Birthday Carnival

Every year we have had 2 birthday parties for each of our kids- one family, one friends. Adding another child into the mix has made it too much. So this year we decided to start something new. The kids would still have a friend party on their birthday, but instead of individual family parties, we would put them all together and have one big party in the summer. Since K was turning one, she did have a family party on her birthday, but the other two waited to celebrate until this past weekend. We decided on a carnival theme, and spent last week in preparation. The kids and I painted signs for the booths, and went shopping to the dollar store, Target, and the party store for prizes and supplies. Friday I spent baking 5 separate boxes of cake mix, and then that evening Ed decorated them into a carousel cake (it was a 3 hour job, lasting until midnight). Saturday morning Ed left for Jersey to help his parents clean up the cottage while I stayed home and ran last minute errands (buy soft pretzels, ice, and balloons), and then set up the backyard with the help of Anna. Ed arrived home at 2 and had time to help us finish setting up before guests began arriving at 4. E and N stationed themselves at the end of the driveway in a ticket booth, handing out tickets and bags to their cousins. Once everyone got here, the fun started! We had a concessesion stand with watermelon, lemon icees, soft pretzels and lemonade. Then we had 7 booths- a duck pond (throw the ring around the duck to win), tip the ship (shoot toy boats with water guns to tip them), face painting, bean bag toss, knock the block (throw a ball to knock over the tower), spin art, big dig (dig in sandbox for a toy prize), and the favorite- lollipops and pennies (pull the lollipop to see what color is on the stick to match to a candy prize in jars and penny stack- stack the pennies as high as you can, the one who stacks it the highest by the end of the party takes home all the pennies). We also had the moon bounce going, and the kids went in and out throughout the afternoon. We let them play for a couple of hours, and then E and N opened their presents. E got to go first because her birthday is first, while N waited anxiously for his turn. We then had dinner before finishing off the party with the cake. Before the kids blew out the candles, we sang their special songs to them. E had "Great is Thy Faithfulness" because we prayed long and hard for a baby before God blessed us with her. N had "My hope is built on nothing less" as we pray he will build his life on the foundation of Jesus.

The guests left soon after, and Ed and I put the kids to bed before collapsing ourselves! Of course E woke up the next morning asking what the theme would be for next year!!

Since I took so many pictures I decided to create a slide show. Click on View all Images to see pictures without the little black box.

"Up Sleeve" Weather

Most of us are thrilled to shed the sweaters, jeans and socks in favor of t-shirts, shorts and sandals. Not N. He is most comfortable the more he is covered up-- long pants, long sleeves, socks and shoes a must. Even better are boots, and sweatshirts with hoods that he can cover his head with. So each spring we have to go through the painful process of convincing him that it really is too warm to wear his long pants and long sleeved shirts, and that sandals really should be worn without socks. It is torture for him and us. A recent conversation went like this.

"OK N, let's get dressed!" I say with forced cheerfulness.

"But Mama! Why am I wearing this shirt? I want down sleeves, not up sleeves!"

"Well N, it is a warm day, and when it gets warmer, you need to wear short sleeves" I explain as I pull the shirt over his head.

"But Mama!" He complains as he tries to tug the sleeves down over his elbows.

While he is distracted I pull on his shorts. He immediately stops the action with his sleeves and says, "What happened to my pants? Look!! They don't fit!"

He tries to tug his pants down to his ankles all the while moaning and groaning, "Uuugh!! Uughh! UUUUGGGHHH!" He is only stopped when he realizes I am putting on his crocs without socks. "Noo!! I want socks! My toes want socks! I am just a little boy!"

"N, this is what we wear in the summer. See? Mommy has short sleeves on! I have no socks! Look at E and K! They are the same. You will get all hot and sweaty in those other clothes!" I say through gritted teeth as I wrestle the shoes over his balled up feet.

Reasoning does not work, he just gets more agitated. So I end up giving him a hooded sweatshirt as a compromise. He immediately zips it all the way up, and pulls it over his head.

Fast forward half an hour, after playing outside.

"Mama! I am all sweaty!! I want to come inside!"

I finally convince him to give up the sweatshirt, but he does so reluctantly. As he runs off I breathe a sigh of relief. Round 1 is over. I ultimately won, but the summer months stretch before me. I am not looking forward to the swimsuit battle. Because "up sleeves" are one thing, getting my boy to go without a shirt is a whole other ball game.


