Magic in Life

When we were in France, I took Nicholas to Azur Park, formerly a called (and better known as) Luna Park. It's one of those seasonal amusement parks made entirely of recycled scrap metal, lights, and loud noises. When we were kids we used to go whenever we could get my parents to take us, and we would spend French Francs on stupid rides until we collapsed from the brain damage and unsafety of it all.

Nicholas loved Luna Park. But you would never know it from any of the pictures we took. He was so overwhelmed that he hardly smiled, he just had this glazed look of brain overload and panic, the panic of knowing that he had limited time to ride ALL THE RIDES. The only time he smiled was when he was driving the little race cars, and his smile was so wide it was amazing, but unfortunately I have no pictures because Jamie and I were too busy LAUGHING because Nick, as happy as he was, as thrilled as he was, completely misses the point of steering, and kept happily driving at full speed into the walls and other cars. The guy running the ride had to hop on in back and steer for him.

I am not finished with Harry Potter. Give me a break. Nathan hates it when he notices I am doing anything that is not focused on him, and immediately comes over and tries either being so cute I have to squeeze his cheeks, or so bratty I want to sell him to the Gypsies. Probably the ones that run Luna Park.

Winter Garden

Here's a picture of the Winter Garden.

Yesterday, filled with a good mix of excitement, shame, embarrassment, and anticipation, I found myself rushing out to secure my copy of the final Harry Potter book.

I'm too busy reading it now to post anything proper.

Sur Le Pont D'Avignon

One of the things I did while in France was to leave the boys at home for a day and take Lillian to Avignon. The old city of Avignon is beautiful, enclosed behind ancient walls. And there are a lot of touristy items of interest, including the Pope's Palace, the Church itself, The gardens, and of course, the bridge, which reaches about halfway across the Rhone.
Avignon is a few hours from where my parents are, so we left on the early side - 8am. That's early, right? What I had failed to realize fully, or to take into account, anyway, was that it was JULY, and therefore FESTIVAL TIME! Every year there is a huge art festival in the city, and hundreds and hundreds of actors and performers flock to the city and had out flyers to their shows. Hundreds of performances. People walking around in costume, trying to drum up business...
It took us over an hour to find a parking space once we actually made it to the city. We ended up parking across the river and taking a bus (free for festival season!) to the old city, and thank goodness we happened upon it, because I was very close to just stopping the car along the side of the road.
Once we finally got out and started walking, however, we were quickly swept up in the craziness of it all. Street performers sang songs, played instruments... and his old guy whistled a lot and balanced canes on people's heads and shoulders. Everyone wore their costumes. A group of people were dressed as animals. There were flocks of flight attendants. A huge Chinese Dragon danced down the street. One group of performers dressed in Elizabethan collars and sang madrigals, then dragged standers by into a huge human game of chess. I saw posters for so many shows I lost count - the were plastered all over the outside of the bank, above the heads of the people selling bracelets and paintings. Shows including 12 Angry Men (in French), the Vagina Monologues (in French) and this beauty:

All in all, it was a busy and fun day. Festival time is fun. You should go. Park across the river and take the bus - it will save you time and stress.

Life Goes On

In the past year my parents have had a lot of work done at the house in France, including fixing up the lower garden. Here is the view I had from my bed:


And here is the view from above, from the winter garden:




I can't post anything else today because Nicholas has his VERY FIRST DENTIST APPOINTMENT at 8am, and Nathan has a fever of 102, either a side effect of the inoculations from yesterday's check-up, or (more likely) something he picked up at the doctor's office. Either way, I have some getting dressed and some juggling to do while the Wiggles are still on TV and the going is good.

Odds and Ends

Here is a photo of the microwave in kitchen in France. Notice anything odd? Missing? No? OK, then pretend you are cooking a microwave meal, and it says to heat for three minutes. You pop it in the microwave, shut the door and press... right! NO NUMBERS! Honestly, cooking anything in this microwave is a combination of luck and luck. I could get it to turn on, but I couldn't figure out how to time anything correctly, so everything ends up cold or, more likely, so hot that you have to set it aside for 24 hours or the skin in you mouth will melt off. Here is a picture of the beach. Look at all the people. I can honestly say that I can think of about thirty five other things I would rather do than hang out with the hundreds of nearly naked people on that beach. One of my life's goals is to AVOID crowds, not dress my pregnant body in a bathing suit and sit in the midst of them. Also, sun is bad for you, and the water is cold. I prefer warmer beaches (Jamaica) with less people and free Margaritas. Also, there was a beach closer to my parents which always had about a third of the people at it, so we just went there.
Finally, here is a picture of Nicholas and his very first piece of chewing gum EVER! He didn't really know what to do with it, so it went in and out of his mouth a lot.

