Just In Time

After another hectic day that left me even more exhausted than usual (the girls both have little summer colds and I think I'm coming down with it, too), I was upstairs checking my e-mail, trying to block out whatever phrase Annie was repeating over and over until she was acknowledged. I was secretly hoping that Jason would give Annie her bath and put her to bed so I could fall asleep on the guest bed upstairs and maybe not come down again until the whole house was quiet and some type of a meal was prepared. Quiet is all I ever seem to want, these days.

And then, I started to read an e-mail forward from a friend. It's a piece written by Anna Quindlen, who I generally love and specifically think somehow sent this to me at exactly the right moment, when my patience was thinnest and my joy for this never-ending job was at a low point. I read it and cried. Twice. (I'll include it here, probably breaking all sorts of copyright rules and laws, for those of you also in need of a good reminder to live in the moment.) And then I gave my big girl a big hug, carried her downstairs, really noticed how adorable she is in the bathtub, gave her a foot massage, read her books, and sang to her with a smile on my face. Just in time.

All My Babies Are Gone Now
By Anna Quindlen, Newsweek Columnist and Author
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow, but in disbelief.
I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like.
Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves.
Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach, T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education - all grown obsolete. Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations - what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay.
No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent, this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged?
Was I insane? Last year he went to China . Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine.
He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the "Remember-When-Mom-Did" Hall of Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language - mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed.
The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded, "What did you get wrong?" (She insisted I include that here.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs.
There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.
I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done.
Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.

Jemma's Big Day

Yesterday was a big day for Jemma. First, she ate a puff all by herself! It wasn't so much a classic "pincer" grip that propelled it into her mouth; more like a combination of intense staring, grunting, concentration, and putting her whole fist into her mouth, then releasing the single, soggy puff. But, still, good job, Jemma. We're on our way to self-feeding, which will hopefully make my life much easier.

Later in the afternoon, she also had her first positive experience with outdoor water. While she's always loved her nightly baths, she's cried immediately every time we've so much as dipped her toes into an outdoor pool, lake, or sprinkler. Yesterday, though, she was suddenly crawling right on in to Annie's sprinkler pool, sitting happily in the inch-deep freezing cold water, licking a little spurt as it came out the pool wall, and generally soaking through two diapers and two onesies.

All her "firsts" must have made her tired, because she slept last night from 6:30 until almost 8:00 this morning and then took three unpredictable naps today. During one of those naps, Annie and I were out front, playing (again!) in the sprinkler pool. She was making a stack of these inflatable stars that came with her pool and had arranged them in order from biggest to smallest. When finished, she stepped back, admired her tower, and announced, "I'm very, very pleased with it." Hmmmm . . .

I'm very, very pleased that both girls are in bed at the end of another gorgeous day and I can snatch a few minutes to read my current book, A Thousand Splendid Suns. After Jemma's random napping and the many things Annie needed to do today (Go for a run! Ride tricycle to Jersey Junction! Play in sprinkler pool! Draw all over driveway with sidewalk chalk! Play with sandbox!), it's one of those days where I never put on make-up and can't exactly remember if I even brushed my teeth. (I'm sure my neighbors are beginning to wonder about me - is she letting herself go right before our eyes? On the upside, when I do actually blow-dry my hair and wear make-up, I'm practically stunning in comparison with my usual self . . .) So tired, always so tired. Will this ever change?

Kitchen Karma

My parents had been letting us borrow their play kitchen for a few weeks, but we had to bring it back yesterday when we went to pick up Annie. Even though Annie's been happily playing with it almost every day, they naturally want to keep it at their house so the girls have something to do when they visit Grammy and Bampa's. I've been thinking of getting one to have here at our house all the time, but everything remotely cute I saw in a catalog is upwards of $150, and I just couldn't do it.

After lunch at my parents' and some naps for the girls, we headed to the yearly Doublestein family reunion in Grand Haven at Gary and Linda's. Several hours later, after the requisite sweating, small talk with people whose names I don't know (but should), and chasing Annie around the yard, we departed, much to Jemma's delight. She'd been wanting to fall asleep for at least an hour, and it took her barely two minutes to do so in her carseat. A minute later, I saw a miracle mirage on the side of the road: a kitchen set, $10.00.

