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 . . .