Checklist

Even though I felt sick, yesterday I:

- fed the boys breakfast, cleaned up, and broke my TV rule because I felt too icky to manage anything else.

- got all of the boys ready to leave the house even though Nicholas was crying about how he did NOT want to go to school and refused to find, and then put on, his sneakers.

- took out the trash

- went to TWO different doctor's appointments, skipping Nathan's gymnastics class to make it to mine, which will make Nick's class today even more fun, since I have to take Nate with me to watch.

- did one load of laundry.

- picked up two different prescriptions of Amoxicillin. Apparently Andrew had a bad ear infection. But HE DIDN'T TELL ME! So how was I supposed to know. Seriously, babies should cry and be inconsolable and run high fevers and refuse to eat or sleep when they are sick. Andrew ran no fevers, ate fine, slept fine, hardly cried, and seemed in good spirits most of the time.

- broke my TV rule again in the afternoon.

- made dinner for my family, then cleaned up, then bathed the boys and put them to bed.

Being a parent is not a job where you can take sick days.

Feelings

When I get sick all I want to do is dissolve into tears at the things I need to get done, and the part of me that hurts, and the fact that all I want to do is sleep and watch really bad television.

That's where I am right now.

And should I feel guilty calling my own doctor for an emergency appointment when Andrew has been coughing for a week and all I've done for him is speak to a nurse?

I wish I didn't have to deal with this. I wish I could just feel better.

Zzzzzzzzz

Between the baby's feedings and the baby's sniffles and snuffles and the choking sounds over the monitor that sounded as though he were drowning in his own snot... and my own snifflings and snortings and me being all "It will hurt if I swallow" and being aware of the drool leaking out of my mouth and onto my pillow...

Well, I got very little sleep last night. And I feel very very icky.

Giants

I usually choose cable TV channels when watching TV with my kids, ones that are focused on small children with no commercials - or at least with no commercials for sugary cereals. Instead, in between shows, they have smaller shorts, or "videos" of characters singing.

The other day a song started up and I recognized the band. "Hey!" I shouted. "Is this They Might Be Giants?"

Nicholas shook his head. "No, Mommy. They ARE the Giants."

No No No!

Nate has officially entered the Terrible Twos.

I had originally written a post detailing this madness, but it started to sound as though both he and I needed to be locked away in a padded room. So instead I'm just leaving it at that.

Hit By A Truck

Every time I think we're getting over this SICK thing, something else happens. First Nick got a cold, then Nate got the cold, then Andy got the cold. Then Nate's cold turned ear infection. Somewhere in there I realized I had thrush and Andy probably had it, too. Enter medication. One would think this is where things begin getting better, right?

Well, not quite.

Because Andy's cold turned into cough, and then goop started weeping out of his eye. Nate's cold never quite left, and brains keep leaking out his nose. Nick developed separation anxiety and cries whenever I leave the house or drop him off at school. Andy's cough got a bit worse and he sounds like an old man and he can't cry - he cries, but it sounds like a creaky door. And this morning I woke up with a bad sore throat, despite the fact that I am still regularly taking Advil for the pain of the thrush, which has not quite left yet.

I want nothing more than to be done with this part, but it never quite ends, does it? And I'm afraid that after this part there might be an additional sick part, with new symptoms and goop and medications to administer.

Besides, we're all basically OK. Nicholas is fine. Nathan still has fun and runs around being funny. He's learning how to use the potty, and is so proud of himself. And Andrew spends more time awake, and smiles. He SMILES at us.

Plus, his eye seems a lot better.

Why I Became A Parent

I didn't become a parent to post videos of my inconsolable infant on TV. I have been awake since 4 am because Andrew wakes up snuffling and crying and wants holding, and will fall back asleep either as I enter the room or as I pick him up, only to begin crying again as my head hits my pillow. As he finally fell asleep, the other two woke up, so here I am. But that's not why I became a parent, either.