N in one of his favorite outfits (crocs complete with socks).

Cutest Baby?

So, here is the thing. When I was growing up I would say things like, "I hope I have a cute baby some day." And "If I have an ugly baby I will still love him/her, but I will know deep down that they are ugly". I know. The things that went through my mind.

Since I have had children, I have come to this realization: No matter what your baby looks like, they are the "Cutest Baby in the Whole Wide World. Ever." Is it because love is blind? You spend so much time with your babies, that they just are cute to you? I know this same phenomena happens when you fall in love with someone, or get a crush. It may be one of those relationships that start out as a friendship, but as you get to know the person, spend more time with them, their physical appearance seems to be enhanced and you find yourself attracted to them, even if everyone around you does not see what you see.

Going back to babies, I have stretched the truth from time to time with a"Aww, she/he is so cute!" (because it is what is expected), and the mother smiles, looks adoringly at their little one, and sighs,"I know", or more modestly,"Thank you." I just think it is impossible for a mother to think her baby is NOT cute, no matter what they look like.

Although I did had a brief period of about 3 hours when I thought K was NOT cute, and even disagreed with the delivery nurse when she said,"Oh what a cute baby!" and I said,"Thank you for saying that, but I know she isn't". Don't worry, after she stopped being so blue and swollen, I did think she was cute, and she just got better from there.

I know that I have felt that each of my kids were TCBITW, but looking back at pictures, with some emotional distance from their babyhood, as well as clarity that comes from a little time, I can see they weren't TCBITW. Take for example, the two pictures below of E and N. When I first took these pictures I couldn't get over how cute they were, and looking at them now, I still think they are pretty cute, but I can also see that not everyone would feel the same.

Still, when they are yours, they are TCBITW.



And so, without further ado, I introduce you to the current CBITW:



Or at least, the cutest baby in our family. (And as E likes to add, "Born in April", since she doesn't want to exclude herself)

Nicknames

As a child I longed for a nickname. The first time that the thought occured to me was in first grade. My friends and I were playing a game, and they came up with the name "Dee Dee" for me. I took to it, and when I came home from school that day I requested to be called,"Dee Dee" from that point on. My mom asked why, and when I told her that it was a name I had been using at school during recess, she agreed. We never spoke of it again. I started playing a new game at recess, and gave up on being called "Dee Dee", but the desire to have a cool nickname remained.

This desire was only fueled further a few years later when my sister gave nicknames to everyone in the family BUT me. The closest I got was another sister teasing me and calling me "Anya", which I hated because at the time, I was embarrassed by my Thai name. It only got worse when my brother called me "Rat", an even worse take on that same name. So, needless to say, my search for a nickname only intensified. Fortunately in middle school my friend Susie started going by "Sooz", and calling me "Daiz". I was so thrilled to finally have a nickname, and it is one that my friends still use. In having a nickname that I liked I felt that I finally belonged, and mattered to my friends. It was as if giving me that name signaled an acceptance from someone else, and a tangible proof of the affection between us.

This feeling has carried on through to today. When I get close to someone I usually shorten their name, or even change it completely. This is seen the best through the nicknames I have given to my children. And note, I gave them these names. Ed more or less goes along with them once he has heard them enough times and gets used to the butchering of his kids' names.

Even before we picked E's name, we had her nickname picked out, and planned to use it in everyday life. Once she was born she got a list of nicknames both based on her name and as terms of endearment : Ell Belle, Ellie Belly, Love Bug/Snuggle Bug/Bug, Belle, and Goose (as in "You are such a silly goose"). When N was born I started by calling him "NoBo" which got shorted to "Bo" which got lengthened to "Bo Bo" which got further lengthened, on occasion, to "BoBologne". I know, very silly- even Ed won't go so far as to call him that last one. But we still call him "Bo" and "BoBo" on a daily basis. When K was born, I didn't know what her nickname would be. I started by trying out "Linnie Lu" but it didn't really stick, although I still use it occasionally. What did stick was KK. When Ed first heard me calling her that, he asked why I didn't call her KC (her initials) but it just didn't fit. So Kae Kae it is. On top of all these personalized nicknames I have given my children, there are the general ones that I use interchangeably with all of them: Baby ( the older ones aren't too happy with that one, but I can't help it, I just find myself saying it), Cutie Patootie, Sweetie Pie, Sweet Pea, and my own made up version- Sweet Pea Pie.