"Stop!" I instructed a confused Jason (he spends all his driving time noticing "sharp" cars in the oncoming lane, so he hadn't noticed the kitchen). I hopped out, paid for it, and got a bonus bucket of dishes and food, too. When we got home, I was putting Jemma to sleep in her room while I heard Annie inspecting the new kitchen:

"I'm very, very thanks. I love it!"

So, we've happily acquired a "new" kitchen set, while another family sold the last toy from their garage sale. She's been playing with it all morning, letting Jason and I have our coffee in relative peace. The balance of the universe is in order . . .

The last 24 hours have been amazingly quiet here at the Doublestein house. There has been an absence of running, whining, constant questions, and Laurie Berkner music. I've been able to hear myself think and actually complete tasks I've been procrastinating for weeks: starting to plan our block party, booking a photographer for the girls, babyproofing the kitchen . . . .

The reason for all this? Annie, our whirlwind of energy, has been at my parents' since yesterday morning. For the first few hours, I was calm, serene, and savoring all the quiet (Jemma is a growler, but really, she doesn't make that much noise yet). Then, around 11:00 a.m., Jason and I started actively missing her. We started talking about what she might be doing and even impersonating her:

"Lemme show you somethin.'" "I sink it is." (sink = think in Anniespeak) We even started answering one another's questions with Annie's trademark "sure," which sounds like "sir." By 2:00, I was humming "Baby Beluga" by Raffi under my breath and had called my parents to see what they were up to.

The small break was lovely, but this morning we're ready to head over and see what our Annie is doing today.

Things I'm Loving Today

1. Watching Annie blow bubbles and laugh with joy on our front lawn this afternoon.
2. Watching Jemma watch Annie blow bubbles.
3. Having a glass of good red wine and watching The Office, even if it is a re-run.
4. Listening to the crickets outside and knowing there are still a few, good months of windows-open weather.
5. Shopping for Annie's birthday presents (early, I know - I am becoming my mother) and thinking how much she's going to love them.
6. Smiling at Jemma and watching her grin back, then duck her head in an "I'm so shy" little motion.
7. Anticipating my pedicure tomorrow afternoon.
8. Wearing my new, pink workout shirt from Gazelle's sidewalk sale.
9. Watching Jason pull into the driveway about 40 minutes earlier than expected tonight.
10. Knowing that I have a brand-new book waiting for me downstairs (A Thousand Splendid Suns).

I Take It Back

Did I, a mere 48 hours ago, write about how proud I was of Annie? My, how things have changed . . . today was a struggle - almost every minute, all day long. She had a major meltdown as we left library storytime this morning, had a 1-hour whining/crying temper tantrum when we got home from the library, and could hardly deal with the sad fact that we were not going to "go somewhere" this afternoon. Her demands and complaints are beyond ridiculous. For example:

"Don't eat that pizza cold, Mommy!"
"Make Jemma stop sucking her fingers!"
"Don't talk on the phone!"
"I want to go to Ben's house right now!" (We went there yesterday . . .)
"The sprinker is too cold and wet!" (This, after insisting for 10 minutes that she wanted to run through the sprinkler even though it wasn't that hot out.)
"Don't change Jemma's poopy diaper!"

I'm not sure what's going on with her, but for the past week or so, it's seemed like she's tired in the morning after she's only been up for an hour or two, and it's a struggle to hold off the nap until 12:30. I decided to keep things low-key this afternoon, so we stuck around home, played in the front yard, and did some indoor art projects. Then she had an early bath and got put to bed around 7:15 so she could get a little more sleep tonight. I dashed off to Target and returned home at 8:20 to hear Annie chatting away on her monitor with no signs of stopping. After two visits by me (one nice, one not), I think she is finally asleep at 9:00. So much for an early bedtime! Now, I dread her personality tomorrow.

Jemma spent her day crawling over to anything remotely ladder-like (chairs, baskets, boxes) and trying to pull herself up to standing next to them. This makes me extremely, extremely nervous. Jemma = good at sitting, but not so good at standing. I can't believe she'll be 7 months old on Friday.

