Happy Birthday, Jemma!

Our Jemma! You were born at 3:41 a.m. one year ago today after some dramatics forced your early arrival, and we haven't been the same since. Here's what I remember about those early, blurry days with you last winter:

-nursing you in the rocking chair every two hours, around the clock, and doing a lot of daydreaming about being somewhere warm and sunny

-your habit of projectile pooping as soon as someone opened your diaper to change it

-your crazy, sticking-up hair that strangers commented on everywhere we went

-letting you sleep in your carseat, but putting your carseat in the crib so I would feel less guilty about it

-cuddling you on the couch and watching the Food Network during Annie's naps

Now, you are a whole different person entirely. Your hair is still a little crazy, but otherwise, you have grown up so much. You are fast and daring and loud and demanding in a way that Annie never was; you make us laugh all the time. You love to dance, throw food and be a picky eater, climb things that you shouldn't, bang on things, be outside, clap your hands, throw and catch balls, and try to do anything that Annie is doing. You're our cuddler, too, and I hope you keep nuzzling your head into my shoulder for years to come.

Yesterday, we had a little party here for you. You danced a little on a box, looked adorable in your party dress, threw some food on the floor, clapped your hands after we blew out your candle, and, in true picky-Jemma form, rejected your cupcake and smeared the frosting in your hair instead. This morning, we all sang "Happy Birthday" to you and then watched the video Daddy just finished of your first year. I am simply shocked that you are one and I can't believe an entire year has gone by since they lifted you out of me, squalling, in the middle of the night. The fastest year of my life, for sure, and now it's a life that I can't imagine without you in it. We can't wait for all the fun that's to come between now and your 2nd birthday. We love you soooo much, little Roo.

Merry Christmas 2007

And this is how I see you

In the snow on Christmas morning

Love and happiness surround you

You throw your arms up to the sky

I keep this moment by and by

(Wintersong, Sarah McLachlan)

New Addition

Our newest niece, Marta Anne, arrived yesterday up in Petoskey. Since we clearly haven't seen her yet, this has mainly only resulted in Annie changing the name of the baby she births from her tummy from "Dinah" to "Mawta." We hear all is well, and we can't wait to meet her next week.

Today was Annie's last day of school until after the new year. They had a blow-out Christmas party, complete with cookie-decorating, acting out of the nativity story, presents, and a bona fide visit from Santa himself. (This is good, because I am a bad, terrible, horrible mother and have not made time for us to shlep to the mall to "see Santa.") Here's our resulting conversation on the way home from school today.

"How was school today? Did you have fun at your Christmas party?!?"
"No, I just sleeped." (WTH?)
"Really? Because I heard that Santa was there! Did you get to see Santa!????"
"Yeah, I did!"
"Did you sit on his lap?"
"Nope, I just sat in a chair next to him."
"Wow! Did you tell him what you wanted for Christmas?"
"Yeah."
"Did you tell him you want a high chair and a swing for Dinah and Gracie?" (This is the Christmas present she's been asking for since November.)
"No, I told him I want a TV."
"What? We already have a (giant, obnoxious, ridiculous) TV at our house, Annie!"
"I just want a pretend one that isn't fragile that I can play with."

Ooooooookaaaaaaaay.

Annie also brought home the gifts she'd made for us today. At lunch, she gave me a little lecture about it:

"Now, Mom, there are two things in that bag. Yeah. They're a surprise. And I made them for you and Dad. So you can't open it now because Daddy isn't here. But you can peek in the bag. Just a little tiny bit. Cause I said it was OK, you can just peek at it after lunch. It's a candle and an angel."

And we opened it tonight, and it was a candle and an angel. We made a big deal out of them of course - hung the angel ornament on the tree and smelled the cinnamon candle with glitter all over it. I wish I could box the proud look on Annie's face when we thanked her for her adorable gifts and then peek in the box when it's hard to remember what being a parent is all about. Tonight, it's about being so incredibly awed that the tiny being you made with the person you love the most in the whole world is turning into someone you are so proud of. I hope the rest of our Christmas moments are as pure and lovely as this one was.

Now, if only I could find a pretend TV for about a dollar . . . .

PLG Jemma

Our little Jemma . . . a few things have been happening to her lately that make me feel a little sorry for her.

1. She's had this cold for over two weeks. She and Annie got it at exactly the same time; Annie has been totally over it for days, and Jemma seems to be getting worse. I took her to the walk-in hours at our doctor at the crack of dawn this morning (getting there at 8:20 so Annie could still get to school on time was quite a feat for me). The verdict? She has a cold. Ears fine, chest fine. The doctor did comment on how tiny she was and on how much snot she had crusted around her nose. Nice.

2. Her birthday is just over a week away, and still, she only has two teeth. I don't know why this makes me feel sorry for her, but it just does. And speaking of her birthday, let's not talk about the guilt I feel regarding her birthday being so ridiculously close to Christmas.

3. In spite of her being over two years younger than Annie, Annie is still stealing her clothes and toys. (I mean REALLY, Annie . . .) Just this afternoon, Annie took all Jemma's stuffed animals out of her room and spread them all over the hallway. Then, Annie actually somehow stuffed herself into Jemma's cozy fleece bunting and zipped it up.

4. Also this afternoon: Annie (pretending to go to school) was "driving" around the house on her car. She'd come into the living room, where Jemma and I were playing, and announce that she was leaving to go to school. "Bye!" she'd yell. And Jemma would just look around, all sad and confused, and start waving bye-bye as Annie sped down the hall, away from her.

5. Last week, Lucy and Annie were playing together so nicely in Annie's room. I was making coffee in the kitchen when I saw Jemma crawling determinedly toward Annie's room. A minute later, crying ensued. When I went to check, there's Jemma, throwing a fit because Annie had tried to shut the door on her. "Lucy and I are playing school, Mom. Get Jemma out of here because she's ruining our stuff!" I get what Annie's saying, too, because Jemma does rip things apart and "ruin stuff," but I had this eerie feeling that I was witnessing the first of many, many conflicts where Jemma gets left out just because she is "too little."

Oh, little Roo, little Peek-a, she is such a cutie. There have also been countless times in these last few weeks when she's crawled towards me, stopped, kneeled on the floor, and reached her arms up to me imploringly. When I'm cooking dinner or trying to get something done, I'm sometimes impatient with this. But soon she'll be taking her first steps, and then I doubt she'll ever reach for me in exactly that way again.

Having My Sanity Back: Priceless

In two or three hours, Jason will be back home again with the girls. What, you ask, have I done with all my freedom? Here's a partial list:

-read Parents magazine
-took a long, hot bath
-listened to Christmas music
-talked on the phone to several friends without having to bribe Annie to be quiet
-had lunch with Connie at Marie Catrib's and went shopping afterwards
-ate approximately 14-15 cookies
-ran this morning at the gym (to counteract all those cookies . . .)
-cleaned both bathrooms
-organized the linen closet
-wrapped all the Christmas presents
-watched "What Not To Wear"
-watched TiVo'd 30 Rock with the Cavanaughs
-finished shopping for Jemma's birthday
-planned the menus for all upcoming holiday events
-shopped at Costco and Target for upcoming holiday food items
-organized Jemma's closet
-did some laundry
-watched Food Network TV
-got yummy spinach salad and a pizza from Rose's Express and ate it in peace on my couch

and probably a few other things I'm forgetting. Have I missed the girls and Jason? Honestly, I've been too busy to miss them. Every once in a while, I'll think of them in a passing, amused sort of way, wish them well, and then go back to enjoying whatever I'm doing.

I've known for a long time that I'm the type of person who doesn't function well in constant chaos. I don't like feeling disorganized, I can't think well with constant noise (read: children) around me, and I get frazzled and do things like lose Kohl's gift cards and drive away from preschool without buckling Annie into her carseat. These two days have been such a gift, because I feel like I'm ready to head into the busiest time of year with my batteries recharged and my Christmas spirit intact. I can't wait to cook fancy things for various dinner events, watch the girls open their presents, and spend time with family and far-flung friends.

Jason and I bought a few big-ticket items this past year in our efforts to move our life from starving-college-students to grown-ups-with-kids, so we decided to just stuff each other's stockings with little things and save some money instead of buying gifts. But seriously, this weekend of being selfish with my time and alone with my thoughts, has been a pretty great Christmas present. Priceless, in fact . . .

It's Really Happening

For weeks now, at the end of any particularly trying day or in the midst of a "challenging" situation, I've been looking at Jason and declaring, "I need 3 days!" Translated, I've been asking and whining and begging about wanting a break. I had some very specific ideas about what I'd be doing with those three days. Day One: Frantic, manic project/organzing/cleaning day. I'd finally get to all those tasks that I never get to do during the day and am too tired to look at by 8:00 p.m. Day Two: Social outing/errand-running/lunch with friends day. Day Three: Don't get dressed/stay on the couch watching TV and reading lazy day.