Yesterday, while I was folding laundry, I notice Nicholas was running around the house with a tennis ball I had given him to keep him busy. At one point he stopped and turned to me. "Mommy," he said, "We're playing baseball, and when you get a home run you go to jail!"

I tried not to smile, but it was hard. "I think you mean you run HOME. When you get a home run, you run to the Home Plate."

Nick shook his head. "No, in Daddy's game you go to JAIL." (Remind me to speak to Steve about what he's teaching the children.)

Then he turned to Nathan and started listing off instructions on how to play. I honestly wasn't paying attention anymore, but his last words caught my attention. "And Nate, don't forget your cell phone."

I collapsed into giggles, trying to imagine what kind of baseball game involved cell phones. Nicholas turned to me. "Why are you laughing?" "A grown up joke," I said. The Nick smiled. "We're playing baseball, and I'm the HOT team, and Nate is the COLD team."

And conversations like THAT re why I became a parent.

Cranky Pants

Just to keep everyone updated, I am not in any less pain than I was thwo days ago. Which is disheartening. For his part, Andrew has caught THE COLD and fusses and grunts and CRIES not all the time, but only when I'm at the grocery store with all three boys, or trying to feed myself, or any time my head hits the pillow. He's miserable, and just wants to nurse. And I will not let him. Even though I want to. Because I don't want to... you know what I mean.

That's enough for today.

One For The Books

Yesterday I made an appointment to visit a Nurse Practitioner about my "difficulties" feeding Andrew. I was diagnosed with yeast infection. In my nipples. The bad news is that I'm apparently gross and yeasty. The good news is I can take medication! The bad news is that Andrew needs medication, too, because he could have it in his mouth. We've seen this before, with Nathan. It's called THRUSH. I take two pills, a couple of days apart. Easy! Andrew needs drops in each cheek and rubbed into his gums 4 times a day for 2 weeks. Not so easy.

I also had to take Nathan to the doctor because his cold was bad and he reached the point where he wouldn't stop crying. Or eat. Or drink. Or take medicine. Or be separated from me by more than a half inch. Or stop crying. For HOURS. There was a great moment where Andrew was crying, and Nate was crying and begging to be picked up, crying "Mommy!Mommy!" And for some reason (probably because the other kids were all doing it) Nicholas started to cry and wail "Daddy! Daddy!" I was trying to shepherd them all upstairs and change diapers for nap. I had to carry them up one at a time. Then I had to sit with Andrew on Nathan's bed while he cried and crawled all over me, and Nicholas stared at up from his own bed, weepy because I told him he couldn't join us... and of course he felt left out.

Then there was the afternoon visit to the doctor's office where the doctor said Nate had an ear infection and was given a perscription of the pink stuff. Then I got all three kids outside and into the car, everyone strapped in... then I realized the perscription was still in the doctor's office, so we all had to go back.

I had to make a chart to keep track of who gets what medicine when.

1978 - A Good Year

Andrew really gets into his renditions of HAPPY BIRTHDAY! This time he's singing to Anne-E, who turns 30 today.

Many people think the Blizzard of '78 refers to a snowstorm. In fact, it is a reference to the birth of my sister. Because that's how much of an impact her being born had. Honestly, I have to tell you, I have no memories of snow that year. But I can vividly remember picking her up from the hospital. Aunt Frances was with us. Both Winston and I were crawling over each other in the back seat of the yellow VW. Mom sat in the front with baby Anne-Elizabeth in her arms... these days we would have had to travel via SUV in order to fit all the car seats and baby parphernalia.

Anyway, Anne-E is far away in South America, so I can't call her on the phone. Not because they don't have phones, but because I don't have a number for her there. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANNE-E! I love you! Have Fun Today!

As a side note, Anne-E is traveling with LP, whose adventures in Argentina are being documented here!

Hanging In

We're all hanging in over here. The boys all have colds, including Andy. I'm still having feeding difficulties. But things are looking up and I'll keep you all in the loop. With more information than you need about such things.

