Freddie Fridays: Fred Moves!

I wouldn't call this crawling, exactly, but it gets him where he wants to go!

Maggie Magoo, Now You Are TWO!

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Miss Lucela Jones

Lucy, you may remember, can be somewhat of a difficult child. But lately she's been a real sweetie! Going back to school has done her a world of good. We had a fun summer, but it was not without its challenges. Now that she's back into a regular schedule, we're getting along much better. I don't know if it's time spent away from me, or if it's just that she needed more intellectual stimulation that I could give her at home, but she's not only flourishing at school, but also at home.

Last week when she was with the baby sitter, she made me this lovely bouquet of flowers.

I've been prominently displaying them ever since. Not only was it a darling thing for her to do, but they never need watering and they won't die! The perfect combination.

On Saturday night, as we snuggled on the couch, she looked up at me and said, 'Mama, I would make it rain outside if you were thirsty.' I just about melted. I posted it on facebook, without attribution, and texted it to some of my family. Every single person thought that it was Sam who told me this, but no, it was my girl. That's what inspired me to write this post. I feel like I only write about her when she's giving me a tough time, and I never mention the nice parts of my Lulu.

In closing, here's a fun little video of my girl. I'll take wagers in the comments on whether or not she puked.

Tappa Tappa Tappa

Last week the kids started tap dancing classes. Let me share a few highlights with you from our first fifty minute class:

1. HOLY HELL is it loud. Eight kids running around in previously forbidden tap shoes makes for a lot of noise. My kids weren't allowed to wear their shoes before the first class because our hardwood floors should actually be called soft wood floors. And also because we used them as incentive for good behavior at school. Parenting WIN! Based on how nuts all of the kids went once they got into the studio, it seemed as though we weren't the only parents who forbade the tap shoes before class.

2. After the initial 'let's make as much noise as possible' stage of class, my kids actually paid attention and listened! This was a big shocker to me, because last year in the general dance and movement intro class, my two were the ones who easily lost focus and ended up in trouble. I'm hoping that this continues once the novelty wears off!

3. There is another boy! Taking dance classes! In our same tap class! Sam has a dance class boyfriend!

P.S. How adorable is Lucy down there at the end?

They can't wait to go back tonight, and if I'm feeling kind (or cruel, depending on your annoyance threshold) maybe I'll try and get some video to post.

The Ice Queen

As a child, my brother and I always had chores. On Saturday mornings he would vacuum the house while I dusted and wiped down the bathroom. When the dishwasher was full of clean dishes, it was his job to empty the bottom rack and I had to empty the top rack. We were responsible for keeping our own rooms clean and our cloths put away, and he took out the trash. I took care of the cats, he took care of the dog. Pretty normal stuff.

Except for the Ice.

Yes, Ice with a capital I, because it was that important. For those of you who don't remember, freezers did not always come equip with built in ice makers. Back in the old days (like 1990) if you wanted ice cubes, you had to fill a plastic tray with water and wait for HOURS until the water froze. Then you had to bust the frozen blocks out of their plastic tray and voila! Ice cubes!

In my house, ice cubes were as precious as gold. My mother had a pretty serious iron deficiency, so she had an intense craving to chew on ice cubes. Not just regular old ice cubes, but special cubes made in an ice cube tray that you couldn't buy at the store. It came with some other old freezer from our past, and the cubes were smaller and rounder, more easily chewable, than the traditional ice cube. They looked kind of like an igloo. As soon as those cubes were solidified the tray needed to be emptied into the bin and re-filled. Every day of my life from about age nine until eighteen.

Not long after I moved out of the house my parents bought a new one, and their new freezer had an ice maker. And most of my apartments and homes have had them as well, so I thought the ice tyranny had reached its conclusion.

And then we moved to West Virginia.