Lemme Tell You Somethin'

As you can see in my "What I'm Reading" section, I'm reading a couple new things, and you should all be reading them, too. "I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids" is hilarious, shockingly true, and helpful in a reassuring-me-that-I'm-normal sort of way. There have been a few times that I've actually felt like I have said, word for word, the exact phrases written in the book. I really, really wish I would have read it when Annie was about 1 month old and I was completely, totally sure that my life was over. Good book to give someone who's expecting their first . . .

"Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver is one long, mostly interesting saga of a family (hers) who is trying to live for an entire year on food they grew/raised themselves. The main point here is: Get to your farmer's market as much as possible and quit buying things that had to fly from Ecuador and are covered with pesticide. Makes you want to make better and more responsible food choices for your family, but not really in a guilt-inducing way.

On that note, I'm heading downstairs to read a little more before my head hits the pillow.

So Proud

Starting around 5:00 today, Jemma began having a "spell." She cried off and on through her dinner, screamed when I briefly left the kitchen to go cut some basil, and continued to cry after I gave up feeding her the veggies and puffs. I was carrying her around, patting her back and simultaneously trying to grate some cheese into the pasta when Annie came into the kitchen dragging her most-recently-beloved stuffed animal, a little white lamb.

"I want to share this with Jemma," she announced. I knelt down on the kitchen floor so they could look at each other. Annie smiled at Jemma and offered her the lamb, which she took and put into her mouth. She stopped crying. She smiled at Annie. It was like something from a book, and I loved it. They're going to fight a lot, I'm sure, but they're so lucky to have a sister to make them smile for the rest of their life.

Jemma, by the way, continues to wake up and do a little bit of screaming every half hour or so . . . I've been in with the Tylenol once (teething?) and predict a few more "spells" before the night is over.

Family Dinner

As of noon today (chicken salad sandwiches and sweet potato fries - Annie's favorite), my cooking hiatus is now over. Though it was a nice break, I'm looking forward to making some good things this week. However, meal time at our house has become a circus since Jemma has begun eating regular meals in her highchair.

Planning, shopping for, and preparing a "savory yet nutritious meal" (that's from American Beauty) that's ready at the time Jason walks in the door is difficult enough, but now it's become nearly impossible to even EAT it. Jemma yells, growls, squawks, squeals, bats her hands, sucks her fingers before running them through her hair, and generally tries to do somersaults in her highchair throughout the entire meal. Meanwhile, Annie is over in her corner, eating seven bites of meat, rejecting her vegetables, and requesting "something else." The result is that I eat about three bites of my food and have to finish it later, cold, after the kids have gone to bed.

The best strategy (for my happiness, at least) is for me to feed the girls an early dinner, around 5:00, before Jason gets home and then eat a grown-up meal with him after they go to bed. However, this causes me a great deal of guilt: we're not modeling good table manners; we're not having a lovely discussion about our day; we're not all praying together before we eat; we're not all helping clean up . . . etc. Does the fact that we often have a calm, relaxed breakfast together count? Am I the only person who finds this expectation of "family dinner" so difficult to meet? We'll see how it evolves as Jemma gets bigger . . .

For those of you keeping track of the goals I set for myself this week, I've achieved about half (the running, the early bedtime, and the ringworm). Still haven't done crap with my hair besides put it in a wet ponytail. Must work on that. I have, however, managed to eat almost half a package of Oreo cookies since noon yesterday. Jason insisted on buying them at the store, even though I begged him not to because I absolutely can't resist them once they're in the house. Promising that he'd hide them from me, he put them in the cart. As soon as he left last night, I searched the kitchen for them, found them, and promptly ate about 10. Maybe 11. Plus lots more today.

Favorite moment of today: Annie and Lucy running through the sprinkler in our front yard, screaming with glee, then lying down on a big towel in the driveway, facing each other, giggling. Jemma looked on, semi-interested, but far more pleased with the handfuls of grass she had pulled out of the lawn. Another idyllic afternoon in the neighborhood.

Perfect Summer Weekend

It's only Saturday night, but already I have a smile on my face because it's been such a great, low-key summer weekend (and there's still one day to go!). Starting Thursday night, Jason and I went to the Rascal Flats concert and got to see it from a box that belongs to one of his patients. Frankly, I'm normally not interested in watching a band I've never heard of before if I have to stand up the entire time and be hot, crowded, etc. However, watching almost anyone perform is way more fun when you get to eat, drink, and mingle far above the rest of the world.