So, I want to know what nicknames have you given and received?

The Shriek

E was such an easy baby, in so many ways, but especially with her quiet personality. She was never a screamer and could be easily calmed once we figured out what she needed. Likewise, N wasn't too noisy or demanding, and was an easy going little guy, described as "cheery" by my mom. I would look at other babies, shrieking in the grocery store and at restaurants and think," Those parents OBVIOUSLY don't know how to control their child!" I contentedly pushed my way down the aisle, secure in my superior parenting skills.

Then along came K. First, she cried for the first two months solid. Then I had the hardest time getting her to sleep through the night, and even now she has back slided (sp?) to waking at 5 am to nurse and go back to sleep until 6:30. But the worst (for now) is the shrieking. When E was a baby she would politely sign (starting at around 9 months) "more", "please" and "all done" to signal to us what she wanted. N took a little longer, but he too eventually did it. K? She knows the signs. I have seen her do them on occasion, but this is how mealtime goes.

I place K in her high chair and she lets out a "EEEEE!" to signal that she is ready to eat NOW.
I rush to get her the first bite, and she is content to eat for a few minutes. Then she decides she doesn't want anymore, so she goes,"Phth" and spits out a mouthful of whatever she is eating. Sometimes she decides to be a little more dramatic and does a gigantic raspberry, spraying herself and me with food.
Then she shrieks,"AAIIII!" and I ask her if she wants a drink. "EEEE!" This could mean yes, or no, so I offer her the cup and she takes a few sips before deciding she has had enough and "Phhthhhh" sprays water everywhere, immediately followed by another "AAAAAHH!"
I sign,"More?" and hold up a spoonful of food. She looks at me, gets red in the face, and shrieks,"AAAIII!" I take her hands and push them together for "more" and then feed her another bite.
Once she finishes, I ask her if she is "all done". Half the time she will oblige with a one hand sign of "all done", other times she resorts to The Shriek. I then sign "thank you" while saying,"Say, 'All done! Thank-you' ". She just looks at me and lets out another "EEEEE!" I force her hand to her chin, and then prompt, "Now say "please" to get up!" She usually will give her tummy a quick brush before letting out one final shriek. I put her on the floor, and as I wipe up the splattered remains of her dinner she lets lose with one parting "AAAAA!" before crawling away.

Of course, it doesn't help matters much that her brother thinks it's fun to encourage her, and the two of them will start a shrieking match in the car, each one outdoing the other in length of yell and volume. It's enough to make me want to scream!

Hannas wear well...

I was first introduced to Hanna Andersson clothing when E was a baby. Although the clothes were cute, I wasn't sure if it was worth the price. Since then I have purchased many "hannas" during their biannual sale, on ebay, and even on special trips to their outlet store in Kittery, Maine ( I was very tempted to visit their VA store when I was visiting my sis, but I resisted!). I have been really pleased by the quality of their clothing. This "Jeepers Creeper" was worn by all three of my kids and still is in great condition. I love the cute striped pattern, and that it is unisex.

A word about Scorpions and Dragonflies

"Sorpins can
kill a hoomin.
Sorpins have ieys
but can not
see.
When a sorpin
atacks it puts
its tal owr
it boty.
_________________

DrAGonFlies can be
vary big. DrAGonFlies
live neer laks.
and can Fly
back wods.
the boy holds
the gril wall it lass
its eggs."

A Long Day, K

Yesterday we got home from church and the kids were finishing up their lunch. I picked up K, and as I was wiping her mouth, I noticed that her lips were blue. Then I looked at her hands, and her fingers felt cold and were blue as well. I turned to Ed, "K's lips are blue-- we may need to take her to the ER!" She didn't seem to be in any particular distress, but she has had a cold and is being treated for an ear infection. Also, the past few days she has had a fever of 102. So I went to get her changed out of her church clothes and noticed that her toes were blue as well. I called the urgent care line, and talked to a nurse. She asked me a series of questions, "Is she breathing ok, or is she wheezing?"

"Um, I don't know. I mean, she has had a cold, and she is congested, but she doesn't seem to be wheezing, particularly"

"Is she sucking in air, is her belly moving in and out, can you see her ribs between breaths?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Let me listen." I put the phone to K's mouth and she did a few raspy breaths into it. When I came back on, the nurse said,"She's wheezing."