Breastfeeding Basics - please help

Looking for help, here.

I planned on breastfeeding Andrew until it was time to stop. I did that with my other two. With Nick the time to stop was eight months, and with Nate it was five. With Andy I was hoping it would be closer to ten.

There are lots of advantages to breastfeeding. First off, breastmilk is supposed to be SO good for your baby. It has antibodies that protect them against illness. Studies have claimed that breastfed babies are less likely to get ear infections or become obese. Not to mention the fact that you can breastfeed anytime and (almost) anyplace. Formula takes time to prepare and it is expensive as all HECK. Plus, breastfeeding is supposed to speed up the weight loss process in the mother and may actually lessen the chance of breast cancer later on.

On the other hand, it hurts like a son of a bitch.

I shouldn't say that, I know, because apparently this isn't true for everyone. Sure, breastfeeding is harder than they would have you believe. You can't measure exactly how much the baby is eating. You have to watch what you eat because the baby eats what you eat, so not too much wine, nothing too spicy, not too much caffeine unless you LIKE being up all night. Also, your breasts might leak (like mine this time around). There's nothing like standing in line at the supermarket listening to your baby wail for food and suddenly realizing the front of your shirt is SOAKED. So you'll have to either change your shirt a lot or wear breast pads in your bra. If you're like me and don't need any extra padding in that department, this can be a drag. Also, these falsies don't blend, so you're doomed to wear loose sweatshirts that don't show the outline of the pads on your boobs. And also, it hurts.

I don't remember breasfeeding hurting this much for my other two. Sure, it hurt AT FIRST. But then it got better (mostly) and life went on. But this time... Andrew is great. He's getting enough food. I drink caffeine and he's fine - he sleeps. He DOES eat a lot, though. And my nipples, which had healed from the scabs I got when I started nursing a month ago, now are all cracked at the base. Open cuts that do not bleed, but might scab over in that yellowy scab way, and might actually bond to the pads in my bra so that when I take them off to nurse it KILLS. When I start nursing it feels like a bunch of needles being stuck in my nipples. I've tried a couple of different ointments, but they don't seem to help, and the cuts are not healing.

I know everything gets better. Milk supply evens out and leaking becomes less common. And eventually nipples are supposed to heal and this experience becomes a wonderful, bonding sort of love fest between mother and child. But I'm having a hard time getting to that point. I would like to not be aware of my nipples every second of every day. I would like to take a shower and not scream when the spray hits my nipples. I have gone online to read up on it and get help, and I'm making sure he's latched on correctly and switching positions and everything, but it's not helping. It doesn't help to know that all the brestfeeding sites seem to be populated by women who 'had that problem', got over it, and are now still happily breastfeeding their three-year-olds.

My point is, I'm in a lot of pain. I would like to breastfeed without crying. At least until my six-week check-up. But I'm very close to switching to expensive formula, and that's not the way that I would like to go.

Any comments? Anything? I know there is at least one breastfeeding mother who reads this, but I welcome words of support from anyone. Or if you think I'm being crass or stupid, please let me know that, too.

Thanks

Report Card Time

Nick and Nate love wearing hats inside for no reason. The other day I caught them wearing these hats with their names on them, and I just HAD to take a picture. I tried getting them to lean in towards each other, but instead of doing that they both leaned to the same side. Instead of looking offhandedly affectionate they looked like a couple of strange coneheads.

I had a meeting with Nick's teacher for his mid-year review. The meeting lasted all of five minutes, and that's only because we spent two talking about the cold. Nick is getting along nicely at school. In fact, he got all A's. OK, he doesn't get grades, but if he DID, he would have all A's. Basically he scored "consistantly observed" on all of the milestones they look for, including jumping, running, speaking in sentences, and recognizing shapes.

