Scotland 3

Thursday, 14 June

A very white-toothed George Wallace and an incomprehensible Ewan SomethingMuffled, our drivers, met us at the Edinburgh airport and escorted us to the waiting vans.

The flight in was overcast and our first views of Edinburgh and Glasgow (surprisingly close to Edinburgh) were obscured by the fact that we all kept nodding off uncomfortably.

After passing through Glasgow, we stopped in the village of Luss and all got out to walk around briefly. Lovely, lovely scenery. I was so tired.

I realized that I'm too used to being a tourist when I walked Ellie up to the window of cottage to look at a cat. In my defense, the small stone cottages were flat-fronted and flush with the road. I momentarily forgot that these were actual homes, not some Potemkin facade.

After a short visit in Luss, on the "bonnie bonnie shores of Loch Lomond," we piled back into the vans and drove north. We passed incredible scenery every bit of the way: lochs surrounded by munros.

I was surprised by the evergreen forests and related logging, though it seems more regulated here and not nearly as devastating as the clear-cutting I saw in the Pacific Northwestern US. For one thing, the trees were planted for this purpose and aren't ancient, native forest. (At least in part. What about Frasier Firs and Scotch Pines? All domestic?)

The Village of Arrochar, Lochs Long, Fyne, Eck, all lovely, all obscured by two overtired babies screaming in the middle seat of the van (Ada and cousin Arria). Ellie was absolutely, phenomenally well-behaved.

Behold: Rest and Be Thankful:

Indeed!

Finally, the babies fell asleep and we arrived at our hotel for the first two nights.

The Enmore Hotel in Dunoon was quite lovely, and we had the place nearly to ourselves. Paul, Ellie, Ada, and I had a two-room suite with an en-suite bathroom (given the many signs, apparently this is a major selling feature at B&B's around the country). All was old and cozy and charming.

Dinner: we met in the parlor to have drinks and order dinner. After a while, we were escorted into the dining room for rolls (delicious Scottish butter!) dinner and dessert. Excellent food. I had a traditional meal with vegetarian haggis (working up to it, here) and Paul had the sole. Ellie had vegetable cannelloni.

After dinner, we were all exhausted. We missed a night's sleep last night, you know. Paul and Ellie passed out, and I eventually fell asleep with Ada nursing in our bed.

At 12:30 am I awoke with a start - Ellie had climbed out of her cot and was running through the bedroom door! Through the sitting room! Out the door! Down the hall! Toward the stairs! I caught her and took her back to bed. When she tried to make another break for it - never once responding to or acknowledging me - I plopped her into bed between Paul and me and moved Ada to the portable crib.

We all slept soundly until the morning alarm.

Scotland 2

13-14 June, Wednesday becomes Thursday

We sat in the bulkhead row right behind business class: Paul, Ellie, Ada, and I in the four seats across the middle of the plane; MiddleSis, Niece Arria, and MiddleBIL in the two seats with bassinett on the left. My mom and dad and LilSis and LilBIL were on the right, several rows back in the next cabin.

Ada did great on the flight, as long as she was being held and nursed. The little seat belt she had to wear was so silly! It was a loop that attached to my seat belt, as she sat on my lap, and was obviously far less safe than her "not allowed" infant car seat, stowed in an overhead bin for take-off and landing.


Ellie watched 1-1/2 movies then alternated sleeping in her daddy's arms and on the floor (shhh) for the rest of the flight. The trip would have been far more stressful without the portable DVD player.

Our 6:30 pm Chicago time flight became 12:30 am and we arrived in Manchester at 8:30 am. After some confusion and a wait (our first British meal! and shopping!) we arrived in Edinburgh mid-afternoon.

Aside: We flew BMI, an airline I'd never heard of. On every leg of our journey (that's 4 altogether) there was mass chaos with the desk and gate agents. Once we were on the plane, however, each flight was amazing. The (hot!) food was delicious, there was plenty of overhead bin space, the flight crews were professional, the planes were bright and clean, they came around with (hot!) moist towels and (cold!) Ben & Jerry's occasionally, we were frequently offered bottles of water and (hot!) tea and coffee. A very nearly first-class flight experience both out and back. Highly recommended, but allow plenty of time for pre-boarding confusion, especially if you have young children.