On Friday, I went for an early-morning run, then took Jemma to the doctor for her six-month check-up. The stats: 13 lbs, 10 oz; 26 inches (time for the new carseat!); generally healthy except for the ringworm, which is nearly invisible now. I toted along Annie's baby book to show the doctor how I grow runty children and make sure there's nothing I need to be doing to prevent Jemma from becoming a weenie 15-lb. 1-year-old. She promised me that she's not going to freak out and do a failure-to-thrive work-up on what is clearly a normal, happy, healthy baby. Pshew! She couldn't believe that she's crawling already and sitting up so sturdily. (Neither can we. This morning, Jason went in to get her up, and she had pulled herself up to standing in her crib with her thatch of hair sticking over the top rail. Hilarious.)

Yesterday afternoon, we headed to Meijer Gardens with Chris, Sarah, the twins, Connie, Ben and Sam. We were quite the group traipsing from the fountains to the sand pit. Annie and Ben held hands and were completely adorable with each other. Chris and Sarah brought the kids back here and we did the dinner/bathtime/bedtime thing with all 4 kids. Then . . . . sweet silence (except for the occasional squall from Clara). We dragged the dining room table out on the front lawn, lit some candles, opened some wine, and ate sushi until it was completely dark and all the candles had gone out. I felt like some lucky combination of Barefoot Contessa/Giada/Michael Chiarello on the Food Network; it was a fun way to end my cooking-hiatus week!

Today: 6:30 a.m. run with Sarah around the lake, Farmer's Market, a little housecleaning and organizing, a post-lunch nap, took the girls to the pool, hung out in the front lawn and had a short visit from Andrea, David, and Isaac, . . . . now, Jason's off having a guy's night and I'm looking forward to an early bedtime and maybe a glass of wine. We've been so busy all summer that it's refreshing to enjoy an entire weekend just bopping around town and doing what we want, when we want with our little family.

Daddy's Little Girls

For some reason, the girls are really into their daddy right now. Maybe because he's such an all-around great dad; maybe because he usually gives them whatever they ask for . . . at any rate, they're awfully lucky to have him.

This afternoon, we headed to Jason's office to meet him for a family dinner in bustling Grandville. Annie is usually in her element there because all the hygenists and office staff make a big deal out of her clothes, her shoes, her hair, etc. Today, for the first time, she had some competition from Jemma, who was smiling and swinging her arms at everyone while batting her big, blue eyes. Annie ramped it up a little:

"Want to see my toenails?"
No response, lots of looking at/talking to Jemma.

"I have purple toenail polish!"
A few acknowledgments, but still lots of attention for Jemma.

Big breath. "I have purple toenail polish and Miss Heidi and Jonathan came over for lunch today after storytime and I ate his puffs and I'm two and my birthday is in September and I'll be three and then I'll go to school and get so, so big and I went potty on the potty at the garden center and we went to the bank and Mommy had to stop the car really fast so she wouldn't bonk into the truck in front of us!!!!! . . . . "

Thank goodness Daddy got done checking patients then so she could have someone's full attention. Jemma looked all around and started grinning when she heard his voice coming down the hall! We had a yummy (if somewhat rushed) dinner at some Mexican place I don't even know the name of. Jemma required going home and immediately to bed, but we threw Annie's carseat into Jason's car and the two of them went off for a little quality time together at the mall. They rode the merry-go-round and got a strawberry cupcake with pink frosting (and I wonder why she loves her daddy so much . . .).

Sometimes I start to wish away the time, thinking that life/motherhood will eventually get easier or less demanding, but today made me realize that it's such a blessing to be able to do small, spontaneous things like this with all of us. Someday we'll be scheduling around sports practice, homework, boyfriends, and everything else; time like this won't be so easy to come by. So tonight I'm grateful that I was able to have a fun little dinner with my fun little family, and grateful to Jason for being the grown-up across that dinner table who keeps all his girls so happy.

