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.

Italian in a Small Town

It was 1997, and I had moved back to my hometown after a relationship tanked miserably. My parents very graciously allowed me to move back home, ten years before all the cool kids were doing it. After a few weeks of job hunting and wandering around my boxes and figuring out what to do with my life, I finally resigned myself to being a permanent resident of the town where I graduated from high school.

Yep, I went to get a new drivers license.

The county where my parents live is mostly rural. They reside in the more populated northern side of the county, which bumps up against a large metropolitan county. So I could have gone downtown to get my license, but instead I headed south to the small county courthouse, just for the experience. My parents told me where to find it, and wow. It's a tiny downtown. There's one stoplight in the town square, a few small stores, and the old courthouse. Here's a picture I found online:


I found an empty parking space on the street, right in front of the building. What kind of planet had I landed on? Further evidence of having left actual terra firma for parts unknown: there were only TWO people in line at the License Window. Cue angels singing Hallelujah!

Drivers license, fishing license, boat license, license plate for your boat, your car, your RV, etc. - all of this happens at the same License Window in the courthouse. Ahh, small towns. I immediately vowed I would never go to the downtown DMV again.

I told the woman at the window that I had just moved from Utah, and needed to get a drivers license. Clearly, this woman thought I was coming from another country (she was about half right), and although I didn't know it at the time, one vital word could have saved my morning from heading off the rails, right here ... but I didn't say it. She told me I needed to head over to the "Buchellus Building" to get my license.

"Where?" I asked, not sure I understood her accent.

She pointed to a doorway, which led to a parking lot. "It's across the parkin' lot, the Buchellus Buildin'."

Okay. I had no idea what I needed to do in this other building that couldn't be done at the super-nice, all-inclusive, no-waiting License Window, but I dutifully headed to the parking lot.

While I walked, I tried to figure out who the heck this "Buchellus" might be. Some Italian, I wondered, had settled here, of all places, and got this small town to name a public building after him! Amazing.

Once I made it across the parking lot, though, I started laughing. Over the top of the door, the sign proudly declared: "The Frank 'Butch' Ellis Building."

Inside, I encountered a small group of about six people, seated in chairs lining a hallway. It appeared to be moms with their bored-looking teens. So of course I started to get nervous that I would have to retake the drivers test. (Anyone remember what the fine is for littering on the highway? Yeah, I don't either.) I grabbed a copy of the drivers manual sitting on a table nearby, and took a number. Sitting down, I flipped through the book, awaiting some clerk to tell me it was my turn to fail. I overheard one of the moms say that she was really worried about her daughter's driving test, since that four-way stop intersection nearby was pretty tricky, and she wished they had gone to (even smaller town) instead for their test. That comment made me giggle, picturing my own drivers' test about a dozen years earlier. It was on the wrong side of downtown in the previously mentioned metropolitan area. To compare, a four-way stop in that neighborhood might be the ideal location for a carjacking.

Eventually, one of the clerks came back from administering a driver's test, and he did a double take when he saw me. Apparently that building was for teenagers anxiously awaiting freedom, not adult children returning to the nest because they couldn't make their first post-college relationship work right. I got to skip to the head of the line. Thank god for small favors, because it was at this point I learned I did not have to retake the test. Sweet! Then I learned that since I previously had a license in that state, he sent me back to the courthouse to get my old license number dug up and reinstated. I had just spent all that time waiting for him for nothing. That one vital word I should have told the first clerk? I had just moved BACK from Utah. Tips 'em off that I used to live here, la ti dah, here's your old license. None of the co-mingling with sweaty, nervous teens, none of the worries about re-testing decades after Drivers Ed, none of it. Ah, well.

Back across the parking lot. Back to the short line at the License Window. One photo session and small fee later, back to owning my new/old license. Again.

To sum up: there are no famous Italians in small rural Southern towns. Four-way intersections freak out moms of teenagers, probably because they know their own kids are so bad about taking turns. When you leave your hometown, YOU NEVER REALLY LEAVE YOUR HOMETOWN. Even the DMV is just waiting for you to mess it all up and come crawling back.