Close

Wow oh wow oh wow.

We were supposed to be flying out of Glasgow last Saturday (we ended up flying out of Edinburgh instead).

I know I should be feeling horror and grief, but my main feeling right now is elation that the plots in both London and Glasgow were thwarted.

In 1994, my family and I traveled to Jordan and Israel. There were areas of the West Bank that we were unable to see as planned, because a Jewish man from New York had recently opened fire in a mosque during prayers, killing a lot of people there. Another mosque we'd planned to visit was also closed, and we had to scrap the planned Egypt leg of our trip because it was deemed unsafe at the time.

We passed regularly through checkpoints where very very young men with big guns stood around our vehicle. Our driver changed the flag in the back of the small bus depending on the territory through which we were traveling.

I was 19 at the time, invincible, and wasn't terribly scared by the whole experience, though I was incredibly moved by it all.

I am 32 now and I know that tragedy can strike anywhere, at anytime; no one is immune, least of all me.

Knowing that is one thing, living it is quite another. I can't really imagine what it must be like to live in the Middle East, or to go to work every day in a likely terrorist target.

In 2002, shortly after they reopened National Airport in Washington, D.C., I flew into it for a sales call in northern Virginia. I couldn't believe how close we came to the Pentagon on our approach. During my meetings, from the office building's windows, I could constantly hear and see airplanes: so low, so close. By the time I departed for my relatively safe Midwestern suburban home, my blood pressure must have been sky-high. I remember wondering how so many people living and working near there handled the stress.

My prayer are with . . . the world. Who doesn't need them, at a time like this?

Scotland 1

Tuesday, 12 June

The girls and I all have piles of outfits nearly ready to go into suitcases. The dining room table is covered with other stuff to pack. I have run 7 errands already today. Paul arrives home from work at 5:30 and I take advantage of the opportunity to hand off the girls and look over all the outfits again before giving Paul the go-ahead to start packing.

We paused briefly for leftovers (clearing out that frig!) in the midst of our packing frenzy, but finally had all loaded into the minivan - with 5000 miles already, and not quite 3 months old! - by 9:45. PM. We dropped Lizzi off with friends and hit the road, sipping Starbucks.

Ada stopped crying by the time we hit Illinois, Ellie watched two movies ("Elmo" - Nemo - and "Nsters" - Monsters, Inc.) before falling asleep, and we arrived at my parents' house at 3:00 AM.

Wednesday, 13 June

By 1:30 PM, we were all freshly showered and waiting out on my parents' lawn with our luggage. The neighbors came outside with their cameras; we were quite a sight. We loaded into a small, chartered bus for the long trip to O'Hare (traffic).

Once at the airport, there was mayhem in the form of an enormous flight to Hyderabad and confusion in the form of desk agents who didn't know what to do with our party.

After security (liquids, pastes, & gels, oh my!) we had time to pop into the restrooms then board our plane. Good thing we left home so early! Navigating the airport with young children and no stroller is no fun. Also, Ellie does still fit in the sling and can sleep there!

My shoulders are a little sore.

Points of Connectedness

Our marriage therapist is leaving us (moving away) which is very sad, although my sister (also a marriage and family therapist) tries to spin it positively. Before our marriage saver leaves, she'll help us to "transition" to a new therapist, who might be able to take us further, or in a different direction, or whatever.

Anyway, at our session this week, we were discussing our homework, which was to think of points in our relationship where Paul and I have felt particularly connected.

Every single item on his list involved sex.

My list was even shorter: I felt like Paul and I had an unusual connection, that we were always on the same page, that I could share anything with him without fearing an unsatisfactory reaction. So, basically, my answer was, "Every day, all the time, for about 9-1/2 years."

And now I understand why I felt this way. Here is the way Paul and I have been communicating:

Sarahlynn has an opinion and expresses it. (a not-so-shockingly common event)

Paul says, "Uh huh," or, "Yeah."

Sarahlynn hears: I completely agree with you.

Paul means: I acknowledge that you're speaking to me, but for various mysterious reasons of my own, I'm not going to carry the conversation any further just now.

Ah hah!

