Moving on out

I have decided (read: been forced) to change my blog from Blogger to Wordpress. So just wanted to warn my faithful readers that if things look screwy in the next couple of days, it's not you, it's me.

In the meantime, enjoy a picture of Maeve, looking like a queen on her throne. Jack is apparently trying to get her interested in The Wiggles by showing her an actual DVD.

When Irish eyes (aren't) smiling

Nine years ago today, I saw a cute guy with a glowing Miller Lite shamrock button across the bar. I wanted the button, he wanted my digits and the rest is history. So, if it wasn't for beer, these three little leprechauns wouldn't exist.

Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone from me and my little pots of gold. And a happy meetiversary to Josh, the best thing that ever happened to me. Well, besides finding my new Hunter boots. Let's not be ridiculous.


Could they ever all smile at the same time again? Just once?

Wasps, and not the New England type

OMFG JACK GOT STUNG BY A WASP IN THE HOUSE TODAY.

You'll have to excuse the crazy-person yelling, but seriously. This calls for it.

Let me first give a little background. For the last few years, every few weeks, I will see a random black wasp on the second floor. That would be the floor where all the bedrooms are. You know, where we sleep. In the dark. When we can't see wasps. Excuse me while I go vomit.

So I see these random wasps and they're usually acting very sluggish, hanging out by the windows. They're easy to kill, since they're sluggish, so I do so and then flush them down the toilet. Because you never know when a squashed wasp could come back to life in the garbage and kill you in your sleep. You can never be too careful as far as I am concerned.

When Maeve was about three weeks old, and not sleeping in her bassinet because she freaking hates that thing, I happened to look down in it as I passed by for a diaper change and saw a black wasp just chillin'. I hyperventilated because HELLO, BABY COULD HAVE BEEN IN THERE, and made Josh kill it and flush it.

But it's weird, I see them throughout the year and never more than one at a time. And every time I freak the hell out and spend days looking for more and then I kinda forget about it until the next one appears.

That brings us to today. I took the kids down to the basement to jump in the jumpy house and was sitting on the couch with Maeve. Josh was sitting in front of the jumpy house and the next thing I know, Jack is screaming and Josh is yelling, "Did it sting you? Did it sting you?"

I jump up and yell, "Oh my God, what happened?" And immediately startle Maeve, who starts wailing. Josh yells that Jack got stung by a wasp and I now see it on the jumpy house slide. Josh pulls his sweatshirt sleeve down over his hand and tries to squish it. Of course, he misses.

So now we have a pissed-off wasp flying around everyone's head. Jack is hysterical because he thinks he's going to get stung again, I am yelling at Josh to get the kids out of there and Emmie is looking at all of us like we're crazy because all she wants to do is jump in the damn jumpy house.

Josh finally kills it while I carry Maeve and Jack upstairs, trying to calm him down. I am usually calm in a crisis, so I take a breath and tell him it is OK. But I have no idea what to do. I am paranoid that he's going to be allergic and stop breathing right in front of my eyes and I kept thinking I really should have been recertified in CPR because I can't remember anything but compressions and breaths and I have no idea how many of each to do and ohmygodhesgoingtodie.

I keep yelling for Josh to come upstairs to help me figure this out, but the jumpy house blower is still on and he can't hear a damn thing. Jack is screaming, Maeve is screaming, I am panicking. And what do I do?

I go to my laptop, duh. Google "wasp sting" and find that you should poor vinegar over the wound to neutralize it, then apply ice. Josh finally comes up and hands me some Neosporin and a Band-aid. I was like "What the hell am I supposed to do with Neosporin? Does the wasp have tetanus and we need to keep it clean?" His response was that it had pain-killing medicine in it and it would help the sting. I can see where he was coming from in hindsight. But in the moment, I snapped at him to get something cold. Like a beer for me.

Jack finally calmed down after I had him hold a bag of frozen strawberries and about 15 minutes later, with the help of "Yo Gabba Gabba," he was fine.

Too bad he'll never go near the jumpy house again. Josh scoffed at that, but I asked if he had ever met our son. This is the kid who after throwing up two months ago has asked me every single night since then if he's going to get sick again. Every. Single. Night.

Needless to say, Terminex is paying us a visit tomorrow. Watch out wasps, we're coming for you.

Rolling like a river

Yesterday Maeve rolled from front to back for the first time.

I put her down on a blanket on her tummy for a minute, walked into the kitchen to grab Jack's backpack, turned to look at something and saw her gracefully go right over. I yelled for Josh and clapped for her.

Then a feeling of dread came over me. What the hell is she doing? She's not allowed to move around, she's my baby! And if she's moving around, then that means I need to pay more attention. And move small 4-year-old and 2-year-old toy pieces out of reach. And now I can't leave her on the changing table while I turn around and wash my hands.