Q & A with Annie

So, Annie's been asking a lot of truly interesting (and difficult) questions lately. It started a couple weeks ago with, "Why do grown-ups have hair on their bottoms?" (Luckily, this very issue is covered in my trusty child-development book, Touchpoints by Dr. Brazelton, so I knew just what to say). She's been more curious and inquisitive every day, and here are a few of the recent stumpers:

-"Why do you do that? It looks like it hurts." (While tweezing my eyebrows. Good point.)
-"Why is poop stinky?"
-"Where's Ben's house?" (This seems easy, but is actually difficult to explain to a 2-year-old.)
-"What does 'warm' mean?"
And then, saving the big one for last:

-"Where is Miss Louise?" Miss Louise, by the way, was our spunky 93-year-old next door neighbor who passed away about 6 weeks ago. I am a little ashamed to admit that I dodged that one by hurrying her into her carseat. I feel like she's too young for the whole dead/alive/heaven conversation! At some point, though, I'm going to have to explain that Miss Louise is not there any more. Any advice, readers? Child psychologists, anyone?

I continue to be on a cooking hiatus this week, which I am thoroughly enjoying. After having a couple weeks where I was very ambitious about making something new and interesting almost every night, I have declared this week my summer cooking vacation. We're eating leftovers, ordering take-out, and generally being lazy in the nutrition department. It's a nice change.

I'm becoming positively giddy because my annual Girls' Weekend with friends from college is coming up in about a month. We're going to be here in GR this year and I'm beside myself just thinking of all the things I always want to do on weekends - we'll have Sunday brunch! We'll sit outside at Kava House and talk! We'll go to the Farmer's Market and cook a big meal after! We'll get pedicures and go shopping without children! Really, anything we do will seem like a big treat just because we're together. I can't wait.

Hands are Not For Hitting

Ah, there's nothing like having the entire playgroup look on as your daughter attempts to hit one of her friends, then succeeds in hitting you in the face when you inform her she's going to have to leave. Such was my life this morning, followed by a tedious drive home as Annie screamed "I don't want to go home!" the whole way, an extended time-out in her room after I literally chased her into the house, and a silent lunch. Halfway through eating her macaroni and cheese, Annie started to pull it together. Here's how she worked it out for herself aloud:

"You didn't hit Luke. You tried to hit Lucy. Then you DID hit Mommy in the face. So you had to have a time-out, hon." (Very patronizing tone for that last.)

Pause.

"We don't hit people. NO. After lunch you'll give Mommy a hug and a kiss and tell her you're sorry. You'll feel better after your nap. Next time you'll make a better choice." Apparently, Annie needs to scold herself in the third person before she's ready to apologize and move forward. Incidentally, we did have a much happier afternoon, wherein she rode her tricycle around the block, apologized to Lucy, blew bubbles for Heidi and Jonathon, drew with sidewalk chalk, and danced to Laurie Berkner.

Through all this, Jemma spit/blew bubbles and pulled out fistfuls of grass. Grass pleases her.

Before Annie's playgroup meltdown, I discovered that others among the playgroup moms are also obsessed with taking pregnancy tests. I'm glad to find that I am not alone on that one, even though it gets to be an expensive hobby . . .

"But I'm Not Tired!"

Tonight was the first night in at least a month that Annie didn't manage to whimper the above words as I was closing her bedroom door. With our day at the beach (not to mention skipping her nap), we wore her out. She was in bed, silent, at 7:05. Jemma followed soon after, leaving Jason and I plenty of grown-up time to enjoy some shredded beef Mexican tacos from Beltline Bar out on the patio.

Jemma was full of wonder at the beach; there was so much for her to look at - seagulls, waves, her sister diving into the sand . . . We were able to see Tony, Leah, and Rowan Clark and hang out at their beach for the afternoon after finalizing things with our renters. Annie and Rowan chased each other around, practiced skim-boarding, and generally shared pretty well while we caught up with Tony and Leah.

In spite of my plan to get to bed early tonight, I've been tempted away by talk of wine on the Bergsma's deck with some neighbors. Maybe tomorrow . . .

Afternoon at the Park

After a fun birthday party this morning (Happy 1st, Carter and Clara!), it was refreshing to go to the park for some much-needed Doublestein family time. Annie played happily, Jason dug in the sand with a little crane, and Jemma looked on from the Baby Bjorn. Then we headed home to cavort with the neighbors, cook dinner, and eat outdoors. I love a good summer Saturday at home!