And no matter how far into the woods you drive, and no matter how short the line is, it still takes forever to get out of the DMV.

The One Where I Try to Gnaw on Her Cheeks

Alice's first word is "tickle."  

Really.  Yeah, I know.  That's what I said.

The daycare teacher told me about 2 weeks ago that when she tickles Alice, she'll say "tickle tickle tickle" while she does it, and now Alice says that back.  Alice *loves* to say it, even when they put her in the crib for a nap, she'll say it to herself as she's falling asleep.   The only time she won't say it is when I am *trying* to get her to say it in front of other people (sigh).   Anyway, this morning Alice was in her highchair and Helen stood next to her, and Alice reached over with her hand to touch Helen's shoulder and said "tickle tickle tickle." No prompting from me, I hadn't been tickling her - she had finished eating breakfast, and I was taking pictures of her holding her baby doll. Just spontaneously, she reached out to do that to her sister. Cutest. Thing. Ever!  



So I told that story to the daycare teacher this morning, and she said, "Oh, all the nursery parents just love Alice, because when they come in, Alice crawls over to the babies and touches the babies' feet and says, 'tickle tickle tickle.' "

My heart just melted.  I COULD EAT THAT KID UP.

Helen is 4!

Helen turned 4 this month. I am not sure where the time has gone but she is surely the youngest 4-year old I know. On the other hand, I've aged a whole decade. Hmm. Funny how that works.

Helen received many cards and gifts and well wishes from her family and friends.  As her birthday present, I took a day off work and we had a Mommy-Daughter Day. I planned a special agenda with good times for her on the agenda. Helen, meanwhile, got the bright idea to dress up fancy for Mommy-Daughter Day, and she woke up at 4:30, ready to go.  I had to shut it down and send her back to bed.  About 2 hours later, she arrived downstairs in her Tinkerbell costume.

I oohed & aahed over her outfit. Helen then asked me why I wasn't dressed fancy. I looked down at my jeans and Wonder Woman t-shirt and thought, oh heck. Her birthday is once a year. Back into the closet I went, digging out a dress from the dry-cleaner bag that I hadn't worn in ages. Fortunately it zipped. Matching shoes, and we were good to go. We stopped by Brian's work to get pictures made.



Dear Reader, we were the best-dressed girls in Waffle House for breakfast that morning. Fortunately, those waitresses have seen it all, and they don't bat an eye at this kind of outfit. Now, if we'd shown up at 2 a.m., it might have earned a raised eyebrow, but at 9 a.m.? "How do you want your eggs, sweetie?" Nobody even asked about the costume.

One trip to Target later, we were the proud owners of a new booster seat for Helen, plus an impulse purchase of Disney Princess pajamas. Then we headed to the movie theater to see "Up." We had to get the all-important Sprite and popcorn, and of course, the movie was in 3-D so we wore our glasses. Helen was far more interested in the popcorn. I loved the movie.

Mom's Official Movie Review: What a wonderful movie! Perhaps a little scary for younger kids, with big growling dogs in several scenes, but honestly, what a great story for adults. Dear Reader, you should watch it, too. Pixar could use your revenue. I worry about them sometimes.

After that, we went to get mani-pedis at my favorite salon. Speaking of which, I want to publicly apologize to everyone in Li-en Nails for your lack of a relaxing experience on the afternoon of Friday, June 5. I agree, the meltdown over messing up the toe polish was unwarranted. Helen has agreed not to make such a fuss again, either. And you don't have to worry - our next visit together won't be for a few years, or at least until we (read: she) can manage to sit long enough for the nails to dry before heading out the door.

Zootopia

Last month I took the girls to the zoo. It was one of those weekends where Brian went fishing on Saturday, and I was with the girls all day, and on Sunday he made plans to get some work done that would take all day, and I was like HECK NO I'M NOT STAYING IN THIS HOUSE ONE MORE MINUTE, YO. So I packed a couple bags with snacks & lunch and headed off for a very expensive picnic.

