Little Miss Big Stuff

I know it is not right to compare siblings.  Right?  Isn't that not right? I guess I don't actually know that you're not supposed to compare, but I think I might have read it one time in a magazine or something.  Don't compare.  But look, I can't help it.  The are so alike! They are so very different!
It's just one more way for me to obsess over every tiny detail of my children and be awed and amazed and celebratory over all of it.  And Peanuts that is what I do best, is it not? Or we wouldn't all be here.
So I compare.  For example:
Sleeping- Little One, colic, hated sleeping alone.  Little Miss, sleeping through the night, happy as a clam in Her cradle.
Tummy Time- Little One, so strong as a newborn, pushing up to holler at me.  Little Miss, who gives one half-hearted effort at lifting Her head and then curls up and passes out. 
Diapers - Little One had me wondering what all the parents complained about.  Miss, going through ALL the cloth diapers every day. 
Cuddles- Little One had to be right up under my chin, trying to wiggle right through me to the other side.  She could never get close enough.  Little Miss hates that. She needs Her head up over your shoulder, to see the world.  She's not a huge cuddler, exactly, but just wants to be held, toted around. 
Toys -  Little One loved the bounce chair.  Miss barely tolerates it.
Babble- At this age, Little One was already cooing and squealing all the livelong day. A sign of things to come, I suppose.  Miss is a bit more chill.  She only coos when spoken to, but then She's all smiles and giggles. 
But the biggest difference? The one I can just not get over?  The one I keep mentioning to everyone I see because my goodness how can these two be related and be so un-alike?
Let me just demonstrate.
Here is Little Miss, two months old now. 

Isn't She cute?  Aw.  Look at that adorable little dress.  Yes.  The dress. 
Now, here is Little One.

In the exact same dress.  NINE AND A HALF months old.
And not filling it out quite as nicely as miss does, I might add. 
One thing they will always have in common, though, as far as I'm concerned? Both just perfect.

Lost and Found

When J and I came back from Ethiopia, we came back with four kids.
We were bringing them to their new adoptive families.  The trip was pretty amazing.  Not just because EVERYTHING went wrong and we still had the best time of our lives, but because we got to see the world through such new eyes.  Things like escalators and elevators and plastic forks, headphones and cabin lights, seat belts and automatically flushing toilets were incredible wonders.  Flying through the air was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.  Everything was curious.  Where do the bags go when they disappear into the wall on that moving belt?  What is the point of walking through a doorway when there are no walls around it?  Where are all these people going?
The children, who had never seen any of this before, had no idea what crazy thing would be coming next, and could barely understand a word anyone around them said, were amazingly flexible and brave.  FAR more than any adult I know would have been.
Immigration gave us a hard time.  So we missed a flight and got stuck, camped on a dark, empty terminal floor until J finally found someone to help us.  We took a shuttle bus. Spent some time in a hotel lobby.  Another bus, to another hotel.  Just a few hours later, woke the kids up for another bus, another plane.  They didn't understand where we were going, why, when it would ever end, when they could sleep.  They just trusted.
They followed us around, their lives in our hands.  Though we'd only known them a matter of weeks, their world revolved around us for those four days.  And ours revolved around them.
Which made it really hard to let them go when it was all over.  Despite the joy of seeing them in their families, it was a bittersweet thing to have to say goodbye and continue our journey with the overly quiet company of just each other. 
Three of the four kids were siblings being adopted into one awesome family.  We were lucky enough to get to spend some time with them at the airport, getting to know the family and sharing what we knew.  The little one is a picky eater. But she'll never turn down a banana.  The middle one needs a hand to hold when anything is new.  The older one wanders, keep an eye on him.  Enjoy the giardia. ha.  We are lucky enough that we still hear updates from this family, keeping in touch through christmas cards and the occasional letter.   
But the oldest of the bunch, an 8 year old girl, was going on her own way. 
When we arrived in DC, there was a rush of hugs and tears and where is the blue backpack? Where are his visa papers? Someone needs to pee!  Smile for the camera! And suddenly I turned around and her new mother had her by the hand. 
I'm a teacher, she said.  I've learned that the best way to handle these things is to just walk away quick. Thanks.
And then she did. By the time her words sunk in and I blinked, she was halfway down the corridor. The little girl trailing behind, pulled gently by the hand.  Looking back at us. Crying. 
Maybe the mom was right. But that image has haunted me sometimes.  I have always regretted the fact that I didn't really get to say goodbye. Didn't step away from the rush in time to reassure her, hug her.  We've always wondered what became of her.  Did she like her school? Did she get her cavity filled? Is she happy? She comes up sometimes.  But she was gone so fast, there was no time to give her mom our email, no time to blurt out "keep in touch!" No way to know where she might be. 
Except we forgot about the pictures.
The kids at the home loved seeing pictures of themselves, it was a novelty.  So as a parting gift and to help them remember us, J and I had our picture taken with every child. We gave them each a copy of their photo with us, and on the back we wrote a note to the child and included our email. 
The kids treated them like baseball cards.  They traded with their friends, they traded other small treasures to collect more than one, they hid them away in secret places.  By the time we left just a couple days later, not many of the kids still had the picture we had given them.  It made us laugh. 
So we never considered the fact that this little girl we had brought to America and watched walk away might have kept hers. 
But she did.
And a few days ago, a little miracle arrived in my inbox. 
Do you remember me? She asked.  I remember you.  She told us about her life, her mom and her friends and her trip back to Ethiopia where she survived a car crash. She likes to play volleyball.  She gets good grades.
Thank you for bringing me here, she said.  Thank you. 
We've emailed back and forth now and it's come to light that the confusion and fear I thought I saw on her face as she was leaving us was real.  Somewhere between the language barrier and the overwhelming-ness of a journey across the world, there had been a terrible misunderstanding.
She had thought that J and I were her parents.
Until suddenly a stranger was leading her away into the giant, engulfing unknown.  I can't imagine.
What I can tell from her emails is that she and her mom are close, that she has great friends, and that she has grown to be a very eloquent young lady.  I'm happy for those things and for the open line of communication to learn more about this person who was a part of our lives for such a short but intense time. 
Isn't it amazing how sometimes the smallest moments can hit you so hard that they leave a dent forever?  Isn't it crazy how some people orbit around in your life for years without being noticed much, and some just brush past you but in doing so change you to your core?  And isn't it incredible how the world is so big, so full to teeming and busy and spinning that we sometimes lose each other.  But then sometimes, find each other again.   