My goals for this week:

-Do something with my hair besides put it, wet, into a ponytail after my shower.
-Get to bed by 9:00 at least once.
-Run every other day.
-Start planning Annie's birthday party.
-Cure Jemma's ringworm for good! (continued disgusting . . .)
-Finish unpacking the boxes that remain at the top of our stairs.

That should keep me busy. Off to bed. (I'm loving Peace Like a River; so well-written, but quite tragic so far. It reminds me of We Were the Mulvaneys: family torn apart by violent event, stoic father, misunderstood brother . . . good stuff.)

My Little Reader

As I have always hoped, I think I am raising another reading nerd. Annie has pretty much always loved books, but now she is starting to "read" them to us instead of vice versa. Jason's parents are here tonight, so they got to witness the bedtime story before heading off to watch Jason's "gig." Annie was so smug and adorable, all tucked into bed with her doop, holding "Blue Shirt, Green Shirt" by Sandra Boynton. She would read a page, then laugh at herself, then read the next. Then, at the end, she clapped for herself.

Earlier tonight, we had a small crisis at the restaurant. Jason took her to go potty, not noticing that the toilets had automatic flush sensors. (Annie is completely terrified of most loud noises, most especially the car wash and public toilets.) Sure enough, she's sitting there, peeing, when suddenly a huge, loud "Whoosh!" flush comes from beneath her. Then, it happened two more times before Jason could get her out of the stall. She walked back to the table, bawling, and was unable to finish her pizza until I gave her a special sticker I had stashed in the diaper bag for just such emergencies. Poor little thing.

Jemma can now push herself up to sitting from lying down and then sit by herself for a long time, either playing with a toy in front of her or, more commonly, puking a little bit on the floor and then banging her hand into it. Lots of looking around to see what Annie's doing; lots of giggling. I love my girls!

Deep Thoughts . . .

I was thinking today about this blog - who reads it, what I write on it, what Annie and Jemma will think about it someday - and wondering how much to censor what I post. Sometimes I feel like I focus too much on the stressful, difficult, and negative aspects of being a mom (I think because it's my way of processing and dealing with the things I'm struggling with), so I'm hoping the daily recap will let me remember the really great things that happen, too.

Anyway, after much thinking (in my 7-minute drive from Schuler's this morning), I further hope that this will give adult-Annie and -Jemma a realistic glimpse of what being a mom really is: simultaneously the toughest and most rewarding job you can have. I don't want them thinking it's going to be all Dreft-smelling blankets, baking cookies together and Kodak moments. I also don't want them to think it's not worth it, because of course it totally is. When it's good, it's so good that it breaks your heart into tiny pieces, but when it's bad, it really sucks. So, grown-up Annie and Jemma: go for it! (Am I already anticipating grandchildren? Oh, no . . .)

Here's today's All Things Considered (like the NPR junkie that I am): snuck in a few rental-related phone calls this morning while Annie played in her sandbox and Jemma napped, indulged Annie by taking her to Schuler's to play with Thomas the Train and fantasize about which Groovy Girl she wants for her birthday (Trini), dashed into D&W to buy some flank steak for tonight's dinner, did lunch, naps, took Annie to Meijer Gardens while Kelly watched Jemma, cooked dinner, watched Jemma down entire containers of pears and sweet potatoes, bathtime, bedtime, baked cookies, cleaned the living room and laid my new rug (whee!). Whew!

Annie comment of the day:

While outside playing with her sandbox, she started dancing around like she had to pee. Getting her to go inside and do it took about 10 minutes and about 30 re-runs of the same conversation -
Me: "Let's go inside."
Annie: "Why?"
Me: "So you can go potty"
Annie: "Why?"
etc. . . .

Then, as we were finally at the back door and getting ready to go in, she stopped talking/humming/making constant noise for one second, paused, and said with a smile, "I'm being ridiculous!"

Well said.

The Running . . .

So, with all the traveling around the state and the whirlwind packing and moving, I realized today that I hadn't run since last week Tuesday, up north. Yikes! In spite of just having eaten a late dinner that included large quantities of goat cheese (some wrapped in prosciutto and FRIED, no less) and a glass of red wine, I forced myself out the door a little before 9:00 and went around the lake. Just got back and drank 2 glasses of "lemamade."