Actually, it's not that expensive, especially if you bring your own stuff to eat. You could haul a refrigerator in there, as long as you pay your entrance fee. I know a lot of places don't operate that way, so I was glad for the small reprieve. And this is the first year I've had to pay for Helen, but Alice was still free. So thank goodness for that.

The weather was great, and except for all the walking, the girls did fine. Alice has about 10 minutes of patience with sitting in a stroller or a buggy, and then she gets really tired of me not holding her. Let the screeching begin! The good news is that I can hold her and about 10 minutes later, I can put her back in the stroller. The bad news is that she's 20 pounds right now. So I alternated with pushing her or holding her. Helen tried a few times to get in the stroller when it was empty. I definitely got my workout.

We saw giraffes and elephants and some tigers eating lunch. We saw cougars napping and monkeys screeching. We even saw OH MOMMY THERE'S A PLAYGROUND!!! I WANT TO GO TO THE PLAYGROUND!!! CAN WE GO TO THE PLAYGROUND? PLEEEEEASE?

So yes, we did go to the playground. It started raining, and there's a sheltered area where I parked Alice's stroller and sat with her while Helen ran around and got wet. Dear Reader, that girl would change her entire outfit if she spilled a drop of milk on her shirt, but at the PLAYGROUND, it's RAINING, and she had a ball, not a care in the world.

I had to buy her a $2.50 bottle of Sprite to get her off the playground and back to the animals. We saw the meerkats and the alligators and MOMMY, I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE PLAYGROUND.

After 3 hours of too many animals and not enough playground and a lunch that she tried to feed to the crows, we got in the car to leave. She protested for about 15 seconds and then I heard blessed silence from the backseat. Sneaking a quick look as we pulled out of the parking lot, I found her head slumped to one side and eyelids slammed shut.

Thank you, PLAYGROUND.

First Job

When I was a teenager in the late 1980s, our next-door neighbor started his own business. They had gone exploring in a couple of nearby states to check out the newest trend in retail - really fancy bookstores with comfy chairs and coffee bars and peaceful adult contemporary guitar music. You know - a wonderful hangout where you could read.

Keep in mind, this is the late 1980s. The idea of drinking a cup of coffee AND reading a book IN A BOOKSTORE was like, BOOM - your mind just exploded. What if the customers spill the coffee ON THE BOOK? What if they get crumbs from their bagels ON THE BOOK? What if they READ THE WHOLE BOOK? How would that kind of place ever survive?

Yeah, I mean it. Seriously. it's hard to remember how novel that concept was in the beginning, but today, we all know the book-buying public latched on firmly. Nowadays, it's hard to imagine a bookstore you want to visit without a latte and a place to sit. Add some Manheim Steamroller, and stir. Presto! Suburban bookstore. Or: sprinkle hipster glasses, and toss with a calico cat. Presto! Urban bookstore.

Anyway, this neighbor opened the store with a friend of his in a brand-new shopping center near our neighborhood, and I sort of knew about it because my parents talked about it with our neighbor, and sometimes those talks happened in the driveway where I might be standing around and overhear it. I remember a grand opening, and I found it amazing. They had a couple of permanent employees right off the bat. These were good people who knew books and read books and LOVED books. Then one day, I think it was a few months later, our neighbor approached me about a part-time job doing some computer work in the back room. Turns out they were photocopying all the checks that people wrote (again, this was back before everything was bought on a debit card), and they planned to enter all of the addresses into their customer database. They wanted to create a mailing list for their newsletter, but their staff were generally busy selling stuff and didn't want to enter all that information. Could I help out? 

I'm not sure why they thought of me.  Cheap teenage labor?  Because I was there?  I don't remember asking my parents if I could, I don't remember if my parents talked to me first and then we talked to the neighbors - really, at this point it's all a giant blur of how it happened.  But I do know that I said sure!! and promptly spent Saturdays, and sometimes Sunday afternoons off and on working in the backroom of the newest trend in retail l for the next year and a half. They had a great DOS-based system (remember, 1980s) that catalogued all the books, with search capabilities and easy ordering from the distributors.  It all combined up at the counter with the register sales.  Yep - we used the computer as the register.  You can now applaud wildly at that cutting edge technology.  

