ChrissieRocks!

Down to Just Socks

Kevin called around noon to tell me he was on his way home for lunch.

"How's Leina?" he asked.

"She's find," I replied, "but she's down to just her diaper and socks."

Yup. It was just past noon and Leina had pretty much run through a whole outfit.

It began with Target.

We needed just a few items and so, after Sesame Street, we hit the road. To appease her while she sits in the shopping cart, I always get her a treat. Today, I got her a cup of milk from the Target Starbucks. Only one small problem.....I forgot to bring my own sippy cup. And so, there Leina sat in the cart, holding her very own Bucky's coffee cup with a green straw poking out of the plastic lid. She actually did great with it until, in a moment of bliss/excitment, she threw her head back and poured the milk all over her face and shirt. I secretly think the Target people are going to report me to the authorities. First the vomit, now spilled milk. What sort of mother am I?

So home we came and I peeled off Leina's soggy t-shirt. We sat on the sofa eating watermellon together for a while. She was leaving long trails of sticky melon juice all down her chin and fat belly, and I would grab her and kiss it off while she screamed with joy. After the watermellon, she requested a banana. So I gave her one and proceeded to clean the kitchen.

A few minutes later, I heard her little voice, "more nana pweeeze mommy." I was surprised at how quickly she had eaten the banana.

I should have been suspicious.

As I headed back to the sofa, I saw before me a mess. Leina had not eaten the banana. She had peeled it, mashed it up with her pudgy little hands, and smeared it all over her belly, pants, and sofa. She sat there grinning at me and said, "momma kiss it off!"

Yeah, cute with a little watermellon juics, not so cute with a whole mushy banana. Off came the pants and after a nice struggle most of the banana was off of her and the sofa. That's when Kevin called. By the time he got home I think she had ditched the socks too. So we're on our second outfit and we still have an afternoon snack and dinner to go. I'm thinking the odds are pretty good we'll be on outfit number three by the time dad gets home.

Of course, she's so cute nekked, what's the harm with letting her run a little wild every now and then, right?

No Action

Still pregnant. No sign of change on the horizon. Everyone promised the second would be early or at least on time. Ha! This kid is turning out to be just like her sister....moving to her own drummer.

I am so horrifically tired. Not like sleep deprived tired but sort of a bone and muscle exhaustion. It's hard to describe really. It isn't like after you've climbed a mountain or finished a marathon tired. That feels kind of good. Your blood is racing through your veins and you're flushed, exhausted and exhilerated. This is more of a ground down exhaustion. An almost depressing feeling of having to drag around 30 lbs of extra weight every minute of every day for weeks and weeks. When I go on my 3am bathroom run, it takes me about 5 minutes just to get out of the bed and to the bathroom because my legs are popped out of my hip joints and I have to slowly ease them pack in. Sitting feels wonderful until I have to stand and then my lower back starts quivering and I wonder if it's finally going to give.

But the end is (supposedly) in sight. Until then, I just creak and moan and waddle after my darling little girl and hope this old bag of bones holds together. I asked my doctor about feeling so horrible and was told that "older" women have a harder time toward the end of pregnancy. Yes, that's right, I'm considered an old pregnant person. Jeesh. Just what I want to hear.

So this old gal is going to mosey back downstairs, kick the dog off the sofa, and snooze until Leina wakes from her nap. If that doesn't work, I'm raiding my sugar supply for a quick energy fix. Hee hee.

Sunday Morning Oops

It all started out the night before with the best of intentions. In typically supporting husband style I told Chrissie, “tomorrow’s your day, sleep in, I’ll take Leina shopping and you can have the whole morning to yourself.” That was the plan anyway.

Sunday morning arrives, Leina wakes up bright and early so after starting Bob the Builder for the 3rd time I thought I’d make some of those delicious Rhodes Cinnamon Rolls. I pre-heated the oven, took out the tin from the freezer and started to bake. These cinnamon rolls are wonderful. Not only because they’re so easy to make that I can cook them (and keep an eye on Leina) but they’re also scrumptious. So after 30 min. (or 1 Bob the Builder video) they were done. I popped them out of the oven, put the gooey frosting all over them and decided to take Leina and Artie to go get some coffee – which would highly compliment my new creation and cement my place on the list of “World’s Greatest Husbands.”

So, I loaded Leina in the stroller, hooked up the pooch and off we went down to the Coffee Tree to pick-up Momma a ‘cano (Americano) and Daddy a lot-A (latte) – as Leina would put it. After a leisurely stroll back I brought the coffee, kid, dog, Dad, kitchen sink, grand-unified theory, and everything else inside to sample my tasty treats.

Low-and-behold, there was Momma sittin’ on the couch, reading the paper and smacking her lips on the rolls! Imagine my surprise. It was barely past 9am, I didn’t expect to see her for at least another hour. Let alone to have her cleaned up and snuggled in for a Sunday morning respite.

“What are you doing up?” I queried. She just looked at me like I must have been born yesterday.

“How could you expect me to sleep with the luscious scent of those cinnamon rolls wafting up to the bedroom? It was pure torture. I had to get up and eat them.”

Oops – guess I’m not going to make that of “World’s Greatest Husbands” list anytime soon.

Babycam

I just put up the new Webcam in the craft room to see Leina playing for now and baby sister sleeping after she arrives.

Soon I'll set up the Baby-Sister Cam so you can check out our new bundle of joy when she arrives (hopefully soon - for Chrissie's sake)

For now here's a picture of from the camera. The picture updates every minute but the page doesn't so you'll have to hit your refresh button.

** Update: The camera doesn't work very well in the dark! But check back here every now and then to see if we've got it up and running. **

Chatterbox

Leina does not stop talking.

