On all fours

Emmie started real crawling yesterday. No more of that pansy-ass army-crawling for her. Oh no, she pops up on all fours and purposefully moves her arms and legs in unison.

I like to think she was waiting until she could do it perfectly, so she could show off.

But it's so cute -- I think she looks like one of those mechanical toys that move around and make noise. Except she's real!

(That's all I got for you today. Big week at Snarky prepping for some cool new stuff, so I am ridiculously busy.)

Goodnight kittens, goodnight mittens

Today I had to take the kids out in the stroller in the freezing cold to the post office. Granted, the freezing cold is relative at this time of year. It was 34 degrees. Which in January would be downright balmy in Chicago, but in November, is bone-chilling. But soldier on I did because Josh really needed something overnighted and he had my car in Bloomington.

So I got the kids all packed into the stroller with their respective foot muffs encasing their legs and torsos. Jack dutifully tucked his arms into the muff and looked extremely warm. Also quite cool with his hat and sunglasses. He's a pimp, you know.

But Emmie, well she was another story. I got her equally bundled up in her coat and hat and tried to tuck her little hands under the cover. And she pulled them out. And then I tucked them in. And then screamed and pulled them out. And then I laughed and tucked them in. And then she started to cry and pulled them out.

Because I didn't buy her any mittens, knowing Jack never would keep them on at her age and it would be a waste of money, I was at a loss. But! I am resourceful. I have a college degree. I am 34 years older than her. So I ran upstairs and grabbed a pair of her socks, shoved them on her hands and away we went.

She kept her hands out the whole time with a smile on her face and I averted frostbite with a smile on mine.

Emmie: Ten months

Dear Emmie,

It's double-digit time for you little girl! A whole 10 months you've been with us. And wow, have you done a lot this last month. I am pretty sure this has been one of your busiest months yet.



Now that you've been mobile for several weeks, you're getting more and more proficient at getting around. You still army-crawl 99 percent of the time, but more and more, you are taking a few tentative crawls on your hands and knees. But the army-crawling gets you where you need to go -- and pretty darn quickly I might add -- so you really don't see any need to do it the other way. But you are a pro at sitting yourself up now. You started pushing yourself up from your side with one arm, and now you can back yourself into a seated position from your hands and knees as well.

You are also an old pro at pulling yourself up now, as evidenced by the fact I found you standing in your crib grinning at me about two weeks ago. At this point, nothing is safe from you. You pull up on the couch, the ottoman, the exersaucer, your crib, the fireplace and my leg when I am standing in your general vicinty. You once tried to pull yourself up on Jack, but he was having none of it and you just toppled right over when he scrambled to his feet to get away from you.



I have seen you stand unassisted for about seven seconds on a couple of occasions, and you're starting to cruise along the ottoman to get to toys or remotes out of your reach. You so love the remote and even know to point it at the TV when you are playing with the buttons. Smart girl, but don't even think about turning off the football game to watch PBS.

The vacuum is getting quite a workout these days because you are smack in the middle of the "put everything in your mouth" stage. Last week you tried to consume a plaster chip, a dried-up piece of pancake that had fallen off your brother's plate undetected, a torn-up piece of coloring book and 571 pieces of fuzz off the carpet. I could vacuum four times a day and you would still spot the teeniest piece of string from across the room and make a beeline for what you hope is your afternoon snack. While it is resulting in a much cleaner house, it's still pretty annoying to be fishing stuff out of your cheeks all the time.



It's not like you're not getting enough food at mealtimes. You are starting to eat more tablefood here and there, like pieces of pancake and turkey or scrambled egg yolks. I am pretty sure you would live on Veggie Booty alone if we let you, but you're pretty amenable to eating the two jars of baby food we give you at all meals. Because you still can't have any dairy products, we were lucky to find a new yogurt made from coconut milk. Because it's dairy- and soy-free, you are allowed to eat it and I must say, it's quite tasty. You gobble it up and look pretty content, so it's a good thing.

The breastfeeding has gotten a lot better this month after last month's distractable disasters. You are more on task and doing longer sessions, which makes me feel better about how much you are taking in. Of course, you are getting more in during the night because YOU ARE WAKING UP MULTIPLE TIMES AGAIN. To say I am tired of being tired is an understatement. This past week, you were sick again and that meant lots of wakeups where only the boob would console you. Because you were sick, I took pity on you and fed you every time you cried. Which one night was at 10 p.m. and 1, 3, 5, 6 and 7 a.m. It's like you were a newborn again. Wheee! But once you appeared over the worst of it, I got you back on a somewhat-better schedule by making you cry out the first wakeup. Last night you were awake for the first time at 1 a.m., which is better than 11 p.m., but not great by any means. You had been sleeping from 7:30 p.m. to 5 a.m. for a few weeks and I am hoping you will start doing that again. Real soon.



As for your sunny disposition, it continues to be the most charming part of your personality. You are almost always smiley and happy and content to babble away at your toys or your books. You stop to look at your brother like he is crazy whenever he deems you acceptable to play near. You save your best smiles and laughs for Daddy because apparently he is the light of your life. You definitely don't like it when I leave a room, but you can be pacified if Daddy is around.

One of the only times it is acceptable for me to actually leave you in the other room for a few minutes is when your brother is around. You love to watch him run around and play and now that you can get around, you really try very hard to play with him. He's not exactly keen on that idea, however, and it's led to some battles. Just today, you started to play with his garage and cars and he fuh-reaked out on you and you may or may not have been kicked in the head. He is having a hard time sharing, and will instead try to bring you some other toy to play with. But because you are so easy-going, you generally accept the substitute with a smile. You also get so excited in the morning when we go into his room, kicking your legs and laughing and trying to throw your little body at the door to get it open. He has been less rough with you as each month has gone by and he really does love you too. Just today when he got home from the park, he ran over to you and said, "Hi Emmie! Jack home from the park. Jack give Emmie a kiss!"