Sunshine, Breeze, Warmth

We were up late packing last night, and Ellie woke up ridiculously early this morning (excitement!). Paul took Ellie into her room to try to get her back to sleep, and we all fell back to sleep. Soundly asleep.

At 6:15 the phone started ringing. I was completely confused and jumped out of bed to try to find and stop the racket before it woke one of the girls. There's a phone in our room, but I keep the ringer turned off, so I didn't even think about it and just ran for the kitchen phone.

By the time I got to it, the answering machine had picked up, so when I answered the phone the machine started making a horrible screeching noise. It took me several long loooong seconds to find the off button, all while I'm speaking basic gibberish into the phone.

The laughing man on the other end of the line politely apologized for waking me up, then explained that he was at the airport and had a passport for delivery to an Eleanor, slated for "before 7:30 am delivery" and needed to confirm that someone would be home to pick it up.

We would indeed! And we had Ellie's passport by 6:45 am on the day of our scheduled departure.

In other news of great sunshine and delight, Paul's sister and her husband had their first baby today! Welcome, baby Abby!

Good friends of ours had their second baby yesterday. Welcome, baby Xavier!

Both births were natural, healthy, and, it seems, exactly what the mamas wanted. It is indeed a sunny day today.

Now it's time for my June blogging hiatus. Enjoy the house, sitters!

Trendy Bob

I just had my hair cut, and I am miserable, but I am not crying about it because certainly there are more serious things for me to be upset about.

Like my marriage. And Ellie's passport still not being here. And the fact that I can't seem to find a place to be alone for even a moment in my own house, being blessed with a husband and two children who require my physical and emotional presence at all times. Oh, and the not-so-minor fact that my best friend's husband is in Iraq.

Now that things are in perspective, back to my haircut.

We made ourselves a budget two weeks ago. In an attempt to keep to it, I decided that the expensive haircuts I got every 3 months last year were a luxury we can ill afford this year, so I went down to Great Clips for a quick trim before our vacation.

I thought things were pretty clear. "I haven't had a haircut in 6 months, so I need some length taken off," I said. "I have some natural wave to my hair, and I like that. I curve my it under at the ends, and like my hair to fall about here when it's dry" (indicating a point in the middle of my neck, well below the chin).

"Below the chin, dees is goot length for you," she said. "And you wear eet curled under on bottom?" She went on to explain to me that I have a lot of hair, thick, full, healthy, I'm lucky, etc. And that the hair on my neck would cause the rest of my hair to curl out. So she was going to thin it. OK. For the first time ever, I experienced clippers on my neck, but I was not afraid, because Helga and I were clear on what I wanted. She pulled out a razor and did something with it while I tried not to notice.

Then she had me lean forward and she started cutting. I became a little concerned about how much she was cutting off in back, but she explained that it would be a leetle shorter in back than in front, which wouldn't be noticeable but would give the cut a much trendier look, like Charlize Theron's trendy bob. Uh, OK.

As she cut the sides, it became apparent that I was going to hate this.

When I'm uncomfortable with my weight (love of eating combined with newborn baby/lack of time for exercise) and the way that it adversely affects my chinline, guess what I want least? A super-short haircut that hits the middle of my cheek when dry and leaves my entire neck exposed.

Especially when I'm about to go on vacation to somewhere humid, where I expected my natural curls to fly wild and free around my head in most romantic fashion.

Why-oh-why did I not procrastinate on this haircut?

My hair is too short for a ponytail, too short even to keep behind my ears. Just long enough to get in my eyes.

Damn it.

The Schedule

We had a 2-1/2 hour special town hall meeting at church this afternoon (5/20) about a painful controversy that's been festering under the skin of our church for at least 14 years in its current incarnation. I've been a member of this church for 7 years and only realized that this issue was serious, more than a humorous mild irritant, about a year ago. Now, even church visitors can tell it's a mess.

Here are some of my reflections after the meeting:

Money talks and people listen. Except that that's not the way the reformed church is supposed to work. "Several families" have withdrawn their financial pledges, and the church needs donations to continue its good work. But the church shouldn't be easily bullied, either. Gifts to God shouldn't come with strings attached.

