Helen Turns 6

Helen turned 6 on Saturday.

Since the last day of school was on Wednesday and her birthday was on Saturday, I thought long and hard about it, and decided not to invite a bunch of kids over for a party when it was going to be 97 degrees outside. Instead, on Saturday morning I took her to her favorite store (Michael's) to let her pick out something crafty (friendship bracelet kit). Then while she napped, I made her a yellow cake with chocolate frosting.
Sidebar: guys, if you have not checked out the recipe for Chocolate Frosting on the back of the Hershey's Cocoa canister, you are seriously missing out. Frosting from a can? Not on your life. I've permanently converted to homemade, y'all. (For further Chocolatey Awesomeness, pair it with the recipe for the Chocolate Cake on the same label.)

Anyways, I digress.

You might have noticed a quick mention in that last paragraph. Yes, my 6-year old naps. Two, sometimes three-hour naps on the weekends. Both days. DEAR BABY JESUS, PLEASE LET IT NEVER END. AMEN.

We also made a pizza from scratch for dinner. Publix has a really great lump of unbaked dough in their bakery that you need to buy, stat. Couldn't be easier, and they come out way better than the frozen ones. Helen helped me spread the sauce and the cheese and the toppings. Alice kept pinching fingerfuls of cheese off the pizza when I wasn't looking. It turned out delicious.

After dinner and blowing out the 6 hot pink candles on her delicious cake, we gave her a little pink Razor Scooter. As if her knees and elbows weren't bruised and scraped up enough from running around outside, we added the element of speed to all future injuries. Yay, good parenting!And then she went to the pool with her dad for an evening swim. So she was in a bit of kid heaven.

The next morning, she woke up and asked me when her party was. Um, gulp.

So I replied as casually as possible, without a single shred of fear and trepidation, "Hey Helen, you remember the craft thing and the pizza and the scooter and the part where you blew out candles on your cake? Yeah, that was your birthday party!"

Oh, it was a frosty morning.

I am going to fry in a remote corner of hell reserved strictly for kids' birthday parties, where they're perpetually turning two years old. Dear Reader, I swear there will be a real party with a bunch of kids invited next year. I don't care if only two kids show up because school's out and it's too hot. She is going to have a party. Your job is to remind me next May when my resolve is weak and the sun is strong. And just to make it interesting, you can come, too.

For some perspective, here's her Birth Story, and her first birthday.

7th Inning Stretch Etiquette

Brian took Helen and Alice to see a minor league baseball game in May. Highlights of the evening included Alice's first taste of cotton candy (the entire cone was inhaled in under a minute flat) and a giant fireworks show after the game. Both girls stayed awake for the entire thing on a hot summer night, and slept incredibly late the next morning.

On the way home from school last week, Helen starting singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" but couldn't make it past the first line. She sang it about 3 times in a row. So on the 4th try, I jumped in with the rest of the song. The people who have heard me sing can imagine the off-key, pitchy nightmare that it was. Fortunately my kids appreciate my singing and even encourage it. I swear. It's true!

Jennie: ... Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jacks, I don't care if I ever go back! Oh, it's root, root, root for the home team, if they don't win it's a shame ... Cuz it's one, two, three strikes you're out at the old ball gaaaaame!

Helen: That guy is being rude, isn't he, Mommy?

Jennie: Huh? (looking around at traffic, drivers, passing joggers for any possible source of rude guys) Who's rude, Helen?

Helen: The guy in the song. He didn't say "please" buy me something.

Jennie: Good point. No Cracker Jacks for him!

The One Where She Turns 5

Those of you who have known me for many years understand my fear and trepidation surrounding children's birthday parties. Specifically, the ones at some gigantic indoor play zone where I sort of know the kid from daycare but have never met the parents, and our kids are way too young to just drop off. So instead, we stand around trying not to stare at each other, making awkward small talk about how precious our kids are, asking variations of "What's your name again?" and feverishly hoping that our kid isn't the most hyper one in the room.

I knew that this year would be a touch & go year for Helen in terms of birthday parties. If you have checked this blog faithfully, you will know that Helen's parties have consisted of some cupcakes on the big day, and not much else. And for all those years when she couldn't really talk, it worked just fine. Then came the talking years, but I was still a bit ahead of her on the reasoning skills, so we kept parties at bay.