Sainte Rosaline's Curse

Nathan really missed his ride-on toys while we were gone. We tried explaining to him that this particular truck was not a sit-on truck, but he found a way.
When in France, we all tend to drink a lot of wine. At least everyone else did. I sat and watched and sipped lemon soda. Nevertheless, I was still excited and interested in visiting the Chateau Sainte Rosaline, where I would be able to visit the wine cellars, perhaps taste a few wines, and then visit the chapel, where they actually have the preserved body of Saint Rosaline herself. (Doesn't that sound gory? I KNOW!) Many have tried to visit the cellar and the chapel, but few have succeeded, as it always seems to be closed.

In any case, early one morning Lillian and I packed Nicholas, Nathan, and my brother Jamie into the car, and we drove over winding roads to the chateau. It is actuall a beautiful place. One side of the parking lot looks like this - a green expanse of grape vines. If you then turn around, you'll see something that looks like this - a big read sculpture of something that looks like a person dancing with a ball.

Actually, the Chateau displays all sorts of art (what goes better with wine?). I think this is a wonderful thing. But I do have to question the taste of it. I mean, I am not a huge fan of modern art, but I don't wish to dispute it's place in the world. It's just that, it seems to me at a Chateau, particularly a very old one, where they keep the body of a Saint, they might choose art that is a bit more in Harmony with it's surroundings. That's all I'm saying.

In any case, if you're wondering how the tour of the wine cellars were, or what I thought of the Chapel and Saint Rosaline herself... we didn't see them. We chose a Friday because they were closed Mondays, but what we didn't realized was that they don't open until 2:30 PM. That's 14:30. As it was 10am, and we had two small children with us, we simply purchased a couple of cases of wine and then left. I'll be back, though. Oh, I shall return. At about 2:30 on a Thursday.

Storming The Bastille

I did have a lot of fun on my vacation this year. I got to spend some time with my family, my parents, my brothers, and my kids got to spend some time with their uncles and grandparents. I got to take Lillian to see the Pope's Palace, the castle at Grimaud, the market at St. Tropez. We got to go to the beach and swim in the pool. It was fun and I had a really great time and I JUST WANT TO MAKE THAT PERFECTLY CLEAR RIGHT NOW, BEFORE I GO ANY FURTHER!

The thing is, this vacation wasn't exactly what I thought it would be. I don't think it ever is, really, when kids are involved. I can't explain it without sounding petty, or selfish, or resentful, but you'll have to take my word for it. It is not the same with children.

The point is, even though I had a good time on this vacation, it was also kind of frustrating for me. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, especially because it isn't really anyone's fault, but I felt left out a lot while I was there. It's a side effect, I think, of travelling with kids. What ended up happening was that everyone decided to do their own thing. They wander in and out, going places while I fed the kids, or napped with the kids, or put them to bed. Our interaction with people took place when our lives would accidentally intersect in the kitchen - we would be finishing up our dinner and they would come in and start cooking dinner - a meal where it seemed everyone else would sit down and eat, or at least talk and hang out. This doesn't sound too bad, does it? But it gets old.

In any case, I know this is just the way things happened out. It wasn't planned, and I didn't make much of an effort to change anything because I knew there wasn't a big plot, it was just different people on different schedules.

But for some reason I thought the 14th would be different. The 14th of July isn't TOO big a deal in France, but when we were kids we always made a "fancy" dinner, and hung out with friends, and then watched the fireworks. For some reason - mixed signals, misunderstanding, wishful thinking - I had the idea that we would all have a dinner at home and then go out to watch the fireworks. I clung to this idea. My brothers each had a friend visiting, and my parents had friends visiting. I thought we would make a large and happy group. It was our last night before going home, and this would be a nice way to end the vacation.

But I didn't really think things through or talk to anyone about it. I came home from our last stroll into town tired, but looking forward to the night ahead. And nothing was happening. My mother, who still is far from 100%, was resting, and said my father had made plans for them to go out with their friends. My brothers and their friends were going out to a different place. And suddenly I realized that, because I had assumed we would all be together, I had completely botched things. It would be me and Lillian with the boys, home alone, again, scrounging for a meal in the fridge.

And something in me snapped. I was just so disappointed that I started to cry right there, in front of my mother and Lillian and my brother and everyone. I was so embarrassed, and felt so silly and selfish, that I expected everyone to be thinking about ME instead of going out and having fun and doing what they wanted to do. But it wasn't a little cry, see. It was one of those really big, sobbing, out of control things that prevented me from breathing or talking, and I had to work really hard not to let it get too loud because there were enough people watching me, for goodness sake, and I really didn't want a bigger audience.

Anyway, to make this long story short (too late, I know) guess what happened? I tried convincing everyone that I was fine, that we would be fine, that we could pick up something from town and we'd be fine... but instead both my brothers and my parents ended up canceling their dinner reservations. My brothers and Meg and Rachel drove into town and ordered 8 pizzas. They bought a patisserie out of fruit tarts. And they brought in a number of bottles of champagne (The best the Shell station had to offer, Winston claimed!). While we waited for the pizzas to be ready, they brought out a cheese platter. We all just sat and talked on the porch, watching the sun set and anticipating the fireworks.