One woman got up to speak and toxic waste spewed out of her mouth. Her diatribe was full of innuendo, veiled threat, and vague criticism.

"Lots of people" are really unhappy about this.
"I thought we were hiring" a minister who would do what we wanted.
"I never thought my family would consider leaving, but - "
We're in the middle of a capital campaign. "This is the worst time" to piss people off.

At one point, she suggested that we just "buy another minister," and my shocked gasp/gulp/choke was clearly audible throughout the sanctuary. Others started murmuring and looking uncomfortable. She looked around and clearly didn't understand what she said wrong (ditto with all her previous threats to withhold money pledged to the completion of our new building). Finally she realized what people were reacting to - or someone explained it to her - and said, "Oh, hire, call, whatever. Get a new guy in here."

"Being heard" means the same thing as "getting exactly what I want," apparently.

Compromise is unacceptable. So is taking time to deliberate and do the process right; the session just needs to do what these people want, immediately.

Fortunately, our new minister didn't back down. And he said that he'd rather hold 4 more capital campaigns to pay off the new building than accept one dollar with those sorts of strings attached. Score one for the new guy.

Unstately

Dear Department of State,

I am very angry with you. I hardly know where to begin. The whole process of applying for a passport is nigh onto ridiculous anyway, but like hundreds of thousands of my fellow Americans, I gamely filled out forms, stood in line at the post office, and jumped through hoops without complaint.

Then I waited, and waited, and waited. My checks cleared. Still I waited.

Look, your website and recorded messages say that due to the increased demand for U.S. Passports, it is currently taking up to 10-12 weeks to receive a passport. So please apply early, etc.

I mention your website and recorded messages, because they're my closest points of contact with you. This, of course, increases my frustration exponentially. I cannot get to a live person on the phone, despite calling over and over and over, at various times of day. I can't get a response to my emails.

And listen, civil servants, I applied more than 12 weeks ago, my "estimated date of departure" is less than a week away, and still I do not have my passports!

I would willingly hang around on hold for an hour or more, waiting for the next available representative. But, no, although my call is "very important" to you, all representatives are always busy assisting other callers, and my call cannot be answered at this time. Or any time.

I applied early, as suggested. I repeatedly checked the website for the status of my passports rather than bothering your representatives. I waited until inside of your magical 14 day window to call, as you requested.

You took my money. There is no reason why these applications are anything but straightforward. My problem is urgent. AND YET I CANNOT FIND ANYONE TO TALK TO ME.

Jerks.
--Sarahlynn

Passport Status:

Paul: Still has valid passport from our honeymoon. Lucky dog.

Sarahlynn: Passport renewal application submitted over 12 weeks ago. Approved yesterday. Scheduled to arrive in the mail the day before our departure date. I hope my mailman isn't late!

Eleanor: Needed a passport. Applied at the same time as my renewal application. Request still "currently being processed."

Adelaide: Needed a passport. Applied a couple of weeks later than Ellie and I, due to not having a birth certificate yet. Requested (and paid royally for) "expedited service" since window to travel date was smaller. Received passport weeks ago, although not within "2 weeks" promised with expedited service.

Unacceptable!

Chocolate Eval

I've never been a chocolate lover. Quite the opposite, in fact. As a child, I sucked my thumb: my right thumb, which I called my vanilla thumb. Sucking my left thumb felt as weird as sucking someone else's thumb, and I called it my chocolate thumb to mark the difference between preferred and non-preferred. I've been known to pass up dessert if chocolate was the only option available.

Then I got pregnant with Ada. I think that Ada is going to be a chocoholic, if the way I felt during my pregnancy - which just happened to span the winter holiday gorging season - is any indication.

I thought that, perhaps, I'd go back to normal after she was born, but apparently this is the new normal. Oh, how fortunate for all those lonely pants languishing in a "too big" box down in the basement.

My new drink at Starbucks is hot chocolate, and oh, is it delightful. In fact, I think that all brands of hot chocolate are quite delightful, though some versions are better than others. Land o' Lakes can't make a bad flavor, but the Swiss Miss Diet packets are less fun than drinking plain hot water. A lot less fun.

