Some Days . . .

like yesterday, I have it all together. I drop Annie off at preschool on time, hit the grocery store with Jemma and get everything on my list. I marinate chicken for dinner and make a spectacular satay to go with it. I run to preschool with Jemma in the jogger and run back with both girls in there and they don't even kill each other on the way home. I make lunch, play with the kids, and put them down for naps. I bake a cake for Jason (!) because he has been craving yellow cake with chocolate frosting. I take the girls to the library and somehow get Annie to exit the dress-up clothes without a meltdown. I grill the chicken and get the entire dinner on the table just as Jason pulls in. I do dishes and clean up the kitchen, put the girls to bed, blog, and read my book before falling asleep at 10:00.

like today, I do not have it together at all. I am cocky from my spectacular day before, so I think it would be a good idea to pack the girls up and run a lot of errands first thing in the morning. It is not a good idea. I have to abandon my half-full cart at Bed Bath and Beyond and totally give up on the idea of Russo's (what was I thinking???) because Jemma will not stay seated in a cart. I waste the morning at Schuler's because it's where I promised Annie we could go after the other two stores. I watch Jemma throw 90% of her food on the floor. I lie down at naptime but don't really sleep, which gives me a headache, and wish that I had done the dishes instead. I take the girls outside after naps, but it is freezing. I think I will sneak in a run before dinner, but then Annie insists on having me put her to bed.

I wonder, what kind of a day will it be tomorrow?

Nooooooo

Jemma has learned a new word; it is "noooooo." She mostly uses it to tell herself not to do something naughty either right before or right after doing that naughty thing. In her high chair at lunch today, throwing string cheese on the floor: "Noo no no no." In the front yard this afternoon, running at top speed for the street: "Noooooo" while shaking head. After opening our laundry chute door and dropping her Robeez down to the basement: "No no noooooo." It comes out sounding very low-pitched, like a fog horn, and apparently has absolutely no effect on her behavior. Hilarious.

The World Was Dying to Know

Just taking a quick break from eating Nutella with a spoon right out of the jar to record the conversation Jason and I just had. We were talking about how a bill I paid (and sent weeks ago) mysteriously just came back to us even though it was a pre-printed address.

Jason: "Maybe it was the postal carrier's first day and he couldn't find the office."

Me: "You know that's my secret fantasy job . . . like if you had a random, rote job that would be so easy and meaningless."

Jason: "What?"

Steph: "Yeah, being a mail carrier. Except I'd probably hate it in torrential downpours. Other than that, though, I'd like just walking around outside from house to house at my own pace with my own thoughts and being satisfied when I was all done for the day."

Jason: "Yeah. My job like that is a Subway Sandwich Artist."

What We Have To Say Today

Jemma says: "Please, no more amoxicillin. Ever."

Jason says: "Look! I'm making meatballs. And I've also decided that my hair looks really awesome when it's long, so I'm growing it out. I am a rock star, after all . . ."

Annie says: "Dad! Pretend it's Easter. So YOU hide the eggs with candy, and then I'll go find them. Mom! I need a white dress. I need a white dress that spins to get married in. And you go get me a white dress that spins. Let's play getting married. I'm going to go to sleep in my bed, and then you and Jemma come in and wake me up and say, "It's morning!" and I'll chase you. Can I make a project? I want to make a project. With glue. And glitter and flowers and markers and paint. What are we having for dinner? I don't like garlic in my meatballs. Or onions. I want a treat. Mom, can I have a treat? Dad, may I please have a treat? If I eat ALL my meatballs and pasta, I will have a treat. What is that in the oven? Is that apple crisp? I want apple crisp."

Steph says: "My children exhaust me. For one moment today, every single dish in my house was clean. And then we made meatballs and apple crisp. So please note the large glass of red wine at my place at the table."