And it was really wonderful. It was just what I wanted, better than I could have imagined, and I felt so ridiculous. But honestly, despite how embarrassed I was, it was the best night I had there. If you ever wanted to know what to get me as a gift, you can just get me that night and tie a bow around it. And just in case you don't get why I was so upset, or still don't understand what my problem was, or think I was too much the drama queen... well, I was over reacting. I knew this at the time, I just had no control over my body at that point. But in my defense, having kids is a lonely business, and it is sometimes hard to understand just how difficult it can be. Heather B. Armstrong recently wrote "For those of you who do not have kids and have ever wondered what life would be like, just go turn on a blender and stick your face in it. That."

Home Sweet Home

We are all now back home.

I think this week was the longest time I have gone without posting. VERY unlike me, I know, as this is the primary way I communicate with the world. I ALWAYS post. Weekends, Holidays, Busy days, while I'm cooking, cleaning, or in labor. I can usually post something.

The truth is, it was hard to motivate myself while I was in France, for many reasons, but I guess the biggest reason / excuse is that I was lazy.

Anyhow, I am now back, posting once more. Over the next few days I will post stories and events that took place in France, from our trip to the Pope's Palace to walking to the beach. And I'll probably throw in my version of my 14 Julliet tantrum as well. But today I don't have the energy. We didn't get home until midnight last night - that's 6am in France - and although we met with few real difficulties I arrived completely drained. (No one made me unpack my bag, and our second flight was only delayed by 35 minutes - unless you count the 90 minutes spent sitting on the runway the pilot announced was "standard procedure this time of day.")

I will say this: I get nostalgic about France. I may not take walks past our old house or anything like that, but I can't be there without thinking about how it used to be when I was there 20 years ago with my family. So leaving is always sad and bittersweet, even before I start thinking about the people I say goodbye to. I really don't see my family a lot, and I miss them already.

Sunday at the Port...

We went to Port Grimaud today after I got back from driving Steve to the airport.

Port Grimaud, in case I haven't told you and you do not already know, is a smallish town built on the water. Like Venice, it has a few streets, but mostly it has water instead. Each house or estabilshment opens on the water, and people can keep their boats docked in their backyards. Unlike Venice, Port Grimaud is not large, nor is it ancient, nor do they speak Italian.

We went there and it happened to be market day. Ironically, we also hit merket days in St. Tropez, in Grimaud, and in Ste. Maxime. Apparently we have a knock for it.

We ignored the market (mostly) and ate at a small place with live music, then took a ferry boat ride through the "streets" of the city. Then we got home, and everyone collapsed, because somehow eating and sitting on a boat for twenty minutes is very extremely draining and we couldn't take it any more.

Fancy Pants

Last night Steve and I went out to a Fancy Shmancy place for dinner. We both ordered the 6 course menu meal. I ate tons of things I am not supposed to, and I tried the pidgeon. Which, by the way, I associate with a dirty flying rat-bird, and not usually a gourmet dish. I didn't like it. But I LOVED the tuna AND the soup, not to mention the lemon sorbet or the "Amuse Bouches" and I mean, really, it was pretty awesome, with a view of St. Tropez over the water and a wonderful staff that made us feel OH SO SPECIAL!

This may be the last post for awhile. Steve is leaving tomorrow (SAD!) and taking his computer with him, and as I mentioned before, Dad took the other computer back with him to the states, and he's supposed to come back, he may return it, but seriously I can't be sure Vahe will be able to hook it all up before it's time to go home. But keep checking. You never know.

On Vacation

Here is some photographic evidence that we are here and having fun.

Slow To Warm Up

We've been here for... five days? And we're finally starting to actually DO things.Things other than visit doctors and go grocery shopping. We took Lillian into town to look around yesterday, and then as far as the lunch spot on the beach for a meal. Today we walked into town to take the Ferry to St. Tropez, where we visited the market and walked along the port, and had a coffee and a croissant at a street cafe.

The boys loved the boat ride. Nicholas cried when we had to get off. Lillian bought a bag / basket, and I bought a watch - a cheap one - to replace the cheap one I bought for this trip before we left, but that broke, leaving me wondering how early it was when the boys woke me up this morning, and if I should put them back to sleep or give in...

When I get the chance to upload some pictures, I will. I'm just lazy about it.

I Am Alive

Getting here was a practice in some sort of self torture, or at least some sort of torture.

The first part of the trip went fine. And by that I mean the part where we drove down to Lillian's to pick her up. The part where we drove to the airport went fine, too. We did have to rush Steve, who claimed we had plenty of time (we did) and that we would be doing a lot of waiting around (we were supposed to) so why start too early?

When we got to the airport we discovered that our flight to JFK had been cancelled. Nothing was going from Logan to JFK. Because, apparently, there might be thunderstorms later.

We had to quickly reschedule for a flight to Laguardia, rush to meet that plane (the flight was lovely), CLAIM OUR LUGGAGE - they lost our stroller, so we had to fill out those forms, and then catch a couple of cabs to JFK which drove through the worst traffic you could imagine when you're trying to catch a flight. At JFK we were supposed to check in again, rush through security (again) and then catch our flight.