Why yes, I have managed to make one of her milestones all about me.

I tried to convince her to do it again for the camera, but she was having none of that.

If I was her, I would figure out how to do it with regularity so Jack and Emmie stop turning her over while yelling, "Roll! Maeve, roll!" Apparently they saw me "helping" her practice a few days ago and now want to be equally as involved.

Branching out

As you all know, I have been a little more interested in fashion lately. Not that I'm planning to hit the couture shows in Paris any time soon, but I am paying a lot more attention to what people around me are wearing.

Turns out, I'm not the only mom who's trying to step it up a notch and bring the cute.

I've started blogging at All Kinds Of Pretty with an awesome group of moms. Moms from different walks of life, of different ages, in different cities, who work outside the home and inside the home.

Whether you're a mom who wears out the pages of Vogue each month or one who can't tell a Seven from a Citizen, come check us out and let us know what you think!

Now he did it

This afternoon while I was out spending child-free time at the grocery store during Emmie's nap, Jack's teacher called and spoke with Josh. It seems Jack and his two best friends at school had to pay a little visit to the principal's office.

My first thought was to laugh. I mean really, they're 4. Unless they're burning down the school, what could possibly merit a visit with the principal? But then I snapped into Serious Mom mode and asked what happened.

As I heard from Josh and then from Miss A later at pickup was that the three boys were being loud and talking and not listening during Spanish class. Senorita had had it with them and Miss A happened to be sitting in during Spanish as well and even she couldn't get them to stop fooling around.

So she sent them to the principal's office. Adios, amigos.

No seriously, they went to the principal's office. Which I doubted was a proper punishment considering they probably thought it was cool and not something they should be afraid of.

And of course, Miss A said Jack was smiling the whole time. This kid seriously either has a nervous smile or nothing really does bother him.

He ran out of school and announced excitedly that he went to the principal's office and told me her name and the name of the assistant principal. Apparently they're all BFFs now.

Under the heading of "Maybe He Gets It," Miss A did say Jack's behavior was much-improved after the visit down the hall and he was the only one of the three boys who got to go out for recess. Whoo hoo?

I could chalk it up to spring fever, considering it was 60 degrees and sunny today for the first time in four months, but after yesterday's behavior report that's just not possible. Yesterday he was flinging yogurt at one of those same boys in the lunchroom. Yep, I have the kid who starts the food fight.

Unfortunately I imagine this is just the first of many, many principal visits in Jack's future. Is there a scrapbooking layout for this? I want to remember it in all its glory.

The never-ending ear infection

I took Emmie in for her two-week ear recheck today only to find she has another ear infection. Or maybe the same one from two weeks ago that never fully went away. We'll never know.

What I do know is that the day after she finished her big-gun antibiotic (Omnicef) she started dripping snot all over the place, coughing up a lung and woke up multiple times per night.

Now she's on the Z-pack. Thanks to her delightful penicillin allergy, she's a little limited on the drug choices. If the new meds can't kick it, then it looks like tubes for Miss Em.

She probably didn't get rid of the infection on purpose because she knew more visits to the doctor meant more crack Dora stickers. She started happily screaming "Ticker! Dorda! Dorda ticker!" as we walked into the office. She even willingly ran into the exam room and sat on the table like a big girl.

Perhaps I should invest in a sleeve of these stickers for home use. I could have her loading the dishwasher and taking out the garbage in no time.

Maeve: Three months

Dear Maeve,

Here we are the three-month mark and that's the same amount of time most stores list as their return policy. Lucky for you, you're cute and we love you, so we're going to keep you.



This last month was pretty much the same as your second month, but with more alertness. You still sleep a lot and eat a lot and generally hang out with us wherever we force you to go. And as the third kid, we force you to go a lot of places. That's the funny difference between first kids and later kids: with the first, parents are crazy about the schedule, OH MY GOD THE SCHEDULE. With later kids, the parents are all, oh, she needs a nap? Just stick her in the stroller, she can sleep while we're out.

But you are starting to get yourself on a little schedule, despite being dragged all over creation every day. I usually have to wake you up to take Jack to school at 8:30 and you stay awake for about an hour before you go down for a three-hour nap. Up for an hour after that, then down for another two- or three-hour nap. Repeat again after that, then you're usually down for the night around 8 p.m. That doesn't mean you sleep through the night -- hahahahahahaha, good one -- but you sleep for a decent stretch of four or five hours before you need to eat again.



The sleep is still coming mostly in the swing, with your arms swaddled up tight. But I can get you to sleep in the bassinet for the first stretch almost every night, and the rest of the night is usually spent next to me in my bed. It's easier for me that way, because I can just nurse you on and off all night without having to get up out of bed. And we all know it's all about the maximization of sleep for everyone in this house.