The people who built this house twenty-some years ago had a professional chef in the family, so all of our kitchen appliances are commercial. The stove and oven and flat top are amazing, and the refrigerator and freezer are awesome as well. Except for one thing: the freezer lacks an ice maker. Which means I am back to my old tricks. Those ice cube trays from the old house are long gone, but luckily there are many good alternatives now that didn't exist back then. Luckily, my mother doesn't live here (yet) so I don't have to make ice on the daily, but as soon as they get here on the weekend the first thing my dad does is check to see if Ice needs made.

And so it goes. In exchange, my mom empties the dishwasher for me.

Freddie Fridays

How you doin'?

Oh, teh DRAMZ!

Alternate titles:

Palace Life Ain't All It's Cracked Up To Be

Big Princessin'

Seriously, Mother

Life is Hard for a Barely-Two-Year Old Without A Care in the World

And the Dish Ran Away with My Son

I bought some new dishes today.

When SOB and I first moved in together his mother gave us a set of plain white dishes that she had in her basement. They were actually very high quality, but since we were living in a rather generic apartment, with a plain white kitchen, the plain white dishes got to me after a while. I always felt like I was eating in a cafeteria. So we passed them onto his sister and went shopping. We got our current/old ones at Ikea about twelve years ago, and we loved them so, so much. We had never before made a big-ish collaborative home purchase, and the addition of those twelve matching plates and bowls and mugs, for me, meant we were grown-ups making a home together. There was some serious commitment involved, and no one had to buy jewelery!

They have served us very well. Sadly, time marches on, and some have gotten chipped. Some others have gotten down right busted and thrown in the trash. Ever since we moved here I've been on the lookout for a new set, and today I found what I was looking for (on the clearance rack, no less!) and now we have a whole set of un-chipped, pristine dishes.

So what to do with the old ones? We still have at least 80% of them. The dinner plates, which saw the most use, have had the highest casualty rate, but there are still nine of them. We barely ever used the cups and saucers.

I was thinking I could re-use the packages from the new dishes and we could store them in the basement. Then maybe one day Sam could take that box when he gets his first apartment, girlfriend or not. Imagining him eating home made mac and cheese (because he will learn how to make it before he's permitted to set out on his own) out of that bowl with the chipped rim makes me smile. Maybe one night he'll sort through them so he can use the nicer ones for a dinner party. And then when he's ready to go out and buy his own, he can pass them along to Lucy.

Who am I kidding? Lucy won't accept hand-me-downs. She's the one who will demand her very own brand new set of stone wear for her first dorm room!

Princess Tea Party Extravaganza!

Lucy recently turned four, and Maggie is about to turn two. (Did I just type that? GAH!) Since school was just getting started around Lucy's birthday, we decided that this year we would have a small, combined party for the girls. That was back in June, and until about mid-August I totally forgot to, you know, plan anything. Luckily my mother happened to discover a little tea shop (it might actually be a shoppe) near her house that dabbles in princess themed tea parties! Cue the sparkle!

We got together with a small group of family this weekend to celebrate, and the girls couldn't have been more excited. They got all dressed up for the occasion! We had a bit of trouble finding a Rapunzel dress that would fit Maggie, because she's apparently quite small, even for a two year old. Luckily I've been watching Project Runway for about a dozen years now (at least it seems that way) and so, with the help of a seam ripper and some hot glue, I was able to make some minor adjustment to keep her dress from falling off of her. A few tiaras later and we were ready to go!

The girls gasped when they saw their table!

They each had their own tea pot with strawberry lemonade pink tea, real glass tea cups, and a craft. Then they were joined by two of their cousins.

Princess represent! They ate heart shaped grilled cheese sandwiches, strawberries and marshmallows. Then they had rainbow ice cream for dessert. Maggie LOVED blowing out the candles, so much so that we let her do it several additional times. It was too effing cute.

Despite it being a small affair, the girls were showered with tons of lovely gifts. It looks like the princess section of the disney store exploded in their room, which of course is about the best thing that could ever happen to a couple of little girls. I hardly ever see them, and Lucy didn't even want to go to school this morning beacuse then she wouldn't get to play with all of her stuff!