As for actual blocks of delicious chocolate, here is a meltdown of my favorites and not-so-favorites:

• Frango, all varieties: quite good
• Hershey's, without toffee: quite decent
• Nestle: aren't we supposed to be boycotting them or something?
• Ghirardelli: I know that I'm supposed to love this, but it tastes like chocolate-flavored wax to me
• Godiva: divine, indeed!

What kind of chocolate do you like best?

I Don't Get Enough Sleep

My day can be summed up like this:
Today was the first day of Ellie's summer vacation from preschool, and it rained. Meanwhile, she greatly improved her success rate at manipulating interior doorknobs.

On a related note, Ada didn't get much of a nap this afternoon.

More happily, our new stroller came yesterday, and the girls both like it very much. Ellie can climb in and out on her own, which I love (as does she). My main complaint is that the cup/snack holders are wide and shallow, so they don't hold a cup very effectively. The main functional issue at this point is that Ada seems to prefer her hood pulled over her, reducing glare. Ellie prefers Ada's hood to be pushed back, so that she can see her little sister better. So far, I'm happy with our choice. In two trips around the block, I had no significant problems. Paul thinks it could be a little taller (he's 6'4") but wasn't bent over uncomfortably for his trip around the block.

I've invited our new minister and his family over for dinner on Monday evening. That feels like a scarily grown-up thing to do. And it turns out that he's a gourmet chef, primarily with Italian dishes. So I decided to cook a Thai meal. My cooking confidence took a big hit this evening when, for the first time ever, my Béchamel totally failed during a routine dinner prep. I didn't even think that was possible. Now I'm going to attempt something much more complicated, and for company.

Happy weekend!

Is Good News

Regarding tonight's new blog post that isn't: it's a very good thing!

I might have mentioned an anthology that published earlier this month, in which I have an essay?

Well, an editor from a major parenting magazine read the book, liked my essay, and asked me to submit a piece for her magazine. I sent two. I like this thing where people ask me for stuff and I send it; it cuts down on some of the rejection I'd be experiencing if I were actually sending out unsolicited manuscripts like I should be!

I Need a Weekend!

My view of days of the week is shifting, now that I have a preschooler. Saturdays used to be the most relaxing days of the week. Now they're the days when we have a toddler home all day long, wanting to play. That's lovely and all, but when the child won't sleep in past 6:00 . . . I find school days - when I just have Ada for a few quiet morning hours - to be quite relaxing. And on Sundays, there's free nursery at church in the mornings. Paul is a very involved parent, but it's lovely to have little breaks, too.

So. Friday morning, Ellie, Ada, and I went to Grant's Farm with friends. Once again, Ellie loved it. Especially those eagles! This time she helped feed a bottle of milk to a baby goat. (Yes, I know they're called kids, but that's confusing.)

Friday evening, another friend took all 4 of us to the Cardinals-Nationals game. The Cards lost, but it was a great game and a wonderful time was had by all. I couldn't believe that both girls lasted for 9 innings. Of course, there was plenty of red for Ada to stare at, and we kept Ellie supplied with junk food.

All day Saturday, Ellie suggested that we "go bye-bye, go bye-bye."

Where do you want to go, sweetie?

"Ballgame!" she cried, complete with miming of batter swinging at pitch. She made do with t-ball in the driveway, after she and Daddy napped in the hammock for a couple of hours. We also bought a new fridge, went out for pizza, and had hours of fun with Quicken on Saturday. A budget! Imagine that.

On Sunday, after church, we spent the afternoon/evening at The Magic House and out to dinner with yet more friends. What a great weekend.

Today, we went to the St. Louis Renaissance Faire - without friends! Then had baseball friend over for a just-us BBQ this evening. We're all pretty wiped out. Ellie actually went to bed early, and, just as uncharacteristically, Ada had a little bit of a hard time winding down.


I didn't get the bathrooms cleaned, the baby toys washed, or laundry put away. Alas.


Also: mysterious spotting or never-ending lochia?

Recalibrating

Please don't let my usual posts about daily life, amazing daughters, and current events fool you.

I am miserable, down to the depths of my soul.

Spend time with me, with my family altogether, and things proceed as always.

But they're not.