Then came this year. About a month ago, one of her friends turned 5, and had a big party at a giant indoor play place. It was a Friday evening, and the invitation said "Siblings invited" and they served pizza, so I caved in and dragged all 3 kids out. I figured it would wear them out and we could sleep in on Saturday. And I did get to chat with a couple of very nice moms, but it still felt awkward as hell. The party girl's mom, however, breezed in and handled it all so graciously. This party was for her 3rd kid, and she still whizzed around like Martha Stewart. She made sure we all had food and snacks. She sweet talked Alice and chatted with Helen. She even helped me haul one very reluctant-to-leave child back to the car. I'm telling you, that's SO NOT ME.

Later that weekend, Helen told me that she was thinking of having her party at the same place. Proceed directly to CRINGE. Folks, these parties start at around $200, and that's not including pizza and cake and ice cream. That's just, "Yes, you can rent out space here," and "Don't forget to bring the goody bags." Plus, sending the invitations and deciding who to invite, and all of our family is out of town, and the few who do live close would be on vacation, and ending up hosting all these daycare parents I don't know, it was just like NO. I CAN'T DO IT. DON'T MAKE ME DO IT.

So then I had a conversation with Helen about how we weren't going to have a party at the Giant Indoor Play Place. I told her that we could have some cupcakes and presents at home, and she said, "You mean, a family party?" And I said yes, that's right. Fortunately, she didn't have her nose pinched and head held up high while she said it, but you could tell she was a little disappointed. Especially when she muttered darkly, "And next year, I'm having a party with friends." So next year, after kindergarten is over, we can invite a friend or two over to swim at the neighborhood pool, and grill some burgers and hot dogs and have some cake. But this year, one last time, it would be just us.

Years ago, Brian & I talked about our vision of the perfect birthday party, and we thought out loud, wouldn't it be fun to rent the stuff but not invite everyone - just have it for her to play around in. Like, booking the giant indoor play place for just your family. Or calling up the inflatable rental store and setting it up in the backyard for the kids. Book the petting zoo to come visit. We could skip the looney tunes clown and the not-so-funny magician. But you get the idea. That idea stuck in my head for the longest time - 4 years, to be exact - and so last month I started calling around to find out prices for renting the giant bouncy castle.

YIKES. Varies from $100-$175 for anywhere from 4-8 hours. That includes setup and takedown, but still. A lot steeper than I pictured. You can buy them, but quality varies, and prices can go up dramatically for ones that will endure a 5-year old's bouncing.

So I found the guy that would rent it for $100, and I was in discussion with Brian about what to do. I just happened to mention it to a co-worker who was taking the day off for his son's birthday party, and he said, "Oh, I have one." I was like, HUH? You own a giant bouncy castle? Turns out, yes, he does. He has 3 boys and sometimes on the weekend, they'll put it up in the backyard and let the kids go nuts. It's good to wear them out and they sleep like angels. And this co-worker said, Hey, you can borrow it. Folks, that is pure awesomeness. Besides, the money saved and all that, no worries about if it rains, the rental period is ruined, rescheduling the party, etc. We could put it up when we needed to and take it down on our schedule.

So, her birthday was on a Friday. I told her that we would have our family party on Saturday, with cupcakes and presents, and that we could make the cupcakes together that afternoon. But I didn't let on there was anything more to it. Brian went out mid-morning to mow the lawn, and then he set up the bouncy castle. Once I got the high sign from him, I told her there was a surprise for her birthday in the yard, and I led her outside with "eyes closed, Helen, close 'em tight!" I got a picture of her when she saw it for the first time:

Then she & Alice went to town bouncing in it. Sliding on the slide, running around, climbing in, bouncing and sliding to their heart's content. Helen told me over and over it was the BEST. BIRTHDAY. EVER. Honestly, that was all I needed to hear. Family party, schamily party. She got a bouncy castle to play in. Game over, Giant Indoor Play Place!

It was about 97 degrees outside, though, so they got hot, quick. I went inside to watch from the windows, and take care of Jane. About 45 minutes later, Alice came bounding in, hair plastered to her head and red from head to toe. She sucked down a cup of ice water and headed right back outside.

Shortly after that, I got them to come in for a little lunch, and then put both of them down for a nap. They slept for FOUR HOURS. Suffice it to say, the cupcakes were ready when she got up.

We are looking into buying one of these things. My co-worker said he had found a company that was going out of business, and they typically sold these to the rental companies. My co-worker picked up this one for a steal, and he said it paid for itself after they used it at 2 birthday parties. Seriously, with 3 kids, this is a must-have. Brian was amazed at how easy it was to set up and take down. It came with its own high powered fan, and it inflated in about a minute and came down in about 2 minutes. It fit in a tiny duffel bag. Didn't even ruin the grass at all. Really! Have you bought one yet? Go, go, go!