Oh, and the grown ups had a lovely lunch as well, with tea and home made scones, salad and delicious sandwiches, cheesecake and ice cream. I highly reccomend it, if you're in the area!

How Sam Came to Be

My husband has been travelling a lot lately. He has a side gig where he goes to big city-type places with fancy restaurants and gets car services and first class upgrades and hotel suites. It all sounds very glam, until you realize that he had to drive from WV to Pittsburgh, fly to Miami via Charlotte, then get up at 5am to fly to Newark before lunch, then head to Manhattan for dinner, then back to the airport so he can fly back into Pittsburgh around midnight, drive home to WV and get up at 6am for work tomorrow. That's five airports in about 36 hours. Typing it all out like that makes me feel slightly less jealous that he's having dinner at Bar Boulud tonight and I'm having left over spaghetti and meatballs for the second day in a row.

ANYWAY, all of the travel reminded me of how and when Sam was conceived. (Side note: this isn't going to get all graphic or anything, so don't worry. Intimate details will most certainly not be provided!)

When SOB was about to start his final year of residency I had been working at my current post for about three and a half years. I had moved up from when I began, but I knew it wasn't for me, long term. We had talked about having a baby, and decided that if we started trying now the timing would hopefully work out well, since we were already planning to move for his fellowship. I stopped taking my birth control pills in April, and that first month we just kind of winged it. When we went on vacation in May, I was in that horrible 'it's too early to know if I'm pregnant, but I might be so no booze' stage and I lamented our decision to start trying before our trip. I also lamented the amount of money I was spending on pregnancy tests, but that was to be expected, right?

The next week I got my period, and because I am an absolute control freak I immediately went online and ordered some ovulation prediction kits. I wasn't going to let this whole process develop naturally. I was a scientist, damn it, and I knew all about the processes going on inside my body. I also knew there were ways of monitoring them, so a few days later the kits arrived.

After reading all of the instructions (twice), I marked off the days on the calendar when I would start testing. SOB had a conference scheduled for that month, but it was towards the end of what I predicted would be my most fertile period. I started the ovulation tests, and day after day I would get a negative. I started to think that I was doing something wrong. After re-re-reading the instructions and realizing that I was doing everything right, I started to worry. His trip was looming, his destination all the way on the other side of the country. He was only scheduled to be gone for three days, but in ovulation speak that was long enough to miss our window.

He flew out on Wednesday. He was scheduled to return first thing Sunday morning via red eye.

On Thursday afternoon my ovulation test was positive.

I was disappointed that we would be waiting another month to try for our baby, but held onto a tiny shred of hope that if he wasn't too tired on Sunday morning maybe we still had a shot. I gave him a call, and before I could even say a word he starting telling me about how boring his conference was and how he wished he was coming home earlier. Maybe he was blowing smoke up my ass, but I saw my opportunity and wasn't about it let it go! I immediately told him about the test and then commenced a campaign of convincing him to come home a day early. If he got on the red eye Friday night, I argued, we'd get at least two chances for our future child.

He said he'd look into it. The next day he was on a plane headed back to me and his pro-creation duties.

Two weeks later, I got my first positive pregnancy test. What was truly fitting about it was that it was the day before Father's Day.

To this day SOB likes to tell people that I forced him to fly back from California to have sex with me, and while that may be a teeny tiny bit true, when I look at Sammy, I think to myself, thank god I was so damned persuasive!

On Weddings, Children, and Tic Tacs

On Saturday my son Sammy was the ring bearer at my cousin's wedding. Now all of my children except for Freddie have been a member of a bridal party this year! (Here are the girls in my other cousin's wedding, in case you need a dose of the cuteness.)

While the girls were adorable, their appearance in the wedding didn't have as strong as an effect on me. They wore lovely little flowered dresses and looked positively the picture of little girl sweetness and light.