Zoo Isms

When the weather started warming up, we took advantage by taking the girls out to the National Zoo.
The cheetahs in this zoo are imprisoned under cruel and unusual punishment.  Somebody ought to get PETA or Amnesty on this.  They are tortured all day.  Their enclosure is right next to- like sharing a fence with- the zebras.  And it's not a wall, it's a fence.  So the cheetahs can see them, even walk right up to them (and those cheeky zebras know the fence is there. The were hanging out grazing right up against the division, just to rub it in) but they cant get to them. 
When we arrived, a poor tortured cheetah was pacing, wearing a rut in the earth by the zebras. 

Little One: "I see a chee-tah! What him doin', Dada?"
J: "I think he's looking at the zebras over there".
LO: "Yeah! Cheetah is sayin', 'Hi zebra! Hi guys! Come here, want pat you!"

...Yeah...I'm sure that's what the Cheetah wanted.  To pat the zebras. It's possible. Maybe the cheetahs are going veg like this alligator here, having his salad for lunch.  

Or maybe that's his clever camouflage for hunting tourists. 
Well the gator and the cheetah weren't the only ones that suffered disappointment that day.  Near the Alligator, we saw a Komodo Dragon.
I was a bit behind Little One and J, so when I caught up to them at the glass, I asked,
"whatcha looking at now, Little One?"
She replied with Her arms out wide, the answer was so big. "Mommy! DRAGON!"
But Her arms fell limp then, as She turned back to the reptile looking a bit bewildered, looking disappointed. 
"But Mommy... is not flyin'!  No is flying with wings in the sky, Mommy.  This dragon jus'...sittin' there."

We cheered Her up by going to see the lion cubs and listed to daddy lion roar.  He was impressive. 

 

See?  She's Impressed.

The Magic of Glen Echo

Glen Echo is an awesome park which used to be an amusement park back in the 20's.  None of the rides are still there except the carousel, which still runs with the original calliope and has been gorgeously restored. 
The rest of the park is re-purposed, but it's still a great place to take a kids on a nice afternoon.
We had a great time there on Family Day, when they opened up the park and had lots of special activities and presentations. 
I should say, Little One went- on a date- I and chaperoned.  She flirted shamelessly with O, rode the carousel, tore around the playground, played T-ball, played with musical instruments and puppets, watched magic and comedy shows, was awed by the Irish dancers, hula-hooped, did arts and crafts, and generally ran amok. 
Her favorite part I think was this interactive folk dance workshop, where She kept up with the big kids and grinned and laughed the whole time.
When these other girls invited Her to join their little circle, She just beamed.  It's amazing how even though She is so little, it is so good for my heart to see Her feeling included and making friends.  And having such a blast. We stayed over 5 hours. 
But.  I do have to say that magic shows are maybe not the best entertainment for two year olds.  It might inspire them.  And the problem is that two year olds really are magic. 
It's true!  For example.  If they put a piece of, oh I dunno, pear perhaps, into- for instance- their EAR, guess what!? It really will disappear.  It will!
Good thing we have a magic Daddy with a magic dr. kit at home to make it re-appear.  Because we almost spent a magic few hours in the ER for a piece of pear.
I guess I should just be grateful it wasn't a bunny.

Little One Knows All The VIPs

Last month, J was blessed with an "elective" rotation.  Two weeks in which, other than some mandatory meetings, and one day he volunteered to work for a friend (is it me, or is volunteering to work for your friend always a really nice thing to do...except on your anniversary? Hmm) he was allowed to choose what he wanted to do with his work time.
He could elect to spend some extra time in the ICU, for example, or in cardiology perhaps.  Lucky for me, he 'elected' to stay home.  Woo hoo!
I'm not going to lie.  We are losers a little bit, and spent a lot of that time doing chores and projects around the house.  But J did get to do some fun things with friends,  I had some time to myself, and we had some good family fun too.
One Thursday, for example, we had a great day in the city.

Lincoln's Hat

We took both girls into DC and spent the morning at the American History Museum.

The Greensboro Sit-In Counter!

Waiting for the bus

Then we had lunch at the Old Post Office Pavillion,

Old Post Office Pavilion

And spent the afternoon flying a kite on the Washington Monument Hill.

The weather was rainy in the morning, and gorgeous with a nice breeze in the afternoon, just perfect for us.  And lucky for us, the tornadoes that hit Maryland that day missed us by miles.