Every day I look at you and I think to myself, "I will remember her like this forever." And then the very next week, you already look different and I have forgotten that previous stage. I was looking back at some pictures of you this weekend from the previous months and I can't believe how much you have changed. You used to have chubby little baby cheeks at one point and now it's all dimples and cheekbones. Your little blonde hair is starting to darken up with the winter, and I think it might be a thing of the past soon. Your eyes are definitely settling into a nice shade of hazel, which proves to me I really was in the room when you were conceived! Finally, something that I can say looks like me, since you're clearly the spitting image of your father. Hopefully you will get my brains and good humor -- and humility -- as well. But whatever you end up looking like, I will always remember what a sweet, sweet little girl you were when you were 10 months old.

Love,
Mommy

Snot-nosed kid

Poor Emmie is sick again. Her nose had finally stopped running for a mere five days after her epic 21-day cold of last month and now it started again.

This time, however, I am fighting it with a humidifier and Vicks on the bottom of her feet. I read it really does work, so I am giving it a try.

Unfortunately, her cold also throws her sleep all to shit. Two nights ago, she woke up at 10 and would only be pacified by the boob. And even that didn't put her to sleep, it only calmed her down. Last night she woke at 9, same drill. Screamed hysterically, snot everywhere, until I finally brought her in my bed and fed her.

Can't wait to see what tonight has in store for us. Because I do so love being up multiple times per night 10 months into this.

Get out and vote!

As you can see, Jack is carefully reviewing his ballot for accuracy while Emmie has already cast hers. I had the same look on my face as she does after voting for eleventy-billion Cook County judges. I am not kidding, there had to be 50 on the ballot and you had to mark each one.

I would not, however, advise you to vote with two children in tow. By yourself. With no stroller. Actually, they should just rescind my voting rights for even thinking I could do such a thing.

We vote at a firehouse. So of course, everything in the garage is of the utmost importance to an almost-3-year-old who can't keep his hands to himself. He somehow got ahold of a hose and dripped water on the floor and then started pumping some blue gunk out of a bottle. He was never more than 36 inches from me while this happened.

Through gritted teeth I hissed there would BE NO ELMO TONIGHT while I grabbed him and wedged his upper arm between my knees. He then freed himself and melted into a puddle while yelling "Elmo! Elmo!"

Not to mention my left arm lost all feeling because I had to balance Emmie while trying to fill in the little lines with my right. She was squirming all over the place and looks like she was trying to be the ballot, as there is black marker all over her hands from where she kept trying to "help" me vote (read: grab the pen and eat it).

I walked out of the firestation after completing my ballot -- with one mistake where I voted yes and no for a judge because SOMEONE was grabbing my pen -- and I do believe the election judges were cheering as we departed. I did get a few dirty looks from other voters during this debacle, so thankyouverymuch Mr. Asshole In The Brown Jacket Who Clearly Has No Kids And Probably Hates Puppies And Rainbows Too.

However, as we walked up to the machine to insert my ballot, Jack pointed at the election judge and yelled, "OBAMA!" So at least he understood why we were there.

Trick or treat 2008

Trick or treat!


Elmo gets an early sugar rush.


Our little pumpkin.

Close observers might notice a major haircut in that last photo. That would be the result of 4 inches leaving my head this afternoon. I chickened out on bangs. Again. They scare me.

And how 'bout that road soda in that there picture? Who knew trick or treating involved beer?

(Also, an update on little CiCi: she is taking baby steps toward improvement, but they still don't know any more. Please continue to send your positive thoughts her way. Mom Jenny says knowing how many people out there are pulling for them is helping more than we can know.)

Distractable daughter

I am starting to realize why I don't feel comfortable nursing in public, and most of it has to do with the fact I am not down with flashing the nipple at everyone. Which is what happens on multiple occasions during the same feeding these days.

For the last two or three weeks, Emmie has been easily distracted when nursing. When I say "easily distracted" I really mean "she can hear the whisper of a butterfly wing three houses down and must sit up to find out what is going on."

On, off, on, off. Five minutes later, she announces her intent to finish by arching her back and screeching like a banshee if I even entertain the thought of maybe possibly perhaps seeing if she miiiiiight want to eat a little more.

I know it's the age for this behavior. Nine-month-old babies like to look around. Everything is more interesting than eating. She's getting more calories from food and doesn't need as much breastmilk. Blah blah blah.

But I really can't convince myself that she's truly getting enough in four sessions a day, two of which consist of a drive-by nursing.

Picture pages, picture pages

Emmie got her nine-month pictures taken today. She charmed the photographer and smiled and laughed and giggled and generally acted like a little supermodel. I think they turned out quite well.

Emmie: Nine months

Dear Emmie,

Today, kiddo, you have been outside of me as long as you had been inside of me. Looking at it from the other side, I can tell you the pregnancy sure seemed a lot shorter than this. You have grown and changed so much in nine months, although I guess going from a couple of cells to a complete human being in that same time frame isn't anything to sneeze at either.



This past month has been one of the busiest in terms of development. You learned to stand up at the furniture, crawl and pull yourself up on things. The last two, you performed for the first time within 15 minutes of each other, proving the theory that Mommy can indeed spontaneously combust into flames. I was not ready for the motion part of this picture, and was hoping you would be content to sit and play with your toys for another two years. But you were ready and there was no stopping you. One afternoon you just decided you wanted to play with your piano, which was about two feet away, and you went for it. I cheered for you and clapped and made huge deal about it and you looked up at me as if to say, "What's all the fuss? It's just a piano."

But now that you know how to crawl, you realize that your mobility is somewhat limited. You want to go go go, now now now, faster faster faster. Now that you can crawl, you also want to walk. You're not content to hang out on the floor playing anymore, now you want someone to hold you upright so you can stand. Then you get tired of that and try to squirm away, where you would fall flat on your face if we actually let you twist your arms out of our grasps. It's a furstrating time for you, but this too shall pass.



These frustrations have manifested themselves in a high-pitched screech that only dogs can hear half the time. If you get pissed or don't like what we are forcing you to do -- you know, things like play with a toy you have tired of or spend 1.2 seconds longer in your exersaucer than you deem acceptable, terrible things like that -- you let out this blood-curdling screech that makes me jump out of my skin. It certainly gets my attention, since you used to be such an easygoing baby, and I usually jump to right whatever wrong you feel you are suffering. Which has set a great example for your brother, who has also started screeching to get attention. So thanks for that. Hopefully this phase will end soon and you will go back to your compliant little self.