Last night, Jason said, "Want me to bring the girls up to my parents' house for the weekend and give you a break?" Ha ha ha, I thought.

Today, Jason called me from work. "Did you decide if you want me to bring the girls up north tonight?" Instantly, I started my control-freak-mom obsessing, listing all the reasons why he should not bring the girls up north. Jemma has a cold, she still nurses at night, Annie might miss me, the roads might be bad in a day or two when they come home . . . I was torn. Jemma pointed her finger at me and said, "Uh-oh!" Then she threw the majority of her dinner on the floor.

At 5:30 p.m., Jason walked in the house. As we were having dinner, Annie declared that she wanted to go to sleep in the car and wake up at Grandpa and Grandma's. Jason looked at me.

"You ask me for a break. I'm offering to give it to you. What do you think?"

As I type, Jason should be minutes away from pulling into his parents' driveway. I just returned home from a neighborhood cookie exchange and, for the first time since Annie was born, have the whole house to myself for two whole days. Not to mention, 54 assorted cookies downstairs. It's dangerous . . .

Random Musings at the Gym

. . . . does anyone else often fantasize about going to MVP and just watching the big flatscreen TV in the women's locker room without ever working out? (Does anyone actually DO this?)

. . . . and, on a related note, why is there not a TV within viewing distance of the hot tub? Because Connie and I could watch What Not To Wear there on Friday nights.

. . . . why, when there are seven open treadmills between me and the next person, does the sweaty, grunty old man come and choose the one right next to me?

. . . . would it be possible to make one channel on the treadmill TV a constant stream of The Daily Show alternating with Oprah?

. . . . at what age do old women decide to just let the pubic hair grow down to their knees and then march brazenly around the locker room for everyone to see it? I don't want that glimpse of my future, thanks . . .

How To Pick Your Preschooler Up From School

1. Carry Jemma into the school on your hip. Try to cram snowpants, hat, mittens, and all applicable projects and papers into Annie's bag before she comes out of her classroom.

2. Get Annie's coat on, change her crocs to boots, and herd her towards the door, all the while pulling Jemma back from her mission to crawl down the length of the hallway amidst the other parents and kids.

3. Hold Annie's arm firmly when she does the "whole body goes limp" thing in protest while you try to walk to the car. Smile serenely at Annie's preschool teacher who is also exiting the building.

4. When you get to the car, open Annie's door so she can climb up into her carseat.

5. Go around to the other side of the car, open that door, and strap in Jemma while she does the "whole body goes rigid" thing in protest.

6. Talk to Connie for a minute as she pulls her car next to yours.

7. Get in your driver's door, close it, and start your car, relieved to finally be leaving school.

8. Notice that Connie is still looking at you (strangely) instead of pulling away; also, notice that Annie is yelling something you haven't really comprehended from the back seat.

9. Figure out that this is because you never went back around to strap Annie into her seat, nor did you close her car door.


This, sadly, is what I did at school today. Also, last Monday. Just call me Britney . . . . I have totally lost it.

No Business Like Show Business

It's really too early to tell, since God knows things might change a teeny, tiny bit in the next 15-20 years, but so far, it seems that Annie and Jemma could follow in Jason's footsteps and be just as comfortable in front of an audience as he is.

The Twinkle Toes recital yesterday went off ALMOST without a hitch for Annie. I say almost, because in between the time I left Annie in her seat with her class, wearing her appropriate outfit (black leotard and tights, tap shoes, red Santa hat, red spangly belt) and the time her class went on stage about 4 minutes later, her hat had fallen down to almost completely cover her face. Also, she had mysteriously donned a purple headband and a white tulle skirt that was part of another class' costume. Thus, when the curtain opened on Annie's class up on stage, it looked to me (from my seat high up in the balcony) as though Annie wasn't there. I freaked out, thinking that she had gotten cold feet at the last second, and went sprinting down the stairs. Even when I got close to the stage, that damn Santa hat made it hard for me to tell . . . until finally I figured it out: the runty tap-dancer with the random, non-matching white skirt in the middle of the line, tapping her heart out with a big smile was my Annie. So, there are no good pictures of her, but, my, was she cute. And proud of herself in a very matter-of-fact way. When I had her in my lap while we watched the older girls dance, I asked her what she thought about performing on a big stage in front of an audience. "Good," she said, and went back to watching the 4-year-olds flit around the stage. Not a big deal, Mom.

As these pictures show, when Annie isn't dancing, she's spending a lot of time getting into and out of her various costumes. (Possible performance venue #2: acting.) Here, she's "Cinderella," "Snow White" (aka strange nun/gypsy lady), and "Aunt Lisa with a baby in her tummy." If you come to our house, Annie will want to play Cinderella with you. This involves getting into her costume, dancing with you, making gong noises when the clock strikes midnight, running down the hallway while you chase her, yelling "Wait, wait! I don't even know your name!", leaving one shoe in the hallway, trying on the shoe in her bedroom, and having a wedding dance at the end. Playing Aunt Lisa involves a lot of walking around, patting her stomach while Dinah is shoved under her shirt, and then announcing that she needs to go to the hospital so the doctor can get the baby out. Then, she can spend up to an hour swaddling Dinah, changing her diaper, and taking care of her in many ways.

Not to be left out of the action, Jemma got dressed up today, too - with Annie's help. She actually seemed to like wearing a necklance and a tutu. When she saw me coming with the camera, she did a ton of big laughs and smiles. And at the pool this afternoon, she was vying for my attention as soon as she saw me get the camera out. Yesterday afternoon, during our family outing to Costco (Jason, in his glory . . .), same thing: pleased as punch to have total strangers looking at her, talking to her, and giving her all the attention. Other things Jemma's been up to lately include saying "uh-oh," throwing her balls, and having a very snotty nose.

After such a high-drama weekend, plus staying up waaaaaaay too late at Connie's last night, I am beat and looking forward to having a fire and getting to sleep at a reasonable hour tonight. (Last night, what were we thinking? I will say that the fantastic drink we had made it all worth it. Absolut Grapefruit vodka, tonic water, and a perfectly pure chunk of peeled, ruby red grapefruit as garnish. So refreshing, I could drink 5 or 6 of them. Try it.)

Flashbacks

Thankfully, Annie's fever is gone and Jemma seems to be happier today, too. But the last few days, when we've been quarantined inside our house due to a combination of illness and cold weather, have been giving me flashbacks from last winter. Jemma waking up several times per night, causing me to be totally sleep-deprived? Check. Annie bored to tears inside the house? Check. Me spending much of my day drinking large quantities of coffee, eating random brownies and pistachios, and daydreaming about lying by a pool with only my spouse and my book? Check.

I really don't know how we made it through January and February last year, but I am so grateful (and so determined) that this winter will be nothing like last winter. I further can't believe that Jemma will be one in less than two weeks! In those flashbacks, she's a colicky newborn who eats every two hours around the clock and has the craziest hair of any baby I've ever known. Now, she has opinions about her favorite foods and books, claps with glee when she likes something, and loves to dance. She spends lots of her day chasing down her favorite toys so she can chew on them, playing peek-a-boo from inside the tent, and watching Annie. (Yesterday, I said, "Jemma, where's your ball?" and she looked around, spotted it, and went trucking right on over to get it. So she's also kind of like our family dog.)

This winter, I'm looking forward to playing outside more, sledding with neighbors (we know people here this winter!), taking the trip up north to meet our newest niece (she'll be here on the 20th!), and getting away from the snow (and the children, too) with Jason in February. I. Can't. Wait.

Home Sick

Annie and Jemma are both a little under the weather. It started yesterday; when I picked Annie up from school, I could tell that she was looking feverish and "peaked" (this is a grandma word for me - say it with two distinct syllables, "peek-id"). Sure enough, by yesterday afternoon, her temp was 101 and she spent an hour and a half lying on the couch watching Cinderella. (This Never Happens. Ever.) I felt sorry for her and was all too happy to cuddle her, bring her any beverage she wanted, and stroke her hair.

Then, she and Jemma took turns waking up last night, crying, coughing, being too stuffy to breathe. I got a little less quality sleep than I would have liked, and I also spent another day with semi-sick girls, taking temperatures, administering Tylenol, and missing afternoon playdates. Suddenly, I'm not so sympathetic, especially since Annie decided she was "all better" and didn't need to take a nap this afternoon. Instead, she spent a full hour and fifteen minutes in her room, singing every single song she knows, often more than once. Itsy Bitsy Spider, Jingle Bells, Rudolph, Old McDonald, If You're Happy and You Know It, Gray Squirrel, Baa Baa Black Sheep, ABCs, Twinkle Twinkle . . . if she knows it, she sang it. Loudly. Later, she proceeded to break down several times for various reasons (she couldn't find the magnetic letter E, she couldn't get a necklace off, she wanted her purple dress-up shoe) when the real reason was that she was tired and sick and trapped in the house again.