At JFK we were greeed by a line of apparent refugees which stretched from one side of the Delta terminal (the interbational side) and all the way around to the other side. This was the line TO GET INTO THE TERMINAL. We had two hours until our flight took off. The line didn't seem to be moving. No one knew anything. Tension was so high because, in a fit of supreme thoughtfulness Delta scheduled FOUR FLIGHTS to leave at EXACTLY 7PM. Half the people on line spoke no English. We spent over two hours on this line, certain we were going to miss our flight, as people yelled at each other, security people yelled at other people, and med with guns guarded the terminal entrance.

Once inside we stood in line again, where a very unhelpful Delta employee named Samantha R. (nametag) told us out seat assignments - the ones we had been given by Delta and printed out on paper with the Delta confirmation number - actually didn't count and weren't in her computer, so we wouldn't get to sit near each other. Also, it took her fifteen minutes to not locate a large plastic bag to put our carseat in. When we finally made it to security (and they stopped yelling at me for walking to the door to drop off my "oversized Luggage of a carseat" even though the guy in front of us - I swear - checked a box containing an air purifier - we rushed rushed rushed to the terminal...

...where they were boarding. But they hadn't assigned us seats. So we were told (yelled at, actually) to wait while everyone else boarded the plane while the ONE MAN WORKING THERE got them all on and then came to gave us our new, not together seats.

We then sat for two hours on the runway waiting to take off.

The Actual flight itself was wonderful, as far as flights go. We rented the car with no problem and we are here. Later I will document our trip to the emergency room, and how my father accidentally took the computer back to the states... We're really having a good time. No, really!

Near and Far

Over the next couple of weeks posting will be a bit more erratic. I'll be on vacation, and it will depend upon things like how busy I am, how much I feel like it, and the internet connection over there. So please keep checking. This year I might even be able to post photos of my vacation! Maybe even while I'm still there!

Here is a picture of the curl in Nate's hair before we went and got it cut:

Until we leave (a little over 5 hours from now) and begin the first leg of our journey (I count five, not including customs) I will be running around trying to make sure we have everything, and that I'm not overlooking anything, such as a diaper bin full of dirty diapers, or smelly cheese in the fridge, or a small child hiding in the laundry room.

Here is Nate from Far Away:

Now wish me luck, and I'll try to post from there!

Steam Bath

I have packed our coolest summer clothing, and it is over 90 today. As it was yesterday.

This morning Nicholas fought me because he wanted to wear long jeans and a turtleneck. I was standing there in a camisole and my underwear, because that's what I was sleeping in when he woke up at 5am, and I was already hot. And there he is, trying to wedge his body into the hottest clothing he owns.

I am now wearing jeans because I haven't shaved my legs in two months - I plan on waxing before leaving on vacation, but I wanted to do it at the LAT POSSIBLE SECOND. And this is what vanity gets you. Jeans on 90 degree days. How foolish and stupid.

I need to run take the trash out and then pack Nick a lunch.

One Leg At A Time

I have a problem, I admit it. I am an advance packer. Almost as soon as my sister left, the car still pulling out of the driveway, I had the suitcases out of the guest bed and was busy checking off items as I packed them up. Crazy, I know. Especially as we still had A WEEK before departing.

Which brings us to now. As of now, I have almost everything packed, with the exceptions of things we haven't purchased yet (books - if I buy them too early I read them before I leave) and things we need before leaving (toothbrushes, face cream, hairbrushes, etc.)

This means that right now none of us has a great deal of clothing to choose from, since most of it is packed away, and cannot be touched upon penalty of Mom going Insane. The person this most affects is Nicholas, who for some reason has a very limited number of shorts to begin with.

This morning we picked out an outfit, but he refused to let me help him get dressed, as he was having fun running around stark naked. I took Nathan into the bathroom and reminded Nicholas that he needed to be wearing clothing before going downstairs for breakfast. When Nicholas came into the bathroom he was triumphant. "I dressed myself!" he shouted. And he had!

Only his shirt was on backwards, the skateboard print in the back. His shorts were on correctly, but his underwear... he somehow got both feet into the same leg hole, but kept tugging, so that the whole things was around his waist, covering... nothing, and oddly visible above the waistband of his shorts. Boy, was he cute!

Lawns to mow

I thought I had posted about this, but apparently it slipped my mind. The fact of the matter is, YES, I HAVE been mowing the lawn!

I have always thought of mowing the lawn as - please forgive me for saying this even though I am for women's rights and hate being told what I can or can't do - a MAN'S JOB. Not just because it's hot and sweaty, but because mowing our lawn involved the LAWN MOWER, and in our case it's a RIDER MOWER, not the one in the photo above, but one that looks an awful lot like it. And since Steve is the car guru in these parts, and since the second time he mowed our lawn EVER he practically took off a finger, and since he often comes in sunburned and dirty... well, what's the harm in making this particular chore a man's chore?

Except that, I realized, he had started to go mow the lawn with a beer in his hand, whistling to himself, and left me with the kids. Which was fine, only... well, I started thinking... how hard could it BE? He's DRIVING AROUND. On something the size of a golf cart. I could do that.