Your independence has also extended to your diet. You can now feed yourself Cheerios, which you will happily do for several minutes, allowing us time to eat at restaurants without having to hold you or entertain you. But so far, it's the only finger food you have mastered, partly because you only learned to feed yourself about a week ago and partly because I am lazy and haven't given you anything else. You're still quite happy being fed baby food, although we're started to give you purees that are a little chunkier and with more flavors in the hopes of getting you ready to transition to table food in the next few months.



Breastfeeding has been a bit of a struggle these last few weeks. You've hit the age where everything is so interesting that you don't have time to slow down and eat. So you latch on, get in a quick snack for about five minutes, and then you're done. There's no coaxing you, no luring you back to the boob. Once you're done, you're done and if I try to convince you to eat a little more I am met with back-arching, red-faced, arm-waving, screaming displeasure. Which makes for a really pleasant bonding experience. But I know this is something that a lot of babies go through at this age and if you're not getting enough milk, you'll let me know. In the meantime, I offer it up as much as possible and humor you by letting you nurse once during the night. Of course it's this middle-of-the-night feeding that is always your best one because you're sleepy and there are no distractions. We only have three months to go, and I know we can weather this storm and get to my one-year goal. Like it or not, you're stuck with the boob.



You started sleeping through the night about three weeks ago, but I missed out on that fun because Daddy and I were away on vacation for a long weekend. You apparently took pity on Grandma and slept 12 straight hours for her. Of course when I came home, you discontinued that new trick and asked for more boob in the middle of the night. So while you don't sleep straight through, you are only waking up once and you are sleeping in your own crib for the whole night. Which is a pretty good breakthrough.



Now that you're mobile, Jack is starting to realize you are a force to be reckoned with. You can get to his toys, and he's not all that excited about sharing. So in his role as Arbitor of Toy Distribution, he will take something of his from your hands and replace it with something he wants you to play with instead. Usually something boring like a stuffed animal. Now I can't really fault him for replacing a toy, but I tell him he has to learn to share and let you play with the fun toys too. You're also able to follow him around the room now, which is freaking him out. But just this week, he was reading a book and you crawled over to see what he was doing and he "read" you the book. You patted the book and his leg and smiled and it was so nice to see the two of you playing together. I can't wait to see more moments like this. It's just like when the two of you are sitting in the dining room together while I get dinner ready and you make each other laugh. I watch the two of you and realize how awesome it is that you have each other.



Now that your personality is coming out, I am really enjoying hanging out with you. You like to cuddle and touch my face and now when I say "kisses" to you, you smile and lean in and lay a huge open-mouth baby kiss on me. When I go in to get you from your crib, you get a huge smile on your little face and reach your arms up while trying to kick a hole in your mattress because you are so excited. But there is still no one quite like Daddy in your eyes. You wave to him and flap your arms in excitement when you see him. You lunge for him when he enters a room and you always smile biggest for him. Your first word was "dada" and you often say "hi dada" when he's around. While I would like to hear some "mama" sometime soon, I am being patient because you have something different for me. When you see me come into a room, you make a noise that defies description. It's kind of like a whiny grunt. But you only make it when someone else is holding you and you see me. Once I pick you up, you calm down immediately. I'm so glad just being in my arms can make you feel better. I hope someday when you're older you will still feel like that. If someone makes fun of you at school or you fall down and skin your knee or you stick your foot in your mouth saying something stupid (not that I would know anything about how that feels) or you have a bad hair day, I hope a hug from Mommy can make it all better.

Love,
Mommy

Poor thing

Emmie sneezed approximately 746 times today, leading me to believe that she was getting sick.

She woke up crying tonight after only being in bed for an hour. Then another 15 minutes after that. Because she is sick, I decided to go in there and not make her cry it out. She was interupting my Entourage viewing, but because she probably needed me, I paused it. I am selfless like that.

She lifted her head and she was covered in snot. Literally dripping down her face. So I moved her to the swing so she could be propped up, snd you know, breathing. Sent Josh out for Tylenol. We'll drug her up good and hope for the best.

It's those damn preschool germs. Poor kid doesn't get any of the fun of finger-painting, snack time or the train set and all the fun of the sickness.

Aaaand, we're mobile

I am not ready for this.

In the space of 15 minutes tonight, Emmie learned to crawl and pull herself to standing. ON HER EXERSAUCER. Which she promptly let go of and fell right on her fool head. There was much crying, some of it mine, lamenting the loss of everything I held dear to me, such as having one child who could not get away from me.

She's fussy, but damn it, she was going to pound out some tunes on that baby grand come hell or high water in this example.

Cheering for you

Give me an E-M-M-I-E!

Sorry for the copout picture post, but after my slothful post last night, I stayed up late to fold and put away all the laundry, run the dishwasher and clean the kitchen. Then I cleaned out my closet and scrubbed the floors on my hands and knees today.

You could say I shamed myself into a clean house.

Road weary

I definitely need a vacation after my vacation.

We stayed out late every night, gambling and/or drinking, and I still woke up early every morning to pump. I consumed way too much junk food, dairy, beer and wine. I bared my post-baby body in a bikini and no one ran inside after being blinded. I single-handidly propped up the economy in Nevada and learned three glasses of champagne at 1 p.m. is probably two glasses too many.

But when Emmie saw me this morning at the side of her crib, it was the best feeling in the world. She blinked, and then her eyes got huge, and she buried her face in my neck with a smile. Then she demanded the boob.

Jack smiled and kept tackling me and jumping all over me when he got up from his nap. I guess that was his way of welcoming me back.

It's nice to be missed. I'm glad to be home.

Wedding bells

I finally have some pictures of the kids from my sister-in-law's wedding and I could not be more happy with how they turned out. But when did my baby turn into a little boy?

Covered in snot

We went to the lake again this weekend and both my children decided it would be a good time to cover ever available inch of me and the house with their snot. Jack started first on Friday and Emmie wasn't far behind a few hours later.