It was nice just being together all day, and Little One in particular just had a blast. 
At the "mews-wee-um" we got to see the original star-spangled banner, a really cool exhibit on transportation with actual trains, busses, boats, and cars, and a visiting exhibit about Abraham Lincoln.
Little One entertained Herself by trying to pick out which of the pictures on each wall was "Ween-kin".  The mole was kind of a giveaway.
Although She really doesn't understand yet who Abe Lincoln is, She surprised us by informing us that She does have the inside scoop on another member of that presidential family.

Little One: "and Mamma, who that?"
C: "That's his wife, Mary Lincoln."
LO: "Mary?"
C: "Yes, Mary Lincoln." 
LO: "OH! Mommy, I know her!"
C: "You do?"
LO: "Oh! Yes! I know this girl! This MARY! Have a little lamb."  

2 months

What the? Was there a month that just happened? Where is it? Did you see it?  It just flashed by!  I find it hard to believe that whole month really was here and left before I even noticed it, but the calendar says that Little Miss is Two Months Old, and so I guess it did.
Miss has been busy this month, growing mostly. 
She has developed these absolutely fabulous rolls in Her thighs which give Her the appearance of a nice round dumpling.  Her newborn rash is gone, thankfully, and Her dimples (on both sets of cheeks) are in full heart-melting effect. 
In the last month, Little Miss has been working hard at becoming a Baby, instead of a larval newborn, and has made some serious efforts in three areas:
One- communications. 
This girl wants so much to just have a nice chat about the weather. Or whatever.  She focuses hard on your mouth as you speak, furrows Her brow in concentration, shapes Her lips in whatever shape yours are in- or as close as She can get them- and then coos.  She has the coo!
In Her case, it mostly goes, "Ah-goo!"  and then She grins in pride. 
And She grins a lot.  This is one smiley baby.  All She really needs is eye contact and a hello to break out the dimples.  Sing a song, make funny noises/faces, or laugh at something and She will add full-body giggles to the smile.  Little One still holds the record for most baby smiles and giggles racked up, but we've all been lucky enough to experience them.  It's like having rays of sunshine beam in through your eyes and shoot through to your toes and out your fingertips, just filling you with light. Is there anything better than hearing your child laugh?  No.  Even really good chocolate can just not compete.  
Two- Physical attention.
"Hey! Hey look at me! I'm awake! I'm all big and two months old, and I don't just sleep all the time anymore!  I'd like to be entertained now please or preferably cuddled.  Oooohh....in fact, cuddled.  Yes.  Only that will do.  Cuddle me or I will crinkle up in a pathetic, sad-faced little heap and pop out my trembly lip and actually say, 'Waah!'" 
Little Miss wants only one thing in life, really, which is just to be carried around. 
My mei tai is an absolute life essential to me at this point.  Without it no meals would get made, no laundry or housekeeping done, no swings pushed at the playground, nada.   It frees up my hands and also tranquilizes Little Miss, who can't seem to stay awake in that thing for longer than 2 minute stretches, max.  She looooves it.  Especially if I put Her in so that Her head flops back a little.  Enough for Her to be really comfy and for strangers at the market to warn me that Her head is falling off.
Three- Schedules.
Little Miss doesn't know what the matter is with us disorganized people that we just make things all up as we go.  Because She, for one, would prefer to have a PDA and digital alarm and stick to the schedule people!  With no help from me- except that I just sort of go with it- Little Miss has sorted Herself into a very regular bed time- (extra cuddles DEMANDED at 8pm, out cold in the cradle by 8:30) and sleeps through the night until I wake Her to feed at 4:30.  Then back to sleep till 6:30. 
She has also chosen regular nap times, which I would be wise to encourage, but I tend to ignore when I have other plans.  Bad C!  Because if Little Miss had Her way, She would take a nice solid nap at 9:30 and at 2pm (when Little One sleeps) every day, besides Her carrier-comas.  She'd rather be rocked to sleep, but She's perfectly happy to just be put down with a pacifier.  Sleep times are an exception to the cuddle me all day rule. 
Oh, but the pacifier.  Consider this foreshadowing.  I think this friendly little piece of plastic will become a formidable enemy in the future.  I hope I'm wrong.  But you can go ahead and mark those words, Peanuts, because I see an addiction coming on.  She displays several of the signs already.  We'll see. 
Other than that lurking shadow, though, we are sailing through the weeks because Little Miss is such a breeze.  Not that I'm biased, but She really is the easiest baby I've ever cared for, and ties Her sister for the most fun.  At two months, I finally feel like I'm getting the hang of two Littles, and we have evolved a new 'normal' in the By The Way household.  I can honestly say that I am having the time of my life.  Happy Birthday, Little Miss!  You are two wonderful. 

Must Be Nice

Recently, at a family function, a nameless person who may or may not be related to me by blood or marriage was commiserating with fellow working moms about the dumbness of bosses.  She turned to me and made the following statement,

 "I guess you caught yourself a rich doctor, good for you. Must be nice.  Must be nice to be able to just stay home and do whatever you want".  