Sam, on the other hand, wore a tuxedo that was a miniature replica of the groom's outfit. Seeing him all decked out like a big, grown up man made my eyes well and my chest swell all at the same time. My mind was running wild. "Is this what he'll look like in another twenty years or so, when he's waiting down front for his bride??? That bitch better be good to my baby!" Needless to say, I was emotional. Luckily there wasn't much time for me to ponder these things before the wedding started.

He took his duties very seriously, and with good reason. When it was time to walk down the aisle he actually carried the for real rings on his little pillow. My cousin's brother (who is also my cousin, but I don't want to confuse anyone with my damn hell ass huge family) kept the rings until right before Sam's big moment, and then he tied them to the pillow, so he only had to not lose them for about 45 seconds, but man was I nervous.

So was he. I took about a dozen shots of him walking down the aisle with his junior bridesmaid, and there was only one where he wasn't staring intently down at the rings. Afterwards I asked him about it, and he said he just wanted to keep looking at them to make sure they were still there.

Once the part he was responsible for was over, he was rewarded with an entire box of orange tic tacs, which he consumed during the ceremony.

It's tough out there for a kid.

Freddie, Month Six

Dear Freddie Buddy -

My sweet, sweet boy. Remember how, at some point during your early days, I promised to kiss you one million times before you turned one? I'm pretty certain I've already achieved that goal. I guess I'll have to try for two million, then. It's just that your face is irresistible to me. And your toes. And tummy. And hands. And elbows.

I should stop now.

With daddy at Nikee and Vinnie's wedding!

Here you are dancin' with Grandma and Nunnie at your Aunt Yan's wedding. In your short six months on this earth you have been to four weddings already! It's been a busy year in our families! Luckily you are a totally party animal, and ultimate babe magnet. If you didn't poop in your pants, you would make an awesome wing man.

I think you may end up crawling soon, which I am so not ok with. First of all, none of your siblings crawled until they were almost one, so I am not physically prepared for independent locomotion. Emotionally? I still support your neck and head like a newborn when I lay you down, despite the fact that your neck muscles are so well developed that your daddy sometimes tosses you up in the air. If you start crawling I may have to curl into the fetal position and sniff some of your sleepers until I calm down.

This is the new game at our house: Is it food? No! That's ok I'll chew on it anyway! As for the real food, you are totally digging it. We've given you squash and peas, and you LOVE them! Tonight you'll get some sweet potato for the first time, and my prediction is: LOVE! When you're not eating, you are generally trying with all of your tiny will to get onto my breasts. When I pick you up, your mouth starts moving and you begin suckling even though you have nothing in your mouth. It's hilarious, really. Maybe you'll take after your big brother Sam and eat as often as you draw a breath.

Guess who's taken a liking to you? The larger, girl version of you named Lucy. I've only recently realized how much you two look alike, but now I can't get it out of my head. It's funny how Sam and Maggie look more alike and now you are looking more like Lucy every day. Genetics are weird!

Baby boy, your face is my favorite thing to look at in the whole entire world.

Love, Mama

Embracing

In the past few months I've been presented with opportunities to make several of my favorite hobbies into something a little more substantial. In the next month or two I'll (hopefully) be turning my photography habit into an actual business. (Not at all unrelated: if anyone out there wants to help me with a website, drop me a line!) Additionally, I recently became a group leader for the local breast feeding support group.

Before Sam was born I didn't really think too much about breastfeeding, except for the fact that I'd give it a try. I also didn't think I'd last too long nursing my boy. I never actually purchased any formula, but I thought about it. My attitude was, at best, indifferent.

That all changed the moment my boy latched on for the first time. I stared at his tiny face, watched his little jaw working the meager portions of milk from my body that very first time, and a light went on inside my body. A hormone-fueled light for sure, but it burned so intensely it was like nothing I had ever felt before. This feeling, I though, had to be the driving force behind millions of years of human reproduction.

Even through a terribly painful case of thrush I continued to nurse. The pain was so intense that I wept, but the payoff was so amazing that I would bite down on a washcloth to keep from crying out. Finally, after a few weeks, we were back to our new normal, and I never looked back.