My part of the system was pretty easy - I just entered in the addresses & phone numbers into a customer list. They had been saving a big stack of these check copies, and it took me a few months to work through them and get to current dates on checks. I got to where I recognized the repeat customers. 

It was cool to see the store grow to a huge success.  In the beginning, i don't remember being on a specific schedule but I basically worked weekends.  When they got busy, especially around Christmas vacation, they asked me to work the floor. I sold books, I shelved books, I wrapped gifts, I helped people pick out books, and I looked up stuff when people had questions. Eventually they felt like the mailing list was big enough, so I stayed on the floor as needed on the weekends. 

Working in a bookstore was my only retail experience. It felt like a smart place to work, like we had knowledgeable customers who looked at us as experts - not the retail clowns you always found at the mall bookstores. These days I think there are entire websites devoted to the dumb questions that customers will ask the good folks at Barnes & Noble, but back then, it certainly didn't feel like there was a giant conspiracy aimed at ruining our day.  Or else I was too young to notice it yet.  I had good bosses and co-workers, and while it wasn't a traditional office job with staff meetings and cubicles and memos, I definitely enjoyed it.

Oh - except for Manheim Steamroller. Nowadays I get an instant migraine when I hear that music.  Spend 8 hours listening to the same cd of adult contemporary guitar music, and tell me if you still enjoy it.  The owners got to pick the music, and we didn't get much say in that day's pick.  So, my favorite part of the day, musically speaking, was when one of the owners would rush back about an hour before closing time, steam pouring out of his ears, and change the cd to ANYTHING, GOD HELP ME ANYTHING BUT THAT ONE.

What was your first job? We're talking real paychecks here. Teenage babysitting or lawn mowing doesn't count.  Did you like it?

Bath Time

After dinner, our routine is pretty simple. Alice, normally covered in a rather large portion of her dinner from head to toe, is swept straight upstairs for a bath. Normally Helen monkeys around until I'm done with Alice, who until very recently had little patience for the tub and wanted out instantly. Helen would then get her turn, demanding a lot more water and lingering with her bath toys for sometimes a good 20 minutes or more.

Helen and Alice have been taking their baths together for a month or so now - Helen will eagerly hop in about 6 inches of water and splash around with her sister, who has been enjoying the toys and lingering herself lately. Tonight I got some great pictures of the two of them playing.

There is some pretty valuable real estate at the faucet end of the tub.  If my sister is looking at these pictures, it might bring back memories of our own childhood baths to see the struggle for prime position.  Alice was constantly crawling over her sister to get to that faucet.  She really enjoys standing up, and pulling up the knob that turns on the shower.

Later, they got into a splashing contest.  The loser was the bathroom floor.  

Kids Pics

Alice is cute as pie these days.  She's into everything - playing, trying to stand, growing teeth, and jabbering like a monkey.  This evening I caught her taking apart the Tupperware cabinet, and she was having so much fun, I let her do it.  

Helen is adorable, too. We've had some really fun moments this past month. Here we are at my office, checking out the action downtown one weekend as they turned off all the lights for Earth Hour.  I think she was more interested in the Sprite I got for her.

Catching Up

So, it's been a while.  Sorry about that.  Some minor stuff has been going on in the Wyatt house, and adjusting to Alice sleeping through the night, and somewhere in there I got so excited I decided it was time to stop breathing through my nose and instead developed this kind of rainbow-hued congestion along with sneezing - well, you get the idea.  

Oh, and I turned 37 last month.  So I'm old and I forget things now.  Blog entries?  Someone out there needs to remind me, regularly.  Dear Readers, please form a committee, and get it done.

A couple stories to share, all related:

For my birthday this year, Brian got some scratch-off lottery tickets to put in my card.  Lottery tickets have been a thoughtful addition to most of our gifts - Christmas stockings, wedding anniversaries, Secretary's Day, etc - for years.  But the excitement over possibly winning never matches the payoff.  We dream of how to spend the money, and then minutes later we're tossing the losing tickets in the trash.  Ah, well.  So much for the Mexican vacation.