One of our neighbors came by later in the afternoon, totally jealous and wanting to bounce. But it was only rated for ages 10 & under. I will have to look into buying one that's more adult-sized. Maybe we can make back some of the money by selling time in the bouncer to the neighbors. Hmm, a possible revenue stream on weekends. This has all kinds of possibilities!

Happy Birthday, Helen. Now that you're 5, your birthday parties are going to start earning their keep.

Strawberries!

Last month Brian picked up Helen from daycare and headed southeast of town to one of those Pick Your Own farms. He and I had looked at possible places to go the day before what ended up being the big flood weekend. That flood sort of put everything on hold for a while. So when he texted me this picture in the middle of my workday, I got excited.

When I got home that night, I realized I had to do something with over 10 pounds of perfectly ripe strawberries. Fast.

We ate a bunch of them that evening. Most of the berries you buy at the grocery store are red on the outside and white on the inside and taste vaguely berry-ish. Sometimes there is an exceptional period of about a week or two where you break down and buy a pint or a quart and they turn out fantastic, but you dare not press your luck any longer.

Not these berries. These berries were red on the inside, juicy and DELICIOUS.

One summer when I came home from college, I visited a farm near campus and brought my mom a couple of pounds of fresh strawberries. She made a pie with them that was amazing. So, naturally, I decided that's what I had to do with these berries.

The next night, after the kids went to bed, I got to work making my own pie. Rolled out the crust, found a recipe online, and WOW. It was fabulous! I didn't even bother with making a whipped cream topping, but that would have made it even better.

We snacked on the rest of the berries that week. Truly a delightful way to start off the summer. Prices were reasonable, around $2 a pound (not counting the gas for the trip out of town). Most farms will have some pre-picked for a little bit more, if you don't want to do it yourself. The way the heat index has been the past 2 weeks, I wouldn't blame anyone for skipping that step.

Blueberries are in season now, and so are blackberries. I might need to send those two off for my next cobbler ingredients.

It's Just Lunch

While we visited my parents last month, my sister asked us to come see her at school. She teaches a 5th grade class down the street and we decided to have lunch with her. So I packed up the girls and prepared for my meal in an elementary school cafeteria since, let's see, minus 11, carry the 1 - oh good god. Moving on ...

Helen was excited to see a real school, since she's in a tiny daycare now. She will be starting kindergarten in August, and she has asked me a million questions about it. Every day it's something different: what they will do in kindergarten, if her friends will be in her class, what they will do after kindergarten, how long will they be in class, if they get naps, or snacks, or playdough - everything. That kind of curiousity is exciting to watch develop, and I haven't seen her the least bit anxious about it.

Anyway, we arrived at the school for lunch. I had told her that her Aunt M is a teacher, and we would be eating lunch with her class. But I didn't tell her that the cafeteria would have about 200 kids in it. She walked in and looked around and just stood next to me, not saying anything.

So we went through the lunch line. Folks, it was corn dog day. They had cooked carrots and a blueberry dessert to go with it. These are all things my children will eat, so the lunch line was a total success in my book. We got food for Alice and Helen, and headed for the tables.

I had one of those mommy moments where I realized that Helen is growing up. I'm used to thinking of her as an older kid since there are 2 babies at home, but she's like an older baby because I still do so much for her. School age is a big leap. This cafeteria scene will become a daily occurence for her quite soon. She'll have to make choices without her teachers doing it for her. No one will constantly remind her to eat all of her lunch so she won't be hungry later. I kept asking her what she thought, and she was really quiet, just taking it all in. Helen is *never* quiet. So this was interesting to watch. It made me wonder how long it will take her to reach a comfort zone in her own school. Maybe it's good that we practiced this ahead of time, so she has an idea of what to expect.

My sister asked her if she wanted to take her tray to the dishwasher, and she was totally up for it. So they headed to the window. Later, Helen took Alice's tray all by herself. As I watched her walk away from me carrying that tray, I did my darndest not to tear up.

After lunch we headed back with my sister's class to their room. My sister asked Helen to be the line leader, which was a huge deal to Helen. All students are supposed to walk quietly through the halls on what they call "Third Street." The square floor tiles make a neat pattern, and they are supposed to walk on the third tile away from the wall. If I had to guess why, after watching a class head back to their room, the third tile is just far enough away to keep kids from getting the walls dirty, bumping up against doors, tearing up bulletin boards, or disturbing other classes. It also means as they travel through the halls, another class can approach from the other direction and everyone stays in line and in order. Helen spent the entire trip back to my sister's classroom with her head down, totally focused on keeping her feet on Third Street. She took her duty very seriously and never wavered once. A few times we had to tell her to "look up, go this way" as they needed to make a left turn. But she did a great job. We saw the classroom, watched the kids get their stuff ready for the next lesson, and then headed back to the car. She saw so much that day, including a boatload of kids several years older than her, and she still hasn't expressed an ounce of anxiety about going to kindergarten. So that's a good thing.