A lot of things flashed through my head. Most of them started with, "actually".
Like: Actually, I caught myself an accounting clerk. 
Actually, he's been a student the whole time I've known him- and we make ends meet- but I'm a long, long way from hiring myself a cabana boy.
Actually, I don't get to do whatever I want.  I'm too busy doing a job that you pay other people to do.  Only, actually, I don't get vacation time. Or sick days.  Or lunch breaks. Or bathroom breaks.
Actually I handle a lot of poo and slobber and it's not that glamorous.
Actually, J works really hard to become a doctor.  So hard that I barely see him.  So hard that he leaves while it's still dark and might not get home until 9 at night, if he gets to come home for the night at all. Which he often doesn't, even on weekends.  And sometimes he is gone altogether for weeks and weeks at a time.
So, actually, the majority of the time I am effectively a single parent, and might go days without having even one adult conversation, or leaving the house, and I have to scrub random stains out of a white coat regularly which really grosses me out and if you think we haven't both paid our dues towards this whole "doctor" business think again. Missy.
Actually. Staying home with kids can be exhausting, mind-numbing, even degrading, and having a husband in medical school can be isolating, frustrating, and stressful.  Actually, it's not exactly a vacation.
Sometimes I think it must be nice to get to wear good clothes and drink a cup of coffee during a quiet commute in the morning.  To get to use your intelligence and education to achieve something that wont be literally eaten the next time you dare to attempt a phone call. Must be nice to be able to take a phone call.  Sometimes I think it must be nice to have co-workers to talk to, about anything that is not Dora the freaking Explorer.
Must be nice to eat dinner with your husband, or to see him at all while you are both conscious. Must be nice to let someone else take over the potty training, the picking up the same puzzle 500 times, the wiping of snot, the answering of "why" for awhile.  And I can't remember, but I bet it must be really nice to go into a restroom, close the door, and pee. All by yourself.  Actually.
I thought all these things in just a flash, Peanuts, I did.  But you know, that was a loaded comment she shot me.  It was, and I decided, hey. Forget all that canned and trite "staying home is work too" business.  I decided to really give her a piece of my mind. And I did! I was brutally honest.  I said, 
"Actually. Yes! It is."

Wishfull Thinking

This morning at breakfast:

Little One: "Whatcha got in there, mamma? This a nut?"

C: "Yes, it is. Don't get too close."

Little One: "What his name this kin-da nut?"

C: "It's an almond."

LO: "Oooh. A all-mon.  I can't have this, mommy?"

C: "No, Little One.  I'm sorry, but you can't have it. It is a nut."

LO (hopefully): "I can han have this when I grow up bigger mommy!"

C(as brightly as possible): "I sure hope so!"

LO (downcast): "I can't try this all-mon now.  I'm still jus' too wittle."

C: "Well, that's true.  But you can eat lots of other yummy things. And you are growing! You're getting bigger all the time! If you eat your good food and drink your milk, you'll just keep growing and growing!"

LO (cheered): "Thas' right mommy! I can eat my good breakfast! I can grow tall like the wall, and then I can sometime get all growed up, maybe eat a nut!" 


I hope so.  The odds are not good, that She will be able to eat nuts or grow as tall as the wall.  But then again, odds are really just a benchmark, right? Something to give us a tangible and finite goal. To surpass.

Easter

Our Easter was like a plastic egg crammed with peeps and cadburry mini-eggs.  It was jam-packed, and very sweet.
The day before Easter we went to a big carnival/Easter party on base.  Little One did actually get to pat several Easter bunnies, which was a big highlight for Her.
She played some games and won prizes, gathered up lots of eggs, and even.  And even got to eat something you are all going to just die when you hear I allowed Her to eat.

Oh yes.  Three years ago, if you had shown me this scene from the future, I'd have popped you one and called you a liar.  But what can I say?  It was a carnival. She loved it.  I'm not even sorry.
The next day we got up early and got on our "princess ballerina" clothes and went to church.  But not just any church! We went to mass at the National Cathedral, which we have always wanted to do.  It is really a breathtaking building, and the service was beautiful.
We got there just before it started and it was full of good Holiday Catholics.  But thanks to the cuteness of the Littles in their princess ballerina dresses, an usher motioned to us secretively and brought us up to some seats right in front of the altar.  Little One like the songs, She liked the banners flying during the processional, She loved the giant organ.  She deeply appreciated the huge silver urns used for pouring the communion wine.  These guys tea party in style. She did well behaving, considering the early hour and skipped breakfast.  In the end, She said She'd have preferred a playground with swings and a sand box to that fancy "singing show", but it was still a grand experience for all of us. Even Little Miss, who slept through the whole thing.

After, J surprised all his girls by taking us out to breakfast. Despite the fact that something (we're guessing Her fruit salad shared a cutting board or knife with some strawberries) gave Little One some massive hives and a puffy eye, we all enjoyed the patio and lovely weather and the yummy organic food.  Little One especially loved that dogs were allowed on the patio and that She was allowed to wander into the courtyard to dance and twirl in Her dress.

We went home and found that the Easter Bunny had visited, despite our dogs standing guard.  Little One opened Her basket, and hunted eggs in the back yard, exclaiming "EGG!" every time She found one.

 

After a quick lunch we packed up and drove down to Southern Maryland for Js family Easter party.  Another giant egg hunt, another goody-filled basket, more candy than could ever be consumed by anyone, and as much yummy food.  Little One had a great time playing with Her cousins, and after hunting eggs, exploring the farm, chasing peacocks, jumping on a trampoline, and making "pies" in the sand box, the princess dress definitely got its use. 

Little Miss was passed from aunt to aunt all afternoon. I barely held Her but She was never put down for a minute, so She was a happy little bunny too.
J and I had a great time eating too much and talking with family.  We drove over to visit his grandmother and introduced Her to Little Miss before finally heading home. We tucked our Easter princesses into bed around 1am.
And ate their candy.