At this point K's lips and hands were still blue, so we took her temperature, which came back perfectly normal, not under. But the nurse was concerned, so we bundled everyone up and left for the hospital. On the way, we dropped N off at a friend's house, where E already was on a playdate.

When we arrived at the ER we were taken back to the triage area where they took K's pulse-ox, which was normal, at 100%. It was at this point that I breathed a sigh of relief, and felt that she was probably OK, and maybe had just been cold. Her lips were a rosy pink again, and she was blowing kisses to us as we got her undressed. Her temperature was rising though, and it was now 99.3. I had given her motrin at 7 am for a 101 temp,so by this time (1:30 pm) it had worn off.

Nevertheless, we were now in it for the long haul. We got a room, they kept her hooked up to the pulse-ox, and we kept answering the same questions over and over, and different nurses and doctors came in. Poor K, she was getting warmer as time passed, as well as more tired since we were way past her normal nap time. Ed and I took turns holding her and she would lie in our arms, occasionally letting out a cry before sucking her thumb. We got her to sleep a couple of times, but she was still very uncomfortable and slept fitfully.

Around 2:30 I left to get lunch and as I walked back to the room I could hear her crying. She was just finishing the RSV test in which they put a tube down the baby's nose into her lungs to get a sample of mucus. They gave her a dose of tylenol since her fever was now up to 102, and I settled down on the bed with her to try to nurse her to sleep. Ed left to get something to eat and I was left alone with K. She pressed up against me and nursed for the next 45 minutes as she slept.

After Ed came back he immediately left to pick up the kids and take them home, to wait for my call. K went for her chest x ray, to rule out pneumonia, and then we came back to wait for the results. K was feeling a lot better, as her fever had gone down. Instead of bright red cheeks, they were a healthy pink. Her eyes were bright, and she was in a great mood. Not looking at all sick. She ate her dinner- some baby food that the nurse kindly got for us. And then, to pass the time, we played on the bed with every single thing in the diaper bag. Spoons banging on the wipe container to the tune of "Skinny Marinky Dinky Dink", water bottle sucked on and shaken, empty food containers were knocked over like blocks, and put on my head for her to knock off- to her delighted giggles. Finally, around 6:15 the doctor came in to say the tests were all negative, she was free to go home. We were very thankful for this news, but still a part of me felt a little foolish for bringing her in. We had wasted an entire Sunday afternoon, put our sick baby through unneccesary medical procedures and all she had needed was a sweatshirt and some tylenol.

This morning, around 10:30 N had a tantrum, so I sent him to his bed to calm down. 10 minutes later he was still there, so I went up to see if he had fallen asleep. His back was to me, and he was curled around his cloth "baby", which is now more a pile of rags held together by a couple of stitches. Since I was feeling tired myself, I lay down next to him. He turned to me and we just talked--nothing in particular, it was more in the line of him asking questions.

"Who is make our teef?"

"God"

"Why is, God make our teef?"

"Why do you think?"

"So our can eat."

"That's right."

"Who made our ears?"

"God did."

"Who made our pillow?"

"A man."

And so he continued, asking who made this and that, one of his favorite little games. As he talked I studied his face, inches from my own. Even though I treasured this time with him as it happened, I couldn't help but feel melancholy as I thought of how fleeting time is. All too soon he will speak in perfect English, with correct sentence structure and pronunciation. He'll be too big to snuggle. I won't feel his little hands on my face asking who made our eyes/cheeks/nose. It's so easy to try to rush our kids through their childhood, willing them to "grow up", be more independant. But I think most parents feel this tug, even as we cheer on our kids as they learn new skills, we feel a small loss as our babies slip away.

Happy Birthday

There's nothing like having a crawling baby to remind you of how filthy your floors really are.

Normally, I can overlook the crumbs and general grime that accumulates on our floors, and I put off vacuuming or mopping just one more day. That is, until I realize you can no longer discern the pattern of the linoleum over by the stove through the spilled sauce, ground in crumbs, and fallen onion skins. It is at this desperate point that I pull out the bucket and mop and work through weeks of neglect. I am not an enthusiastic housekeeper.