This week I chatted with another daycare mom whose daughter will go to Helen's school. She said that the first day, they have an event for the kindergarten parents called the "Boo Hoo Breakfast." It's meant to lessen the separation anxiety, by letting us remain at the school a little longer, but it gets us out of the classroom so the kids can get started with their day. I thought the name was hilarious. Even funnier is that first day is a half-day. So I drop her off starting at 8:00, have breakfast at 8:30, and school ends 3 hours later. That means I still have to figure out lunch & daycare for her that first week. Ugh!

(By the way, if anyone wants it, I found a recipe on a school district's website for that square pizza that we used to have for school lunches. Remember how excited you were to find out it was pizza day? That giant rectangle with the shredded sausage and hardly a hint of tomato sauce, underneath a layer of barely melted cheese, and that chewy pizza dough? Ah, the things we used to love. Now, if I can just figure out how to dial down the portion sizes from "serves 300.")

Waterloo no more

My grandmother made fabulous orange bread. Whenever we visited her, she usually took a loaf from the freezer to thaw, and we'd toast it for breakfast and add lots of butter. It was always a great treat to have a homemade slice of her bread.

Sometime after I graduated from college, I called and asked her for the recipe. We were having a potluck breakfast at work for Christmas the next month, and I thought it would be good to bring her bread to share with everyone. I carefully wrote down all the steps on two cards. Step one was for the candied orange peel that got chopped up and mixed into the bread dough. Step two was making the bread dough.

The next month, I had my plan. I would plow through step one after work, and then handle step two early in the morning before going to work, so the loaf would still be warm as it was served to my co-workers. That night, before I went to bed, I carefully saved the sugared peel in a ziploc on the counter. The next morning, I got out my recipe card for the bread dough, and noticed one of the ingredients was a cup of the sugar water that cooked the orange peel. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had poured that sugar water & candied orange peel into a colander the night before, so all of that water went down the drain. I said a few choice words before shoving the recipe cards back in the box and heading for the shower. I stopped on the way to work and bought a big coffee cake from the grocery store. A few days later, my grandmother called me to find out how it went and we both had a good laugh over what a gigantic idiot I was.

A few years later, I dug the recipe cards out to make it and SCREWED UP AGAIN. People, it's like I totally forgot what happened the first time, and I went to strain the water from the orange peel and dumped it all into the colander and then sucked in my breath like one of those horror films as I watched the water go down the drain. I hung my head and took the colander over to the trash can and dumped the peel in the garbage. I mean, I just cannot be trusted to get this right. TWICE.

So at this point, this recipe is like my Waterloo. I love the memories of eating it, and I love thought that I *could* make it, since I have it in my recipe box. It seems like it should be easy enough, and yet TWICE I couldn't get it done. Which for me is like a giant mental stumbling block to ever trying to make it again.

So while I was on maternity leave, I decided to get past it. Dang it, I wanted some orange bread! This time I took out both recipe cards, and gave myself a stern lecture before I even put a pot of water on the stove. "Jennie," I said out loud, "you cannot mess this up. Your grandmother worked hard to give you orange bread on each visit. She trusted you with the recipe, and she is counting on you to get it right. You have tossed out that water twice now. Can you remember to save it this time? CAN YOU FINISH THE DAMN RECIPE ALREADY?"

And this time, I made the orange bread. And it was awesome. Oh, how I loved it. I made two more loaves while we were at my parents' house, and I shared them with my sister and mother, and I fed it to my girls. It's good stuff, people. But more than that, I'm finally past that obstacle. There's a lot of things that mentally hold us back from getting things done, and I finally charged right over one of them. Hoo-rah.

I know Grandma is up there somewhere smiling and totally thrilled that I got through it for once, but I just wish I could call her to tell her how good it was.

Pithy, ain't she?

I started back to work this month after a very speedy 8 weeks of maternity leave. One evening Brian was on his way home after working out of town all day, so we girls were on our own for dinner. It was pouring down rain, and there were 3 cranky kids in the back seat, so I stopped at the KFC drive-thru to pick up a chicken dinner. I wanted to try those strips, and I ordered some side dishes to go with the meal, but I didn't realize that the combo I ordered came with individual sides, instead of the large family-style containers I wanted.

So I got the food home, where there was plenty of chicken for everyone, and I split the 2 sides between Helen and Alice. Helen asked for seconds on the mac & cheese, and I told her there wasn't anymore, and I told her why.