The first time we tried to give Sam a bottle of pumped milk I almost threw up, I was so upset. Since then I've gotten a little less crazy about the kids getting a bottle of mother's milk, but recently when our sitter informed me that Freddie learned how to hold his own bottle, I was a bit traumatized. I'm already feeling a bit anxious about a trip we're planning for June of 2012, because I have zero intention of weaning him before his second birthday. I honestly think, five and a half years after that initial latch, that I am addicted to whatever hormone cascade occurs during nursing.

So to help focus all of this crazy nurturing energy I have, I volunteered to help lead the Morgantown Breastfeeding Support Group. Previously a friend of mine was the leader, and it was a La Leche League sanctioned group, but she recently moved away and she needed a replacement. We had our first meeting yesterday, and it went really well. We had a nice turnout, and I got to meet some new people and their lovely little babies. I'm hoping that, beyond socializing, that we'll be able to promote and assist breastfeeding mommies. But socializing is fun, too! Also, since it's 99.98% certain that I won't be having any more babies, I'll be able to get a pretty good dose of baby fix at the meetings. Everybody wins!

I don't have all of the answers, but luckily my co-leader is a nurse and lactation consultant, so we've got our bases pretty well covered. I'm really excited about this new endeavor, and hope that if any of you out there are in the Morgantown area you'll spread the word about our growing group!

Works of Art and Nature

I remember when I realized that a house could be something more than four walls and a roof, and that was the first time I saw Fallingwater. I was barely a teenager, and I was awestruck. I'm older now, but the jaw-dropping beauty of this exquisite structure made me feel as small and meek as a child.

TRIUMPH OVER KINDERGARTEN TRIBULATIONS!

He did it!

Kindergarten Tribulations

Sam is now on day eight of kindergarten, and he is still enjoying it.

Mostly.

Last Friday the teachers introduced the classroom disciplinary system, and since then we've been having some issues. Basically, every morning each student starts out with three popsicle sticks by their name in a little envelope on the bulletin board. Any time a student does something not in line with the rules, they have to remove a stick from their envelope. If they have to pull all three sticks in one day, the teacher calls their parents. If they keep all three sticks all day, they get one 'splash cash' which they can save and redeem for gifts.

My darling Sammy is quite chatty, loquacious, talkative, friendly, enthusiastic, and occasionally he WON'T SHUT THE HELL UP. If you've met him you know exactly what I'm talking about. His excitement levels are generally at a nine or ten. Out of five. He can't wait to tell you all about the show he watched on tv last night/the jedi lego book he saw in the library/the plum he had for lunch/the dog he saw in our yard to infinity.

This doesn't exactly jive with the traditional school rules, such as being quiet when the teacher is talking and being quiet in the library and being quiet in the hall and being quiet in the restroom and being quiet all the damn time.

As you can imagine, he's had to pull one or two sticks every day since the stick policy was instituted. Luckily, we haven't had a 'three sticks pulled' day. Yet. I'm not entirely sure how super-serious his infractions are because I'm hearing about them from a five and a half year old. I've casually talked with his teacher about this, and she doesn't seem majorly concerned, but Sam is. He cries almost every day on the way home. He told me yesterday that kindergarten is the only school where he feels bad, and that it's the hardest school he's even been to, and that he's frustrated.

At that very moment my heart almost broke into a million little pieces.

I snuggled with him and explained that growing up is sometime hard, and that I know inside he is not a bad boy, he just needs some time to get all of the rules straight. We laid in his bed and I scratched his back until he calmed down.

This morning I sent him off to school with a little cut out heart in his pocket. I told him that I really hoped he could make it through the day without pulling any sticks, but that I would love him even if he had to.  I told him that if he was feeling frustrated or sad that he could pull out the heart to remind him that his mommy loves him. And maybe he could think about making good decisions when he sees the heart.

If he has a 'no sticks pulled' day, he gets to go to burger king for dinner. And I'll make sure he gets a crown. He'll deserve it.