All day long, she chatters to me. What she's doing, what she's done, what she'd like to do. Just a continuous stream of thought pours from her little baby mouth. It's gotten to the point that even strangers comment on what a talker she is as we wheel around through the store. The cutest part is that she likes you to repeat what she says. It's like she wants to make sure she's using the right words and you understand her.

She'll say something like, "take Pooh to store. Buy donuts!"

And then she'll stand there at look at you, expectantly. "Are you going to go to the store with Pooh and buy donuts?" I'll respond.

'Yeah!" and off she goes to strap Pooh into the toy stoller and push into the bathroom where said donuts are purchased.

My favorite is when she retells something that has happened. Her favorite story right now involves a mouse. Yes, our horrid little cats have started bring mice into the house and, of course, they are still alive. So we'll be playing in the living room when suddenly the cats will tear by, Artie will dive off the sofa, and a huge ruckus will occur. Leina, of course, gets right into the thick of things and I've twice found my very pregnant self on hands and knees with a towel trying to capture some poor terrified field mouse. This would be hard enough being massively preggers but add to it two cats, a large dog, and a small inquisitive child and it's hilarious.

The latest mouse ran under the sofa and hid quite effectively. It probably could have survived but it tried to scoot out and Artie chomped it dead. For the last few days, Leina has been retelling our latest mouse chase. Her narrative goes something like this.

"Fatty chase mouse." (Leina has no idea that Fatty cat's real name is Blitz. To her, she's always been fatty.)

"Did fatty chase the mouse?"

"Yeah, mouse scared."

"Was the mouse scared?"

"Yeah, mouse hide under sofa."

"Did the mouse hide under the sofa?"

"Yeah, mommy caugh mouse. Mouse outside."

"Did mommy put the mouse outside?"

"Yeah, in bushes. Leina outside?"

"No, honey, no outside. It's raining."

"Mouse scared."

Technically, mouse was dead but I'm just not ready to try and explain dead to my 20 month old daughter just now. And so, I merely tell her that Artie "scared" the mouse instead of the truth that he crushed it to death in his vicious pitbull jaws. What a good boy.

Perhaps it's all the books we read but Leina loves to tell a good story to just about anyone who's willing to repeat it back to her. She'll even "read" her books to her stuffed animals and if I though Kevin maligned the plot line, I hadn't yet heard Leina's version of the printed word. She's a real chip off the old man's block. That's for sure.

Best Lunch Ever

Today I had the best lunch of my life. The food consisted of cold cheese pizza from Costco and my lunch date was my 20 months old daughter. The setting was the front porch step under gloomy skies with a slight mist of rain.

It was magnificent.

As my delivery date looms, I find I have less energy to fight Leina and she's getting away with more and more. It's all I can do to lumber after her and keep her from eating glass or sticking a fork in the electric outlet. Little rules like eating at the table and not harassing the animals have fallen by the wayside. So today, after waddling through Costco for an hour, I decided to make lunch easy and pick up a piece of cheese pizza and a frozen latte. We came home and I released Leina into our front yard while I unloaded the jumbo sized groceries. She proceeded to lie down on the driveway and kiss ants for a while. (She's a true animal lover even if sometimes kissing the ant = eating the ant. Minor details.)

After I had unloaded, I grabbed the pizza and latte and tried to reason with my child. I wanted to go inside and eat. She wanted to stay in the front yard. When negotiations broke down (it's hard to argue with someone who's only response it "nooooooooo!"), I decided to resort to physical force. I began to waddle over to grab her but she saw me coming and, with a little scream, took off running down the street. Luckily, I am still a tad faster than her so I caught her before long and began to head back home. By the time we reached the front door, I was exhausted. Just the thought of carrying this kicking and screaming kid up the stairs to the front door was too much for my old body so I decided to admit defeat.

I plopped her down on the front step and offered her some pizza.

What ensued was messy, hilarious, and touching. Leina got to eat her fist slice of pizza with her hands. No table, no bib, no plate, and no pre-cut pieces. Instead, she had a whole slice to herself to chomp into. There was pizza sauce everywhere. On her cloths, her face, her hands, and her hair and she was in heaven. Of course, she got thirsty, so I decided to share my frozen latte which she sucked up greedily. After she had filled her baby stomach and hollow leg, she decided mommy looked a little hungry too. She proceeded to feed me bites of the pizza, sips of the latte, and even wiped my mouth when it got too messy.

But the best part, the true dessert of the meal, arrived when we were out of pizza and latte and both covered in sauce and grease. Leina came over to me as I sat on the cold concrete steps, wrapped her saucy little arms around my neck, laid her greasy little cheek on my shoulder and said....."love you mommy."

So I'm off to Oxyclean my shirt, change my pants, try and rinse the tomato sauce out of my hair, and savor the best lunch date I've had in a long, long while.

One Is Silver

Kat dropped by this weekend and it was lovely. There is absolutely nothing like an old friend. Lately, I've been busy trying to find new girlfriends here in Sherwood and I forgot the comfort of talking to someone who knows you inside out.

First, when an old friend comes over, you don't have to clean your house. Or even comb your hair or make sure your outfit matches. All this is irrelevant as you have seen eachother at your worst and haven't been scared off.

Second, you don't have to fill in the back story. Conversations go like this.... "remember X? Well, here's the latest...." You can jump right to the good stuff without trying to explain who is who and what happened when. It means converstation just flows right along and you can truely speak your mind.

Finally, you don't have to worry about offending. You know you old friend's likes and dislikes. If they are politically active or religous. You don't have to hesitantly put forfth your views on the world, worried you might stick your foot in it. Because lets face it, the main requirement for a friendship that stands the test of time is the ability to forgive and forget.

While I'm enjoying making new friends, there truely is something golden about the old.