Luckily, I escaped right after they went to bed tonight and snuck a little time at the library and the gym, two of my favorite cold-weather places. And when I got home, Jason had cooked me a fantastic dinner involving goat cheese, proscuitto, and grilled chicken. A glass of wine, a little Food Network, and I'm off to bed to start one of my new library books. All is not lost! (And hopefully, Annie will rally tomorrow and I won't have to keep her home from school.)

A Little Too Ambitious . . .

I continue to embrace my return to the gym - maybe a little too wholeheartedly. This morning, I was up to feed Jemma at 5:30. I got back into bed, and Jason immediately started kicking his feet around in his sleep. This is the sort of thing that completely prevents me from getting back to sleep unless it stops in about 3 seconds.

"Hey - Jason! What are you doing?" I whispered, maybe a little forcefully.

"The dogs are chasing me and getting my toes" he mumbled sleepily, and I decided the chances of me getting back to sleep while he was romping around the bed were very small. So, I got up, tracked down some semi-clean workout clothes in the dark of our closet laundry basket, and gathered my things for the gym.

It was freezing (16 degrees), it was totally dark, and so I was feeling quite proud of myself when I pulled into the parking lot at 6:25 a.m. . . . . to find the gym closed. Turns out, it doesn't open until 7:00 on Saturdays. Maybe I would know this if I hadn't been MIA from the gym since April. Anyway, I made a quick trip to the grocery store (which, thankfully, was open at the crack of dawn), and then returned to the gym for an early-morning run.

The rest of the day was kind of a blur - made some soup, went to the Farmer's Market to get some windowbox greenery, had Jer and Beth over to see the girls, and then . . . the Doublesteins returned to the gym. After naps, we brought the girls to swim in the pool, and it was a blast. Except for splashing a little in the outdoor pool this summer, which she hated, Jemma hadn't ever really been immersed in a pool before. She loved it! She divided her time between saying "ba" and watching some older kids play water volleyball, and making interesting quacking noises at the floating rubber ducks.

Now, the girls are in bed, it's doing some horrible sleeting thing outside, and I'm headed downstairs to paint my toenails (trip to the pool pointed out just how overdue I am for that!) and drink some hot chocolate with Jason while we watch some mindless TV. I'm sort of hoping that tomorrow becomes a trapped-in-the-house snow day and we can make forts and eat comfort food and skip our commitments (Sunday School, family Christmas party in Holland).

Boogie Woogie Santa

Boogie Woogie Santa

Boogie Woogie Santa

I know it's been a couple of days since I've managed to post anything interesting; I think you'll agree it was worth the wait. I think (I hope!) I've figured out how to post video right in my blog, which could have far-reaching implications for future blogs (Jemma bopping, conversations with Annie, incriminating holiday parties . . .).

For this time, however, I've tried to capture for posterity Annie's first dress rehearsal for her upcoming Christmas dance recital. The actual recital is on December 8th, and I'm already so curious about how it will go. It's in a real, live auditorium and all of the Twinkle Toes sections have one song to perform, so there will be approximately 7-8 dance classes there, plus all accompanying parents, grandparents, siblings, etc. I predict that, when faced with the enormity of the audience, at least 50% of the 3-year-olds are going to either cry or stand frozen to the spot for their entire song. Plus, who knows where we'll be sitting on the actual day, because I don't have that "psycho-mom" gene that encourages me to arrive 5 hours early to lay my coat over the best seats.

So when Miss Amy invited parents in to help the girls get used to an audience this week, I was prepared with my videocamera. To the right is Annie's friend Grace and to the left is our neighbor Ava. It was their first time wearing the spangly red belts and the slightly-too-large Santa hats, but adorable nontheless. Enjoy the dancing; if nothing else, it might bring a bit more of the Christmas spirit to you!

New Year's Resolutions . . . in November

I have just returned from the gym. Tonight is the first time I have been to the gym since sometime in April (I am not counting the many summertime trips to the outdoor pool with the girls because no exercise was involved) and I had been on the verge of cancelling my membership and deciding to just run/walk outside for the winter and maybe invest in a decent yoga class on the side.

But, I loved it! It was so fantastic to be there, hiking it up on the super-vertical treadmill (I climbed 1000 vertical feet at a 30% incline!) and messing around with a few upper-body weights. I was so inspired and energized that I took a class schedule and might start experimenting with some new things for the winter. I could even see myself going there at the crack of dawn on those mornings like this morning, when I spontaneously awoke at 4:45 and never really got back to sleep. Might as well do something productive with my time, right?

So, a jump-start on my New Year's Resolutions:

-Spend more time at the gym (how cliche is this for a NYR?)
-Do more cultural things in and around GR, especially since my nights are about to open up as the nursing-countdown continues . . . Jemma is 11 months today, so my presence will be required at bedtime for approximately one more month only!
-Drink more. I am borrowing this one from Sarah Van Deven, and by drink, I mean alcohol. My tolerance is a pitiful "if I have two glasses of wine in one night, I'll have a headache in the morning," and something must be done about it. So, more drinking it is!

Add to this the fact that my parents have already committed to babysitting for New Year's Eve, and I have that holiday all taken care of. Now, if I could just get into the Christmas spirit a little bit more . . .

Circle Time

We got a sneak peek tonight at the daily goings-on at Annie's preschool when we attended the fall Open House. Annie proudly showed us around her classroom, where she smelled and rolled the Play-Doh (peppermint), smelled and sculpted with the styrofoam peanuts (no smell), and smelled and made a Fruit Loop bracelet with me (fruity, obviously). Her teacher, Miss Collette, informed me that Annie is one of three "smellers" in the class this year, and she said that she always makes sure to point out a new smell to them or warn them if something, like glue, isn't going to be good to smell. (There is no question that she gets this trait from Jason. I won't list the many disgusting things that he must compulsively smell.) During the rest of the open house, Annie basically had her bracelet next to her nose and would only have been happier if she could have permanently lodged one of the Fruit Loops inside her nostril.

Then, Circle Time. We parents watched, trying to hide our laughter behind our hands, while the teachers led the kids in some singing and motions while they sat in a circle. Ben, especially, sat for about 1/100 of the time, and spent most of his circle energy doing round-offs into the middle of the circle. Often, inspired, Annie followed. There was one especially precious moment when they turned off the lights and sang "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" while holding flashlights, but otherwise, it was just an affirmation that three-year-olds are the wiggliest, most impulsive things in the world. And a reminder that the teachers should have their pay doubled immediately.

At the end, we had snack. Per usual, Annie was the very last one done, so we watched her savor every last morsel of her self-frosted cookie while Miss Collette further informed us that Annie is the last person at the snack table every single day. She loves her food . . . especially when it is cookies and juice. And Connie and I had a moment or two where we looked at each other across the room and thought, "Seriously? Am I really at my kid's preschool open house, wearing a nametag, being the MOM?" Guess we're not in college anymore.

I was so proud of my little, big girl. I can hardly believe that she goes somewhere two days a week, does things, learns things, and has actual conversations and interactions without me. It is her first step of many away from me, and even though I am proud, I am a little sad, too.

After the open house, we took advantage of the fact that Miss Kelly was already at our house, managing Jemma, so we dropped Annie off and went out for some grown-up dinner. Annie was initially thrilled to play with Miss Kelly, but then apparently fell apart some time during bathtime because she "wanted her Mommy." I hate to think that Annie was sad and wanting me when I wasn't there for her, but I'm a tiny bit glad that she still needs me that way. I love her soooo much.

This afternoon, the roofers were putting some metal sheeting on the part of our roof that leaked last winter, so Annie couldn't fall asleep in her own bed. I brought her in my bed, where she napped (and I got to watch) for an hour or so. And then Jemma woke up, rosy and chubby and gleeful, and reached her little hands high above her head for me to lift her out of her crib, and I was so glad to be home with my girls on a cold November day.

O Christmas Tree

We have returned from our Thanksgiving journey up north, and we are thankful to be home. While it was cozy and snowy in Petoskey and we loved spending some fun time with our niece, it is great to be back. We spent the remainder of our Thanksgiving weekend unpacking, eating my mother-in-law's leftover cinnamon rolls (yum!), doing laundry, cleaning the house, getting groceries, Christmas shopping, doing yard work, and getting our Christmas tree from a cute tree farm in Rockford.