Hope that yours was happy, too!

Warning: An Animal Was Harmed In The Making of This Post

Out walking in DC the other day, a terrible thing happened.
If you know me, you know how poorly I handle these kinds of things.  It was a squirrel.
A little black one.  It was crossing the road.
 The SUV didn't bother to slow down. Didn't bother to swerve a tiny bit.  It just ran over the little squirrel and barreled right on.
Why do people do that, Peanuts? I will never understand.  How could anyone cause an innocent living thing pain and suffering and just not care? I'll never get it.
In Maryland, there is a wildlife rescue center I can call when things like this happen.  I have their emergency number in my glove box.  I have been known to scoop critters up and rush them to animal hospitals.  But I don't have such a number for DC wildlife, and there are risks of bites and diseases and frightening when the babies are around.
So I watched it happen, and the car drive away, watched the little thing struggle to the edge of the street, and try over and over to jump up the curb. Too injured to make it.  I should have done something, Peanuts.  Something.  But I didn't know what to do, and I knew I wouldn't save it.  So I froze.  I stood there with my eyes wide and my hands over my mouth (don't ask me why I do that when I'm horrified, I just do) and did something that was of no use at all to the squirrel or anyone else. 
I cried.
Little One saw me, and it scared Her.
"Mommy! Mommy you cryin? Oh mommy! What matter?! What happen mommy!?! Mommy mommy, come here.  Come! Mommy come here, hold mine hand!"
J saw how worried She was, and lifted Her from the stroller, held Her to me so I could comfort Her worry.  She reached out.
I folded Her in, resting Her on my left hip, Her leg tucked right up underneath Little Miss in the front pack.  She wrapped Her arms around my neck, leaned Her head against my ear, and crooned to me.
"Mommy, mommy, there.  It ok, mommy.  You be ok mommy. I'm here."
She was patting my back.  
"Mommy, it's ok this quir-rel.  You can pet some doggies! You can sometime pet a kitty, mommy.  You can pat mine ducky! And...and...you can have a candy.  You can.  You can have some water, like this, from this little bottle here, mine bottle.  I can share it you mommy, you can just have that.  And mommy you can have a flow-er! Can have a big,  TWO flowers!  And we can do some dancin'."
She put Her left hand on my cheek and turned my face to look at Her.
"I can dance wif you momma.  And you can snuggle with Little Miss.  You can."
She looked me square in the eye.   
"See, mommy? See? Lots of things, can make you happy."
She wrapped both arms around my neck and laid Her head on my shoulder.  We walked and She held me in that hug. Then She tilted Her chin up, just a little, to whisper in my ear.
"I love you, mommy. Be ok." 
How strange and overwhelming to have been shown both the best and the worst of life and humanity within two minutes.
There is callousness and suffering in this world. All around.
But there are also two year olds. 

Turning The Other Cheek

There were some really unruly twins on the playground.  One snatched Little One's doll from me and played with it awhile. When she dropped it, I picked it up.  Unruly came over and without a word, tried to yank it from my hands.  She was shocked when I did not let go.  I told her she was welcome to ask Little One if she could play with it.  She yanked harder. I said no.  She threw a screaming, crying, kicking fit.  Later, I watched her pick up a handful of dirt, and throw it in her grandmothers face.
So I watched, without intervening but with some trepidation, as she noticed Little One using an evergreen branch as a pretend broom, and charged over to Her.  As I had guessed, she ripped the branch right out of Little One's hands and started sweeping.  Uh oh. What would Little One do?  Would She cry? Fight back? Say something?
She stood there stunned for a sec. Watched the girl sweeping with Her branch.  Then She turned to me. And with a big grin, all excited, She cried, "look! I can share! Yay!" 

Some days She picks Her nose. Some days She gets three time-outs. But some days, are like this.

Very Possibly True

A while ago, while watching Little One tear around the house like a whirling dervish.

Mother In Law: "They have so much energy, don't they? Can you believe we had energy like that?"

C: "No.  No I can't.  Where did it all go?!  Little One! Little One, do you know?"

LO: "What mamma?"

C: "Where did all my energy go?  Where did it go?"

LO: "You en-er-gee?  Hmm.  Hmmmmmm.... Oh yeah.  Think it's in oven."  

What Am I, A Drive Thru?

Well, I guess it's better than the typical toddler-older-sibling query of 'when can we send the baby back'.  That's one common questions we're not likely to have to deal with around here.
Little One is completely, I mean seriously enamored with Her sister. Most days the first thing She asks for when She wakes up is to see Little Miss.
One recent morning, after She ran in and showered Little Miss with hugs, kisses, and "wuv you"s, She turned to me and got thoughtful.  "Mommy", She said to me, "Mommy, this Little Miss come from outta you tummy. 'Member that?"  Yes, I told Her, I did in fact recall that fact.  She pulled up my shirt and pointed at my belly button.  "Mommy.  You please put 'nother baby in there?  Please?  Please, please, please can have 'nother baby like Little Miss?  Want more babies in you tummy, mommy, to come out and be baby sister some more times! Can do this mommy?  Little One say please!" 
Please, kid.  Think you can just order these suckers up and have them served to you with a side of spit-up?  Sorry!  Fresh out of babies at the moment.  I have to agree, though.  She is completely delicious.  If I didn't have to do the baking, I'd be tempted to want seconds, too.