The nursing has also settled into a nice little pattern, with you eating every three or four hours. But you've hit that cute stage where you like to pull off and flash a huge grin at me. Which is cute the first time you do it, but less so when you keep doing that instead of eating and I am sitting there with my boob hanging out waiting for you to get back on track.

The smiles were bigger and more frequent this month. You love to get your diaper changed, kicking and waving your arms and smiling up a storm on the changing table. I am pretty sure you would lie there all day if we let you, but that would probably take a pretty big chunk out of my day, so we won't be doing that anytime soon. But a baby can dream, can't she?



Another thing you love, which I do let you indulge in as much as you like (see: third child) is the bouncy seat. This is your refuge from Jack and Emmie and the only place I can reliably put you so no one can injure you in any way. I set the bouncy seat on top of the kitchen island, away from little hands, and you just kick your little butt off. You talk to the spinning fish and watch the bubbles intently. After a while, you tire of this and start to fuss, which is the signal to take you out and put you to bed. You're pretty easy to read.

The bouncy seat is probably the only time you don't have either Jack or Emmie right up in your face. They love you. Seriously, they can't get enough of you. Emmie in particular is so excited to see you sometimes that she jumps up and down. They both want to hold you and and show you toys and make you smile. Emmie runs over to where you are and yells, "Hi baby! Hi Maeve!" and giggles and grabs your hands and kisses your head and then my heart literally melts. You often reciprocate with a stare as if to say, "What the hell is going on and why are you so excited to see me?" I think you'll be a lot more excited in a few months when you can actually interact with them on their levels.



Just today you started showing signs of interest in tummy time, which means instead of screaming your head off when I put you on your stomach, you actually pushed yourself up on your arms and looked around a few times, then laid back down and sucked your fist for a while. You also were able to kind of almost sort of roll over once I put you on your side. I'm hoping by getting you into position, you'll get the hang of it and want to do it. But you know, it's a lot easier to put you down and have you remain in one place, so I am in no hurry to have you rolling all over the place.



I'm actually not in a hurry for you to do most things. I want to savor this little baby time. And it's slipping away so quickly. A minute ago you were newborn and I was bringing you home from the hospital and putting you in teeny little newborn onesies. And now you have outgrown all the newborn clothes and love to look around at the world and can hold yourself up when I carry you around. Next thing you know you'll be driving yourself to the mall.

But then I see you sleeping face and I realize you are still my baby. You smell like a baby and sigh like a baby and cry like a baby. There times I put you to sleep in your swing and I will check on you a few minutes later only to find you wide-eyed, just looking around. I always wonder what you're thinking. Do you recognize the things around you? Are you mad I left you on your own? Do you know I am coming back?



And then you lock eyes with me and I know you know the answer to the last question. Of course I will come back. I will always come back. No matter if you're sleeping or 50 feet away at the playground or at college. I will always, always be there for you. Being there for you brings me joy and I hope you realize how much I love you. With every night feeding and every diaper change and every bunch of kisses on your cheek, I am happier. I hope you are too.

Love,
Mommy

We finally learned our lesson

We have two cars. One, our SUV, is used primarily by me to ferry the children hither and yon and for all our general family-car needs. The other, Josh's 1999 Acura with 167,000 miles on it, is used primarily by him if he is working in town or by one of us running an errand during naptime without any kids.

For the last two months, Josh's car has sat in front of the house on the street. Through several snowstorms and the general yuck of a highly-trafficked street, it just hung out, looking like a fine 11-year-old piece of automobile. We moved it a few times to go places, but for the most part, it was just sitting there. Actually, it was the car we took to the hospital when I was in labor, so that was a pretty significant trip. And come to think of it, a pretty significant reason to wash it.

Last week I had the pleasure of driving Josh's car, which I liken to being a Flintstone because after driving an SUV for four years, I feel like my feet could just run along under the car. I tried to look in the side mirror when I pulled out into traffic and couldn't see anything but grunge. How helpful.

I finally had the time to hit the carwash this week, and came home very proud of the cleanliness. I forgot the real color of that car and how nice it looks when it's all shiny and spiffed up.

Unfortunately, because I left in the middle of the day, I lost the rockstar parking in front of the house. So I parked on a sidestreet a half-block away and figured I would move it when I had a chance. But with three kids in the house, I didn't get the chance.

Yesterday, just two days after I parked it there, I noticed the door was not shut all the way when I drove by. Uh-oh, I thought, someone's been in there.

Longtime readers know we've had not one but two GPS devices stolen in the last three years and the two cars have been broken into a combined four times. And thanks to that, we've gotten smart. We never leave anything in the car and Josh actually leaves his car unlocked. Partly because he doesn't want people breaking the windows to get in and partly because his car alarm doesn't work and goes off randomly if the car is locked. Which is awesome fun for the neighbors at 3 a.m.