Of course for Jack, it's not that huge of a deal. We chase him around the house with a Kleenex a few times and he acts like a whinybutt and he sleeps more than usual. No biggie.

But Emmie is a whole different ball of wax. I finally had her sleeping 7 p.m. to 4 a.m. this week, putting herself to sleep in her crib, and now the sickness strikes. She can't breathe with a pacifier or her fingers in her mouth because her nose is running like a faucet, so she can't soothe herself to sleep or back to sleep. So she screams and cries mutliple times a night and I have to go in there. Last night I ended up putting her to sleep in her swing so she would be propped up and able to breathe.

Of course, she fights me on the nose sucker like she's drowning and heaven forbid I should try to wipe her nose. Oh, the horror.

This little illness should strike me down in about two days, which would make it just in time for our trip to Vegas and San Francisco later this week. Because nothing says "child-free vacation" like a stuffy nose and the smell of Vicks.

Emmie: Eight months

Dear Emmie,

Today is your eight-month birthday. While it doesn't mean you have the right to vote or to drink a beer, it does mean you are now legally allowed to eat Cheerios. I'm not sure that's as momentous as turning 21 and drinking your face off in a bar in some college town, but it will have to suffice for now.



This last month has been pretty busy, what with a family wedding and trips to the lake and the completion of our new downstairs play area.

It's also been exciting because you finally started gaining some weight! Yep, that deserves an exclamation point because it's been a hard road since your six-month checkup revealed you were not gaining properly and were only in the 5th percentile. After we started stuffing you with solids three times a day and sneaking avocado and banana into almost everything, you gained 1.5 pounds in a month, putting you at a whopping 15.9 pounds, which is the 12th percentile. While you still have a ways to go, you are showing good progress, and we've got you eating two jars of food at each meal. I am pretty sure you will retain your thinness for the rest of your life, though, based on the skinny genes you inherited from Daddy. Which should help if skinny jeans ever come back into style. Yes, I just made a terrible pun. You can die of embarassment now.



You certainly won't need to worry about losing weight from all that moving you are doing. Because you're pretty content to not move anywhere. And why would you? If I'm not holding you, then you're sitting on the floor and your brother brings you your toys. You have no need to try to crawl. In fact, you must really not like the thought of crawling on your hands and knees because you scoot around on your butt. You stretch your legs out in front of you and dig in your heels and then pull your butt toward your knees, like some bizarre upright inchworm. You don't move fast, but you do move yourself enough to reach any object that catches your fancy. You also are grooving on the move where you reach for something, realize it's too far away, roll onto your back, roll back onto to your stomach so you've gone forward a few inches and reach out again. With your two modes of transportation, you can get pretty much anyplace you want to be.

You pulled yourself up a few times this past weekend, mostly from a sitting position on the couch with the arm of the couch as your leverage. You also pulled yourself up on Grandma, who was very excited to see such activity. But to be honest with you, I am nowhere near ready for you to crawl. Right now I can put you down on the floor with a few toys and you are right where I left you when I come back. Not that I ever leave the room. No, I am there watching you with both eyes 100 percent of the time. That's why it's so odd that you were able to launch yourself over the side of the bouncy seat in the kitchen last week and I found you hanging upside down with the seatbelt still in place around your waist. Can't fathom how that one happened.



I imagine the bouncy seat fiasco came about because you are getting extremely curious about everything now. You try to grab your food when we feed you, you want all of Jack's toys and you find the teeny tiniest little specks of crud on the floor and study them with interest. Right before you stick them in your mouth. It's so fun to watch you play now because you figure things out. You are starting to see how your toys work and different ways to play with them. You especially like standing up (mostly with our assistance, but sometimes on your own for a few seconds) at your activity table and moving all the buttons and levers and making the lights and sounds come on.


Your days of activity, combined with a little boost of Cry It Out, have resulted in much longer stretches of sleep at night. We've gotten eight straight hours from you several nights in the last week and you've definitely dropped the 11 p.m. feeding. Finally. It only took 7.5 months, but who's counting? The awesome part is that we can now put you down awake in your crib, turn on the sleep machine and the crib soother, and leave the room. Sometimes you fuss for a few minutes, but generally you are content to put yourself to sleep. You wake up once or twice during the night to eat, and I am fine with that for now. You're still breastfed on demand and you've settled in to a schedule where you clamor for the boob about four or five times during the day and a couple times during the night. We put you down for the night at 7 and you wake up for the day around 7:30 a.m. with naps at 9:30 a.m. and 2 p.m. At night, you wake around 1 a.m. and then come into bed with us for the rest of the night where you usually eat about three times. It's a good little schedule that is starting to work for everyone.


Your brother started school this month, just two times a week for two hours, and you seem to notice he is gone. You look around for him, but then are happy to go on about your busines, so you must not miss him too much. But you still adore him as much as ever. He must feel the same way because a few weeks ago, he said, "Love you Emmie" without any prompting from anyone. Just the other night you were sitting on the floor in the bathroom while he was in there and you were laughing these gut-busting giggles at him. Then he started laughing at you laughing, which made you laugh even harder. It brought tears to my eyes because I was so glad to see how happy you make each other. I know someday when you are annoyed with him as a teenager it will be hard to believe, but he will be there for you and you for him all of your lives. I hope you have the kind of relationship your daddy and I have with our siblings, because it's so awesome to have a built-in friend who has to put up with your crap even when no one else will.


This past month also saw your first foray into formal attire when you were the flower girl in Aunt Marnie's wedding. Jack was the ring bearer and he pushed you down the aisle in a little wagon and you two were quite possibly the cutest kids ever. You hung on and smiled and Jack stopped to ham it up for the crowd and everyone oohed and aahed over the two of you. You were so well-behaved and did a great job. But don't get any ideas that it means you get to attend any more weddings. No weddings for you until you are old enough to sit quietly and stay up late. So I guess that would be in about 11 more years. Maybe.