She put her head in her hands, sighed, and said, "Some days are just like that."

Indeed they are, Helen. Indeed they are.

Alice is One

Alice's first birthday came with a little bit of excitement.

I was sick as a dog on her birthday.  I came home from work early the day before, with a horrible stomach bug, and spent the evening trying not to see, smell or even think about food.  The next day, I slept and tried to figure out how to make cupcakes without getting ill.

Somehow, that afternoon, Mom Adrenaline kicked in.  My girl had to have her birthday cupcakes, and I was not going to cave and buy those sickly-sweet store-bought versions.  So I mixed and stirred and baked and gagged over the aroma of freshly baked cupcakes, and frosted them with possibly the best frosting I've ever made.   I couldn't even taste it, but I'm pretty sure that frosting kicked butt.  (Tip:  Hershey's cocoa has a frosting recipe on the back.  Use it, people.  You'll never buy frosting in a can again.)

Coincidentally, we had spaghetti for dinner.  Alice wore hers, mostly.  So that meant we had the first giant cleanup of the evening, before I could take pictures of her eating her cake.  It meant cleaning spaghetti off the high chair, the floor, and her head.   Then I stripped her down to a diaper, and got her cupcake ready to go.  

Not exactly the reaction I expected after all the effort I put into making those gag monsters.

Eventually, she did appreciate it.  I think the frosting changed her mind.

And of course, then we had cleanup #2.  I carried her straight up to the tub to get frosting and cake out of every nook & cranny, and later cleaned her high chair.  Again.  But it was totally worth all the queasiness to see her that happy.

I can't believe it's been a year since we brought her into the world.  What an amazing little girl she is.  Happy Birthday, sweet pea!

It's Already Started

We are enjoying a spaghetti dinner at the kitchen table.   Brian & I are talking about something that happened at work, and suddenly Brian notices that Helen has dumped about 10 tablespoons of parmesan cheese on her plate.

Brian:  Helen,  that's enough cheese!

Helen:  (freezes, fingers covered in cheese are stuck in her mouth)

Jennie:  Seriously.  Enough.  (moves parmesan away from Helen)

Brian:  Helen, I don't want you to just eat cheese.

Helen:  (still frozen)

Brian:  I'm not mad at you, sweetie.  I'm just saying, don't you think that's too much cheese?

Helen:  (shakes head no)

Jennie:  Wow.

Brian:  Okay.

Helen:  (still quiet, head down)

Brian:  What's the matter?

Helen:  Nothing!

Jennie:  (has to turn away & cover mouth to keep from laughing out loud)

Brian:  (resigned sigh) I won't make it.

Jennie:  (holds up 4 fingers)  She's FOUR.

I Made It Myself

For the curious, I'm still nursing Alice.  There are some bumps in the road as she is currently figuring out how incoming teeth work into the equation (correct answer: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON'T GROW TEETH, KID).  And whatever you do, Dear Reader, don't google "milk blister."  You just don't want to be me right now.  Let's leave it at that.

Today was the 6-month appointment at the doctor's office, where I shared with the pediatrician that I am making Alice's baby food myself, and wanted to make sure Alice was ready for solid food.  She looked at me, and I could tell she was trying not to make a snap judgment, and then asked me how I made baby food.  I told her one of my best friends gave me some great tips after making food for her son, and I looked at some recipes online, and spent some time last weekend preparing a bunch of food ahead of time.  For the money, you get ten times as much food as the jars, and it stores in the freezer where I can thaw it when I'm ready to go.  When I shared with her how I did it, the doctor was amazed, and told me that she wasn't nearly as good a mother as I am.

Well.  Good mother = putting baked veggies in a blender?  Nah.  I'm just super cheap.

Anyway, it was very easy.  For anyone reading who wants to try it, I'm still the cockeyed optimist because I haven't tried to puree peas or green beans yet.  Sweet potatoes and butternut squash and apples were definitely a breeze, though.  I split the squash in half (length-wise) and baked it face-down in about an inch of water and baked it for an hour.  I then scraped out all of the squash and put it in a blender (with the leftover water) and pureed it until it was smooth.  Then I scooped out the puree into ice cube trays, covered it with plastic wrap, and put it in the freezer, and later put all of the frozen cubes into freezer bags.  One butternut squash made about a tray and a half of cubes.  I did the same thing with 2 baked sweet potatoes, and a 3-lb bag of red delicious apples from the crockpot (surprisingly, they all had the same yield).  