The Rash

Jemma is scheduled to see the doctor this afternoon at 3:10, because I really didn't think I could make it through the weekend with her like this without knowing if something is Really Wrong or just A Little Wrong. See, she broke out in a head-to-toe rash on Tuesday. When she had her shots last week, the nurse told me (post-shots, when I was holding a screaming child and trying to placate her traumatized older sister) that it would be totally normal for her to develop a rash 7-10 days after these shots since one of them was varicella, or the chicken pox vaccine. One week later, said rash appears, and I'm not too worried. On Wednesday, the rash was worse, but she wasn't scratching it at all, so I tried to be a normal mom and remain calm. Yesterday, she looked like she had the measels, stopped eating things she normally eats, and wouldn't let me set her down for a second. I called the pediatrician, where a very nice nurse told me it might be:

a reaction to her MMR shot
a reaction to the varicella
a reaction to the amoxicillin, which she's been on for over a week due to the ear infection

Nothing to be done about any of that, apparently. I was somewhat reassured . . . and then, last night, she was up 4 times, each time more upset than the last. All I could do was rock her and hold her and try to settle her back down so she could get some sleep. Today, she is trying to rip off her clothes and whimpering into our shoulders 99% of the time. So, off we go, probably to be told that there's nothing to be done. Poor Jemma. I just want to make her feel better so she can go back to being her happy, stinker self.

And One More Thing . . .

Reason #487 that I love my neighborhood:

The conversation at the end of my driveway today:

Sarah: "Sorry I look disgusting. I waiting for Matt to come home so I can go running and I haven't showered yet today."

Steph: "Me too! Me too! I haven't showered yet, either. And I'm wearing pigtails in my hair . . . what am I, four years old? I'm so sure."

Shelly, wandering over 5 minutes later: "Sorry I'm gross. I haven't showered today -"

Interrupted by Sarah and Steph: "We know! We haven't showered, either!"

And we're okay with that.

Outdoor Water Park

Remember a few weeks ago, when the girls mischeviously created their little indoor water park in the playroom, and I promised them that they could do it outside when the weather got nicer? Well, the weather is nicer. And what started out as a big bowl of water, some cups, and Annie and Jemma became half the neighborhood's children, soaking wet in our front yard. Good times.

Jemma's 15-month Stats

I got to bring Jemma to the doctor two times last week - once for her ear infection, once for her 15-month checkup. She's actually closer to 16 months than 15, but here are her stats:

weight - 18 lbs, 5 oz (5th percentile . . . still rear-facing in the carseat until she breaks 20 lbs)
height - 30 1/2 inches (55th percentile - so tall!)
head - 46 cm (55th percentile)

She had to get 3 shots. PLG.

Thoughts While Running

It was the perfect night for a run. A sample of some of my thoughts while on my circuit around the lake:

-How's Heather? How was Wyatt's birthday? I'm sure there are some good stories involving her mother-in-law. Heather, please share.

-How's Andrea? Has she found out the sex of the new baby yet?

-Everyone in the country needs to read "The Audacity of Hope" by Barack Obama. Okay, I am just finished with the first chapter, but it's that good. And I think (although maybe I'm naively optimistic here) that people would like it regardless of political affiliation. Anyone else out there read it and agree?

-We have new neighbors (in Miss Louise's old house) and they seem great. Very laid-back, low-key, and friendly, with a three-year-old son to throw into the mix of friends on the street. It's strange (in a good way) to look out the kitchen window while doing dishes and see actual people living in that house, playing in that driveway. Hopefully Annie can keep the knock-down, drag-out time-out temper tantrums to a minimum this summer . . .

-Four days with my parents was just the right amount of time. Any longer might have driven me crazy, since their main topics of conversation in Florida include: gas prices, road names and locations, traffic and weather conditions, food they have eaten or are going to eat, what the birds are doing, what the tides are doing, e-mails they've received.

-The amazingly warm weather is . . . amazing. It's so great to be able to wander outside post-naps and have the girls be happy and entertained for 2 hours or more. However, I may never manage to cook dinner again. I keep stumbling into the house at 5:08 p.m., dragging two dirty children, to survey the kitchen and think, Hmmmm, what will I make for dinner? I need ideas for meals that I can make ahead during naptime and then quickly whip out at 5:15 to keep the family happy. Anyone?

Coming Home

Annie and I came home from Florida yesterday. She woke up at 6:02 a.m. and our flight schedule didn't allow time for her usual afternoon nap/rest time, so she was in rough shape already by the time we got to the airport at 2:00. I was planning on using all the bribery tools at my disposal (DVDs, strawberry Mentos, suckers, stickers . . .) and then, mysteriously, we got assigned seats in the first class cabin!

Reasons why I love flying first class:

-the seats are huge
-they serve you actual, hot food
-alcohol
-you get your own bathroom

I am not sure that the many wealthy, middle-aged businessmen who occupied the seats around us were thrilled about our presence, but I certainly was. Eating the meal burned up about an hour of time. Also, we took full advantage of the bathroom access to go three times (again. Annie refuses to go in airports because the toilets flush by themselves, so she saves it all up for when she gets on the plane. Two people do not easily fit inside the airplane bathroom.)