I have a feeling we are the cusp of several developmental changes this coming month and I hope separation anxiety is not one of them. You are still a pretty social baby, once you warm up to people. When you first encounter anyone other than me, Daddy or Jack, you turn your head into my shoulder and play coy. But then you peek out to see them again, and after a few seconds, you start smiling and interacting. The weekend of the wedding we left you with a non-family babysitter for the first time and you did great. You played and ate and slept fine, which was great because know we know if we needed to leave you with a sitter, we could. As always, the best part of leaving you is seeing you again for the first time. It's like you haven't seen me for months and you get your legs pumping and your arms atretching out for me and you make this excited noise that you only make when you see me. And it's the best part of any night out or any trip away. I hope you are always this excited to see me (although I know you won't be) because it's how I feel every time I look at you. I want to pump my legs and stretch out my arms to you and let you know how much I love you.

Love,
Mommy

Something smells

For the last week, Josh and I were under the impression that the recently-remodeled bathroom downstairs had a funk to it because they didn't properly seal some sort of pipe. Or the toilet. Or something (waving my hands in the air, encompassing anything that may or may not be smelly down there).

Today, one of the guys working on our house informed us that no, the pipes were fine. It was the ceiling that was rank. You see, a small bubble in the drywall on the ceiling that we thought was old and innocent and nothing to worry about was -- wait for it -- a leak from the toilet upstairs.

Seriously. Is this a joke? Are we on some sort of weird candid camera house rehab show? Is someone going to jump out of the crack between the baseboard and the floor (that would be the result of the half-inch drop we've experienced in the living room since the sill beam was replaced) and yell "surprise" and give us a whole new house?

No? Well, that sucks.

So we had to shut off the toilet on the main floor for the next week until they can replace the seal and let it dry. Yes that would be the bathroom Jack uses to pee several times a day and now he is all in a tizzy about it not working and crying "Pa fick it! Pa fick it!" Translation: Grandpa fix it. Because my father-in-law is a super genius and can fix anything (seriously) and Jack knows where it's at when it comes to getting his potty repaired.

In the meantime, I am just putting my fingers in my ears and singing "lalalalala" and ignoring the whole affair.

So in the spirit of ignorance, here's some pictures of my kids! Together! Which never happens anymore because Jack acts like I am the papparazzi and he is Lindsay Lohan.


Raw sewage in the ceiling? We love it!

Gaining on you

Emmie had her one-month follow-up appointment with the GI doctor today. Seeing as I have been stuffing food or a boob in her face every time she turns around, I had no fear about her weight gain.

Little Miss Failure To Thrive topped the scales at a hefty 15 lbs 6 ounces, which is 1.5 pounds more than she weighed a month ago, and puts her in the 12th percentile for weight. Go Emmie!

She's also up to the 75th percentile for both height and head circumference. So I would say she's thriving. Doctor said she looks great and wants to see her gain even more as she has some catching up to do.

He told us to keep doing what we're doing with the food and even bump it up a little bit, giving her more food at each sitting.

Unfortunately, that doesn't apply to me. I don't get to eat as much as I want at any sitting. I also don't get to eat any dairy yet. He said this is on the young side to outgrow the milk protein intolerance; most kids outgrow it between 12-14 months.

Oh pizza, how I miss you. And chocolate shakes. And grilled cheese.

I am going to weigh about 300 pounds after I wean this kid with all the forbidden foods back on the list.

Operation Wedding a success!

We are just back from the big wedding weekend and getting ready for FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL in the morning, but wanted to let everyone know the kids performed perfectly at their aunt's nuptials and all went off as planned.

Jack pushed Emmie down the aisle in his little wagon, he hammed it up for the guests, let people take his picture and acted like a little gentleman. Emmie held on for dear life, smiling and generally looking like a little queen being carried about by her servants.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief after they made it up the aisle and grabbed a drink straight away after the ceremony.

Would you believe, we have no pictures of them? Seriously. The professional photographers won't have the pictures ready for my sister-in-law until November. There were a zillion camera flashes going off while they were walking up, but so far, no one has any shots of them.

I know some family and friends read here, so if anyone who was at the wedding has any pictures, please send them along to us via e-mail would ya? The masses need to see the cuteness.

Wedded bliss

We're in Peoria this week, getting ready for my sister-in-law's wedding.

Jack and Emmie are supposed to be in it; Josh and I are in it. In theory, Jack is going to be in his tux and Emmie is going to be in her flower girl dress and he's going to push her down the aisle in a little wagon.

I am not sure that is actually going to happen. When you're dealing with a 2.5-year-old and 250 people looking at him, all bets are off.

If you know me, you know I am diabolically opposed to kids at or in weddings. I just don't think it's appropriate and I can not stand the sight of a young child sliding on his or her knees across a dance floor. At a friend's wedding a few years ago, her pre-teen cousin cleared the dance floor and performed a dance routine by herself to a Justin Timberlake song. The bride is still pissed about it four years later. I mean seriously, WHAT were the parents thinking letting that happen?

So the fact that my kids are in this wedding is a huge deal. If it was anyone else but their aunt, they would not be allowed within 50 miles of the venue. But since she's the bride, and it's her day, she gets to call the shots.

She can't, however, stop me from wearing a huge sign on my back reading: "I am not in charge of my children today. See the bride to complain about discipline issues."

He said, she said

Last night I had book club, so Josh was in charge of the children and bathtime and bedtimes. As I was running out the door with my book and bottle of wine in hand, I reminded him to thaw out a bag of milk for Emmie. I had fed her around 7 p.m., so I figured she would be squawking for food again before I got back.

When I arrived home at 10:45 p.m., she had not yet woken up. Josh had already thawed the milk out, so I told him to just give her a bottle when she woke up because it's only good for 24 hours after it's thawed. He argued that he was going downstairs to paint (yes, the remodeling is STILL ongoing) and that I should just give it to her myself.

I don't give her bottles because I don't want her to get confused by the boob in such close proximity, so I told him he was going to do it, by God, and I retreated upstairs. I may or may not have included the phrase "Just do it. You're freaking killing me." Because I am mature like that.

I went to bed and thought I heard her fuss for a few minutes around midnight and then stop. I smugly went back to sleep because HA, I had won. When she woke up at 3 a.m., I brought her into bed and fed her and all was well.