Nate had a doctor's appointment yesterday. He scored in the 90'th percentile for weight. Nate was 32 pounds. Nicholas also stepped on the scale. Nick was 34 pounds. I know I'm not supposed to compare my kids, but they were standing there, side by side... I spoke to the doctor about it and she said not to worry because at this point he'd be at the 50th percentile if he was only 3 pounds lighter. All it will take is one growth spurt. And other than that he is normal and healthy and developing normally and also very cute.

Andy had a doctor's appointment last week, so while I'm at it... he is also at the 90th percentile for weight! But that's just cause he was born big. His head size, however, is at the 95th percentile. I could have told you he had a big head. He's still exclusively breastfed, which is working out great, for him, but which I am personally having some difficulty with. I'm not talking supply here, I'm talking pain. Which is exacerbated by the fact that he is now asking to be fed (and by asking I mean crying and sucking on my shirt) every 90 minutes. But I have enough to say about that to do a whole post on it, so I'll stop for now.

And So...

Nate's Birthday is always a little bit of a fiasco. It's right after Christmas, and everyone is out of ideas for gift giving, or out of energy to shop and decorate. Nick's birthday is at the end of May, and I go a bit nuts with the opportunity to get helium balloons and hang decorations and we throw a party on the weekend... And poor Nate's parties seem so small in comparison. Lucky for us he's only two, and I can correct the problem before he notices.

Yesterday Nicholas came down with a fever. We spent a lot of time cajoling him into taking medicine, which he was enthusiastic about the night before, when all he had was a small cough, but now that he needed it he refused to take it. But once he did, the party was a success.

We had pizza and a cake that said "HAPPY BIBTHDAY NATHAN" because I wrote it myself, and I messed up the R. He also got a gift with a card that said "To: Gramma and Grampa, From: Nae Happy Birthday." Which made me laugh. And he got a couple of toys, including a tricycle and a sleeping bag. The boys love the tricycle, but the sleeping bag won as MVP because Nathan could take it with him wherever he goes. He slept with it last night, and this morning began dragging it around the house with him.

Nicholas will have to skip his first gymnastics class, and I am taking him to the doctor.

Happy Birthday Nathan!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NATHAN! Today you are two years old. It is going to be a busy, busy day, but we have gymnastics class, so it will all be worth it.
I'm so lucky to have such a wonderful kid. He's so into everything, so enthusiastic, and so funny. And he's blond. Who knew?

Inconceivable!

OK, but doesn't he look like that guy from the Princess Bride? In a strange, round-headed way?

Andy has so much less hair now than he did in this photograph. It's falling out. I keep finding strands of it on his mattress or in his blankets. His hairline is near the back of his head. Except for this little tuft of mohawk fluff he has going on. Anne-E would be proud.

Brothers Forever

Good Morning! It's snowing this morning. We had that rush of warm weather and rain, almost saw the ground. But now... School is canceled. The cleaning service will probably not make it, either. This is why Steve keeps threatening to move to Atlanta.

Live Free Or Die

The official motto of the Granite State (New Hampshire, people) is "Live Free Or Die."

I'm pretty sure this was a phrase originating with the revolution - the American Revolution. It is a pretty passionate motto, don't you think? I mean, there it is on all our license plates: LIVE FREE OR DIE! But if you look at the other state mottos, you have to admit it says something. I'm the other mottos mean something as well, but I tend to raise my eyebrows at mottos like "Friendship" or "Hope" or "Labor omnia vincit." Let's face it, anything in latin is a strange motto.

Anyway, I appreciate the sentiment behind the phrase on a few levels. And it makes me uncomfortable and angry when I end up sifting through political jargon and the legal "fees" that companies are allowed to charge me. It seems so silly that I have to file so many papers for an infant just to settle the medical issues surrounding BEING BORN. I kind of share my husband's conviction that the government is tracking us somehow. I do not, however, think it is being done via immunizations. I tend to lean towards subliminal messaging in advertising and the internet. (how else can you explain Hannah Montana?)