So a couple of weeks ago I sat down on it, got Steve to go over the finer points (how to turn the mower on and off, how to start the darn thing, etc.) and took off. After a couple of seconds of practice I headed down to mow with Steve helpfully shouting "OK, But you're going to fail!" I made my way around the already-mowed-once section of our lower property, and when I made it back to point A I turned the mower off. "Why did you say I was going to fail?" I asked, only slightly upset because, after all, there was nothing to it. "It's nothing!" said Steve. You're doing a great job! It's just... you're going a whole lot slower than I ever thought you would."

Yesterday I had my second shot at mowing. This time, more comfortable on the machine, I stalled out several times. I also realized that I was bouncing up and down like a mad woman. "It's like being on a horse!" I thought. And then I started to worry, because I am NOT supposed to be riding horses right now. Although no one has mentioned rider mowers as a danger to pregnant women.

At any rate, I did an awful job mowing the lawn yesterday (while Steve watched the kids - it's still like a little break for me.) And when I finished I told Steve that that was it for me. At least until the baby was born. In December. Prime mowing season, as you know. But seriously - next spring, I'll be back mowing, because I like it, and I can now put gas in the mower myself!

Checking It Twice

To Do:
- Fix Umbrella in our patio furniture
- Mow Lawn
- Clean Out Fridge (and find source of that smell)
- Brush the Pets and Give Them Frontline
- Clean The House (get rid of boxes, clear off dining room table)
- DO THE DISHES
- Order batteries for dog's collar
- Go to Wal-Mart for various items

Saturday Special

I don't get TONS of comments on this blog, which is fine. But it occurred to me that quite a few comments ask questions which I then NEVER ADDRESS. The comments just disappear into the void that is the internet, and the answers never save them. So here are a bunch of random answers from random past posts that I have ignored. I'll try to do better. In the meantime, I have a new link to my friend Julie's new blog! If you like nursing student stories, or cats, or just funny people, you should check it out.

- I have not tried to download this blog onto a CD. I have, actually, been printing it out, post by post, after waiting for comments to go up. The problem is that recently I've stopped being able to print it out right, and it prints one page for the title, one page for the description of the blog, and one page of post, no matter how long the post is, and never posts any comments at all. It is also a waste of paper and printer ink.

- The big bowl in my kitchen is the hugest bowl in the world. We got it as a wedding gift, and at the time I thought it was ugly and I hated it, but I had to keep it out because it is too huge to place in any cupboard - the doors don't close. And it only took a few months for me to actually fall in love with it. I love this bowl. If it ever breaks I will cry and I will be at a loss as to where to store my fruit.

- Anne-E woke up when I did while she was here, which was silly, since she was still on PST and was waking up at 2am her time. I told her to go back to sleep, but by then the boys had their fingers curled in her flesh and she could no longer escape. I did an awful lot of relaxing while she was here, and she made me eggs.

- I am planning on naming the baby LeBron. Or, if it's a girl, I'm going to wait and see what Betsy names her twins, and then name my baby that. Both of the names. Hyphenated. Like Amy-Louise. Or, you know, Gwendelyn-Lewellyn.

"Ugh" means "Save Me!"

This time before our vacation last year I was sweating out the wait for Nathan's passport, which came less than 48 hours before our departure.

With less than a week to go, I am once again a bundle of nerves. This time, however, we have all the necessary documents for international travel. I have double and triple checked.

The thing is, there still seems to be so much to DO. I have to go shopping so that I will have something to wear, and although that might sound silly to you, remember that I have a different shape than I did last summer. That, and the items I wore the summer before THAT are mostly stained and / or too tight.

I have started packing, but it's a work in progress, especially since each time I pack something Nicholas or Nathan will unpack it, drag it around the house for awhile, and then cry because they lost it.

In fact, both boys have turned on me, displaying the very worst in their behavior. They cry and try to climb my body whenever I turn off the TV or try to devote my attention to something other than them. It is not even 8am, and yet Nathan has slammed Nick's foot in the door four times already, Nicholas has asked me twice what we're having for supper (I DON'T KNOW!), and I have to go get the cars registered before we leave, drop the key off at the pet sitter's, and reserve a rental car which Steve told me over a month ago he would take care of NOT THAT I'M BLAMING YOU, STEVE! I'm just saying.

I need to end this post abruptly because I need to take laundry out of the dryer, find the checkbook, convince Nick we are NOT going to play Wiggles right now on the computer, and figure out why Nathan is trying to climb onto my lap while beating me with my old photo album.

Sprinkler Fun

My Sister Anne-E came for a visit this week.



She lives far away, and we don't get to see her very much.


In fact, the last time we'd seen her was just before Easter 2006, before Nicholas was 2, and when Nathan was so small he couldn't even sit up yet.

I think it's a drawback of the blog... people feel as though they have been in touch after reading it - which is great.

But the boys have no clue who's been reading. They only count actual visits.