This morning, I asked Josh what exact time he had given her the bottle. He looked at me like I had a squirrel perched on my head and asked what time I gave her the bottle. I said I didn't give her anything except the boob at 3 a.m.

Sure as shit, there in the fridge was the bottle of milk. Meaning, my daughter slept from 8:30 p.m. to 3 a.m. -- an unprecedented six-and-a-half hours.

Sweet jesus, she slept almost through the night and I didn't even realize it was happening.

Taking a look

Today I had to take Emmie in for her abdominal ultrasound. You know, one of tests she doesn't need to have done because there's nothing wrong with her except being skinny.

It was funny because I am used to seeing her on ultrasound, not seeing ultrasounds done on her. I half expected to see a fetus pop up on the screen and wave it's little skeletor arm at me.

The technician said everything looked fine. Emmie was talking and twisting and trying to grab the ultrasound wand and generally acting like a thriving seven-month old. Well, a seven-month old with a cold. A pathetic runny nose and little cough. Poor kid.

She didn't even cry when they stuck the needle in her arm for the blood draw. She was super interested in the Snoopy bandaid afterward, however.

Not so successful was the attempt to collect her urine sample. With wee babies, they use this plastic bag contraption that gets taped in place and is supposed to collect the urine. Except Emmie somehow successfully peed around the bag. Twice. I have to take the stealth pee-er back for one more test on Friday, so I can just keep trying until then.

I plan to have her sit in a bowl until she has to go. I figure she can't outsmart me then.

Emmie: Seven months

Dear Emmie,

Today you are seven months old and I am pretty sure someone somewhere is skipping days on my calendar and not telling me because there is no way that much time could possibly have gone by.



We spent much of the last month on vacation, which coincided nicely with a major remodeling of the house. But as always, you were so laid-back and easy -- no matter where we dragged you. You spent time splashing in the lake, taking boat rides, playing with toys and hanging out with both sides of the family. You went on your first road trip, driving six hours to the North Woods of Wisconsin, and you braved it like a champ. You slept a lot and amused yourself in the carseat and were generally chill.



You started giving us a little baby wave this month, opening and closing your tiny hand, while staring at it in amazement. For a few days it was all you wanted to do, but then you kind of moved on and we get little waves every once in a while now. Just this past week you also started clapping. I wasn't sure you knew what you were doing, but we would clap and say, "Yay Emmie!" and you would stretch your arms out in front of you and start flapping your arms until your hands were clapping. You looked so proud of yourself, which made us laugh and clap even more, which made you laugh and clap more. Hours of entertainment, I tell you.

Your hands are still a source of great amusement to you. Every once in a while, you will be waving your little arms around and catch site of your hand and it stops you in your tracks. You will stare and turn your hand to examine it from every angle and start talking to it. I remember your brother doing the same thing, and it's no less cute the second time around with you.

You are starting to talk quite a bit now. We hear screeching and a lot of "ahhh" and "baaa" and of course, your first real-sounding word was "da." Come on! I am the one who feeds you, gets up with you multiple times a night and doesn't make you cry it out. What about some love for mama? Your daddy was quite proud of himself and said it was clearly because he is your favorite.

I can't dispute that as the evidence is mounting. Whenever you look at him, you smile and wiggle and talk and generally act like a smitten girl. I might be the food source and the one you want in the middle of the night, but if he's in the room while you are awake, I am chopped liver. I think you might be turning into a Daddy's Girl, but we'll see how that works out for you when you're 16 and late for curfew and a boy drops you off outside the house.



The last month was also kind of worrisome. We took you in for your six-month pediatrician visit and they were concerned you weren't gaining enough weight. Apparently, the tall-skinny genes from your father are kicking into full effect. We suspected a little silent reflux, so we gave you Zantac for a few weeks, with no improvement. They wanted to make sure there weren't any underlying issues, so they sent you to see a pedicatric GI specialist. His advice was to start feeding you three or four solid meals per day in addition to breastfeeding on demand. So you went from a little oatmeal with fruit once a day to eating three meals with either banana and avocado mixed in to pump up the fat content. They asked me how committed I was to breastfeeding on a scale of 1 to 10 and I said definitely a 10. I don't want to give you formula if I don't have to, so I am happy to not eat dairy to keep your tummy happy. I am convinced you're just skinny, and they noted you are meeting all your milestones and are such a happy baby, so I am not worrying about it. You'll gain weight on your own pace.



Now that you have mastered sitting up and you can roll to the location of your choice in the room, things are getting interesting with your brother. You are a lot more into toys and inevitably, you both want the same one. I hear a lot of "No, Emmie, no!" coming out his mouth these days. It's mostly him ripping interesting toys out of your hands, which he then substitues with some discarded toy he doesn't want to play with, but every time it happens I feel bad for you because you always look so surprised as if to say, "Wait! What happened?" But you're also starting to become a little more grabby, and he's not so fond of it. Now when you get close enough to him, you usually end up grabbing his shirt or his hair and trying to bring yourself as close to him as possible. I hear a lot of "No touch! No touch, Emmie!" coming from Jack these days -- what I can only imagine is the beginning of years of me saying, "Nobody is touching anybody else, at all, ever again."



Speaking of not doing things ever again, I think sleep falls into that category. As you have for the last seven months, you still refuse to sleep through the night. And you don't wake up to eat just once, or even twice, but four or five times a night. It's gotten to the point I have declared it the new normal. Your GI doctor said once you gain a little weight and start loading up on the calories, you should start to sleep better. I had a hearty laugh at that notion, because I am convinced you will never sleep through the night and someday your poor husband will be getting up multiple times per night to get you a drink of water or a snack.

Your daddy and I spent a few days away from you and Jack recently and by the time the weekend was over, I was really looking forward to seeing both of your little faces. When we arrived to pick you up from Grandma and Grandpa, you were sleeping on Grandma's lap. You stirred a little when you heard my voice and you opened your eyes slightly and when you saw me, your eyes opened wide and you stared at me as if to say, "Is it really you Mommy?" I grabbed you and hugged you and you were so glad to see me. In the coming years, there will probably be tons of moments like this, except you will be all "Mooooooommmmmmm, stop kissing me. My friends are watching." Complete with eye rolls and slumping shoulders. But I will always, always be happy to see you.