But, with a baby that crawls I attempt to clean a little more often. Although I should probably vacuum every day, I do manage to haul it around a few times a week. Even with this extra attention, the baby still manages to find that wrapper that was pushed under the couch, or Polly's miniscule purse that was under the carpet. I have to rescue her several times a day, pulling out all kinds of objects from between her clenched teeth. Once I came back from the bus stop and noticed that she was chewing on something. Despite her howls of rage, I managed to fish out a .... tiny woodchip. Where she had picked it up? I don't know. All I know is that she had been chewing it for the last 15 minutes as we had walked to the bus stop, waited, and came home. I shudder to think of what she actually manages to swallow in the course of a day that I don't know about.

Yesterday we were sitting at the table eating dinner and I noticed that the knees on K's outfit were a nice brown color from her travels through the house. I got a great idea-- why not put all that crawling around to good use? Put the baby to work! I think I may strap on some swiffer cloths, and let her loose on the hardwood. At the end of the day I can remove them and throw them in the trash, and not pick up my mop for at least another day!

Super Baby Food

One of the last items we received from the farm was a humongous squash. I recently cooked it up into baby food for K. Here are pictures of the process.

1. "I can't believe you want me to eat the WHOLE thing!"






2. Steaming on the stove.








3. Puree










4. Into the icecube trays ( 9 trays + 13 babyfood containers= 50 meals)









5. Yum!

The #2 Rule

Because the weather has been so beautiful, the kids have spent a lot of time outside the past few days. Yesterday after lunch I shooed N and B out the door(I babysit 3 yr. old B and his 7m old sister, A, a couple of days a week). I periodically checked up on them, and they could be seen running around carrying stick two times their size, going down the slide and climbing the dirt hills that grace our backyard, leftover from the previous owner. About an hour later I called them in for nap time.

"Come on boys, it's time for naps, but first let's use the bathroom!"
N resisted a little, "But I already went!"
I ignored him, thinking that he was talking about earlier in the day, "You still need to try."

Since I put a pull-up on N for naptime, I sent him into his room bare-bottomed as I finished up with B. Once B was in bed, I went into N's bedroom. Now before I continue, I have to explain a game that my kids like to play when they are done their baths. They run into their rooms and crouch under their towels, pretending that they are "rocks". I am supposed to come in and pretend that I don't know where they are, "Where is N? I thought he was in here, but all I see is this little blue rock!" I then sit down on the rock to think, as they giggle and wiggle, and I usually end up with,"Wait a second! This rock has a foot/hand/hair! It's not a rock! It's N!" And then they get dressed.

So when I entered the room, N was crouched up in a ball on the floor, pretending to be a rock. Only this rock wasn't freshly scrubbed, instead it had some, um, natural materials clinging to it. "N! Did you poop in your pants?" I shrieked.
N immediately jumped up, the smile wiped off his face, "No! I didn't!"
"Yes, you did! Your bottom is all dirty," I then picked up his discarded jeans and underwear, waving the evidence in the air, "and so is your underwear!"
"No, Mama! I didn't--", N insisted, " I pooped on the hill!"
The hill? What the-- "What do you mean you pooped on the hill?"
"When I was outside, I pooped on the hill," N explained, his face crumpling and eyes welling up.
I was horrified, imagining our new Dutch neighbors glancing outside and seeing our son squatting in the backyard. "N! You need to come inside if you need to use the bathroom! You do NOT poop outside!"
"OK Mommy, I won't do it, ever again," N cried.
"That's right," I agreed, as I cleaned him up, "You know better!"

Later, as I was thinking it over, I wondered to myself, DID he know better? I didn't realize it was a rule that had to be spelled out. I had a list of rules for playing outside that I routinely quizzed the kids on, the number one rule being "No going near the water without a grownup", since our backyard ends in a reservoir. So when the boys went out to play after their naps, I once again went over the rules, just to make sure they were clear.
They recited them back to me:
"No hitting each other with sticks"
"No throwing sand, or dumping it in anyone's hair"
"Don't go in anyone else's yard"
I then asked, "And what's the most important, number one rule?"
N replied, "No going in the water without a grownup"
"Good," I continued, "And I have another rule, and it's the second most important one. NO POOPING OUTSIDE!"
"OK," N repeated, "No pooping outside!"
"And no peeing either," B added.

Indeed.