But anyway, I found Andrew's social security card. You will never guess where it was! It was in the folder it was supposed to be in, the very first place I looked. I must have gone through it seven or eight times. But somehow I missed looking between two very specific sheets of paper, and so I missed it. Of course I had to turn the house upside down and sift through the paper recycling barrel TWICE. (other people might have bins, but we throw out a lot of paper, so we get a whole trash barrel.)

Why There Are No Photos

OK, so I MEANT to download photos so that I could post them to this blog. But then I realized I hadn't taken any. And so I told myself I would spend yesterday taking pictures.

Honestly, how many pictures of Andrew sleeping does anyone need to see? Or Nathan eating? Because with Nate it's either him eating or a great close up picture of his ear as he runs around to see the picture you are currently taking.


Yesterday I took Nick to school, where Nicholas cried when I dropped him off. Nick NEVER cries when I drop him off. Other kids have exhibited this behavior since day 1, crying, clinging, acting shy... from his first day in the Toddler class Nick just went to a toy and started playing. He was more apt to cry when I picked him up. But lately he's been crying when I drop him off, and despite the fact that I know quick good-byes are best and he'll be fine three seconds after I walk out the door... I'm just not used to it.

Then I took Nate and Andrew to Target, where I did some sneaky birthday shopping for Nate and got a few items we really REALLY needed (they were on clearance!) And got to the checkout before Andy woke up or Nate started fussing too badly... and I DID NOT HAVE MY WALLET! I had to drive home and drive back and drive home again, loading and unloading the kids in and out of the car... I was SO MAD and it was totally MY FAULT!

Then I got home and realized I had lost Andrew's Social Security cards.

So there are no photos today. And I will not be taking any today, either, because I am too busy looking for social security cards.

The End.

Sheets

Quick Question of anyone... and everyone. How often do you change your sheets? And how often do you feel they SHOULD be changed. (I know the two are not always the same.)

When I was at college I changed my sheets a few times a year. Usually only when I spilled something on them, or when they started smelling so bad I couldn't take it anymore. But back then I did laundry once every few weeks at best. (Hey, if I showered more than once a week back then it was a big deal.)

Steve told me last night that the sheets on our bed shouldn't need changing more than once a month. At one point in my life I would have totally agreed with him, but Steve sweats. And also, I should confess, I have been sweating a lot at night. And since I do laundry every day anyway... Seriously, what do normal people do?

Boys

Yesterday I took Nathan to Gymnastics class for the first time.

This was a trial run. for a few reasons. First off, I've never taken anyone to gymnastics class. When I took gymnastics in High School it was a bit of a joke, since I was afraid of walking on the balance beam And was really not so very graceful when it came to floor work. Also, Nathan is still a week shy of 2, and this was the 2 - 3 year old class.

It was great. Sure, the whole gym was 90 degrees, and Nathan kept running off to try out other equipment and join the other class. Sure he needed help doing the forward rolls and couldn't slide down the polls. But so did everyone else.

Nathan LOVED it. He got to bounce on a huge trampoline, and he got to roll around in a bin of spongy material. He got to climb and slide and hop around... And at the end he was smiling his biggest smile... up until he saw me holding his shoes, at which point he screamed and ran back towards to gym. I carried Andrew out the door in the carseat carrier, and Nathan kicking and screaming out the door in my other arm.

Nicholas has his first class next week. I'm thinking this is a MUCH better choice than Library story time for him, even if you have to pay for it. Because Library story time is so much like school... Nathan can do both.

More Resolve

Now that we're more thn a week into the New Year, I thought I would finally do a post about Resolutions.

I actually make New Year's Resolutions. And no just ones about loosing weight. Like most of my lists, I keep this one short, to four or five different items, so that can maintain the illusion that all can be accomplished.

The thing is, within each individual resolution lies a number of smaller resolutions, the steps to the larger goal. For example, my BIG resolution might be "Get In Shape." The smaller resolutions would be "loose 20 lbs," "Fit into old jeans," "Run 5k again without stopping," and "Stop eating a box of pop tarts a day."