Annie had the biggest smile and hug for Jason when he pulled up to the curb to get us last night at 8:30. Then she fell asleep in the car on the way home, PLG, and missed taking in the gorgeous signs of spring all around us. It was 70 degrees at 9:00 p.m., the daffodils are out, the neighbors are everywhere, and it's officially good to be back on my splendid little street with my whole family tucked under one roof again.

This morning, it was back to life as usual, except for our breakfast with Jemma. She spent the whole meal looking from me to Annie and back again, pausing between bites of waffle to laugh happily and clap her hands. She missed us, I think, and was glad to have us back. I loved holding her on my hip and kissing her chubby cheek, tucking her in to bed tonight, and watching her toddle down the sidewalk this afternoon. I guess I owe her a trip someday, too, just the two of us . . .

Florida

Annie and I just spent 4 glorious days in Fort Myers Beach, Florida with my parents. The trip was a first in many ways (Annie's first time flying, my first time vacationing with my parents since being married, Annie's first experience with the ocean, our first time sharing a bedroom) and it was nearly perfect in every sense of the word.

We woke her up bright and early (5:10 a.m.) on Thursday morning to leave for the airport. The minute I touched her cheek, she started climbing out of bed to get dressed. On the way to the airport, she was making strange, fake-whimpering sounds. I asked her what was wrong. "I'm crying in a happy way, Mommy."

The flights were easy and Annie was a champ, charming grandmothers left and right and singing to herself throughout. She loved looking down at the clouds ("It looks like snow!") and the fact that she got to drink her own can of Sprite. (This resulted in three trips to the airplane lavatory . . .)

We changed into bathing suits and walked to the beach the minute we got to the condo. Watching her run down the shore, laughing, splashing in the waves, holding my parents hands: all I could think was, I'm so glad I can give these memories to them. I'm as guilty as anyone of functioning as though my parents will be around for a long, long time. I know they'll be gone someday, of course, but in my mind that "day" is always 20 or 30 years in the future. Then, things happen to the parents of my friends, and I realize that this moment is all we have. Seeing the joy that Annie's presence brought to my mom and dad made all the planning and packing worthwhile.

It was so refreshing to be somewhere away for a few days - I didn't check e-mail, look at the computer, talk much on the phone, watch news, read papers, or really think about anything at all except what we should eat and when we should re-apply sunscreen. Even though 95% of my time was spent with Annie at my side (and I loved that I could give her lots of one-on-one attention), the time away was relaxing for me, too. One afternoon, my parents stayed inside while Annie napped and I read a magazine on the beach for a couple hours; another time, I went for a long walk with my feet in the waves and just thought about all the things I have to be grateful for.

Things we did: got ice cream, played in the ocean every day, found tons of shells, built sandcastles, went to the zoo, went out for dinner but ate all other meals on the deck looking at the ocean, played Memory and Go Fish, swam in the pool, watched the sunset every night, grilled cheeseburgers and cooked corn on the cob, missed "my Daddy and my Jemma," drank cherry Slurpees on the beach, watched the pelicans and dolphins, laughed at each other, took pictures.

Every morning, Annie woke me up between 6:00 and 6:30 a.m. by squirming up into the twin bed I occupied next to hers.

"Hi, Pippi," I'd say. "What do you want to do today?" She'd announce something - swim, eat an English muffin, get ice cream, go for a walk, look for shells. And the best part of the trip, in my opinion, was that I could say, every single time, "Okay, we can do that."

Ready, Set, Go!

I am going to make up for my lack of recent posting and share my many thoughts with the blogosphere with a blogging marathon, beginning now.

Go!

My Sister's Keeper

In the midst of what is finally (finally!) a week of gorgeous spring weather, I have been frantically trying to get ready to go to Florida on Thursday with Annie. She's so very excited, and so am I. It's just all the little things that need to be done before we go that are getting to me . . . stock the house with groceries for my mother-in-law (who is watching Jemma), clean (obviously), pack, pack more, pack a giant bag of distractionary items for the airplane, take Jemma to the doctor to find out that she has an ear infection, run a little, pay bills, do laundry, take books back to the library, do a Target run, pack . . .