Oh, what a Christmas tree it is: we call it our Balsam Baby, and it is making our whole house smell wonderful. Last night, after decorating it and having some wintry butternut squash soup (which exploded all over me when I put it in the blender . . . I should not be allowed to use our blender, ever), we made a fire and some hot cocoa and enjoyed our tree while listening to Christmas music. Annie's favorite song, by far, is Jingle Bells (mine are O Holy Night and Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas; Jason is partial to the Perry Como Christmas album; and Jemma continues to do a full-body "bop" to any and all music). I love this time of year so much, and even more now that we have kids to share it with. Annie is obsessed with the ceramic nativity scene that we unpacked yesterday and spends a good part of her day trying to sneakily play with it even though we told her it's just to look at . . . I am a good mom (or a sucker for marketing) and have ordered her the Fisher Price nativity scene as an early-Christmas present to be opened next weekend at my Dad's side Christmas party. I can hardly wait to see the hilarity that ensues when she has full access to all the characters. Already, she insists that the wise man is "Jesus' grandpa."

Annie's Friends

Because I know I'll want to remember this someday, a partial list of Annie's various "friends," some real and some imaginary:

Real, actual people who she sees on a daily/weekly basis and talks about frequently: Ben, Lucy and Tommy, Ava Rose, Caden, Kate and Ian, and other assorted neighbors

Friends at school: Ben (again), Gwen, Aidan, Alex, William, McKenna, Ella

Friends at dance class: Ava (who she gets in the most trouble with), Lily, Grace, Betsy (whose glasses she is captivated by), Audrey (who is spunky and won't let Annie cut in line)

Dolls: Gracie, Dinah, Trini, Brother (a pink, stuffed cloth doll), Amy, Cinderella

Stuffed animals she's named: cats named Steven and Sophie, a lion named Simba, a hippo named Sprinkles, a horse named Nugget, bears named Nene and Curtsy, a dog named Pup and another named Prairie Dog . . . good grief.

Also, the asian boy on the Life Cereal box is known to the Doublestein family as Peter, and we must never, ever purchase other boxes of Life Cereal with the caucasian boy on them.

What's fun, here, is that when I'm packing (say, for example, to go up north for a few days), I'm never really sure which of the two dozen dolls/animals Annie is going to want most desperately. Tonight, I tried to get her to pick two or three special ones to put in her backpack for tomorrow's trip, and she did so willingly, but there's no telling who she's going to NEEEEEEED upon arrival in Petoskey. Here's hoping that Dinah, Simba, and Cinderella are the right choices for this Thanksgiving extravaganza.

Happy Turkey Day, everyone!

Things I Did Today

1. Ordered new family pictures and our Christmas cards. Yeah! Feels good to finally make a decision; will feel better to just address those things and send them off instead of torturing myself with silly expectations of crafting my own, original-yet-similar-to-Martha-Stewart cards, then writing a personal message in each, then hating them by the time I send them off. This year, Christmas cheer from the Doublesteins.

2. Changed Jemma's poopy diaper 5 times. I feel this is too many times in one day. I don't have this kind of time . . .

3. Lost to Annie in Disney Memory, the god of games at our house. In case I didn't already know all the Disney characters by heart, now I get to see them about 3 times a day. Sometimes, Annie wants to play a round with "just the princesses," so then I get to sort through all 3,000 cards and find the princesses. And then, she beats me. She's frighteningly good at it.

4. Ordered fabric for my soon-to-be-made curtains! This will prevent another dark winter where the world stares in on the Doublesteins in their living room all night long. I'm excited. I'll take a picture when they're finished. (Note: I am not making them. I don't sew. Not even buttons.)

5. Made risotto, which Annie pronounces "prisotto" for some reason. Jemma happily ate about 4 spoonfuls, and then intentionally, methodically threw the rest on the ground. This is becoming standard for her at mealtimes, unless I am serving straight fruit. Grrrrr.

6. Got groceries in preparation for the Thanksgiving weekend up north. Instead of being required to bring something to contribute to the Thanksgiving meal, I am somehow in charge of providing Friday's dinner for 10 people. I am not sure how this task befell me, but there it is. Why not tote a giant cooler up north along with the girls and all their gear?

7. Watched Jemma try to break down the bathroom door by banging on it and stretching up on her tip-toes to try to reach the handle. She really, really loves to play in the toilet and stand and yell at the side of the tub, so she's furious that we keep the door shut. Other recent Jemma-loves: the phone, the living room lamp, and the pile of books I keep beside my bed. I'm beginning to worry about how she'll respond to the Christmas tree . . .

Now, to bed.

Under Warranty

Such beautiful words. Especially when you drive your husband's new car for the very first time ever and it refuses to start in the Target parking lot. This happened to me yesterday, and even though it was inconvenient and a little bit infuriating (the part where Jason, upon hearing the news via my cell phone, wanted Connie to get in and try to start it when she came to pick me up because, you know, she's used to driving German cars . . . the implication being that I didn't know how to start a car . . . ), it's shocking to me that it cost us nothing. Tow truck putting in on a flatbed and taking it to the dealership? Free. Dealership hooking it up to the computer? Free. Mechanic replacing the ignition coil? Free. (Ahem. Jason. See, there was something a tiny bit wrong with the car!)

This is the first time in our whole married life that we've owned a car that's still under warranty, and I am really into it. I'd like to reflect on the time when, after we were just married and had moved to Ann Arbor, our Subaru wouldn't start at the mall. This was 1999, and we didn't even have a cell phone. So we had to walk somewhere to call someone to come tow the car. And then we had to walk home from the mall to our PLG apartment, at night, wearing flip-flops. It was approximately 5 miles. We literally didn't know a single person in the whole city to call and come get us. I suppose we could have taken a cab, but we were poor starving newlyweds whose big extravagance for the month was to go to Kerrytown Bistro and get the French Onion Soup and a glass of wine each. And then we had to pay for the tow truck, and for the work to be done on the car. I don't even remember how we managed that, but I assume Jason's parents took pity on us and helped us out.

So, I think having a car under warranty might be like having a dishwasher or an attached garage: you can live without it for a very long time if you've never known any better. But as soon as you've had a taste of the convenience, you can't go back. I'm secretly already planning how we can replace my Subaru with another, identical Subaru that's still under warranty . . .

A Few Recent Moments of Absurdity

Yesterday morning, while dropping Annie off at school, we pulled into the parking lot just as Connie, Ben, and Sam did. We parked next to them, and Annie and Ben began their joyous morning conversation as soon as they popped out of their cars.

"Hi, Annie!"
"Hi, Ben!"
"Want to see my tractor I brought for show and tell?"
"Yeah, I do!"
"OK" (shows her the tractor, proudly)
"Want to see my picture of me and Cinderella?"
"Yeah, I do!"
"Here it is, see?" (shows picture of Cinderella and Annie, proudly)

They continue this way as we all walk down the steps towards school, glorying in all their Annie-and-Ben adorableness, while Connie and I roll our eyes and smile because they are just so ridiculously cute. Silence for a moment as we cross over to the sidewalk, and then:

"Hi, Annie!" (as if just now seeing her for the first time of the day)
"Hi, Ben!" . . .

. . . and the conversation repeats itself, almost word for word. Did they seriously not remember having that conversation 30 seconds ago, or did they like it so much that they wanted to have it again? It was like watching the movie Groundhog Day. Absurd.

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Jemma, at 10 1/2 months, is nearly over the whole nursing thing, I think. We're pretty much down to first thing in the morning and last thing at night, with an occasional midday feeding thrown in depending on what she's eating/doing. Last night, she was weepy and sort of inconsolable for about 2 hours while we had some neighbors over for dinner. You would have thought she was so uncomfortable, tired, or sick. So I put her in the tub immediately after they left, did a quick bath, and went to put my poor, sad baby to bed. At which point she became happy, energetic, hyper baby while I tried to nurse her one last time. She'd nurse for a minute or two, then pull her head away, sit up a little, and clap her hands with a big smile on her face. Then, back to nursing. Repeat about four times, until I gave up and put her in her crib, where she promptly fell asleep. She was happy to be nursing? She was happy to be going to bed? Who knows.

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At dance today, the instructor had all the parents come into the dance classroom for a few minutes so that the girls could have an "audience" as practice for their upcoming recital. She had the girls stand on their tape, turned on the music, and commenced to model the dance they'll supposedly be doing in a mere three weeks. Annie's response?

1. Twirl madly around and around while stamping her tap shoes loudly (this is NOT what the instructor was doing during this part of the dance).

2. Attempt to follow along and actually DO the correct dance for about 7 seconds.

3. Pick her nose.

4. Pretend, three times in quick succession, to fall down on the ground, say, "Oops!" and pick herself up very dramatically.

5. Notice that the girl next to her has stopped all movement to stare at her own reflection in the mirror, and follow suit.

6. Run over to me proudly the minute the music stops and says, "Give me five, Mommy! Good job dancing!"

Jemma, clapping madly.

I'm Not Crazy About . . .