Schooled By My 2 Year Old

My dog, E, is a very good dog.  She has a very sweet, loving little canine personality.  She also drives me nuts.  Seriously, Peanuts, this animal annoys the living heck out of me.  It's not all her fault, but that's all a story for another day.  One of the things she does, innocently, that is perfectly obnoxious to me, is beg for attention by coming over and sticking her cold, wet, stinky nose right in my face.  I mean she wanders up all nonchalant, acting like she might just be walking past you as you sit unawares on the floor, and then BAM! Cold wet stinky nose mashed right into your upper lip.  Aargh! I hate these sneak attacks.  I have no tolerance anymore, after so many wet noses on my face. 
A few days ago, we were all sitting out on the back deck, blowing bubbles and enjoying the warm air.  I was cooing over Little Miss in my lap.  Then BAM!
Cold wet stinky nose on my face. And pointy dog claw mashing into my hand.  Aargh!
"E!" I snapped, "Just GO AWAY!" and sent her into the house.  Ugh.  I was grimacing and wiping dog snot from my cheek, when I felt Little One put Her hand on my knee.
"Mamma, hunny.  It ok, mamma.  E jus', she jus' want-a snuggle, mamma.  She jus' tryna snuggle you a little bit.  She don't mean to, mommy, you don't need be mad like this.  You can pat her?" 
Ouch.  When you are getting lessons on love, tolerance, patience, and compassion from a 2-year-old, maybe it's time to do a little soul-searching.  Like, to see if you have one.  I hope I find mine around here somewhere. Possibly it got sucked up into the vacuum with all the dog hair.  At least Little One seems to have hung on to Hers.  Sometimes I forget, but luckily I am so often reminded.  About which of us is the student here, and which the teacher.

One Month Old!

I'm behind the times a bit here, Peanuts, but I don't want to let too many days slip by without celebrating a whole one month of Little Miss!  Can you believe She is a whole one month old, Peanuts, can you?  CAN you?! Goodness gracious, neither can I.
It has been an adjustment, melding this new little person into our lives.  And at the same time, it feels like She has always been here.  
A big thing She has taught us in the last month (which we already knew, but now we really know) is that just because you put the same two sets of DNA together twice, does not mean you get the same two results.  At all.  Little Miss may be made of the same stuff as Little One, down to the double XX chromosome, but She is already so distinctly Her own little person.
We have a lot to learn about this individual, of course. 
In the maternity ward, a nurse asked me, "Aw, is She always this calm?"
And I was stumped.  Well, yes, I told Her.  ALWAYS- for the last DAY and a half that I have known this person, She has been this way.  If you can really discern a personality trait after having known someone a matter of hours. Well a month isn't that long to get acquainted, either.  There is a lot more to Little Miss that we will discover as we go! But here's what we've got so far:

She really is always that calm.  So far Little Miss rarely cries, and She gives lots of warning first; making these polite little grunting sounds and waving Her arms.  Sort of a "hey, excuse me, over here!"  She doesn't startle much, happily ignoring and even sleeping through loud big sister antics, dog barking, even fireworks.  She didn't even cry for Her first shot.

When She does get upset, She is so easily soothed.  Most of the time, all it takes is for me to put my hand on Her and say Her name.  Sometimes just hearing my voice calms Her down. And picking Her up and holding Her close will calm Her even if She is really, really hungry.

Because all the girl really wants from the world is just to be held all the time. She doesn't love the intense under-my-chin snuggle that Little One preferred, She just wants to be in arms or a lap.  Just held.  And She's happy.

It helps that She didn't get colic (or misery from allergies, as we now know) like Little One.  But besides that and being generally just a calm girl, Little Miss is an easy baby altogether.  She does not spit up at all. She eats really well, and really fast.  She sleeps really well, and really often.

In fact, get this.  At one month old, She has already elected to be on a schedule.  She sleeps from about 8:30 pm to 2:30am- that's SIX straight hours- like clockwork every night.  Then She wants to be fed again around 4:30/5, and 7am. Which means that I have a newborn and am only getting up once a night, twice if I sleep in.  It is awesome.  During the day She still sleeps a lot too, and will pretty reliably pass out if I put Her in the carrier. 

Which She loves I think because it puts Her so close to me. She is a bit of a mamma's girl already.  When I pick Her up, Her whole body just melts into me, Her breathing slows.  She picks up my voice in a room and turns Her head to look for me.   I eat this up with a spoon, Peanuts.  I do.

Of course, She knows Her dad and sister too.  Little One is actually a top-notch Little Miss soother.  She sings to Her, rocks Her swing, pats Her tummy, pops in a pacifier. She runs to tell me whether Miss is hungry or needs to be changed.  And She is always right.  And She will not stand to have Her sister kept waiting.  She won't stand for it people!

Frequently, if Miss fusses the problem is a diaper.  Excuse me for mentioning it, but this child is a poo factory.  I mean, goodness.  If baby poo were oil, we would have solved the energy crisis, right here.  If it were gold, I would be typing this from my personal jet.  We go through at least 15 diapers per day.  Although this has paid off in one way, it is certainly keeping me hopping in the laundry department.

That is not Her only talent, though.  She also makes lots of air. One thing that does make Her fussy sometimes is the air bubbles She gets in Her tummy.  But it helps to perch Her with my shoulder bone right in Her stomach, draping Her so Her arms and head hang down my back. It's an odd position.  But it's Her favorite.