Dear Reader, no, it did not take a long time.  The longest part was waiting for the baking to be done.  I used all fresh food, and it was really easy - a good project for about 30 minutes of work on a Saturday morning.  I've made enough food to last quite a while.  And folks, if I can do it, it must be easy.

So tonight, with the blessing from the pediatrician, I fed Alice her homemade sweet potatoes for the first time and she gobbled them up, AND BEGGED FOR MORE.  Very satisfying feeling, to know she enjoys something I made that much.

Now, I am holding my breath for that first solid food diaper.

Wedding Day

One of Helen's daycare teachers and sometime babysitter got married, and invited us to the wedding.   Brian had to attend a football cookout at his boss's house, so it was just us.   A girls' night out! 

Okay, so not really.  And you might ask what would possess a woman with a 3-year old and a 2-month old to pack up the kids and drive 45 minutes across town to a wedding that takes place an hour before dinner time.

You can ask. You won't get a response that makes any sense, other than "I hadn't worn my favorite little black dress in a *really* long time, okay?"

I spent the day thinking about timing and what I would need while I was away from the house.  When you nurse a baby, everything you do in a day comes down to a simple equation:  

Travel time (A) + last feeding time (B) = when is the next feeding? (C)  

where A = 45 and B = ...

oh, screw it, we all know C = NOW

So traveling that far with a baby who could be hungry upon arrival meant "BE PREPARED" or possibly "DANGER WILL ROBINSON."  Factoring in Helen's naptime prior to leaving and preparing everyone to get out of the house in wedding finery - well, I'm sure it didn't take this much work to get to troops to Iraq. 

The wedding itself was picture perfect. The bridesmaids were dressed in black satin strapless sheaths, with a fushia sash around their waists. They carried gorgeous white rose bouquets, and all of them looked like a million bucks. The bride wore a bright white strapless dress with plenty of tulle and sparkling sequins, and carried a bright pink bouquet of roses. The groom and his groomsmen wore black suits with black shirts. The groom's tie was white, and the groomsmen wore fuschia ties. Sort of a late 70's mafia look, which I'll admit is difficult for guys from the deep South to pull off with any degree of success.

The bride had not been over to babysit for us in quite some time, but Helen remembered her right away. She was the model child during the wedding - finding a pencil and something to write on, she busied herself with scribbling a few things for me. Fortunately, Alice took a short nap with a good pacifier, so we didn't have a single squawk out of either of them. And it was one of those quick Protestant ceremonies - no sermon, even - so we were out in about 12 minutes.

I should have known that would be the easy part.

The reception was at a nearby country club, which had a back patio set up on a hillside that overlooked a gorgeous mountain scene. The sun was about an 30 minutes away from setting when I got this great picture of Helen.


Shortly after this was taken, Alice decided to scream in agony about gas pains for nearly 30 minutes. This has happened before, and there's nothing I can do except give her a little bit of gas medicine and pat her back. Eventually she burps, but it can take a while. I felt horrible after about 2 minutes on the patio with all the wedding guests trying to enjoy the gorgeous view, and here was a screaming baby out there with them, so we ended up in the parking lot, with me in the car trying to soothe her and Helen running around picking flowers. I was inches away from giving up and going home when Alice finally burped. So we settled down, and I gave her a little dinner bottle, and that's when the bride & groom pulled up in their getaway vehicle.

Oh, how I wanted to get in behind the driver's seat and take off.  

Helen was all about the dancing at the reception. In fact, she was the only one who danced most of the evening. She also spent quite a bit of time chatting up the DJ.  I believe at one point she mentioned that her daddy knows all of the songs to the Lion King.  To his credit, he was the soul of patience and acted interested in everything she wanted to tell him.  He did, however, ask me to let him know when I was ready for the Chicken Dance.  I'm not sure if that was an insult or if he was serious, but I told him that I would NEVER be ready for the Chicken Dance.  Hopefully he got the message and sent it to other wedding DJs.  I'm here for you, people.  

Here, Helen shakes her groove thang.

I don't know where they got their cake, but it was amazing. Very heavy and moist.  Here, Helen contemplates the mystery of delicious, sugary frosting.

I didn't get any pictures of me in that little black dress, though.  Probably a good thing.

General News

Item 1
I tried 2 crockpot recipes last week, and both were a big hit. The meatloaf was especially tasty - very moist & juicy, not the least bit dry. The other meal was a chicken cooked in wine that was so tender, it fell off the bone when I tried to take it out. I think it was a bit tipsy. Even the carrots were singing Irish drinking songs. 

Thanks to everyone for all the recipes!  I look forward to trying them all as the weather gets chilly.  (And I should have known my aunts would have plenty of them to share.)