(this time it's MY turn):

-Jemma, at 10 1/2 months, apparently trying to phase out her morning nap. Four or five days in a row, now, she's acted soooooooo tired around 9:00, but then, when I put her in the crib, she spends 20-30 minutes chatting/whining before getting to sleep. This morning, 45 minutes later, she was still awake, so I gave up. Grrr. I thought I had at least 4-5 more months of a guaranteed shower time.

-Annie needing to take off every single item of clothing below the waist every single time she uses the bathroom. This include shoes and socks, which she is not the best at putting on herself. This afternoon, she walked casually out into the living room, butt-naked from the waist down, carrying her pants/socks/underwear in a ball while Heidi was over. Sorry, Heidi.

-leaf blowers. Seriously, a leaf weighs 1-billionth of an ounce. Even wet and in large quantities, they are not so heavy that you can't just take ten minutes and rake them to the curb. Leaf blowers are obnoxiously noisy and so unnecessary around here, where everyone's lawn is the size of a postage stamp. That means you, Shawn Bergsma!

-my fall/winter wardrobe. Specifically, the sweater department. I appear to have a lot of sweaters, but really, there are only about 5 that I like. Today, I tried to shake it up a little and wear one that I haven't pulled out in a while. I had it on for about 10 minutes before I had to rip it off because it was both ugly and too big. After thinking about it, I realized that I got this sweater for Christmas back in about 1997. No joke. Jason and I were dating, but not engaged and/or married. Time for some current sweaters.

Things I WAS crazy about today:

-taking a big morning walk with the girls and then raking leaves in the unbelievably gorgeous weather.

-Annie helping me make the dough for the chicken pot pies, getting her chubby fingers all flour-y and messy with a big smile on her face.

-meeting little Katherine Jane Brandt, who has so much hair it makes baby Jemma hair look tame.

-Jemma belly-laughing hysterically while Kelly tickled her out on the steps this afternoon.

-a really beautiful sunset.

"I'm Not Crazy About . . .

________." Fill in the blank here with any number of words (that face, pork, you being in my room, hearts, gum, that song), and you'll have a good idea of what it sounds like at our house lately now that Annie puts most things into two categories: things she loves really much, and things she isn't crazy about. It's pretty damn funny to hear it coming out of her mouth, and I'm glad that at least she hasn't picked up the "I hate . . ." or "______ sucks" that I remember my own mom veto-ing in my youth.

In other news, Jason arrived home last night around 7:15 to a joyous Annie. (I was pretty joyous, too. Seriously, I don't know how people do it when their spouses travel a lot for work. Clearly, I am a wimp.) There were a lot of questions about Florida and a very contented Daddy/Annie game of Disney Memory (leading to the "I'm not crazy about you being in my room" when I tried to go in and join. Apparently, Annie and I had had enough of one another for those four days.). In spite of a few extended meltdowns, Annie and Jemma did so well in his absence. I learned a few things about myself during the short absence, too:

-Being on my own made me be more organized than I am when Jason's around. At night, for example, I set out everything for breakfast, put the coffee in the coffee-maker, and packed the diaper bag for whatever activity we had planned the next morning.

-If Jason weren't here, with his love of meat-and-potatoes dinners, I'd be less motivated to cook decent food. When it's just me and the girls, it's much easier to just feed them random things from the pantry that require minimal preparation. It's shameful, really . . . I'll just say the words "Mini Nilla Wafers" and we'll not speak of it again. Tonight, thankfully, I got back on track with pork chops, stuffing, salad, and applesauce.

-I love sleeping in the bed all by myself! Perhaps it's time for a king-size mattress . . .

-I'm so lucky to (normally) have a husband who's so present for our family time. This morning, Jason didn't have to be to the office until 11:30 for a post-conference meeting, so our whole family had a jammie dance party to the new Allison Krauss/Robert Plant album, complete with maracas for the kids and coffee for the grown-ups. (Jemma with a maraca is hilarious!) I love all the time we have to enjoy the girls and just be silly together.

Day Four . . .

of being a single parent, and the lifestyle is taking its toll. I was holding it all together pretty well for the first couple of days, thanks in part to various dinner invitations from kind neighbors and friends. We spent yesterday at my parents', and it was great to have some distractions and help with meals, entertainment, etc. But this morning, it's 10:00 a.m., and already we've made cookies and had a dance party, and I'm spent. I'm just sheer out of things to do and am dying for a little "me" time . . . which I'm not going to get, seeing as tomorrow is Monday and the workweek will begin all over again. What I am going to get, I think, is Annie asking variations of the questions, "When is Daddy going to get back from Florida?" and "What time is it?" until he walks in the door right around her bedtime.

Time to go grab a shower . . .

Cinderella Takes Over My Life

It's happened: I've let my house and life be overrun by a mass-marketed, plastic, ridiculously-proportioned Disney character. I swore - swore! - that my children would not become sucked in by crap toys because I, their mother, would shield them from all such advertising and then, later, teach them to see right through all the marketing ploys and choose lovely, quality things. Please.

But somehow, even though Annie has spent the entirety of her life thinking that Sesame Street is the only show that's on during the day, she has become obsessed with Cinderella. Chalk it up to friends, the mall, Targeting trips, the many toy catalogs that arrive at our house daily . . . it snuck in. Then one day, a relative gave her the Cinderella movie and the obsession became complete. (To be fair, I think it's one of the few Disney movies that's fine for a 3-year-old to watch, because there's no scary, witchy person killing someone with fruit and/or being pushed off a cliff, etc.) Now, our kitchen table is covered with the teeny, tiny pieces and parts to the moveable Cinderella figurine Jason got her - glass slippers, crown, even a tiny bird that lands on her scrawny wrist -, Cinderella stick-on earrings, a Cinderella ring that has lip gloss inside (!), her Cinderella pen that lights up when you draw with it, her Crayola Color Wonder Princess coloring book . . . and surely there are about 20 more things downstairs covered with the blonde beauty. Remember the real, live Cinderella who made an appearance at the Princess Birthday party a few weeks ago? Don't worry - the picture Annie took with her is proudly displayed on our refrigerator. Cinderella is her hero.

A few years ago, before I had kids, this would have driven me crazy. I have had enough friends with body-image issues to get a little fired up about little girls (toddlers, really) idolizing these size-zero princesses who get saved from their squalid lives by the handsome prince who swoops in and loves them because they're beautiful. And I do still want to raise my girls to be strong, competent, smart women who measure themselves by other things than their waist size. But I've given up managing every little influence that comes their way because, really, it's impossible. Also, it's time to start letting Annie make some of her own choices about what's fun, what's interesting, and what's entertaining.

So tonight, Jemma went to bed early, and Annie and I snuggled on the couch and watched the first half of Cinderella together under a blanket. With one hand, she clutched her Cinderella doll; with the other, she held my hand. It's the longest time Annie has sat still and cuddled me in a very long time, and I guess I have - who else? - Cinderella to thank for that.

It's Official . . .

After naps today (yes, plural - both girls, thank goodness!), we headed outside for a walk and spotted the first offical snowflakes of the season. And I must admit, I felt a teeny, tiny bit of joy and childish glee. As much as I dislike snow in general (the cold wetness of it, the slush on my shoes, the inches on my car, walking around with my shoulders hunched up around my ears), I did feel a tinge of excitment for the upcoming winter holidays and the fun I'll have with the girls doing snow-related activities. I'm so curious to see what Jemma does with it, and I know Annie loves to make snow angels and build pretty much anything out of it, so we'll make the best of it and have a fun winter. At least, until mid-January, when I'll be beside myself with wanting spring.

And then, to mark the "winterness" of it all, we went to Starbucks and I enjoyed my first Peppermint Mocha of the Christmas season. Mmmmmm. Though the PSL eluded me, I am confident that I can re-create the PM with my espresso machine. Tomorrow: to Russo's to purchase peppermint syrup and some more chocolate, too. I'm going to need some caffeinated nourishment to get me through the weekend ahead.

An Open Letter to Annie's Preschool

Dear Annie's Preschool,

When I arrived to pick Annie up today at 11:09 a.m., you were just bringing her class out to the playground. This only allows her six minutes to burn off all her available energy for the morning. I'm sure you did all sorts of fun, indoor projects in the preceeding two hours, but this does not help me.

See, I'm not paying $109 per month for Annie to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" or fingerpaint; we can do that at home. What I'm looking for here is time for Annie to have fun without me, and for her to be tired out when I bring her home for lunch. Maybe if she were tired when I brought her home for lunch, I wouldn't have had to spend my time from 1:00 - 2:00 today holding her bedroom door shut because she refused to even stay in her room for her quiet time. And then, maybe if she had rested and/or slept from 1:00 - 2:00 today, we could have avoided the grocery store meltdown that occurred when I didn't let my overtired, overstimulated 3-year-old smell each and every packet of gum in the checkout lane. We might also have skipped the 47,000 time-outs that occurred from 3:00 - 5:00 p.m. As Sarah would say, I'm just sayin'.