I'm not crazy enough to list all of my resolutions here, let alone the multiple sub-resolutions because, quite frankly and with all due respect, it is none of your business. I WILL say, however, that I'm having a hard time actually starting any of them. I know Andrew is a "Good" baby and only wakes up a couple of times a night. Two or three. As opposed to Nick, who would wake six to eight times a night until his first birthday. But I am still exhausted. And honestly I can't accomplish even half of what I want in this state.

Hurry Hurry Hurry!

Here is a photo of Andrew. For some reason, in this picture, his hair is red. Or at least redder than it is in real life.

Last year I had moments where I asked myself why I was in such a hurry. I mean, I don't have a JOB. It makes sense to be on time for school and nap and stuff, but nothing is written in stone, and it's not like we were hours behind schedule. So what was the rush? Why did I always have one eye on the clock?

I remember why now. It's because, when you have a baby, like Andrew, you realize that you only have so much time before that baby wakes up and starts screaming, or needs to be fed or changed. So when we go to the store these days, I'm frantic to get out so I won't have to feed the baby in the bathroom. When I'm getting the boys into pyjamas I don't want to dawdle over who's wearing what because the baby is RIGHT THERE and any moment he's going to erupt. So life becomes a game of Beat The Clock.

People think I'm nuts, don't they?

Funny Words

Nathan calls Scooby-Doo "Dubba Dubba Doo."

In the Book Baby Danced the Polka, when it gets to the part where the baby dances with the chocolate colored cow, Nicholas always says "chocolate COVERED cow." Which is much more appealing.

Nathan has told me what he wants for his birthday. I have no idea what he said. But I better figure it out, soon.

Early Morning Chaos

The other day, one of the mothers at Nick's school asked what it was like getting all three boys in and out of the car. The truth is, sometiems it's really easy. And other times... well, it requires planning. I think about people with small children a lot, especially my friend Betsy, who has a 2 year old and twin infants (two months? Three? I lost count already.) I suppose each batch of kids has its own difficulties, a special set of ups and downs, of pros and cons. Yeah, I don't have two infants and I only have to carry one child, but Betsy doesn't have a three year old who pulls everything out of his dresser just to find the exact pair of shorts he's looking for, shorts that he wants to wear, NEEDS to wear, even though it's 7 degrees outside.

Andrew Is a baby and just fusses. He sleeps most of the time, unless I decide to climb into bed or get busy actually DOING something. Then he starts to cry so hard it sounds as though he's being tortured. Overall he's been pretty good. He only wakes up a couple of times a night. He doesn't have colic and is usually pretty mellow (although this morning he refuses to let me put him down.) But Andrew is also just under three weeks old, so we really can't expect too much.

Nathan is less than two weeks shy of being two. The terrible twos. Every single time I go to change his diaper or get him dressed, he reacts by running away. He asks - no, demands - at least seventeen sip cups full of milk a day, unless running up to me and shouting "ma mak! ma mak!" and waving a sip cup in my face counts as "asking." He drops toys all over the house, and thinks that jumping on top of Nicholas is great fun.

Nicholas is three. He likes to choose his own clothes. He tries to change clothes five times a day. He is always too cold or too hot. He leaves clothing and toys scattered everywhere, too, the clothes impossibly twisted and tangled inside-out. He is also old enough to get most of what he wants himself. He can open the fridge, closet doors, and he can go get stools and chairs so he can reach high places. He can use the water dispenser on the fridge. He wants specific things, and it is never anything that we have, and if we have it then it doesn't make sense. He can also make excuses, tell me he wasn't the one to make the mess so he shouldn't have to clean it.
It has taken me over an hour to write this post because I had to put in the Tigger movie for Nate, pop Andrew's acifier back in his mouth 46 times, feed Andrew, and wrestle with a drawer than Nicholas somehow pushed something behind so now it won't close, and I can't get the drawer out or reach over or under it. Nicholas shrugged, said he didn't do it, and proceeded to drag out 100 sheets of different kinds of paper and scribble on them in blue marker. The paper is still all over the place, the marker has no cap and is still on the table. The Tigger movie is almost over, Nathan is crying, Andrew is crying, they both need a diaper change, the drawer still won't close and I have no idea when I'll have to time to fix it, or if I even can...