Little Man

N came running up to me this morning, "Hey Mama, whas this say?"
I squinted at the label on the cuff of his pajamas, "Um, Baby Place"
N smiled, and shook his head, thinking that I was teasing, "No it doesn't! Whas this say?"
When I repeated, "Baby Place", his denial got more insistent.
"No! It say 'Boy's Place'!"
I tried to pacify him, explaining that it wasn't pajamas FOR baby's, it was just the store's name. But his sense of Boyhood had been injured, and he insisted that it said, "Boy's Place".
I then told him to go ask his sister. "Hey E! Whas this say?"
I could hear E in the other room. "It says 'Baby Place'".
This just fueled the fire. His yells of "No! Boy's Place!" got louder, and he ran to the door of his room and jumped up and down. "No! This is Boy's Place! See? I a Boy!" then he ran into the nursery where I was with the baby. "THIS is Baby Place!"
I could tell that this was going nowhere good, so I finally agreed with him, "You're right- you are a big boy, and you are wearing Boy pajamas."
He looked at me , and asked to make absolutely sure, "It say Boy Place?"
I nodded, resigned, "Yes, it says 'Boy Place'."
Satisfied, he turned to go get changed. E was leaning against the doorframe, toothbrush in mouth, watching this exchange. As he passed her he said, " See E? It DOESN'T say 'Baby Place', it say 'Boy Place'"
E and I exchanged conspiratorial glances and she just rolled her eyes, but didn't contradict him.
She had just learned one of her first lessons in preserving the fragile male ego.

Exclusive Interview with Mr. Incredible

This reporter was granted an interview with the elusive superhero who goes by the name of "Mr. Incredible". The interview was a little difficult to conduct, since Mr. Incredible was zooming around the room, in a Super Speedy way, complete with sound effects.

What is your name?
Mr. Incredible.
What are your superpowers?
Like, um, I carry my house.
Then what do you do with it?
I put it right here. It doesn't hurt my hand though, because I am a superguy.
What else can you do?
I don't know, what else am I going to do, for my superpowers?
Can you run really fast, or fly?
Yeah!! (pushes button on shirt and takes off around the kitchen- dining room -living room for 3 laps)
Is there anyone faster than you?
Yeah, Ellie is.
Who's your favorite superhero?
Erf Ace! (Earth Ace) He flies on that board. Ok, bye-bye now.


I am hoping that Mr. Incredible will be able to locate N, as he has been missing for the past couple of days.

Eight Months Old

Our baby is 8 months old!
Some random notes about her:

-She squeals with delight when her big sister and brother pay attention to her, she shrieks to get our attention, and will carry on "conversations" with us in this manner :
"Hi K!"
"Aaah!"
"Are you such a big girl?"
"Aaah!"
"What are you doing?"
"Aaah!"
"Who's our girl?"
"EEEE!"

-I also call her my fierce little one, because she is so growly. She loves to growl with this low grumbly "grrr". It's actually quite funny to hear this sound coming from such a sweet looking little baby, and often causes surprised looks and laughter.

-She has two rows of little teeth (8 in all) that she loves to grind. This drives Ed crazy, as he worries they will become exposed nubs of nerve endings. He spends a lot of time trying to distract her from this happy pastime. Her top front teeth have an endearing little gap between them, that I love, but will probably close as her mouth fills with more teeth.

-In keeping with proud family tradition, she remains firmly planted on her backside. She has been getting down on her belly, and through a funny rocking/rolling motion will reach for toys and make her way across the room. It is done very slowly though, so if you are watching her, you don't actually see her move from point A to point B but suddenly you realize she is under the coffee table, and you aren't exactly sure how she got there.

-She likes music, and has recently started to "dance" along to it by bobbing her head up and down, as well as a start of a clap as she pats her legs in response to our claps.

-She is happiest when we are interacting with her, and playing with her, but will tolerate solitary play for short periods of time.


All in all, she is a little sweetie, and well loved by all of us. We are so blessed to have her in our family.

Halloween

This year was the first that N got really excited for Halloween. He remembered from last year, and couldn't wait to wear his Buzz costume. Fortunately, we got a couple of chances to dress up with a trick or treat night in town, as well as a mini-church party.