So, from now on, if you want to have them out on the playground for a whole hour, I won't complain about the lack of cute artwork for our bulletin board. If it's a very nice day, just go ahead and keep her out there for the entire time. Really. Because six minutes just isn't enough.

Daylight Savings Time . . .

always makes me very, deeply depressed. And it starts tonight. I hate thinking about how, tomorrow night, it's going to be dark at 6:00. Thus begins 4-5 months of me attempting to hurl myself straight from the dinner table into my bed: no phone calls, no exercising, no housework in the evenings. My body wants to shut down. Must stock up on books and carbohydrates.

Also, I highly doubt that Jemma is going to magically reprogram her sleeping rhythms in one day, so I expect she'll wake up early tomorrow morning. Also Monday morning, and then she'll want to go down for her morning nap before I take Annie to school, which obviously isn't a possibility. The week should be interesting, sleep-wise.

Bright spots in the day today included Michigan beating Michigan State (so at least Jason will be happy and not marching around the house shaking his head despondently), eating chili and pumpkin pie during the game with Chris, Sarah, and twins, and watching Isabelle and Payton eat their cupcakes at their first birthday party. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that Jemma will be doing that in only two months! She is hardly my baby anymore; she wore pigtails today, and they looked kind of long! Plus, she has learned the sign for "all done," and claps her hands when she likes something that happens.

Girls' night out at Naya last night . . . I had the best martini(s!) - some sort of irresistible mixture of espresso-flavored vodka, Godiva chocolate liqueur, and creme de cacao - and a great time laughing with the girls. We mostly entertained ourselves by speculating on which yummy mummy patrons had had plastic surgery, fantasizing about our next Somerset/Birch Run shopping expedition, and eating goat cheese and olives. Lots of olives.

Annie just barged in, straight from her shower and wrapped in a big towel. "I'm a shepherd," she announced, then threw off the towel and asked, "Want to see how tall I am?" Stood proudly, naked, in front of me, and then said solemly, "I'm almost a grown-up." We're letting her stay up late in hopes of adjusting her to the Daylight Savings and she's pleased as punch. When she finished playing her new Memory game with Jason earlier, she realized it was 8:00 and had to marvel at being up "so so late."

My goal was to bed in bed by 8:30 tonight, so I have 12 minutes to get downstairs and ready for the sleeping. I'm really, really craving the sleeping.

Tricks and Treats

Jason is downstairs with the girls right now, watching Journey DVDs and making a cornucopia of musical sounds, so that I can sit down in a chair and think and write for the first time in four days. God bless him. (He owes me, though, because he got to get the car he really wanted instead of the used Accord I was pushing for.)

It's been one of those weeks with Annie. She didn't nap any day except, mercifully, on Halloween and then was a trainwreck for at least 50% of the time she was awake. Yesterday afternoon, she actually screamed, "I don't want to go to the store!" over and over and over all the way to Art of the Table. I have had to use all my best coping mechanisms. These include: saying things like, "I understand that you feel tired, but that's not a reason to treat people this way. Now we're going to do ______ and I know you can make a good choice" in a calm, rational voice; turning up NPR so loud that I can't exactly hear the words she's shouting from the backseat; threatening to throw away all of the remaining Halloween candy; taking away any beloved dolls; and my favorite, telling myself a little story in my head about how I am so lucky to have a healthy, wonderful daughter and just think how terribly devastating it would be if something were really wrong with her and how I have it so much better than so many struggling mothers and how I really DO love her and how this is just a phase . . . etc. Sometimes that puts it in perspective. And when it doesn't, at least we have had our share of grown-up time lately so I can remember that other parts of my life are fun even when the parenting piece is challenging.

Halloween itself was pretty adorable. Though I have lots of good memories of being a rock star or Snoopy or a 50's party girl in my youth, I honestly haven't been a huge fan in my adult years. Now, however, I have to admit, it's regaining its former appeal when I get to celebrate it with little kids again (especially, little kids who do not spend the entire day in my classroom, consuming mass quantities of candy while their hyper-vigilant mothers come up with reasons to invade my classroom with elaborate parties).

Annie was so pleased to spend most of the day running around in her lion costume. She wore it to school in the morning and then donned it again for the neighborhood "Halloweenie" party (of course there were hot dogs!) and trick-or-treating. My parents came for the night to see the girls in costume and help pass out candy at our house while we went out with the girls. Jemma's appearance was brief due to the rain, but Annie hung in there with her umbrella and yelled out a surprisingly brave and loud, "Trick or Treat!!!" at the houses of people we know on the street. Jemma also refuses to wear hats if she can possibly get them off, so she was less "lion" and more "baby wearing tan one-piece romper." Note Annie's glee when surrounded by her "take" just before the end of the night. (Needless to say, 90% of that loot has mysteriously disappeared, and the remaining treats are being rationed and possibly saved for the Thanksgiving car trip that looms in our future.)

Last night, we had an awesome night out with Adam and Jason, Chris and Sarah. Dinner (and lots of drinks) at the Green Well, followed by a quick stop at Yesterdog for fourth meal, then more wine at our house with Adam and Jason before bed. So great to see old friends and laugh hysterically, mostly at/with Adam and his wealth of unbelievable stories. We had pumpkin pancakes for breakfast this morning, then managed to hit Meijer Gardens with the whole group again, this time with kids in tow. Everyone did remarkably well and the outdoor sculpture walk was at the height of its fall beautiful-ness.

Tonight: out with the girls to celebrate Connie's birthday! Must keep up the frenetic pace of this weekend! Tomorrow: 1-year-old birthday party, Michigan game . . . the fun never ends, and the laundry never gets done, either.

Pre-Halloween Scariness

A few recent hilarious stumpers from Annie:

-Where does the moon go during the day? Why can I see it sometimes during the day?

-Why do apples have stems?

-How does the medicine in the shot know how to stop the bad germs from making me sick?

-Why can't we see music?

So, I need some experts in astrology, horticulture, medicine, and physics to come to my house and have a little seminar gears toward 3-year-olds.

Lest you think that Annie has magically become a mature, thoughtful genius-child, here are a few other things she's done in the last few days:

-Cried because: her applesause was too cold, she bit her own finger while eating, Jemma's babbling was "hurting her feelings," her bike helmet (which she's worn for half a year now) was "choking" her, the toilet seat was too cold, her socks were too tight, she didn't want her hair in a ponytail, she wanted a different spoon for her yogurt. And I may be forgetting some.

-Claimed her ears hurt twice during the height of the unreasonable behavior, prompting a 5:00 p.m. add-on appointment to the doctor yesterday (right when Jemma's at her hungriest and fussiest), just to be told that there's absolutely nothing wrong with her ears.

-Threw a metal music box at Jemma's head.

-Refused to nap two days running and then melted down around 5:00 p.m.

I'm wiped out and can't believe it's only Tuesday night. Tuesday! Plus we have a week and weekend jam-packed with Halloween activities, overnight guests, birthday parties, football games, and literally one thing after another. Let's hope she can get it together tomorrow, or that little lion coming out of our front door really will be scary to someone. Me.

Bright Lights, Big City

Jason and I took a break from Mommy and Daddy duty Friday night and had a fun night out on the town. And that town didn't seem so much like Grand Rapids to us as maybe, say, Miami. Or New York City. (But then, we don't get out much.) After we got the kids in bed and Heidi came over (we're starting a neighbor-babysitting-coop thing with them; it was our turn to "watch" Jonathan last night), we started the evening off at the new Grand Rapids Art Museum. Very cool building, very hip vibe, live music, a little red wine . . . we felt like real grown-ups doing something with our brains. I like modern art in a detached, "isn't that bizarre/interesting" sort of way, and only in museums, never in my house, but still, it's good to look at every once in a while.

After the museum, we had dinner at six one six, the new restaurant downtown. Very hoity-toity atmosphere, all clean lines and tiny tables very close together. It was good for us to try something different, but it wasn't the best atmosphere for a cozy dinner for two. We loved our food; Jason got a steak and I got something called the Pumpkin Stack (Of course I did. It's October; if there's something "pumpkin" on a menu, I must order it.), which was fresh pasta and pumpkin, goat cheese, cranberries, basil, and a bunch of other yummy things that made me happy. If nothing else, it was refreshing to spend a few uninterrupted hours with Jason and catch up on all those conversations that are impossible to have when Annie's asking repetitive questions or making constant demands.