Item 2
Both girls are at a new daycare this week. I was sad to leave the old one, where Helen was such a Big Girl on Campus. Sometimes it feels like I'm raising the popular kid, because when we arrive, all the kids rush to her yelling "Helen!" And the teachers give her big hugs when she leaves each day. 

It's taken 3 years for me to finally notice that not every kid gets this kind of treatment. So taking her out of her element that she's known for her whole life - well, understandably I was nervous. Helen started with the 3-year olds in May, and had a great teacher for exactly one month. And then, that teacher moved to a different room. Instead of hiring someone permanent, they shoved a new floater into it every month. After 3 months, I knew I had to find something else.

And I was lucky enough to find a great spot. It's a smaller daycare, where the owner teaches Helen's class. I visited with Helen about a week before she started, so we could ease into The Big Change, and it would give us something to talk about at home when I mentioned "new daycare" to her.   

The teacher was very high energy and held those kids' attention extremely well. It reminded me how much I was not called to teach young kids.  Being "on" that many hours a day?  EXHAUSTING!!  But they're clearly focused on learning good stuff. The room also has 4-year olds in it, so Helen will be challenged - which is good.  She's eager for it. 

Alice's class has 2 teachers that are there for the long haul, and they really love the babies. Consistency and reliability at daycare is important to me, so I knew I'd found a great place when I saw it.

On Friday, when I picked up Helen, Alice's teacher remarked that Helen seemed to have made a lot of friends in her class already. She said that when Helen came by to peek at her sister, some of her classmates were heading for the playground, and they all said, "Come on, Helen! Let's go play!" The teacher said it normally takes a while for new kids to adjust, and for the others to reach out and be friendly. And here she was seeing that kind of behavior already. She was telling me this little story, I think, to reassure me that Helen is settling in nicely and I didn't need to worry about her.

The high school geek in me is cringing. I probably would have taken WEEKS to make one friend.

Item 3
There was an anonymous commenter in the last post who kindly suggested that I turn this blog into a book. I will point that person to THIS ENTRY where my sister did just that for me almost 2 years ago, as one very special Christmas present that made me weepy.  In that entry is a link to buy the book online. If you want to buy the book, I can assure you no one (me or my sister) makes any profits whatsoever - just watching the sales counter tick in an upward direction is reward aplenty.

Whatcha Got Cookin'?

So, I can feel the last few hours of my maternity leave ebbing away.  I head back to work on Wednesday, and I've spent days thinking of how in the world I can get up, get ready, and get an infant and a toddler to daycare, while trying to catch a bus to work before 7:15 a.m.

Pregnancy, childbirth and now sleep deprivation have done something crazy to my brain this time around.  I forget things at the grocery store, lose track of time, have trouble recalling names of people or places, or derail my train of thought in the middle of a story I'm telling.  So I've made lists of everything I need to get done at night and in the morning.  Between pumping at work for an infant that's still nursing, getting the kids' stuff ready to go each day, finding my way to a brand new bus route, and taking care of the house, I haven't even given a moment's thought to actual work once I get back.  

(I do have the baby brag book ready to go, though, chock full of pictures.  I already feel sorry for people who make the mistake of asking me about Alice & Helen this week.  "Here are 25 pictures of my baby!  Please fawn profusely over all of them.")

Honestly, what worries me more is getting home in the evening.  After a full day at daycare, Helen is a HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPO and if I don't have dinner on the table within 20 seconds of the front door opening, I have to throw snacks at her for about 30 minutes straight while we hurry around putting a meal together.  (Yes, they feed my daughter at daycare.  But animal crackers and juice at 4 pm doesn't cut it.  And then snacks right before dinner - well, you know what your mother always told you.  Turns out it's true!  So we're stuck between a rock and that other inflexibly rigid spot known as Terrible Threes.)  

We have tried getting her to help us cook.  That hasn't stopped the whining, but only serves to distract her for a few minutes until she remembers she's hungry again.

Before I went on maternity leave, Brian & I had a system.  Without a lot of room for food storage at our place, we maintain a "just in time" inventory of food.  I'm not one of those people who could cook dinner with just anything in my pantry.  Most of that stuff is there for show, to cover a one-time use, or to help with the baking every year at Thanksgiving.  So each night, via cell phone, Brian & I hammered out a dinner plan on our way home from work.  

This meant when I picked up Helen at daycare, I already knew what I needed to get from the store.  Our grocery store is great at handing out samples, and one little thing would usually tide Helen over until I could get her meal ready, instead of the 3 things she wanted at home.  As long as I explained the plan to Helen ("We're going to the store, and Daddy is going to cook burgers on the grill, and then we'll eat dinner"), she could generally manage the "long" wait with just a cup of milk.

