf). This year Tyler's gift to them was to put up these white boards in our game room for them to draw on. They each got a package of markers and their own erasure. I was so proud of the way they were following the rule to draw only on the designated board after an unfortunate carpet incident, and then this happens. Oh well. It took days and days to fade away. White board markers certainly aren't washable. At least, not from skin. I was just thankful they kept to areas of the body that are always covered up!

And so it Goes...

Here are some pictures of the kids in their Christmas Finery. They are looking pretty snazzy, if I do say so myself.






Is It Really Only 8 am?

Some days seem to last a really, really long time. I just looked at the clock and was stunned to see that we've only been awake for two hours, and yet it feels like so much more. I am still undecided on weather this will turn out to be a good thing or a bad thing for this day.
Everyone in our family - except for baby Amelia, thankfully - is suffering from some form of cold. CT, as usual, seemed to get the worst of it. The most worrisome symptom he had was disgusting discharge coming out of his eyes. I took him to the doctor, fearing pink eye, but the doctor said it wasn't so. Instead I learned a fact that I had no previous knowledge of and kind of wish I didn't know now, which is that sometimes if your sinuses and nose are full the mucus will back up and come out of your eyes. Isn't that gross? Apparently that is what was happening to CT. He also had a ear infection, so some antibiotics were necessary. CT is an off the charts terrible patient for all thing medical, so I was concerned about the ordeal it would be to get him to take this medicine. Luckily my approach of never referring to it as medicine, but rather as his "special drink" in his "special little cup" has worked like a charm. In fact, it may have worked a tad too well because throughout the day he will ask if he can have "some of that special drink" and throw a fit when I explain he only gets to take it twice a day.
Being a mother to three children under three really is something. I don't feel like I can ever really say "woe is me" about the demands of it, because after all no one forced these children upon me. They are sweet and dear and I am just trying to accept the fact that for the next few years my house will perpetually look like a tornado just came through it, the piles of clean and dirty laundry will be ever increasing with no magic elves coming in the night to take care of it for me as I so often desperately wish, and I won't have seen the latest movie or read the latest book for a very, very long time. This all makes me feel like a very uninteresting person - the type of person who would have absolutely nothing to say at a party except for disgusting stories about her small children and their mucus. I miss being interesting. That's something I don't think I'll ever be able to say about mucus stories...

Merry Christmas

Another Christmas come and gone...it is hard work to be in charge of Christmas! It makes me appreciate even more all the work my mom did to make Christmas special when I'm trying to do all of the same things myself. I did some Christmas baking and the requisite treat deliveries to people in the neighborhood. We didn't get around to the actual delivering until Christmas Eve day, in the late afternoon. Several families were already away celebrating and even now may be reveling with family and friends many miles away and not realize there is a bag of once delicious chocolate popcorn propped dejectedly on their threshold, waiting to be noticed and ushered inside.

We spent the holiday just at our home with our own little family. C.T. enjoyed opening his presents this year. Lily did also, up to a point. After awhile she refused to open any more presents so I told her we'd save them for her birthday in March. She was fine with this, but CT wasn't. He insisted on opening her presents for her (with her permission). The result however, is that we had several fights about what actually belonged to who and who had the real right to play with things first. Amelia slept through the present opening. When she finally woke up CT was only too happy to open her presents for her as well. She watched him with her big eyes as her dad fed her a bottle and was perfectly content.

The picture in this post was taken on Christmas Eve night. We bought those jammies last year on after Christmas closeout not knowing if we'd have a new baby, but thinking we'd better plan ahead anyway...good thing too! They looked so adorable in them, and they are the softest pajamas I have ever seen. It makes them all just that much more huggable.

As nice as Christmas can be, I'm thankful we get to anticipate it for a whole other year before we experience it again. I need the time to gear up for another round of baking and planning...just trying to think of something to give Tyler wears me out!

New Baby

One week ago today our new tiny girl arrived. All right...so she wasn't so tiny. Eight pounds nine ounces! No wonder I was so much more uncomfortable this time around. We had a difficult time settling on a name for her, but in the end we choose Amelia. We are just planning to prepare her for a lifetime of Amelia Bedelia references.

I was hoping that the third time would be the charm as far as a quick and easy delivery went, but alas, it just wasn't to be. You'd think that some kind of pattern would be established for me by now. Afterall, don't you often hear people say things like "I always have my babies early" or "My labors are always quick"? I have generalized statements I can make about my experiences other than to say "My babies always get born", which is good. This one was the strangest of all so far. On MOnday night I started having really regular contractions for over an hour, so we got up and got dressed to go to the hospital and...the contractions just stopped. Fine. Back to bed. Three hours later, contractions again. Strong, regular, three hours! Ready to go to the hospital - contractions disappear! I start feeling very unwell. Very hot, headache, just sick. Like I have the flu. Finally I decide to just go into my doctor's office to have them tell me I'm fine or not fine. It turns out I have a fever of 101.6 and they want to check me into the hospital overnight and induce me in the morning. They check me in and do some blood work. They come back and say my white blood cell count is way up and they are going to induce right away due to the risk of the baby and I both having a bacterial infection. At five o'clock they started the pitocin, and at 7:55 (after a very frustrating 20 minutes of pushing and finally resorting to using the vacuum) she was here. I saw her for about 20 seconds before they wisked her away to the NICU. She was there for about 5 hours getting her IV of antibiotics and things. We both had to stay in the hospital for a full 48 hours to complete our rounds of antibiotics and to make sure all the blood cultures came back clear. It was a lovely Thanksgiving holiday in the hospital. We came home Thursday night at about 8:00.

CT and Lily are loving their new little sister and take turns holding her. Lily is still working on learning that the baby needs gentle treatment. She is enthusiastic in her affection. CT is sweet and very protective, just like a big brother should be. My mom is here with us until Saturday morning, when reality will no doubt set in. Wish me luck!