Yesterday was a gloomy, cool, rainy day, and I spent it doing less-glamorous things such as: scrubbing the upstairs shower with Comet and a toothbrush, washing floors, doing three loads of laundry, making lasagna for dinner, wiping Jemma's snotty nose every 3 1/2 minutes - you know, things that made me realize that I was not, indeed, in Miami or New York City. And then I watched Jonathan last night (and by watched, I mean read my book on their couch while listening to his monitor) so Heidi and Patrick could go out to dinner.

Now, Jason has Annie at church, Jemma's napping, and I'm thinking about taking advantage of this gorgeous morning and going for a run when they get home.

Jemma's 10-month stats

Jemma's stats from yesterday: 15 lbs, 3 oz (5th percentile), 26.5 inches (40th percentile), and head 35th percentile. She charmed the doctor with her sign for "more," lion growl, and semi-toothy smile at her otoscope light. Today, she was less charming; I think this cold she has is at its peak after three days of crappy sleep and lots of snot . . . . poor grumpy baby. I actually put her down for a 3rd nap today for the first time in about 4 months, and she went for it!

Annie had Twinkle Toes this morning, as usual, but with an added twist: they got to wear their costumes! So instead of ballerinas running around with Miss Amy, there was a lion, chicken, cat, Snow White, and two fairy princesses. Pretty cute. This afternoon, she, Lucy, and Caden were frolicing in the most beautiful orange leaves in the front yard - Shelly and I had to run and get our cameras to capture the moments. I'll post some digital ones if she sends them to me (mine are film).

It's been a long couple of days, so after Jemma was safely in bed tonight, I came upstairs to do some gift-getting for various people via the Internet and catch up on e-mails and blogs. Instead, Annie emerged from her shower to show me how she had wrapped her bath towel around her head "just like Mommy" and then begged for ME to take her downstairs, get her jammies on, and read her stories. I had been planning to let Jason have a turn tonight, but she was so adorable that I couldn't resist. As I picked up her little nakie body with a giant towel around her head, she made it worth my while and said, "I like the smell of you, Mommy." Awwww . . .

Birth Control

Some days, you're rolling along and everything's clicking and you're thinking, maybe we will have another baby (not immediately or anything, but eventually) and you're feeling deeply in love with your children and congratulating yourself on being such a "together" mom . . . . .

and then

your infant poops in the tub while your toddler busts into the bathroom and starts to poop on the toilet and you scoop the wet infant, screaming, out of the tub and tear through the house to find the Clorox disinfecting wipes and try to drain the tub while your toddler asks a continual stream of annoying questions about the poop in the tub and says "Mommy, wipe me" just as you're trying to re-fill the tub and clean the poop off your squirmy infant and put her back in the water.

And then you think, we'll see about that other baby.

A Random Tuesday

I feel like "Tuesday" is always the day referenced in poetry when the writer is trying to describe a very basic, average kind of day. (And if I ever unpack my beloved boxes of books from South Haven and find my Billy Collins, I'll post an example.) For us, today really was an average day, but good in lots of small ways. The highlights:

-Waking up miraculously at 6:29 a.m. for my 6:30 run with Sarah, even though I had accidentally set my alarm for 6:20 P.M. and it obviously didn't go off.

-Standing outside on my front lawn in the dawn darkness upon my return and peeking in at my little family, happily breakfasting in our cozy dining room.

-Having a Test Kitchen moment with Jason, when we attempted (again) to duplicate the Starbucks PSL with some leftover pumpkin, caramel sauce, half & half, and spices. Results: good flavor, weird grainy pumpkin bits at bottom of cup.

-Folding Annie's clean laundry in her room while she proudly matched all her socks.

-Snuggling on the couch with Annie after she woke up from her nap.

-Jamming out with the girls to Led Zeppelin in the car on the way to Grandville.

-Riding up and down the escalator at the mall, watching Annie's grin widen and hearing her say, "It tickles my tummy!"

-Bringing Annie to her very first official dental appointment. She was so PLG in the giant chair, and the hygenist had her wearing special sunglasses to block the bright lamp light. She thought she was quite something and was acting very mature and knowing throughout.

-Watching the end of a gorgeous pink sunset when Jason got home.

Even More Pumpkin

Since it's still October, I continue to embrace the pumpkin revolution all around me (my neighbors are obsessed, too) and tonight I went out on a limb and made Enchiladas with Pumpkin Sauce from my Everyday Food cookbook. Combined with the leftover Pumpkin Bread Pudding with Caramel Sauce from this weekend and Pumpkin Beer, we had a nice little fall dinner.

Well, actually, the food was fine, but the company left something to be desired. Annie declined to nap today and then entered meltdown territory around 4:30, and Jemma was simply unhappy and whiny for reasons of her own. Still, Jason and I were pleased to eat a good dinner at a normal hour and then have the rest of the night free to do dishes, watch the Daily Show, talk more about his possible car options, and just hang out. I'm headed downstairs right now to do just that. But for those adventurous cooks out there, here's the recipe:

1/2 rotisserie chicken, skin removed, meat shredded
4-6 scallions, thinly sliced
1/2 c sour cream
coarse salt and fresh ground pepper
1 can (15 oz) pumpkin puree
4 garlic cloves, peeled
red pepper flakes, to taste
1 t chili powder
8 corn tortillas
1 1/2 c. grated cheddar

Combine chicken, scallions, and sour cream in bowl. Season with salt and pepper, set aside

In a blender, puree the pumpkin, garlic, red pepper, chili powder, 2 1/2 c water, 2t salt, and 1/4t pepper until smooth. Pour 1 c of the sauce in the bottom of an 8x8 square or other shallow baking dish.

Lay the tortillas flat on a work surface; divide the chicken mixture among the tortillas. Roll up each tortilla into a tight log; place seam side down over the sauce in the baking dish.

Pour the remaining sauce on top; sprinkle with cheese. Bake at 400 for 25 minutes, until cheese is golden and sauce is bubbling. Let cool 5 minutes before serving.

Can be assembled up to 8 hours ahead of time and refrigerated until ready to bake.

It's Sunday Night . . .

and suddenly, our weekend is over. It was filled with a bunch of small, unrelated activites - the birthday party, Jason's car shopping (no decision yet, but he's really in love with the Audi A4), hosting Jason's parents for dinner today, another round of Sunday School helping, and lots of general house chores mixed in with a little being outside to enjoy the gorgeous, warm weather. In a move that will make Sarah proud, I was out the door and running around the lake at 6:30 a.m. this morning even though she was enjoying a girls' weekend away. Frankly, it was too dark out there to see my feet, so probably, I should not be running by myself at that time of day anymore. But I was lucky enough to see the sunrise over the lake - all pink and misty from a little bit of fog (or "steamy," as Annie would say).

Annie got a new doll from her Grammy today, and promptly named her Amy, likely after her dance teacher. Then, while playing with baby Amy, Annie instructed Jason's mom to "get out her pointy things" to feed the baby. Oh, my. I think the word "nipple" is going to have to cross my lips soon in a female anatomy discussion.

Jemma has now gotten the beginnings of Annie's cold from last week. She had a runny nose all day and was just generally grouchy and uninterested in food. I hope and pray that I won't be up all night with her. She is also (finally!) getting her first two bottom teeth and is constantly chewing on her pointer finger. PLG. I need to take dozens of pictures of her in the next few weeks while she still has her gummy, baby smile; I feel like they never look quite the same after those teeth peek through while they grin.

Princess Party

I took Annie to Caitlin's 4th birthday party today. It was a Princess Party, so of course she wore her tutu, dress-up shoes, necklaces and bracelets, and a tiara. The other little princesses were similarly attired. What do princesses do at a party? Well, they make their own pizzas, have princess dance parties, play a princess trivia game and princess bingo, listen to the story of Cinderella, break a princess pinata, have a princess gift exchange (Annie got some stamps), and get their picture taken with CINDERELLA (Ena's sister Kelda, who really did look like Cinderella). It was quite the two-hour whirlwind. Annie had to tell everyone she saw today:

"I went to a princess party. And guess who was there???? (eyes wide) Cinderella. Yep." Nodding seriously.

Being there made me exhausted; however, it made Annie very, very hyper. She (luckily) did take a nap when we got home, but then went on a tear for the rest of the day - moving, jumping, running, singing, talking in a very spastic way right through her tricycle ride around the block and our lovely dinner with Heidi, Patrick, and Jonathan. Thank goodness she's in bed and please, please let her sleep later tomorrow than she did today. (6:20. Happy Saturday.)

Jemma in the Tub

Jemma loves her bath. When I take her into the bathroom at night (or if she sneaks her way in there another time of day), she stands right up at the edge of the tub and starts squealing and banging her fist on the side of the tub, like, "Mommy, let's get me in there!" Once in, she splashes half the water out, is obsessed with this little red plastic cup, and spends the whole time trying to stand up. I guess the tub is just such a sturdy surface for her wobbly feet. Tonight, she discovered her reflection in the overflow drain cover and spent at least 10 minutes licking it. So, it's fun to see her so happy in the water, but it's a little stressful, too, trying to hold down a slippery, determined Jemma. And the minute I lift her out . . . the crying begins, and it doesn't end until the last, bitter snap is snapped on her jammies and she can get OUT of that horrible bathroom. What a stinker.