So Brian had stuffed about $20 worth of tickets into my birthday card this year, and in order to postpone that awful feeling of disappointment, to enjoy that feeling of "What if I had all that extra money?" for just a little bit longer, I waited until after dinner to scratch off the tickets.

And promptly won $1000.

No kidding.

Yeah, that's what I did, too.

You have to understand, there's a giant conspiracy theory gone haywire in this state that nobody wins from these tickets, and it's all a ruse to get suckers to pay in to the education fund, rather than actually pay winners.  So to win money?  I was jumping up & down in the living room, screaming for all I was worth.  Alice was crawling around, looking at me like her mother had just gone insane, and Helen was standing at the top of the stairs, asking me, "Mommy, what's so exciting?"

So, it was a great birthday.  Honestly!  Loved every minute of it.

The next weekend, Brian went on a road trip to see a friend.  The guys made a stop for snacks and lottery scratch-off tickets.  That afternoon I was driving in the car, talking to him on the cellphone, with Helen & Alice in the backseat.  I told him if he won big bucks, he better get his butt back home.

After I hung up, I had the following conversation with Helen:

Helen:  Mommy, who were you talking to on the phone?

Jennie:  That was Daddy.

Helen:  Why did you tell him to get his butt back home?

Jennie:  (wincing) Helen, you remember when Mommy won that money from the green cards last week?

Helen:  Yeah.

Jennie:  Daddy bought some more green cards, and I told him if he wins a lot of money, he needs to come home.  

Helen:  (quiet for a moment)  Mommy, what does Daddy do if he doesn't win a lot of money?

Jennie:  (thinking - dang, that kid is getting too smart)

Overheard Twice

The only piece of information you need to know in advance is that Helen is being particularly difficult this month by not doing one thing that her mother tells her to do, even if what I'm telling her to do might SAVE HER LIFE.

Oh, and since I can hear the cackling 200 miles away, one more thing: Shut up, Mother.

So. On with the show.

Conversation #1

I am at the grocery store with Alice, talking on the cellphone to Brian. Alice stayed home with me that day with an ear infection.

Brian: Is Helen with you?

Jennie: No, I'm heading to the daycare to pick her up after I check out.

Brian: Do they have an overnight option?

Jennie: At daycare? I wish.

Brian: Is it just me, or do you just want to tell her to SHUT UP ALREADY?

Jennie: I'll be honest with you. Sometimes the best part of my day is in the morning, when I'm driving away from the daycare.

Jennie & Brian: (together) Suckers!!!

(Then I spent a moment in the deli laughing hysterically into the phone. I'm pretty sure I need to avoid the grocery store for a week or so.)

Conversation #2

I phone my mother to tell her about Alice's ear infection.

Mom: I'm sorry to hear she's not feeling well.

Jennie: Me, too.

Mom: How's Helen?

Jennie: You mean, She Who Burns Bridges?

Mom: (laughing) That's her Indian name?

Jennie: Yeah. I don't know where I get this stuff. I think it's all the sleep deprivation.

Overheard

This morning the entire family awoke at 4 a.m. to take Brian to the airport, who is flying out for the annual Bataan Memorial Death March.  Previous years here and here.  

On the way home, a heavy rain started falling.  I turned up the wipers, and heard Helen singing in the backseat:

Helen:  The wipers on the bus go swish, swish, swish ...

Jennie:  Good song.

Helen:  The mommy on the bus goes shhh, shhh, shhh ...  The daddy on the bus goes ... (silence)

Jennie:  (waits for a while to see if she comes up with anything) What does the daddy say?

Helen:  I don't know!

Jennie:  Well, what does your daddy say?

Helen:  Be quiet?

What a difference a day can make

I realize that by posting this entry and these pictures, there will be no less than 4 family members on my doorstep this weekend ready to take Alice away from us.  Please know that prior to posting these pictures, Alice was seen by the pediatrician and treated.  So she is on the road to recovery.

Now that I've scared you all to death, on with the show!