Anyway, they had LOTS of fun with Aunt Anne-E.




These Photos are from the sprinkler, when they all got wet, and I watched.

Come visit us again soon, Aunt Anne-E! We miss you!

Say Cheese!

Whenever I get the camera out, Nathan makes this face and says "CHEESE!" while moving around me in an arc so he can see the picture of himself that I am trying to take. It looks kind of scary, but I think it's a funny face!

Morning Has Broken

There are two types of sleepers. Those who have their heavy sleep at the end of their sleep cycle (in the morning) and those who have it at the start of their sleep cycle (soon after they fall asleep.) I am of the second variety, which means if you wake me up after I have been sleeping for five minutes I will be very grumpy. It also means that I wake up on the early side. Not because I don't want to sleep later, but because I get woken up more easily then.

It doesn't help that there is a conspiracy to wake me up at the crack of dawn. I know this for a fact. It was proven to me this morning. And it starts with the birds.

At 4:30am, before the light of dawn even makes it to our bedroom windows, the birds start to sing. The hot days are too much for them, so they must do all their socializing in the early hours, when it is cool. However, I would like to suggest 8am. Because the 4:30 thing is getting out of hand. And before you think I'm nuts, let me explain that I always wondered how a rooster could wake a farm until fifty thousand birds going about their business kept me from going back to sleep.

I don't know if it's the birds, or if it's just the time of day, but about this time the boys start making noises. Not fully-awake noises, but whimpering "I might go back to sleep or I might start to scream" noises. And if you're a parent, like me, and it's 5am, you probably do what I do - freeze and stare at the clock and WILL the child back into a deep and restful sleep, afraid that even the slightest noise - such as turning over and rustling the sheets, will wake the kid the rest of the way up, and any chance of further sleep is lost.

It is always about this time that Steve begins to snore. He can remain silent all night, but once the boys begin to stir he, for some reason, decides to sleep flat on his back and the snoring starts. It begins softly, and I always, always think it might just peter out, but then it builds in volume, the crescendo practically rattling the windows, and even though sleep, for me, may be out of the question by now, I still panic because I know, I JUST KNOW the boys will hear the snores and will wake up. So I have to poke my husband and get him to roll over, which he always does, but not without muttering incomprehensible things in an injured tone of voice.

A few minutes later Nicholas wanders in, his arms full of stuffed animals, and announces that he needs help with the potty, and the morning is pretty much ruined for me, at 5am. Early riser or not, I usually feel that a person deserves at least a fighting chance of sleeping until 6am.

Sharing or Screaming

Psst - New Yorkers - don't forget to visit my sister's reading tonight, as per my previous post!

Here is a picture of Nate sitting in a box. As you can see, he is smiling and happy. It doesn't take much for him to amuse himself, when he's on his own. The same goes for Nicholas.

Put the two of them together, however, and within three minutes there will be screaming and tears.

I had to throw the box away because of the screaming that followed. In fact, I feel I spend most of my time barging in on shrill and tearful arguments, simply to remove whatever toy it is they are fighting over NOW and place it someplace where, perhaps, with any luck, it will disappear and never be seen again.

I can't help but feel a little bit resentful about this. After all, I don't want to be a screaming, yelling, bad-mood lady. But I am a bit pregnant and hormonal, prone to tears myself, and I have only so much patience with little boys fighting over who gets to play with the fire truck THIS SECOND when it has gone ignore for the past three months, or which boy gets to go first diving headfirst off the sofa.

Father's Day Bulletin

Today being Father's Day, there are a few things I feel I should say:




1 - Happy Father's Day to my Father, who is very Cool, and I hope I get to speak to today.




2 - Happy Father's Day to my Husband, the father of my children, the man who let me drive his rider-mower and eats the chicken I cook, no matter how salty.




3 - ANYONE IN NEW YORK! Please make an effort to go to this reading my sister Anne-E is giving for her book! It's tomorrow, June 18th, at 7pm, at Bluestockings! It's 172 Allen St. She promises you won't regret it!




Finally, I just want to throw this out there: Two feet, two shoes. You'd figure that 50% of the time the shoes would end up on the correct feet. But for some reason, this is not the case. WHY? WHY IS IT NOT THE CASE?

Neglected

I have to be careful and not forget about my two existing boys during this pregnancy. As if I ever really COULD forget about them. Then tend to try to climb my body and beat me with books and sip cups if I zone out for too long. But I know for a fact that there were more than a few things they said or did this week that I made mental notes for posting, and of course I can't remember one of them this morning.

We're leaving for vacation soon. I can't wait. I would have already started packing, but we will be needing clothing before we leave. Besides, I happen to know that the earlier I start, the more I bring. I have started making lists, though. including a list of items to carry on and a list of items I will plan on purchasing upon arrival. Which brings me to the question: WHO AM I? I used to leave for three months and pack half an hour before we left, flinging underwear and t -shirts and books into a large duffel. Now I have to unpack before I leave just so I can live my life.