I Got My Hair Cut Today . . .

and that's really all I can think of to report. It's semi-short; it's cute (right now, of course, because someone blew it dry, put product in it, and straightened it); and I hate to admit it, but soon it will go up in a wet ponytail 95% of the time. I called Connie and said, "Your sister cut off half my hair."

A One-Person Play, Starring Annie

Annie's imaginative role-play took her in two different directions today: playing Mommy, and playing Daddy. Here's how it went . . .

As Mommy:

It started when I was in the shower, Jemma was taking her morning nap, and Annie was playing contentedly with Gracie. She came into the bathroom, saying she needed a Kleenex. She's been a little sniffly lately, so I told her to help herself and thought nothing of it. After I was out of the shower, I heard her talking to Gracie from her bedroom.

"Oh, Gracie, honey, OK, just a minute, I know, I know, you're so hungry. Do you want some milk? OK, just a minute, sweetie . . . " I peeked around the corner and saw Annie cradling Gracie while trying to haul her pink chair out of her room. She plunked it down, loudly, in the hallway, and proceeded to sit on it, cover her shoulder with a baby blanket, and feed Gracie. No bottle involved, if you know what I mean.

Now this is nothing new; she's been pretending to nurse her babies ever since Jemma came along. So I smiled, got myself dressed, and then went to dress Annie for the day. Which is when I found the Kleenex, wadded up into a ball and stuffed under her little Gap PJ top, right around the booby area.

"What's this?" I ask.

"That's my pointy thing, for feeding Gracie from my tummy. I need another Kleenex so I can have two of them, like you. Mommy, where are my pointy things?"

(Oh, dear God, the anatomy lessons will never stop, will they?)

Other ways of role-playing Mommy included stomping down the hallway (and, on reflection, I actually do this when I'm bringing Annie to her room for a time-out) and telling me, "I'm giving Gracie a time-out for being rough with Jemma!," taking her shopping cart to go get groceries, putting on lotion, and, of course, going to a concert. It was a busy morning until Jemma got up and we braved the rain to go to the mall. Then, after dinner . . .

As Daddy:

Announced, "I need to go to work. I need you to iron my tie." Then proceeded to have me tie an old ribbon around her neck, put on giant brown dress shoes, drink some coffee from her kitchen coffeemaker, get a bag to carry plus her play doctor kit, and get on her car to go to work. She informed me that she drives a red car, "like Miss Heidi."

"Give me a hug and kiss! I'm going to work! Be good today! See you at dinner!" - all yelled breezily from her car as she was rolling away. Her "office" was in the dining room; "Don't come in here! I'm working!"

Minutes later, she arrived home, apparently weary, and announced that she was going to bed. She took her "tie" off, hung it on our bedroom doorknob, put Jason's shoes back in the closet, and climbed up into our bed, where she merrily pretended to read "Eat, Pray, Love" until Jason really did get home from work.

I love things like this on two levels. One, it really is hilarious to me to see what Annie picks up from both her parents and then get to observe her acting it out in her kid-size fantasy world. Two, I like to think that she's growing up with the idea that she could be happy playing either one of these roles - or both of them - in her real, grown-up future. Maybe she'll nurse her own babies, take them grocery shopping, give time-outs, cook, clean, and generally make a life for herself at home. Or, maybe she'll march out into the working world with a briefcase, medical kit, or tap shoes. And maybe she'll find a way to do a little of both and be happy in all her roles.

Annie's Issues

Annie's disposition has been pretty reliably sunny lately, and I'm enjoying it. She (mostly) asks nicely for things, gives spontaneous hugs, says "thank you," helps out, giggles and plays with Jemma, has fun at school, and generally is interesting to be around. However, just for fun, today's exceptions:

Within 30 seconds of getting in the car with us on the way home from school today, was beside herself with annoyance and was shouting at Jemma to "STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!" Poor Jemma was just saying, "mamamamamamama" over and over in a very sweet, quiet voice.

Had a five-minute conversation before her bath tonight about how she doesn't like arms because they have hair on them. ??? She repeatedly insisted that hair doesn't belong on arms and said, "Get it off, Mommy." I had to list off everyone in the whole wide world who had hair on their arms ("Aunt Connie?" "Yes." "Grammy Freriks?" "Yes.") So bizarre.

After asking for her Daddy various times throughout the day, refused to let him anywhere near her during the bath/brush teeth/read story part of the evening. I had to do everything, and then he was graciously allowed to come in and sing the night-night song.

There has also been a lot of loud, public "What smells stinky?" and informing me that she does not like someone's face (again - ???). I think she's only days away from asking a stranger if they have a baby in their tummy. I can only wonder what tomorrow's issues might be . . .

It's Really the Middle of October?!? Holy #$*%!

So, with the advent of the first rainy, cool fall weekend, plus the deluge of October birthdays, I am forced to acknowledge the date (I basically never know what the date is) and realize that October is half over. Unbelievable. I'm also forced to realize that many things need to happen, as a result of it being the middle of October, such as:

-begin Christmas lists for everyone

-buy snowboots and snowpants for Annie

-put up heat tape on the roof before it snows

-plan our February vacation (suggestions for a warm and sunny destination with not too much travel drama are welcome!)

-get flu shots (oh, I dread another shot for Annie . . .)

-buy Halloween candy

-pay for snowplow service

-begin going to the gym again, a place I haven't visited in months except to frolic in the outdoor pool . . .

In looking at this list, I'm not too enthused about the tasks that come with late fall/early winter. I will have to keep baking yummy pumpkin treats to get me through and maybe get some new slippers and winter cozy clothes to keep me happy in the house. Tonight, we're making beef stew and a big loaf of bread with roasted garlic and cheese, plus we're going to make the first fire of the season in our fireplace. (For Annie, this event requires hot chocolate.) And we'll spend the rest of this lazy Sunday afternoon entertaining the girls inside with more hide-and-seek and kitchen play time.

Above, Annie and Ben at Koetsier's play area last week. How cute are they with their little vests?

Time

Seven minutes until my Thursday night TV-watching begins . . .

So:

Jemma, in the last couple of days, has become so much less of a "baby" and so much more of a person. Things she's doing lately: giggling naughtily when I tell her "no;" trying so hard to squirm off her changing table that I'm afraid she's really going to do it; splashing so much in the bathtub at night that my shirt becomes completely soaked; being waaaaaay too busy to nurse during the day; standing up randomly in the middle of the room, preferably holding a forbidden piece of chalk from Annie's easel; screaming when she wants something and I take it away; making a high-pitched little "woof-woof" noise when she sees a dog; saying "ba" for ball.

Is she two years old? How is time going by this quickly?

And speaking of time, I am going to start a national movement promoting awareness of how little of it parents have. This is because I'm so, so tired of random people (OK, a pompous doctor/acquaintance I ran into at Starbucks and my mother-in-law) complaining to me (ME!) about how they are so, so busy and there just isn't enough time. Yeah, tell me about it! I'm betting these people actually get to take a shower by themselves every single day, go to the bathroom whenever the need occurs, run errands without hauling along two small bodies, eat meals in peace, and sleep entire nights. Nobody should be telling parents with young children about how little time they have. I think the only people more busy than parents might be first-year surgical residents and single parents, and you won't find me complaining to those people about how busy I am.

That's my seven minutes today. Tomorrow, more time?

Night Owl

It's happening . . . slowly, slowly, I'm becoming a "night person" again. And I love it. I've always functioned best when I've been able to stay up late at night and then sleep in (relatively) late in the morning. However, for years, teaching required me to get up at 5:15, leave the house at 6:00, and then put myself to bed around 9:00 in order to do it all again the next day. Having a newborn, both times, made me crave sleep so much that I was sprinting for bed the minute the baby was asleep "for the night" and then dragging myself out in the morning.

Lately, though, Annie and Jemma have been consistently sleeping until (dare it say it?) 7:30 or 8:00 almost every day. And do I get up early and get a few things done around the house? No, I do not. I stay in my bed, unless I am getting up to run with Sarah, and I get a full 8 hours of sleep. Then, I stay up late at night (well, until 11:00ish), finishing dishes, writing, reading, doing laundry, and getting organized for the next day. It is fantastic!

I'm sure there will come a period, weeks or months from now, when Jemma or Annie (or both) will commence to wake up at some ungodly morning hour, and my routine will be ruined again. But for now, I'm thoroughly enjoying being a night person again. And I'm off to read in bed - maybe for an hour or two!