Though She's calm, She's serious.  She typically has this funny expression on Her face, eyebrows slightly arched, a deep wrinkle in the middle of Her forehead.  As if She's just a bit perplexed, or intensely studying something.  It makes Her look a bit like a grown up, with that serious face.

She doesn't make it always though.  She has recently begun to smile, revealing two adorable dimples.  She even had Her first giggle last week, apparently inspired by a laughing fit Little One and I were having at breakfast.  It was about the cutest thing ever.  Not that I'm biased.

Her other new skill is batting at the toy on Her bounce chair (which She really doesn't like much) and swing (which She tolerates for short periods of time).

Her biggest talent though, apparently, is growing.  Ok, so at the 37th per centile (last we checked a week ago), She is still on the small-ish side of "normal".  But goodness.  After Little One?  To me this child seems HUGE.  She is wearing outfits that Little One was months old when I put Her in them.  Miss is already outgrowing some newborn sized clothes.  She is round and squishy and all roly-poly with these big kissable cheeks.  She's 9 and a half pounds already.  That's a lot of growing in only a month!

I like seeing Her a few lines up on the growth chart and doing so well.  The nasty looking rash that has plagued Her for a few weeks is clearing up, and last week we were told that the little hole She has in Her heart is not going to bother Her and will close up on its own.

So She is healthy and thriving, sweet and easy, lovely and precious, and She smells like baby.  It doesn't get any better than that.  And I have to say I am loving every second of it.  I'm just completely crazy about this girl.  And while I might not know enough to be sure She will always be calm, or always like to be held under the arms with Her shoulders scrunched up around Her double chin, I'm pretty sure I can say after this month that She will always be wonderful.

Happy One Month, Little Miss. We always love you.

The Bet

Once upon a time just before J and I got married, I ran a children's shelter program.  Working at shelter one night, a sweet little girl came over to me with a trembling lip, and arms outstretched.  She was about two, maybe three.  Poor thing, she had little tears in the corners of her eyes.  Poor little angel.
I knelt down and opened my arms up wide, to scoop her into a hug.  She came over to me.  She wrapped her skinny little arms around my neck.  And then.
BWIRLARF!  She puked. ALL. OVER. ME.  Aaaallll down my front.
Poor kid.  Well when I got home that night, J was beyond disgusted.  To say he was grossed out would be like saying Hitler wasn't the most polite guy ever.  He was horrified.  How, he asked me, how could you let that happen?  Why would you do this to yourself?
I totally laughed at him.  Let it happen? Let me tell you, I said.  This stuff just happens.  There's not a thing you can do about it, it just does.  This is just kids.  It's what happens with kids.
He did not believe me.  Seriously!  He didn't.  He was convinced that yuckiness like that was unnecessary; certainly avoidable.  Nothing like that would ever happen to him, he said. 
I was laughing again.  Let me tell you, hun.  Let me tell you, I said, it could, it can, and it will.
He was all, what?! Nuh uh! Will not!
And I was all, oh yes.  When you have kids, let me tell you, you will get puked on.  You will get puked on, peed on, pooped on. Bled on, snotted on, teared on, sweat on.  You name the bodily fluid, it will get on you, and you will just deal with it.  Because you can't avoid it.  It happens.  Let me tell you, it just happens.
He was now at a level of disgusted horror that honestly, Peanuts, should be saved for a field trip to the slaughterhouse or something.  How could I say such things?  Peed on? Him? Uh uh.  He rejected the notion.
We went back and forth- no it won't! Yes it will.  NO it won't! Yes. Yes it will.  Not to me! Let me tell you!
Finally, to close the matter, one of us came up with The Bet.
I'm not a betting person.  I have gambled once at a casino, when I turned 18.  I lost my whole 5 dollars, and never tried it again.  But I know four aces when I see one. 
The Bet was that when J had kids, all of those things I mentioned- peed on, puked on, etc,- would happen.  TO HIM.  Maybe not all at once, but at some point during his parenting career, every one of those things would happen to him. The stakes were that if all those things actually happened and he lost the bet, he would owe me a trip. To Hawaii.
Well.  Little One took care of most of those within the first year.  But J.  He is a sneaky little ace-up-his-sleeve.  He claimed a technicality that I apparently forgot to preclude in the fine print of the Bet contract.  It was that the wording of The Bet said "on".  Peed on, puked on.  Most of these things, as I said, happened fast.  Let me tell you, Peanuts, they happen! And they did.  But there was one.
One last hold out, due to the technicality. It was poop.
The thing is, even though he did get poop on him, while washing out a diaper or changing clothes after an accident, he did not actually get pooped on.  He had to have a direct hit in order for the Bet to apply, he argued.
I thought that was silly.  A hail-mary for a man that knew he was going down, and wanted to go fighting.  Splitting hairs, to be sure, in my opinion.  But. I also knew that it didn't matter.  Because all I needed was time.  The inevitable, well.  It's inevitable! Let me TELL you!
Enter Little Miss.  Little Miss of the 15 poopy diapers per day.  It's like the child was born just to get me onto a beach with a mai tai.  Bwa ha ha!   The man was doomed.
And a couple of weeks ago, he came to me, head hanging. Defeated.  As much as he held on to that technicality and weaseled his way out of it for a good long time, it's a testament to J's honest character that, although I was (very unfortunately) not there to witness it, he did 'fess up to a full-on frontal hit.

And so The Bet has finally come to a close.  And what can I say?  I told him. 