So yeah, three kids... this morning I would trade them for sleeping in and a breakfast I didn't have to make myself.

I Heart Huckabee?

I have to first say that I hadn't considered Huckabee winning ANYTHING. Mostly because his name is "Huckabee" and I immediately picture straw hats and teddy bears and men in giant Bee costumes. But maybe also because New England has Romney. Romney Romney Romney. And frankly there are so many other Republican candidates that I would vote for first. Not that I'm even voting republican. But you get my drift.

The primaries are fast approaching here in NH. That means many, many signs on the road. It also means that our mail has increased in volume... but just because we get at least seven flyers each day from hopeful presidential candidates. And also our phone... oh, our phone.

Our phone has been ringing off the hook. Thank goodness for caller ID. If I don't recognize the number, I do not pick up. If the call says "Out Of Area" I do not pick up. If the call is from "Obama For American President" I do not pick up. Because quite honestly I DO NOT CARE. I WISH I felt so passionately about a candidate, that I trusted a candidate enough to make phone calls for him / her on my personal cell phone, that I felt I could dedicate my time and effort for the cause... but I don't. I think they are all fools and crooks and I trust none of them. At least Edwards has good hair.

Steve likes to pick up the phone and harass the survey takers, asking them if he'll be paid. Which is funny, but when the phone rings seven times in an evening I start to get annoyed. It's like hearing the same joke seven times. A joke that makes you feel a little uncomfortable.

Anyway, our phone issues aside, I can't wait for this part to be over. I hate politics so much. I mean the election part of it. Honestly, why all the campaigning? Do you know ANYONE who's ever changed their mind about issues or a candidate once they have made up their mind ten minutes into election year?

She's Not There

Everyone knows that pregnant women are a little bit crazy. It's the hormones, right? I mean, there are so many hormones swimming around, each with a different purpose - changing your body, your bones actually changing, your body getting ready for labor, not to mention the fact that you're growing a Human Being inside you... I mean, who wouldn't be a little stressed out.

Fewer people realize that, after the baby is born, there are even MORE hormones swimming around. Why? Because the body, as miraculous as it is, doesn't realize the baby has been born for some time. So it keeps making these hormones. But the hormones HAVE NO PLACE TO GO. So they just swim around and make you do crazy things, like cry during dog food commercials, and try to fit into your six 6 jeans from two years ago.

In many countries, women traditionally have a confinement period after the baby is born. Oh, I know, there's all that talk about women giving birth in the rice fields, strapping the newborn to their backs, and going right back to work. But that's really a lie. Because no one would give a woman who's just had a baby a knife sharp enough to harvest ANYTHING. The truth is, one's body must acclimate to being NOT pregnant. It takes time to get back to normal. Or to something that resembles normal. And I'm not just talking about a good night's sleep. I'm talking about being able to look at any of my kids without milk soaking the front of my shirt, or being able to look at old photographs without sobbing.

I fully support the idea of confinement. Even before, in my previous life, when I was working, I was of the opinion that women should have at least one day a month when they shouldn't have to come to work. Not because of pain or inconvenience, but because I was in such an evil mood that there was no way I could pass as normal, and no one wanted to be around me anyway. Call me sexist. I'm not kidding.

Well, these days I'm like that kind of all the time. I mean, I'm not really in a bad mood all the time - I sound like it here because I'm no longer a morning person, and have you checked the times of my posts? No, it's the normal, everyday things that I can't seem to accomplish for some reason. I spent over 2 hours in the grocery store the other day. I drove past my exit on the highway. To get dinner on the table half an hour later I need to start an hour earlier. I forget about clothes in the washer. I forget where I put the baby. I can't remember if the boys have had snack. I sometimes realize I have the TV, the radio, AND my computer playing a CD all at the same time.