Halloween evening was beautiful-clear and crisp, perfect for an evening out. My parents and sister came over for dinner, since they wanted to see the kids in costume. After eating a delicious (although rushed) meal together, I set off with the kids, Cara, and a couple of other moms and their kids. E and her friends raced from house to house, having to be called back a couple of times, and reminded about Halloween etiquette-- saying "Trick or Treat!!" and "Thank-you!" I followed a little more slowly, since I was carrying the baby on my front (was my back killing at the end of the night!), and pulling the wagon. I got a chance to chat with the neighbors I knew, and introduce myself and the kids to the ones we didn't. About halfway around, N decided he had enough and climbed into the wagon. There he sat like a little prince ruling over his domain of candy, and me the horse of his carriage. He happily munched on candy and when asked if he wanted to go up to the next house, he held out his pumpkin and ruled, "No, you can get my candy for me." Ah yes. I forgot, not only was I a lowly beast of burden, but also the collecting agent, gathering the prince's dues. I did oblige him a couple of times, but then refused on the grounds of not needing any more candy. So we continued on, each of us enjoying our evening in our own way- E with her friends, N in his wagon, K hanging out, taking it all in, and me talking with a couple of other moms who were walking with us. When we got back the kids poured out their candy, counted and surveyed their loot while Ed and I surreptitiously sampled a few pieces.








Now there is candy everywhere. This is not good for my efforts to lose baby weight, especially since we are well into the dieter's Bermuda Triangle of holidays. But I can't let it go to waste, can I?

5 months

We just recently watched "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" as a family, and I find myself singing the song "Truly Scrumptious" to K. She is absolutely scrumptious with her leg rolls, dimpled hands, pudgy feet and round cheeks. I am always reminded of that line in Where the Wild Things Are, when Max is trying to leave and the wild things cry, "we'll eat you up-- we love you so!" I just can't get enough of her sweet baby self.









And yes, those are two new teeth that she has sprouted in the past month! A total surprise to me, since my other two were at least 6 months old before they got their first teeth. She has also set the record for rolling over in our family- E did it between 6 and 7 months, N between 5 and 6, and now K between 4 and 5!

Snow much fun!

Finally, we got enough snow that the kids could go outside and play! E has been waiting with great expectation to go sledding this winter. Although we have a tiny incline in our backyard, it was enough since the snow is basically a hard, frozen sheet.

On Wednesday, Ed taking the kids for a ride between meetings for work, and trying to catch his breath.






Today, Peter and Erika were here for the day, and E had off from school. The kids played together, sledding down the little hill, trying not to hit trees.

Children + Housework

Children have complicated my life in ways that I had not anticipated in pre-child years. I knew that things would take longer, the house would be messy, I wouldn't be able to get up and go whenever I felt like it, etc, etc. But yesterday I was reflecting on how they can make normal household chores a bit more difficult, and that they are often literally, underfoot.

Doing the Dishes: Last night after dinner, if you had looked in my kitchen window, you would have seen me washing the dishes in a somewhat awkward position. I was about a foot away from the counter, stretched forward to reach the sink and faucet, my legs straddling both of my children who had wedged themselves between me and the cabinets. Why they had chosen this particular moment to sit in that particular spot? No other reason except that I needed to stand there. So in addition to dishpan hands, doing the dishes gives me a strained back!

Vacuuming: Whenever I get out the vacuum cleaner, it is like a siren call to the kids, especially N and Erika, to come from wherever they happen to be happily playing and plant themselves in front of the machine. I have to constantly vacuum around them and find creative ways to move them out of my way (like throw a ball across the room so they chase that instead and then quickly clean the spot they were just standing on before they come back). So what would usually be a quick 10 minute job turns into a 20 minute juggling, dodging, racing act.

Making Meals: I have a small kitchen. By small I mean tiny- 9 square feet of floor space. Sometimes I have to put a child gate up and endure the outraged wails of my toddler rather than share this space with 3 or 4 kids and a dog. Because seriously, I will be making dinner and there will be bodies wherever there is spare space on the floor. I have to work around them, stepping over them, cracking the refrigerator so I can get an arm inside to grab what I need, holding back grabby hands as I open the cupboards to retrieve ingredients. At least once a week it gets to be too much and I call Ed to pick up a pizza or some chinese food on the way home. Thankfully, he is always willing to help me out.

And that is what keeps me sane. Having Ed, another adult to share my burden, to take a child when I need a break, to give me a hand when 2 aren't enough. To give me a kiss and a pizza at the end of a long day.