The one thing I didn't want to inherit of my mother's was her bitterness. And I felt that the thing I had going for me, to save me from that, was a better marriage. I love my mother and my father, but I never wanted the marriage they have. I gave my soul to one man to love and cherish, and felt perfectly secure that I was safe there.

I was wrong, and I can never imagine feeling whole again.

She's Baptised

Adelaide turned four months old on Wednesday, and her baptism last Sunday was a wonderful sacrament.

It was very meaningful to us to have Ada baptised at our church home, with our minister involved, my dad performing the baptism, Ellie helping pour water my dad collected from the River Jordan into an ewer, and even a little high church annointing with oil (I haven't washed her hair yet).

Unfortunately, I couldn't really concentrate on it at the time because I was distracted by my older daughter. Never shy, Ellie loved being in front of the whole congregation. She kept walking away from the rest of us to stand at the top of the steps, open her arms to the crowd, and say, "OK! OK! OK!" like a very enthusiastic benediction.

Now I'll step back and let the pictures speak for themselves.

Surprise Party

I have this theory that Paul lives life at a different speed than most men his age.

When I started introducing him to my friends at work, they all thought he was older. "No, Paul just turned 23," I said. "Your Paul? Not the guy I met. He's 30."

Monday, Paul finally turned 30. And he's spending a lot of time lately contemplating the gray hairs on the sides of his head and the increasing prominence of his forehead. I helpfully remind him that at 6'4", at least he doesn't have to worry about anyone catching a glare off the slightly thinning area at the crown of his head.

I shouldn't joke; he takes this all very seriously.

Anyway, our marriage has been bad and our money has been low, but for such a milestone I had to do something special, so I threw Paul a big surprise party last Saturday.

I asked Paul what he wanted to do for his birthday, and invited the few friends he wanted to have over for an informal barbeque. I also invited over a lot more people, and I'd secretly arranged with his parents for them to drive out from Wyoming (Paul's birthday was the same weekend as Adelaide's baptism, so it was a 2-for-1 trip).

I took Paul to a barbeque place to test it out, then arranged for them to cater the party. (I had only shopped for the amount of food Paul would expect to grill for the party he expected to have.) I hired a clown. I asked my dad to take Paul out somewhere for the afternoon so that I could set it all up and laid the groundwork for that.

Snag.

Paul wouldn't leave the house. I am a great liar, but eventually he became suspicious and agreed to leave the house for an hour, fully expecting to be surprised when he got back. He was surprised, by the number of people here, his parents, and the clown. I made him take his balloon Eeyore hat to work, but I don't think he wore it.

After several mistrials, the cake turned out looking great, thanks to the help of my mother and youngest sister. Sadly, I can't post a picture of it, since it is the logo for Paul's new employer.

Anyway, success. Now I just hope that someone will send me some pictures; I didn't take too many. And now that Paul's midlife crisis is over, I'm looking forward to his retirement.

This is what Paul wanted to do instead of going out to a movie with my dad:

Jessica, you left your balloon.

Mo Money, Pease

So I'm not working anymore. But Paul's got a new job with a higher salary, so that only puts us about $3000 behind annually. Our expenses are higher now, with two kids, and Paul was between jobs - unpaid - for a couple of weeks. But we'd be fine.

Except.

A couple of wee glitches have presented themselves.

1) Termites are eating our house, which is a combination of brick (yay!) and real wood siding (gasp). MoneyMoney.

2) Apparently, my company didn't stop paying me when they should have. Yes, I should have squirreled that money away instead of drinking it at Starbucks. But I didn't and now they want it back. Working it off is not an option. MoneyMoneyMoney.

3) Yesterday, our freezer decided to stop freezing and our dryer has gradually become less interested in drying. We have a lot of slushy foods and damp clothes around here. It's hard for me to be too upset: our frig is dark brown and our washer and dryer are similarly aged; we acquired both from the previous owners when we bought this house. Still, MoneyMoney.

When it doesn't rain, it sandstorms. Or something.

Stroller Query

Huge weekend report coming: Paul's surprise 30th birthday party. Adelaide's baptism. Family visiting. A controversy and town hall meeting at church. But for now -

Here's what I want in a stroller:

• Will sit my two girls side-by-side. They want to play together and they both want to see out/interact with the world around them so this is critical.
• Cup holders for the girls are a must-have.
• A snack tray would be great too (good for keeping Cheerios or small toys)
• A parent cup holder - or two - is very important.
• Also nice: tall and/or adjustable handle, multi-positional seats, and wheels in the middle as well as on the sides.