Alice was diagnosed with a severe double ear infection 2 weeks ago.  We were visiting my parents in Birmingham, and she kept getting a fever.  I knew something was really wrong.  Trust that mother's intuition, right?  Sure enough, the doctor confirmed it, and she got her 10 days' of antibiotics.  She seemed to improve - no more fever, a couple nights sleeping straight through, and I thought all was fine.  In fact, the evening of day 10, I took a bunch of pictures of her playing in the tub.

Gorgeous, right?

Then on the 11th day, she woke up with tiny red dots and hives all over her. 

Freaky, right?

The hives, from previous experience with Helen, screamed allergic reaction to me.  But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what caused it.  Did we switch detergents?  No.  Did she eat something new?  No.  Did the daycare give her someone else's food?  No.  So we went to the doctor, who told us that Alice presented both of the classic symptoms of allergy to amoxicillin, the antibiotic we used for 10 days.  One reaction is tiny red dots (check) and the other is hives (check, check, check).  I said, but wait - she had an ear infection we treated with amoxicillin at the beginning of January!  Why did we not see anything then?  Typically this happens on the second run, the doctor said.  Okay, but why did the reaction take 10 days to appear?  Because that's when you typically see it, after the course has built up in her system.  Sure enough, the ear infection isn't cleared up, either.

So we're on a whole new antibiotic, as far away from the penicillin family as we can get.  In the meantime, the dots are subsiding, but the hives and welts got much worse overnight and during the day.  We're managing with Benadryl for now, which I can tell helps a bit because she stops scratching at the back of her head during nursing sessions.  Otherwise, she's fine. Congested, red and puffy, yes.  But fine.

As a Southerner, I believe the words you're looking for are, "Bless her heart."  

So, to all our great-aunts and mothers and to my sister specifically - you can put down your keys, and step away from the car. We've got this one.  I promise.

Setting the Standard

About a month ago, when Alice started rocking back & forth on all fours, I commented to Brian that all she lacked was figuring out how to move her hands. She moved her legs and turned around, but she kept her hands in the same spot. So Brian got on the floor with her, and proceeded to show her how to move her hands.

I remember yelling at him to STOP RIGHT THERE, MISTER. We already taught one of them to walk & talk, and now I spend my days telling her to sit down & shut up! So, why in the world would we show another one exactly how it's done?

Well, despite my best efforts at prevention, last Friday Alice put the rocking behind her, and started crawling. Those little hands moved her purposefully around the room - toward a toy, toward me, toward her sister - and eventually, as we all know, toward independence. (sobbing quietly into a Kleenex)

Whenever I left the room to get something, I'd come back to find her several yards away. She did laps around the living room all weekend, crawling like a little champion.

Tuesday, I picked her up from daycare, let her bite on my finger in the car on the way home while I was searching for her pacifier - and discovered she had a tooth. One of the bottom ones had poked through at some point during that day, and although it's tough to spot in her mouth, you can definitely feel it.

Two milestones in one week is really all I can handle as a mother. I could cheerfully freeze her at this point - smiling & happy & generally sleeping about 5-6 hours in a row. Instead, I'm getting a "baby" moving as fast as she can toward "toddler" and it's really freaking me out. Up next: driver's license!

I joked about that yesterday with my mom - the kids were still at daycare, mind you - and then this morning, in the car:

Helen: Mama, do you have a driving license?

Jennie: Yes, I have a driver's license.

Helen: Where?

Jennie: In my purse.

Helen: Oh. Okay.

Jennie: Why did you ask me about that? Where did you hear about a driver's license?

Helen: Well, you know, that lady on TV, the police? That lady?

Jennie: (draws a blank, no idea where she could have seen this) Uh-huh ...

Helen: That's what it was. I was just asking you about it.

Jennie: Okay.

Dear Reader, I will admit that I completely ignored whatever crap TV show she may have caught at some point in the past few days to say a quick prayer she wouldn't ask how to get her own driving license. Because this week, I don't need these kids to grow up any more than they already have.

Sisters

These two love each other.  Alice smiles and laughs at Helen whenever she sees her.  Helen tells me often that she & Alice are falling in love, and when they grow up they're going to get married.  