Love,
Mommy

Picture time

Jack is going to be in his aunt Marnie's wedding in a few weeks, so we needed to try his tuxedo on. I think he looks dashing. The fake smile here is a lot better than him crying, putting his hand in front of his face and yelling, "No picture! No picture!" like we're the paparazzi. We get that every time he sees us pull out the camera these days.


Emmie, on the other hand, is still our sweet little girl who obliges our daily incessant snapping of photos. The dimples will distract any pitchers who dare to pitch her inside. She's going yard.

Feeling like a failure

Today Emmie had her appointment with the pediatric gastroenterologist. The GI doc asked a lot of questions, examined her and of course measured and weighed her.

While she went from 13 lbs 11 ounces to 14 lbs 2 ounces in the last three weeks, she's still not where she should be in terms of weight. Her weigh-in today placed her in the 5th percentile, which also got her the official label of Failure To Thrive. Except, the GI doc said, she appears to be thriving. So he is saying it's in name only at this point.

We also found out our pediatrician mis-measured her at her last appointment and her height is only in the 50th percentile, not greater than the 95th. So she's apparently not going to be doing shoe endorsements for Nike any time soon. She's just average, I guess.

We discussed the silent reflux, and he said he does not think she has it. He told us to stop the Zantac, as it probably wasn't doing anything. Although I am sure she will miss the spectacular grape taste twice each day, we discontinued it tonight.

He also wants to run a few tests, specifically blood, sweat, stool and urine in addition to an ultrasound of her stomach. He said he doesn't expect to find anything, but it's better to have them done.

His most interesting question came in reference to her suspected milk protein intolerance. When I told him I had cut out all dairy and soy, he said I also need to cut out nuts and shellfish. Apparently, the shrimp skewers with peanut sauce are off the menu from now on. But I digress. After we discussed my limited diet, he asked how committed I was to breastfeeding on a scale of 1-10. I of course said 10 and that I would do whatever I needed to do to make it to a year. He was supportive and said that was fine, he just wanted to let me know we could try a hypoallergenic formula if I didn't want to be so restricted.

For now, he wants us giving her three or four meals of solids a day, following up with breastfeeding. He also said to feed her on demand, no matter what time of day or night. His exact words were, "Let her eat."

So we're going to bust out the avocado and applesauce mixture that Jack enjoyed so much, I am going to whip out the boob at the slightest whif of interest and we'll be back for a follow-up in a month. Until then, we'll just be being over here, failing to thrive.

Falling for you

Who is the asshole that lets her second child fall head first off a changing table while she stands literally three inches away and turns her head for one second?

I will give you one guess. You'd think a second-time mom would know better. Not so much.

Emmie is fine. I think I just stopped shaking an hour later.

There's nothing quite like the sight of your child falling face-first into the carpet and hitting her face on the metal heating vent. I think I aged 10 years. Jack happened to be standing right there as well and while Emmie was screaming, I kept telling him it was OK, that he didn't do anything wrong, it was mommy's fault. He looked scared and kept yelling "Josh! Daddy! Josh!" down the stairs until Josh finally came back in the house from outside.

Stellar parenting today, folks, stellar.

So happy together

On our recent vacation to the North Woods, one in which we saw an actual BEAR run across the road in front of us, Jack and Emmie spent some time playing together.

I managed to get their antics on camera. From her reaction, you can tell how much she adores him. I think he's starting to dig her, too.

Continued travels

We shook all the sand out of our swimsuits, rinsed off all the sunscreen, packed up the car and left the lake today.




But our tour of Wisconsin is not over yet! Because the drywall is being installed at home, it's too dusty to take the kids there. So we went to my parents this morning, where the wee children were scheduled to stay for the weekend anyway so Josh and I can celebrate our anniversary and attend Lollapalooza. I believe the traditional gift for four years is Radiohead tickets, no?

Weighty matters

I took Little Miss Giant to her six-month pediatrician visit on Wednesday, where it was confirmed she was still indeed a giant -- 27.25 inches, which is greater than the 95th percentile. Get your 2028 WNBA tickets now!

But -- and you knew with this kid there had to be a but -- she's not gaining enough weight. She only weighed 13 pounds 11 ounces and her doctor said he would have liked to see her weigh 14.5 to even consider having her cry it out at night. The CIO no longer concerns me, since clearly she needs the calories, but the lack of weight-gain is kind of troubling.

At her four-month appointment, Emmie weighed 12 pounds 2 ounces, giving her a whopping gain of just over one-and-a-half pounds in two months. This, combined with her milk protein intolerance, got us a referral to a pediatric GI specialist. Our doctor said he's not concerned yet, but he wants to rule out any problems. He also wants to see her back in a month for a weight check.

At first, I pooh-poohed the issue. She's a totally happy baby, only cries when she's tired and is meeting her milestones at or ahead of time. She even waved at the doctor, which he said was advanced because it's a nine-month skill. Sure, she's the crappiest sleeper ever, but I am convinced her caloric intake goes to making herself taller, not making herself chubbier.

He also said they wouldn't worry unless her head stopped growing, and her head circumference stayed right on her curve in the 50th percentile.

Today, my degree from the Google School of Medicine starting kicking in. She wakes multiple times during the night. She eats frequently overnight, oh about six or seven times, but who's counting? She does crunches. She really likes sleeping in her swing. We hold her a lot. She has a milk protein intolerance. She's not gaining weight like she should.

Holy crap -- those are all symptoms of silent reflux. Suddenly the heavens parted and the light shone down upon me and I felt a moment of being one with the universe. I think Emmie has silent reflux. She very rarely spits up. She eats a lot, but spends a lot of time pulling off the breast. Combined with all of the above, it's pretty good match.

So this morning I called my pediatrician and reported my suspicions. When I presented my case to him, he said it did sound like it could be silent reflux. He prescribed her Zantac, twice a day and we'll see if it makes any difference. If it does, and she gains weight and starts sleeping better, awesome. If nothing changes, we've ruled it out and still have an appointment with the GI doctor.