So I am obviously doing a lot of lying awake in the middle of the night, wondering if I'm forgetting something and worrying about what might happen in my absence. Healthy, I know. (Sidebar: Connie and I had a conversation yesterday about how we are becoming crazy, and, more specifically, crazy like our mothers. We wondered if it's our age or our kids that's making us crazy; we decided it's the kids.)

And then, I started reading a new book: My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult (thanks, Heidi). Nothing like a book where someone's daughter is terminally ill to really pull things into perspective. And even though it's sometimes actually painful to read, I need this sort of thing from time to time, like a little wake-up call to my mommy side that reminds me that each second is truly so precious with my girls. I have a feeling that there's going to be some reading-while-weeping going on in my side of the bed for the next few nights. But in the meantime, I've regained a little more patience and am trying to just enjoy the sunshine here before journeying to Florida and enjoying the sunshine there. Less worrying, more sunshine. A good motto for spring 2008, I think.

White Trash Date Night

Taking advantage of this week's 8-5 work schedule at the office, Jason and I had a spontaneous little date night last night after he got out of work. He met me at the Beltline Bar, which, sadly, has sort of become our "go-to" place for a dinner out when we don't want to spend $80. I say sadly because, as authentic Mexican food goes, it's an institution, but it isn't really REAL Mexican food. (At least, not the deep-fried shredded beef tacos that we love . . . )

I digress. We met at the bar, ordered margaritas (which are really worth the $8.95 because they are full of good tequila), took two sips, and immediately became drunk. We also became the beneficiaries of an Oberon promotion that was going on. I declined the offer of a free beer from the rep (since adding that to my potent margarita would have been teetering on the brink of drunk driving), but I did get a lovely t-shirt. It's orange, and it says, right across the boobs, "Quit staring and buy me an Oberon." Presumably, the wearer of this shirt would have something impressive going on in the boob area. I should probably not wear this t-shirt; it would be confusing.

We then enjoyed a huge, satisfyingly-high-in-fat-and-calories dinner, actually got to catch up with each other without being interrupted, and paused occasionally so Jason could fully appreciate the fact that the Beltline Bar always plays the 80's Channel on their satellite radio.

We got home just in time to put Annie to bed for the night (Jemma was already happily sleeping) and then discovered, to our glee, that a Rock of Love 2 episode that we missed last week was being re-run. I confess here that I need to add this show to the list of TV shows I should never, ever admit to watching but deeply love anyway (also on this list is the O.C., may it rest in peace). In spite of the extreme trashiness of the show and all the women on it, I have somehow come to admire and respect Bret Michaels as a funny, intelligent person. I think it's because he used the words "conundrum" and "enigma" in the same episode. Good vocabulary. So we watched it, happily, and went to bed, full of Mexican food and tequila, plus some Marie Catrib's chocolate pudding for dessert.

Thus ended our white trash date night. We were very happy.

A Collage of Pictures

Because I am now a delinquent blogger, I will attempt to make up for my lack of good posting by providing a collage of recent pictures of the girls. Included: dyeing Easter eggs a couple weeks ago, the girls in their matching spring dresses, our hike last weekend to the Saugatuck dunes to glimpse Lake Michigan and dream of actually going in it, Annie and Ben dancing a la Cinderella and the Prince this morning at playgroup, and a recent shot of Jemma eating goldfish fresh from her nap. Enjoy!

The World According to Jemma

1. When I bring you my boots and coat, it's time to go outside and play. Preferably within 30 seconds.

2. Dinner is at 5:00 sharp. To remind you, I'll begin crying, clinging to your legs, and climbing you in the kitchen at 4:30. Do not try to buy me off with Cheerios. I want actual food.

3. Snack times, as well, are to be strictly observed. I will let you know when those times are by pounding on the snack cabinet, yelling, "Nack nack," and nodding my head vigorously.

4. All birds are ducks. They say, "Duck, duck."

5. All dogs are hilarious, exciting, and must be touched.

6. Music is good. Please join me in clapping after every song.

7. My main job during the day is called Redistributing Things Around The House. Please don't interfere with this; if you try to put things back (underwear from the laundry hamper, high-heel shoes, toys, books), I will just get them out again right away.

8. I love to cuddle. Please be prepared to stop whatever you are doing during the day to give me a hug. Also, I need a hug from you when you get home. And before bed. And after each meal. And . . .