Sweet, huh?

One day in the not-too-distant future, Helen will learn that this little sister of hers knows EXACTLY which button to push to start World War 3 in the Wyatt house, and she will also learn her little sister DELIGHTS in pushing that button.  Repeatedly.  But I have not burst her bubble yet.  Far from it.  I tell her that no, they won't marry each other, but they will always be sisters, and it's definitely a good thing to love your baby sister.  That way, they will always be sisters *and* best friends.  

A very quick update:  Alice is eating her homemade baby food like a champ.  After eating the first supply I made in 3 weeks, I took a few hours last weekend to make a bunch more (including green beans & peas, which were much easier than advertised).  Now I'm stocked up and ready to go for several more weeks.  

I'm sure it's not the last time I'll get a picture of her with this much food on her face (for the curious, it's sweet potatoes), but the smile is genuine, and priceless. 

Snow Day

Today we got about an inch of snow on the ground, and Helen took advantage of the fun to dress up and play:




Later Helen took her camera to get pictures herself.

Folks, I have to tell you that in about 15 minutes, she took 75 pictures.  Many of these pictures are out of focus because she moves as she snaps the shot.  Outdoor subjects of her photographic skills are blades of grass, rocks, fence posts, bricks, etc.  So now I have 75 pictures of mostly nothing.  

But after carefully persuing the camera's hard drive, here are the 3 best pictures from the lot.I'll call it luck that some of them happen to be artistic.  If you watched her running around the backyard snapping away like I did, you'd know why. Enjoy.

Milestones

Big Milestones: Lesser Known Milestones:

Baby latches on Baby latches on my jaw 

Helen's first word Helen's first swear word

Buying Helen a kid's potty Buying Helen a plastic mattress cover

Alice's eyes follow a toy Alice's eyes follow Mom's wineglass

Alice crawls to a cat's tail Cats stay away from Alice

Baby sleeps through the night Mommy sleeps through the night

One Million Questions

Helen starts the day with a long list of questions to ask.  Some of them are important, pertinent to maintaining a conversation, provide information on that day's agenda, or educate her on a topic of interest.

The other 99.9% are completely useless chatter - the proverbial talking just to hear herself talk.

I could be stirring something in a pot on the stove, and Helen will ask me, "Mommy, what are you doing?"  Or I could be watching a football game on TV, and she will ask me, "Mommy, are you watching football?"  Brian comes into the kitchen after putting on his coat and getting ready to leave for work, and Helen will ask him, "Daddy, where did you get that coat?"

I realize asking questions is the only way a 3-year old will learn anything.  God knows I'm doing a horrible job of teaching her.  But the questions.  Good lord.  There are times that I pick her up from daycare where my day has been busy and I'm exhausted, and I know before I even head home, I need to go to the grocery store and figure out what to have for dinner.  So the last thing I need is a long list of questions to answer.   But I have spent the entire commute screwing up my courage to the sticking point and then the whole way home forcing myself to answer as many questions as I can.  No matter how many I answer, or how hard I work on being patient and helpful and friendly - there are times when I reach my limit.  "Enough with the questions!" I tell Helen.  That's usually when she will respond with, "Mommy?"  Oh, yes - one more question.  Just what I wanted.

Conversation with Helen is fine.  I enjoy talking to her, and hearing her describe her day, and telling me about her friends.  It's when she decides to chatter, just to hear herself talk, and especially when I'm trying to get other things done, that the nerves start to fray.  I tell her to shush when I'm feeding the baby, because her talking will distract the nursing process.  I usually have to tell her twelve times to shush.  Her favorite response to "Shhh!" is "But Mommy ..."  

Sigh - 

Whoever talked about Terrible Twos must have offed the kids before they reached three, because THREE IS WAY WORSE.

So, about a month ago one of Helen's teachers left to care for a family member, and I finally met the new one about a week ago.  When I introduced myself, she said, "Oh, I love Helen.  She's very ... inquisitive."  Yes, Dear Reader, the teacher PAUSED and made up a nice long word to describe my child.  I couldn't help but laugh.  She had no idea that both my mom and my sister are teachers, and I'm more than familiar with this kind of doublespeak.   