So there you go. I am insane at the moment. And probably will be for a few more weeks.

That's Entertainment!

Nicholas can talk for hours. I have no idea what he's saying, not because his words aren't clear, but because usually I only realize twenty minutes into a description of something that he's still talking, and my mind has wandered on to other things.

Nicholas was talking early, using simple words but speaking them in what seemed to be a clear manner. Nathan, on the other hand, speaks in sentences. The frustrating thing for everyone is that he can't be understood.

The other day in the bathtub Nathan looked up at the ceiling and said something three times. Something like "Disappear, disappear, disappear." Or maybe it was "Look up there! Look up there! Look up there!" Or, upon reflection, it could have been something about a beer. He spoke the words very solemnly, and then glanced at me sideways without moving his head, and then smiled as though he had told a very funny joke. I couldn't help but laugh, and Nicholas laughed, and then Nathan proceeded to do it 47 more times.

Yesterday Nate walked up to me and tried to play catch. Each time, before he threw the ball he would chant something. Then he would throw the ball. Nicholas ended up playing with him. He would run after the ball, pick it up, chant his own thing, and throw it. It wasn't really like a game of Catch. It was more like a game of Fetch! Only with taking turns and chanting, and occasional wrestling.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

I screamed a lot during this labor. I just did. It hurt. And then right after that I got a cold. And then right after THAT we had Christmas, and I was driving my kids somewhere and attempting to sing along with the radio, and that's when I realized my entire upper range had disappeared. I used to be a soprano. Now I can't hit anything out of my lower octave range. I can't help thinking that, at this point, I might never get my range back again. Not that it matters, since this particular talent of mine has been sitting on the sidelines for years. Still, it's scary and sad.

I still have the cold, too, so it could still be that.

But the point is, I can't call the boys anymore. Whenever my voice used to go up in pitch, it now just gets hoarse. Even when I'm perfectly sane I sound like on on the brink of a nervous breakdown. And my kids do not listen. Ever. So I have to repeat everything three times. And that makes me sound even loonier.

There were other things I wanted to say this morning, but I can't. I forgot what they are. And I'm too busy to sit here until I remember.

Happy New Year To Me

It wasn't three hours into the New Year that I managed to break one of my New Year's resolutions; I had resolved to be more lighthearted and less grumpy with my children. Not that I saw the New Year come in. I tried, kind of. I purchased a bottle of champagne and watched TV with Steve until he woke me up at 10:30. I had a blinding headache and I was so tired I could hardly function. Steve made a comment about missing the champagne, and then sent me off to bed.

And of course, before resting my head, I had to settle Andrew down, because even though he was sleeping fine while we were watching TV, as soon as I entered my bedroom he woke up and started fussing. To him, it was daytime. He also woke up at 1:30, and I spent the next two hours alternating between feeding him, changing his diaper, and stuffing his pacifier back in his mouth. During one diaper change he pooped as soon as I could get the diaper off him. Apparently he was fussing because he HAD to poop. Not because he needed a change, yet. He was just giving me a heads up. How thoughtful. Once I did get him down he stayed asleep until about 4:30, and then I had to settle him again.

I was holding out some hope that Nick and Nate would sleep in, because they didn't get to bed until 8PM the night before, and Nicholas hadn't taken a nap. (you can read between the lines here and assume I didn't get a nap either, if anyone is keeping track.) But no. They both woke up as early as ever, a bright 5:25. And I ignored them until just after 6am, when Nathan began walking down the hall with his singing toolbox. That's when Andrew started crying again. So I just got up.

The boys had made a royal mess in their room (which Nick cleaned up when I asked him.) The cats had turned over the trash can and leftover green beans and chicken bones littered the kitchen floor. (I think Gunther was just sad he missed out.) I still have a headache.

So I have broken my resolution to be less grumpy. I have other resolutions that I can break today, too. I'm thinking the one about cookies.