Combi Twin Savvy is the closest I can find to this, but there's no adult drink holder. And what's the difference between the EX and the LX, anyway? Anyone with any ideas? I've searched the websites of every stroller manufacturer in the world, as listed by Consumer Reports. Did I miss anything anywhere?

Seriously, how picky am I? Side-by-side and everyone gets a bottle of water. Why is that so hard?

Back and Forth

Like most kids her age, Ellie loves the phone. Since her daddy works outside the home and her grandparents live far away, she gets lots of practice with the real deal to supplement her regular conversations on toy phones and similarly shaped objects. (The remote control was last year's favorite.)

Last Friday, I accompanied Ellie's preschool class on a field trip to Grant's Farm. Later that afternoon, Ellie talked to my mom about it on the phone.

"Hi, Gah-mah!" Ellie said.

My mom said hi and asked Ellie what she'd seen at the farm.

"Camel! Eagle. Chickens. Goats. Bye bye!" She waited for my mom to say goodbye, then passed the phone back to me.

My mom nearly cried with happiness. Hi and Bye aren't new additions to Ellie's phone conversations, but they're a little inconsistent, and she didn't used to wait to hear responses, let alone answer questions. This question she answered appropriately, in detail, with no prompting from me (I'm often whispering in her ear, exactly as I should not be).

Instead of a dinner conversation like this:

Mommy: Ellie, what did you see on your field trip today?

Ellie, eating pizza: 'za!

Mommy: Did you see an elephant?

Ellie: Eh'fant. Mo 'za?

I got several real conversations with Ellie where she was able to let me know what she found really interesting. And the camel that came right out into the road with us was far more interesting to her than the elephant. After all, she stayed way over on the other side of her pen and we saw elephants at the zoo just a couple of weeks ago.

I know that people dealing with infertility are annoyed when I complain about my kids keeping me up at night. Similarly, I get frustrated when parents complain about their kids talking too much and asking too many questions. I look forward to feeling that particular frustration.

Finger-Sucking Good

Adelaide is 3 months and 3 weeks old now, and finally starting to look and act her age. By which I mean, people's eyes no longer bug all the way out of their heads when I tell them how old she is. Ada has looked and acted 3 months old since the moment she was born. I have never seen a newborn with the intent, almost piercing gaze she had from her first moments breathing air. I look forward to seeing how that trait is borne out in her future personality.

Anyway, here's the obligatory status report on what my amazing baby is doing these days. Surely, you're just as interested as I am, right?

Ada loves to suck on her fingers. Usually the middle two on her right hand, but any fingers - hers or someone else's - will do in a pinch. She also drools a lot and tries to put everything in her mouth. I refuse to acknowledge that teething might be a possibility.

She likes to grab and hold toys dangling over her play gym or car seat, and she sometimes holds her own toes. She can roll from her back to either side, and has twice rolled all the way over onto her tummy.

The first time that happened, I was getting dressed for a party when Ada's mild complaints suddenly became more frustrated and muffled. I poked my head out of my room to find her face down on the floor beside her play mat with her big sister sitting right next to her. I scolded a confused Ellie for rolling the baby, of course.

The second time was today. Ada was on her mat on the floor while I wiped the worst of the lunch mac and cheese off Ellie's face. Since no one was near the baby when she rolled over, bumping her head into the edge of the entertainment center in extremely slow motion, I feel pretty bad about yelling at Ellie last time. I would have blamed her this time too, if she didn't have an airtight alibi.

I can't believe I have a baby who can already find her own feet, contemplate her own hand, suck her fingers intentionally, grasp toys, and roll. Good grief!

We had a hard time getting her to sleep last night. We'd tried nursing (guess who pulled that short straw, yet again) and rocking and walking and dancing (all Paul). She was really frustrated, as were we. Finally we put that wakeful baby down alone in her crib: immediate success.

Some baby. I'd love her even if she were colicky, but she's sure making it easy on me.