Anyway, I told the new teacher that if Helen got a little overwhelming with the questions, the code word to make it all stop is, "Helen, enough questions."  She said, "No, she's fine.  Very sweet little girl."  And I said "Thank you," but what I was thinking was "LIAR!"  Must have caught her right after a bunch of Helen's questions, don't you think?

Which reminds me - a tidbit to share with you from one of my favorite bloggers, Mimi Smartypants, who talks about her daughter, Nora. Somehow, this feels like a preview of my future:

Third quarter report cards for kindergarten are out---mostly a collection of letters, W for "well-developed skill," P for "partially developed," and I forget what else, maybe C for crappy? Something like that. In the narrative portion of the card the teacher wrote, "Nora had an excellent academic quarter. She has a lot of knowledge to share." Oh yes, teacher-lady, I feel you. Nora has a lot of knowledge to share, and share, and share.

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.

Memories

Just a quick note with some pictures - I've started putting Alice in the exosaucer and the highchair.  Almost instantly, the memories flooded in.  She really seems to enjoy herself.

Next up, crawling.  No, really.  She's already on her hands and knees, rocking back & forth.  She's been rolling over since just after New Year's, and I've been desperately thinking of ways to stop the inevitable from happening.  That whole moment where you put a baby on the floor, can leave the room to grab a drink from the fridge and come back to your baby in the same spot - all that is over now.  The daycare teachers tell me she spends her day rolling around the room, under the cribs, etc.  And she scoots around her crib, too.  Very mobile little baby so far.  This bodes well for the toddler years, don't you think?

Daycare Drama

Yesterday I got a call from the daycare about Helen. Apparently, for the 2nd day in a row, she has called one of her classmates "idiot." The teacher had put her in timeout the first time, thinking it was a one-time deal, so she didn't call to tell me. When Helen did it again the next day, the punishment was both timeout and a phone call to mom.

With steam pouring out of my ears, I gritted my teeth and said, "I'll handle it. Can you put Helen on the phone?" I could hear the teacher say, "Helen, your mom wants to talk to you." In the background, I could hear Helen's response: "Nooo!" and the teacher said, "Take your hands off your ears - your mom wants to talk to you." There was some negotiating back & forth, but the teacher couldn't get Helen to take the call.

(At this point, your line is "Oh, no, she didn't!")

I told the teacher I'd be out there shortly to deal with her. She thanked me, and we hung up. I made plans to leave work around lunch.

Often, when the bizarre child-rearing event takes place, I call my sister for a little support or a good laugh.

Mandy: So, you're going to drive over there and beat her?

Jennie: (laughing) I'm trying to picture what our mom would have done if we had tried that.

Mandy: She would have gone through the phone. THROUGH THE PHONE.

Jennie: (picturing it, wincing) Yeah. She would. It's too bad the daycare is so far, I can't be there right away. Is yours still close to where your husband works?

Mandy: Yep. And he would be there in a heartbeat. "Hold on to this for a minute, I'll be right back."

Jennie: I can't even stay for lunch. It can't be a treat, like I show up to eat with her.

Mandy: She's got to know you're serious. THROUGH THE PHONE.

Fortunately for Helen, some co-workers talked me down, and instead I called her back about an hour later. Helen took the call that time, because she had forgotten all about it by then. Oh, how I ambushed that kid. I told her in no uncertain terms what she did wrong (including not taking the call), and that we would be having a very long talk with Mommy & Daddy about it at dinner.

Later, when I came to pick her up, her first reaction was her usual excitement to see me, and then she froze as she remembered she was in trouble. She cautiously approached me and I told her to get her jacket and get ready to go. We headed out to the car, and while my usual question is, "So, Helen, what did you do today?" Helen pre-empted all of that by saying as we drove out of the parking lot, "Mommy, I don't want to talk about my day today."

Yeah, yeah. As if that ever worked with my mom. Dear Reader, you'll be thrilled to learn it didn't work with me, either.