With 2 kids, one of which is still nursing like a champion, I don't think I'll be able to have this little luxury of stopping at the store each night.  Maybe the baby will have a bottle just before I pick her up.  But she's not on that schedule yet, and knowing my luck, they'll hand her over and she'll need one as I'm getting home.

So I've decided to become one of those mothers who plans menus and cooks ahead and freezes things.  I might even spend the weekend baking goodies, too.  Who knows?  This could be a good thing for our family, even if I don't do it all the time.  

My first foray into this experimental lifestyle is crockpot cooking.  So rather than collapsing in front of the TV at night, I'll cut up some things, throw the mess into a crockpot, turn it on in the morning and come home at night to the aroma of dinner, completed.  It sounds like the most perfect thing in the world.

Tonight we're trying a meatloaf.  In the crockpot, you ask?  Yep!  I found a recipe online.  Prep the loaf of beef, line your pot in foil, put the loaf in it and pour the sauce on top.  Set to high or low, depending on when you want it to be done, and wow, does your house smell good in a few hours flat.  

I'm adding green beans and sourdough bread on the side.  That should be enough to tame even the hungriest of toddlers.

Tomorrow, I'm trying a whole chicken.  Wish me luck.

And feel free to share your own time-saving tips for meals in the comments.  I have a feeling I'm gonna need it.

Overheard

The day of our ultrasound, Brian & I were trying to figure out how to tell Helen about the coming baby. Or her impending doom. We thought we knew how she'd take it, but we couldn't be sure.

Brian: Helen, we've got some very important news for you that's going to change the rest of your life.

Helen: I've got Fruit Rollup tongue!


Not sure if the folks in my generation and/or their parents have seen Fruit Rollups lately, but these things have morphed into my mother's worst nightmare. They look and taste nothing like fruit anymore. Remember how they vaguely resembled flattened strawberries, complete with the seeds? Now they're dried up sheets of Kool-Aid. Plus, they have these edible bluish-greenish patterns printed on them that can create a tongue tattoo. Of course, at the tender age of almost 3, she doesn't have the patience to figure out how to make a tattoo stick to such a rapidly moving object. She just shoves a Fruit Rollup in her mouth in about 2 bites flat. So, now she's eaten a 6-inch square of flat red sugar, and her tongue and lips are slightly blue. I can't tell if she's unable to breathe, or if she's seconds away from bouncing off the walls - neither of which is a great prospect.

Anyway, I started all of that to mention that Helen is so excited about this baby.  She tells me all the time, "Mom, I love your baby."  She wants to name it after one of her daycare teachers, and she tells anyone who asks that her mommy has a baby in her tummy.  She's thrilled to be a big sister, and she insists that she will share her toys with the baby.  We've learned a little lesson in how to hold a baby with her new Cousin M., and after seeing her pregnant aunt at Christmas, then visiting in the hospital and hearing that the baby came out of her tummy and now we can hold the baby - EASY, BE EASY, VERY SOFT, THAT'S IT - she really, really gets it.

So, a special thanks to my sister for going through all of this ahead of me, and for being a perfect object lesson for Helen.  You knew you did this for a reason, right?  I'm sure you're thrilled you could help us out.  

One of Helen's classmates at daycare will have a little sister next month, so they've been comparing notes in class, I think.  The other girl wants to name her little sister "Tutti-Frutti."  Wow.  Not so bright at this age, are they?

Helen lifts up my shirt at the slightest whim and tries to "see" the baby through the belly button.  I've put her hand on my belly to see if she can feel the baby kick, but of course the baby doesn't even try to kick once Helen's noise level approaches my torso.  I should use her as a calming effect more often.  I've noticed this baby kicks FAR more than Helen did.  The ultrasound was a hoot - at one point it looked like the baby was riding a bicycle, she was kicking her legs so much.

Speaking of which, Helen was an unexpected guest at our second ultrasound. She was sick that day, banned from daycare for a fever, and I had no one who could stay with her.  Nor did I have enough notice to change the appointment.  I promise, I am not in the habit of bringing my toddler to a doctor's office that doesn't have a pediatrician in it.  She was threatened within an inch of her life to be good that day, but I shouldn't have worried.  She was fantastic, even if she didn't quite get what the ultrasound looked like.  And I don't blame her - those things are notoriously hard to see for the uninitiated.  The pictures ended up in her room, where she can look at them as much as she wants, and as I was putting her to bed tonight, I found them under the covers.

That girl is excited to have a sister on the way.  I just hope she remembers to maintain this level of excitement later on.