Food For Thought

One of these "How To" books I've read compares pregnancy to a slow rate of starvation. I laughed when I read this, even though I'd been pregnant twice already. I mean, COME ONE! Pregnancy? Starvation? Different.

But in the end, not so different.

I have never really been hungry like people all over the world are hungry every day. I have always had food available to me in some form or another, even if it was only a few very stale very chocolate donuts at 3am, or Ramen with frozen chicken patties (see Theatre Company In Maine Woods = Bad Idea). I have always been able to afford a Wonka bar, and usually a Bic Mac to go with it. I recognize that, in this way, I have always been lucky.

But pregnancy hunger is different. Pregnancy hunger is the kind of hunger that will have me creeping downstairs at 3am for Cheerios because if I don't I might roll over and suck out my husband's brains. Pregnancy Hunger is what causes me to scarf down half a bag of stale Cheetos, even though I have always HATED Cheetos ever since I was eleven and that homeless guy got too close while yelling intimate things about parts of my anatomy I didn't have yet, and the vomit on his beard smelled like Cheeto Cheese.

As soon as the doctor confirmed my pregnancy they gave me a long list of foods to avoid, rattling off each item as though it were no big deal. No alcohol. No soft cheeses. Avoid fish that might be contaminated with mercury. No sushi. No raw or undercooked meats. No deli meats unless they have been steamed. Try to cut down on caffeine. Try to cut down on artificial sweeteners. Cut down on fats. Eat whole grains. Protein. Honestly, between the stuff that I can't eat because they said so and the stuff that I can't eat because it turns my stomach, this is what I'm left with: Cheerios, Stale Cheetos, Cheddar Cheese.

It's the Chee diet.

What you've been missing

Now that my secret is out I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. For the past two months I could hardly post anything because mostly I wanted to post "Secret secret! I've got a Secret!" and then talk about how sick I felt.

Honestly, I wonder more and more about these women who seem to reach the seventh or eighth month of pregnancy AND DO NOT NOTICE. I think I hate them. Because if I didn't know that the way I have been feeling was caused by a human gestating in my abdomen, I would be convinced I was dying of something much more tragic. I am tired ALL the time. I am also hungry AND nauseous all the time, at the same time, which makes finding something to eat a bit of a challenge. I've lost track of the number of times I've actually been sick. Not to mention the fact that I've started crying during television commercials for items such as car insurance, diapers, or yogurt.

Because I've been feeling so emotional and ill and fatigued, I am finding it harder to do the things I usually do, such as cook dinner, fold laundry, and vacuum. Suddenly what I used to do with relatively little effort seems like SO MUCH. I mean, honestly, do all of THAT? WHEN DO I GET TO THROW UP?

And by far the biggest change is that I have started napping every day. I had planned to stick to a workout schedule, gradually decreasing my speed and my time as I got bigger and my balance changed. I had worked too hard to get to where I was - back to before Nick weight and better than that endurance, and there was no reason to stop. The doctor said I could continue. The books all say exercise is good while pregnant, as long as it is managed carefully. But let me tell you - the books are stupid. And so is that doctor if she thinks I'm going to give up a nap to run. I'm TIRED! LET ME SLEEP!

Another Birthday

Many Happy Returns of the Day! Or just Happy Birthday to Steve, my husband, who I love lots and lots. I wish you didn't have to go to work today, too.

How I Know It's A Boy:

Because I have two boys already, the gender of this baby-to-be is usually one of the first things people bring up when they find out I'm pregnant. I just want everyone to know, up ahead of time, that I already know this third one is a BOY. Male. Y chromosome.

How am I so sure? Well, I reached the conclusion scientifically. You see, a baby's gender is determined by chromosomes. X for a girl, Y for a boy. And there are only so many of each that float around the atmosphere for soon-to-be-pregnant mother's to inhale. (I told you, this was very scientific.)

This is where my friend Betsy comes in. Betsy has a little boy two months older than Nathan. And two months before my baby is scheduled to make it's arrival into the world, she is going to have HER second child. Oh - and her third. That's right, Betsy is having TWIN GIRLS!

So you see what happened? Betsy sucked up all the girls stuff before I could get to it, and now I'm going to have a third boy. Which probably would have happened anyway, because Steve is SO MANLY. And I'm sure all of my scientific explanations will be upheld when I finally go in for my REAL ultrasound in August, and they can confirm that yes, I am indeed carrying a boy.

See, a baby is exciting, but Twin Girls is exciting times two.

Blog Post Topics

When I first started this blog I was eight months pregnant with my second child, Nicholas was just about 18 months, and there always seemed to be plenty to say. Of course most of my posts were complaints about how uncomfortable I was, but the readers were there, hung on every word... or at least checking in every day to see if the baby had come yet.




Over the past few weeks I have had to search for topics to write about. Suddenly I was at a loss for things to say. I am sure this is going to be an ongoing challenge as time goes by, and as I continue to post to this blog. But it just so happens I was handed a very small topic that I might be able to post about for, oh, the next six months or so.




ETA: mid-Dec.

Have You Seen This Woman?

Because I haven't seen her in a long time.