Bunny Alarm System

I've got plenty to ramble on about on here. A few days ago, for example, Little Miss turned a whole month old.  And spring has sprung, and so we've been out about collecting pictures to plaster up here. And also, of course, tomorrow is Easter! We have a pretty full day, so it might be awhile before I post about it.  So before I get belated, Happy Easter!  I hope the Big Bunny comes and fills your baskets with goodies.  (but that he saves all the cadbury eggs for ME). 
Little One is has got everything figured out.  She's going to catch that loaded rodent!  She slyly informed me tonight that She will know when he comes.  Because, of course, the dogs will bark.  What will She do, when they alert Her and She catches him?  "Oooh momma! I'm gonna pat him."

Crazy Hair Strikes Again

I hear Little One calling me in the morning.  I have not slept. All night.
I drag myself down the hall, paste on a happy good morning smile, brace myself for the day. And open the door.
C: "Good morning Little One!"
Little One: "Good morni- oh". 
Looking at me from Her covers, She holds Her palm out to like She's about to tell me to stop in the name of love.  But instead, She says,
"Whoa, mommy.  Oh, no. No come in here, like that. You go back in your room, first, fix this cray-zee hair! Then can come back and tell good mornin' Little One. I wait here."

Bringing Dad Out of Retirement

After one day of triage, I was so ready for my dad to get here.
I even volunteered to pick him up in Baltimore.  I figured it would give Little One a chance to take a good long nap in the car. Of course, Little Miss decided as we were walking out the door that She was starving.  After feeding Her and hitting two-accident, construction-lane-closing traffic on the way, we ended up getting there a bit later than planned.  A bit too close to the time Little One's fever medicine would start wearing off.
As we pulled up the the curb, Little One croaked from the back seat, "M-mommy! POtty!"
So my dad was greeted by me jumping out of the car and- hi, nice to see ya- "where is the nearest bathroom? I see it! I see it! I have to go in, can you just...you know.  I'll be back."
I grabbed Little One and left him with the baby (starting to wake up, getting hungry) curbside by baggage claim.  I wrapped Her toasty little body around me and hauled it.  We got there in time, but by then She was crying.  She was HOT.  She was red all over, Her tears were hot.  The lymph nodes in Her neck were swollen so that She looked like a crazy body-builder, with no neck at all. Just chin connected to clavicle. She couldn't turn Her head.  "ouchie ouchie Momma! Ou-cheeeee!" She cried.
I ran Her back out and buckled Her in while showering promises of home and medicine soon.  She tried to perk up for Grandpa, but She felt too bad.  "I'm jus', jus' hur-ten a wittle bit guys" She whimpered.
By the time we got on the freeway, Little Miss was wide awake and ringing Her dinner bell with all Her might.  We were in the thick of rush hour.  We were 40 minutes from home.   Triage.
I decided that we really, really needed to get home to where the medicine was, so I kept driving and hoping they would both fall back to sleep.
No dice.
Finally, with one girl crying Her heart out and one screaming Her head off, I pulled over.  Just as I was slowing into a parking spot, I heard a funny noise.  One of those noises that, even though I had no idea what it was, sent the message "oh, crap" zinging through my brain.
My dad heard it too. He turned around.  He said, "Oh! Uh oh. UH OH!!" and lunged for the back seat.
I parked just in time to see him yank a blanket off a car seat and use it like a giant catchers mitt. To *try* to contain the extremely copious amount of (gross alert) projectile vomit spewing from Little One like an open fire hydrant. 
For a moment, I just sat there.
Miss is still screaming like crazy.  There is now puke ev.er.y.where. EVERYwhere.  Little One is gagging on it.  Triage?
I'm sorry this was dad's welcome to his visit with us.  But I am also, selfishly, extremely glad that he was there. The man had a career in EMS; "disaster management" is actually part of his job title.  He went into chief mode, and I followed along. 
Little One was soaked literally head to toe in puke.  It was now cold, windy, and starting to rain.  The poor thing, shaking with chills already, had to stand naked in the icy wind and be rubbed down with wet wipes.  She was not having fun.  NOT.
Dad put her in one of his T-Shirts while I fed Little Miss and then bailed the vomit out of Little One's car seat like a sinking canoe.  I did my best to clean it up, but I can tell you the aroma was just delightful to ride home with.
At last we did make it.  I spent most of the rest of the day cleaning the car. And our clothes. And the children.  I had to get a screwdriver and actually take apart Little One's car seat to get at all the places the nastiness had trickled into.  You know.  I think that this parenting job should require hazmat training as a prerequisite.  And they should send you home with one of these:

 

Or at least a box of latex gloves.  Children are not for the faint of heart.  Or stomach.  

But more on that next time...

If Only I Could Trade Pie For Vacuuming

I'm still figuring things out. 
I feel like I haven't been getting nearly as much as usual done around here, even though I feel pretty busy.  My to do list stretches out longer than the tail of a zong (gotta be up on your mommy literature to understand that reference), and the first two items (play with the babies, and keep everyone from being killed/injured/maimed/poisoned/starved, not always in that order, but sometimes) take up 90% of my day.
So I've decided to enlist help with one of my most necessary-for-sanity yet hated tasks. 
Bathing the dogs.
I've offloaded this chore onto the neighborhood kids.  The whole crew pitches in!  Little One helps too, by rubbing in soap, and by periodically exclaiming, "great job, guys!" to keep up morale. 
Of course, nothing in life is free. These kids don't work for peanuts, Peanuts!
Fortunately, they do work for cupcakes.