When I investigated further, I saw the contents of the glovebox all over the front seat. But HA HA on the would-be thieves, there was nothing in the car to take. Not even loose change. And because we leave the doors unlocked, we didn't have to pay for any broken windows. Score for us! It was such a non-event I didn't even call Josh to tell him. I just mentioned it in passing when we chatted last night.

Josh was disappointed they didn't try to take the whole car. That would have been infinitely more helpful, he said. Maybe next time.

Tripping out

You all know how Josh has been traveling for work the last two months, leaving Monday nights and returning Friday evenings. Traveling away from his family. His family that includes a newborn. And a wife who wakes up multiple times per night to feed the newborn. Then gets up at 6 a.m. with the other two children. Then single-parents the three kids for four days.

You would think if he had some vacation time scheduled, he would spend it in Chicago giving his poor wife a break. OH BUT NO. You would be wrong.

Instead, he went on a snowboarding vacation with his friends. His single friends. You know, the ones who don't have wives at home who look like they got two black eyes in a bar fight because the undereye circles have gotten so bad from lack of sleep.

During a recent "discussion" about his trip, I told him I didn't know any other guys who leave their wife and kids for a mancation every year. Oh yes, this is a yearly occurrence, did I mention that? And it was slightly untrue, as I know of at least one friend who's husband went on a ski trip a few weeks ago while her pregnant self stayed home with their two kids. But sometimes you have to make the argument sound better than it is. And really, one friend out of all my friends is so statistically insignificant, it's not like it even warrants mentioning.

Also, it's not even just a guys "weekend" because he left on Wednesday night and comes back Sunday afternoon. Last I checked, a weekend consists of Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Full disclosure: I gave him the plane ticket for Christmas. But only because that's the only thing he asked for. But this was before he knew he would be working out of town for three months. And before Maeve had actually arrived on the scene. I maintain that since he travels all week, it's pretty shitty to take a vacation away from us. And he keeps insisting that I am welcome to go on a girls weekend whenever I want. But I keep telling him I should get a girls weekend because I am here 24-7, not because he wants to feel equal in the trip department.

But now I ask you readers, does your spouse take a vacation away from you and the kids? If so, does it piss you off? And for the trifecta: does the spouse travel for work all week?

Jack v2.0

You think she looks like her brother a little?


Maeve, almost three months


Jack, three months

Skating on thin ice

Yesterday morning I woke up and told Josh we should take Jack ice skating. Neither Josh nor I had been ice skating in the last 15 years, but it seemed like a perfectly good idea. Last day of February, the Olympics inspiring me, not too cold -- great idea.

We headed down to Millenium Park after what should have been naptime, but was just run-around-upstairs-and-go-pee-12-times time, with high hopes. Josh scoffed when I said Jack needed his snowpants, but I held firm that it was going to be too cold to do without.

After securing our $10 rental skates, we set about lacing them up. Jack was, how shall I put it, less than helpful. He kept trying to kick me and when there's a metal blade that close to your face while you struggle to insert an uncooperative child's foot into an unforgiving boot, well you get a little twitchy.

Once we finally had everyone ready to go, we had to cool our heels for 15 minutes while the Zamboni did its thing. But Jack thought it was kind of cool and we all just watched it go around and around and around while listening to the piped-in 80s music. Nothing says "winter fun" like sitting on the cold ground with Rick Springfield crooning telephone numbers in the background. And then I couldn't stop thinking about "Californication" and Rick Springfield. Eww.

On the ice finally, I have no idea why, but I thought we would just hold Jack's hands and glide along. After a couple of turns around the rink, I figured he would be good to go.



Let me be clear: I have been a mother for four years now and I should know better. You never, ever go into any event involving children with anything but the lowest of expectations. Oh but how I was wrong.

Jack clung to Josh at first, his feet scrabbling underneath him. I tried to calmly tell him to just stand still and get his balance. He tried, but then insisted he couldn't.



He then clung to the railing, kind of sidestepping his way in five-foot increments. He kept sitting down on the side, which caused me to point out to Josh just who made the snowpants mandatory. I know all, don't doubt the Mommy.

It took us an hour to go around one time. ONE. HOUR.

When we had the last 15 feet in sight, I told him he had to hold my hand and go to the end. Damn it, I paid $30 for this fun and we were going to finish strong. And he did. Yay Jack!



I must say, at the end of the day, I was proud of him. He wasn't exactly thrilled about it, but he tried and he kept getting back up and trying again. When it was over, we asked if he had fun and he said yes.

Clearly, my hopes of him throwing a triple axle on his first time out were slightly premature. But he did it, and that's what counts.