Amazing Product!

I purchased something at the vet's the other day. It's called "The Furminator!" No, it's not a bad movie featuring fuzzy trained animals, it's a pet grooming tool. And seeing it there, hanging in my vet's office, suddenly made it seem more credible than it had seemed in the infomercial. So I went ahead and got it, despite the little voice in the back of my head that was shouting "Save your money! Save your money! This is never going to work!"



Well, it works. It's not 100%, but to tell you the truth I think that has more to do with the fact that I'm new at using it and I can't brush to pets with it too much because I might irritate their skin. But the amount of pet hair that I've removed over the past couple of days has been tremendous. I'm thrilled. I have visions of a couch that isn't coated in white fur, and of a bedroom carpet that is actually blue - not blue with a netting of back Gunther DNA.

The end result is that I am recommending this product for anyone with pet hair concerns. Although it hasn't stopped out floors from being coated with a thin, almost invisible layer of pet hair. Not yet, anyway.

A Moment of Clarity

When I first started this blog it was meant to be more than just a few sentences about a few semi-humorous things that my children did or said. The writing was supposed to, somehow, go a bit deeper than that. And I don't think I have succeeded very well, in that regard.

I write a lot about the funny things my kids do, and about how silly I think the simplest tasks (buying toothpaste, making the bed) have become. But I hardly ever mention how sweet it feels to bury my face in Nathan's neck and kiss him there to make him laugh. I don't think I have ever said one word about how one of his belly laughs can lift my spirit, almost as much as one of Nicholas's fake grown-up laughs can break my heart. I haven't written about Nicholas's hair, and how it has lost that baby smell, and how I can pick up the scent of the paints and the toys he plays with at school, all caught up in his crazy, unruly, never-to-be-tamed curls. When Nathan sings Twinkle Twinkle he reaches his arms up to the sky, twinkling his fingers and looking up, and I don't know who taught him to do that.

Parenthood has broken my heart. As wonderful as it is, it is also bittersweet. These boys who were my babies, who wanted nothing more than to sit in my arms, are growing up to be their own people.

Two Stooges

Yesterday I thought the funniest thing I would ever see in my life was Nick and Nate out by the slide. Nick was perched at the top of the slide, gearing up to slide down, and the very MOMENT he pushed off Nathan reached out and YOINK snatched off his brother's hat. Nick screamed in protest all the way to the bottom of the slide as Nathan toddled off as fast as he could to the other end of the platform with his stolen item.

Of course I reacted by laughing my head off.

As Nick stormed up the platform, ready to take revenge and reclaim his chapeau, Nathan tossed it down the slide and again ran off. Both boys ended up laughing at me laughing, and then Nicholas went around and stole ALL our hats for comic effect.

Everyone should laugh like that at least once a day.

Poetic Justice

My kids wake up too early.

I used to be an early riser. I still am, actually, but now my early rising falls within the OK TO BE AWAKE hours. As opposed to when I was a kid, and I mother used to burst into my room and shout "Go Back To Bed! It's 4:30!" Seriously, I would wake up that early. It was a problem later on, when I started going to sleepovers and had to bring a book so that I would have something to do during the hours (HOURS) between when I woke up and when anyone else in the house would even think about opening their eyes.

My kids wake up at 5am. I got them new shades. I put them to bed later. Nothing works. They just wake up that early. This morning I finally stumbled into their room because it sounded as though our 2 kids had multiplied into 6, and they were all singing and rattling the bars on their cages.

I guess this is called poetic justice.

And now I'm tired and cranky and the boys will have to deal with me ALL DAY.

And that is called Poetic Justice, too.

Fun With Water?

At the Strawberry Festival, both Nicholas and Nathan won prizes. If the games weren't rigged to help little ones win, then the booth managers let the kids have prizes anyway.

In one case, the lady let Nicholas choose his own prize from an assortment that she had stashed behind the booth. There were inflatable balls, rockets, and many things little boys might think were cool. What did Nick choose? He chose a bright pink teddy bear necklace that had bubble solution in it.

It was funny, actually, because he started blowing bubbles right away, and didn't really stop. He really surprised me in the car when I mistook a bunch of little bubbles for a swarm of bugs - I was driving.

Anyway, Nick soon used up all the bubble solution. He then realized that he could refill the little teddy bear container with water, which he did at the sink. I spoke to him about playing with water, and explained that the sink was only for washing up, not for playing.

Yesterday, as I quickly hacked out my post, I realized that the boys were too quiet. I dashed into the kitchen and saw that the door to the bathroom was closed. But behind it was the faint sound of running water. When I opened the door... ugh. Nicholas had the sink on. He had a little red bucket which he was filling with water and the sink and then dumping into the toilet. He was, apparently, doing this over and over, splashing water all over the floor, the walls, and himself in the process.

I can't imagine what he thought he was doing. Filling the toilet? Cleaning the toilet? Bailing out of a sinking ship? All I know is that I was unhappy at the cleanup. And that now I must watch Nick like a hawk every time he goes into the bathroom.