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).