And now . . . all is right with the world again. The weather was perfect, the sun was setting, and it was quiet around me for the first time today. I really do need that time for myself, alone, outside to think, plan, de-stress, and organize my thoughts. If only I could start doing it in the morning, I think it would give me much more energy and focus for the day. (If only Jemma could stop waking up random times to cry during the night, ruining my sleep and making me unable to get up early and go running.)

Annie and I spent a large portion of this afternoon discussing and investigating whether Breton Road (near our house) was open or closed for construction. We actually had to push our strollers all the way down Argentina (Jemma in mine, Cabbage Patch Gracie in hers) to the corner of Breton and study the "Road Closed" sign for about 10 minutes. Then, Annie had to tell everyone else she saw. She makes this scrunched-up face, shrugs her shoulders, and says, "Breton isn't open! Nope." She is already talking about checking again tomorrow.

Other things Annie is into: playing school, talking about what kind of cake she wants for her birthday party (chocolate with chocolate frosting), asking how things are spelled ("fig" from her Fig Newton today), admiring her purple toenail polish, helping me make "lemamade," and climbing up this big, scary, steep rock-climbing wall thing at the park ALL BY HERSELF.

I pushed Jemma in a swing at the park today. She giggled every single time she came back toward me. She also crawled across the rug in the playroom to get Annie's purple dress-up shoes with the sequins. I think she and Annie are both going to be into shoes (and probably fight over them someday, too).

I'm going to shower and get in bed with my newest book. I'm starting Peace Like a River, an old Oprah bookclub selection. We'll see . . .

I Was a Good Mom Before I Had Kids

This is the hilarious title of a book Connie and I were browsing today at Schuler's during our precious, miraculous concurrent-babysitter hour of talking and magazine-browsing. (We might as well start direct-depositing one of Jason's checks every month to Kelly's account. It is the best money I ever spent.)

Anyway, in the book, some signs that your life was out of your control included lying to friends about how much babysitting help you were getting (see above; substitute "Mom" for "friends" and this is true in my life); fantasizing about browsing the aisles of Target alone as a way to spend your free time (do this on a weekly basis); and watching the clock in the afternoon, ready to pour a glass of wine at 5:00 sharp (Jason and I have been having a drink with dinner quite frequently). Connie bought the book, so I'm looking forward to reading about how I should get control of my life back at some point.

Overall, though, today was a marked improvement over yesterday. Annie was happy and chatty, Jemma took her first decent nap in a week, and I had energy to cook an actual meal (loving Martha Stewart Everyday Food! Pasta with Shrimp and Two-Tomato Sauce!), take the girls to the library, do dishes, and possibly catch up on the laundry for one day.

Jemma is so determined to crawl that she is really navigating across the floor now to get whatever she wants. We're going to have to complete the much-procrastinated baby-proofing project this weekend. She's smiling at strangers everwhere we go and had her hair in a top-ponytail today, looking so much more personish than babyish. I can't believe she is eating baby food, sitting up by herself, and giggling at Annie - she's so big! She'll be one before I know it.

I'm off to pay bills and anticipate what looks like a fantastic thunderstorm coming our way.

Ringworm?!?!

So, today was not really a banner day in the motherhood department. Annie woke up super-whiny and stayed that way pretty much all day, taking a short break to play nicely with some friends in her sprinkler pool outside this afternoon. Then, at playgroup this morning, my neighbor (a nurse) confirmed Connie's earlier suspicions about a strange rash in Jemma's diaper area: ringworm. When I looked it up online during the girls' naptime today, the informative little WebMD/Babycenter/Wikipedia entries kept referring to it being common in African-American children, people with pets, and wrestlers. Ummmm . . . is Jemma secretly a black baby wrestler who owns some phantom pets? Where did it come from? More importantly, how can I make sure it doesn't spread to the rest of the family? Luckily, Josh is calling something in for us (saving me a half-day at the pediatrician's), so now I'll keep my fingers crossed that it remains contained.