Or, as Josh said the other day, maybe she's buying into the media messages and is trying to keep her slim figure via an eating disorder.

Cereal killer

With her six-month birthday behind us, I decided today it was probably time to get some solids into Emmie. So I busted out the baby spoons and the oatmeal and mixed a little breastmilk in and had Josh get the camera out.



Emmie was totally into it, grabbing the spoon and trying to see what exactly I was doing with this lumpy breastmilk. And then she realized it was breastmilk, but with shit in it. The look on her face was priceless -- she was like "Mmmmmm ... wait, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT MOM?"

But then she started grooving on it and while she got more on her than in her, it went quite well.



To be honest, I held off on solids as long as I did out of pure laziness. It's so much easier to whip out the boob wherever I am and not worry about bringing food or dishes or any of the various accoutrements of a gourmet baby meal. But I happened to have some oatmeal and some breastmilk in the fridge and I secretly hoped that cereal would help her sleep through the night, so I went for it today.

Guess what -- after taking a 4-ounce bottle of pumped milk before bed, she woke a whopping two hours later. And now she's awake again, an hour after that. So much for the theory that a full tummy makes them sleep better. Whoever started that old wive's tale is now my sworn enemy.

Emmie: Six months

Dear Emmie,

Today is your six-month birthday and you have officially been with us for an entire half year. I just can't believe how fast the time has gone. It feels like it was just days ago that we were bringing you home from the hospital and watching you sleep all the time.



The last month has been filled with new things for you. The biggest was when you learned to sit up by yourself. One day I sat you on the floor and balanced you and you sat for five then eight then 10 seconds. By the next day, you could sit for a minute and now we can give you a toy and set you in place and you can sit there content for a few minutes. You look so proud of yourself when you do it, too. Like "Look at me! I am a big girl!"

The sitting was followed shortly thereafter by the ability to grab your feet, which delighted you to no end. You've been doing crunches for the last two months and we finally figured out that you do them so you can see your feet. But then you figured out to bend your legs so you could access the feet and you were so pleased. And because you are a giant, you were also able to get your feet immediately into your mouth. Again, there was joy in Mudville.



When I say you are a giant, I am really not kidding. Your big doctor appointment is next week and I can't wait to see how long you are and how much you weigh. You are so long and skinny and your little face is just so petite. Your smile lights up the room and your dimples are so adorable I just want to eat your little face. Your biggest smiles are normally reserved for me and Daddy, but lately you have gotten a little shy around strangers and have been known to cry if an unknown person holds you, especially when you are in an unfamiliar environment.

Strangers can't help but say hello to you when we are out and about because of your hair. It is quite a conversation-starter with the three-inch blonde mane that stands straight up on the top. You look like a blonde baby Don King and it's so cute. Every night after your bath I comb it down and every morning when you wake up, there it is standing at attention once again. When it's wet and lying flat on your head you look like a totally different baby -- your face looks rounder and your cheeks look almost chubby.



You will get your first taste of solid food next week, after your doctor appointment. So far, you've been happy with the boob and everything is still going great with it. You eat every three hours and you really don't care if you get it from a bottle or straight from the source. As long as someone is feeding you, you are happy.

You're also a little rolling log these last few weeks. I put you down on your tummy and you roll immediately to your back, and then again to your front and before I know it, you're several feet from where I left you. But I never need to worry about losing you because your brother gives me a running commentary on everything you do now. "Emmie roll over! Emmie sit!"



Now that you can sit up and hold toys and interact more, Jack is much more interested in playing with you. He loves to bring you a toy and shove it into your hand for you to hold and he always tries to share his food with you. I have to remind him at every meal that you can't have any, but it is so nice of him to share. He is still hitting you here and there, but he spends more of his time loving you. Every morning when he wakes up, he asks "Emmie wake?" and if you happen to be awake and sitting in your bouncy seat in the bathroom when he comes in, he lays a huge unsolicited kiss on you. And every night before you go to bed he gives you a hug and a kiss and says, "Night night Emmie."

Most mornings, you wake up after him because you need to sleep in a little after being awake so many times during the night. We put you to bed between 6:30 and 7:30 every night and you usually give us a whopping three hours before you need to get up and eat again. Then you sleep for another three hours, when you want to eat. Again. Then you wake up about two hours later, which at this point is usually around 1-2 a.m. and I bring you into bed with me because I am too tired to keep getting up and feeding you. You eat a few more times while you are in bed with me before I finally put you in the swing around 6 a.m. for two hours. In total, I would say you are still waking about four times per night. It's killing me. But you're skinny so I haven't made you cry it out yet because I think you need the calories. Our big sleep breakthrough this month was transitioning you from your swing to the crib for all your naps, which you did quite well. One night you flipped onto your tummy and slept a little better and from then on, you became a tummy-sleeper. After you started that, you had no problem with the crib. I just give you a pacifier, rock you for about 10 seconds in my arms and put you down. You flip onto your stomach, sometimes fuss for a minute or two, and you're out like a light.

But even when you're not sleeping, which by extension means I'm not sleeping, I can't be upset with you because you are just so damn cute. You have started reaching out for me recently, which is such a great feeling. When I am holding you on my lap, you love to grab my face and pull it toward you and laugh. You are such a happy baby -- always up for anything we are doing, be it the park or a playgroup or just hanging out at home. When I get you up in the morning, you have a huge smile on your face and you kick your legs and make this hilarious gurgling noise deep in your throat. Then you bury your face in my neck as I smother you with kisses. I call you my Sweetie Emmie because you are just such a sweet, likeable little girl. I know you won't always be easy to like (hello, teenage hormones) but always remember that your Daddy and I love you very much.



My love for you has taken my breath away at times in the last six months. There are nights where I check on you at night and watch you sleep and I see your whole life spread out before you. I want such great things for you -- friendship, love, happiness -- and I know you will achieve big things. I can't wait to watch you grow into a strong, independent, educated woman. You have some great female role models in your life in your grandmothers and aunts, and of course me, so I hope you can learn from us. I certainly learn from you every day and just when I think I couldn't love you more, I do.

Love,
Mommy