On the home front, I literally did not brush my teeth this morning until 10:30 a.m., nor could I find the time to actually BRUSH my hair between getting out of the shower and throwing it in a ponytail. The stuff we've imported from South Haven remains where we set it down yesterday - in boxes, half-unpacked, strewn around the two floors of our house. When, I wonder, will I ever get to all the organizing and unpacking? I feel like I haven't had a mental or physical break since the week before we left for up north. I think I might take a much-needed mommy-break tomorrow when Kelly comes and, instead of heading off on an adventure with Annie, leave both girls with her and go read magazines at the coffee shop. Then, perhaps, I'll be able to muster the energy to actually cook dinner or clean my house tomorrow evening. Right now, I'm off to put Annie to bed and then eat some ice cream before an early bedtime.

Goodnight, sweetheart . . .

After another very long, sweaty day of moving heavy objects and unpacking boxes, I just had the best bathtime and bedtime with my Annie. She's so rarely sweet and cuddly that I really treasure the times when it happens. Jason was off returning the moving truck, Jemma was in bed, and it was just the two of us playing dress-up, painting toenails, pretending to cook sweet potato fries in her kitchen, taking a bath together, and reading stories before I tucked her in.
She made me a "mocha" in the tub and told me to be careful because it was really, really hot. I told her I would blow on it and she said, "Just sip it really, really slowly." And, while we had silly hats and necklaces on in the playroom, she turned to me and said, "I love you, Mommy."

I love our tradition of singing her "Goodnight, sweetheart, well it's time to go . . ." every night at bed. It really makes me stop and notice what a gift she is, even on days when she's been a challenge. Goodnight, sweet Annie!

Farewell, South Haven

We spent the last 24 hours at the old house in South Haven, frantically packing up everything we had left there to make the house show well when we moved out in October. We've found a family to rent it for the next year, so it was time to load up the remaining clothes, furniture, and miscellaneous stuff. We rented a giant U-Haul (all they had left) and solicited my parents to come down for the day to help run interference with the girls while we packed and moved. It was a gorgeous day, the kind of perfect summer beach day that made us a tiny bit sad to leave such a beautiful beach town for good. We even went to the beach for a couple of hours this afternoon (Jemma's first time). Being in the house like that really made me nostalgic for all the precious, good times we did have there - painting the nursery while I was pregnant, bringing Annie home and putting her in the tiny cradle at the foot of our bed, watching all her "firsts" happen in and around that house, running by the beach and watching the sunset . . . even though South Haven, on the whole, wasn't the right place for us, I am sad to give up that house where Annie was our baby.

Now, it's good to be back in EGR on our happy, quiet street with our girls safely asleep in their beds. We realize how blessed and lucky we are to have been able to choose our little community, live in a house we truly love, have fantastic neighbors and great schools.

We're exhausted, and tomorrow holds more work as we begin the unpacking.

The 4th of July

Just returned from our annual 4th of July trip to Petoskey to visit Jason's family. The trips to and from Grand Rapids were a little hellish (Jemma really, really prefers to sleep IN HER CRIB and not in a moving car, so some crying was involved) but it's so great to be able to do all the traditional "up north" 4th of July things that Jason's been doing since he was little. I love thinking that Annie and Jemma are going to grow up with some of those same memories! In spite of the kid schedules, we managed to get Tom's Mom's cookies (twice!), see the Harbor Springs parade, go out on Walloon (even though it was too cold to swim), go for some Gator rides, play at the park at the waterfront, have a fire and make s'mores, and spend lots of time just being outside. Annie and Jemma both slept so well up there (due to utter exhaustion, I'm sure) and were very well-behaved. Jason and I were able to have a grown-up date night dinner at Latitudes and see the Bay Harbor fireworks on July 3rd. We loved seeing our niece in action and watching all the kids learn to play together.

Now, time to try to put the house (and the kids) back together. Today is what my sister-in-law likes to call "Black ______ (fill in the day of the week you return from grandma's), in our case, Thursday. There are mountains of laundry, there's no food in the house, and the kids are going through attention and treat withdrawal. Annie spent the morning following me around, whining, as I tried to unpack, clean the bathroom, and figure out what to make for dinner. Jemma is already suspiciously fussier and didn't nap very long this morning even though she should be extra-tired from her late bedtime last night. Off to do another load of laundry and throw together something for dinner!