Practical Magic

I just finished making some fabulous Boston Baked Beans (with salt pork) from scratch.

The process took 24 hours. They're delicious . . . but they're going straight into the frig.

When I realized that dinner was not going to be done on time, I had ten minutes to throw together an alternative meal. Thanks to the wonders of modern kitchen appliances and convenience food products I managed to get thick slices of oven-warmed ham, mashed potatoes, a medley of vegetables, and cheddar garlic biscuits on the table in time for Paul and the girls to enjoy before dance class.

I do enjoy from-scratch cooking sometimes. But I'm really really glad I don't have to do it for every meal!


***


Oh, and that nap thing last Tuesday? It was totally a birthday present. Teddy still refuses to nap during the day. At all. Even though he really needs the sleep. But at least he's a good sleeper at night!

"Shared" Hobbies

Me: You'll be interested to know that Meg won Design Star.

Paul: Oh, Good! Everything she sewed had such a nice, flowing -

Me: It's a home design show.

Paul: Right! I mean, all the wood she cut had such a nice, flowing -

Me: It's more of a decorating sort of show.

Paul: Of course, I mean her curtains -

Me: Now, that just sounds dirty.

I love this man. :-)

Also . . .

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME: Teddy is taking a morning nap *in his crib* for the first time in his life. Alleluia!

Hi, Hi

I'm still here; we're just trying to figure out this sleep thing.

In the meantime, yes, more pictures. Here's hoping they really are worth a thousand words!



We are 36, 34, 7-1/2, 4-1/2, and 4 months. The girls had a shared "half birthday" special celebration day to remind us all that It's Not Just About the Baby around here. We're having a great summer with lots of day camps and swimming and family fun indoors. The heat has been terrible, though (glad it's finally relenting!).

What else for a quick note? Four months old, Teddy's chewing on his fingers like crazy, wearing 9 month clothes (!), chatty chatty chatty with the baby coos, and starting to roll over from time to time. He gets stuck in his crib occasionally and needs help rolling back the other way. The other day he wrapped himself up like a burrito in his playmat on the floor by rolling while his feet were on opposite sides of one of the arches. He thinks nearly everything is hilarious, especially his two big sisters. Off to bed with me!

You Can't Fight Gravidity

In July I could walk out my front door and run five miles without stopping. Today I walked two miles and think I might have overdone it a little.

You can't really complain about being pregnant. Heck, I practically apologize for it when I'm talking to a friend who's struggled with infertility or miscarriage. There are so many women who'd love to be where I am now, either because they can't get pregnant, have lost a pregnancy, or miss the days when they were pregnant. I absolutely get all that.

But pregnancy's not all wine and roses, either. (Actually, it's not wine and roses at all. Because people look at you with loud disapproval if you drink wine while visibly pregnant. And roses smell pretty strong. I can't handle scents like that in my current state.) Let's take a moment to contemplate the use of senses in that parenthetical and consider how I could have gracefully included "touch" to hit all five.

I've mentioned that I knew I was pregnant almost immediately due to nausea, exhaustion, intolerance for altitude (and onion rings) and intense craving for protein every couple of hours.

From there I moved on into worse nausea and exhaustion and protein cravings plus some fun bleeding issues. I gave up all types of exercise for napping and snacking . . . and still managed to lose nine pounds in just a couple of months.

I've since gained them back with interest and am fully enjoying my elastic waistband pants. But there are new joys for the third trimester.

Skin. Holy cow. Didn't I get large enough the first two times I did this? Heck, my belly's so striped I already look like a zebra (a really, really sexy zebra, obviously). But some days I feel the baby pressing off my spine and push-push-pushing against my abdomen. The skin stretches and burns and there's nothing I can do to soothe it.

"Round ligaments." I don't even know what that really means. I thought ligaments generally connected bones to bones. But I know what I feel and let me try to explain that. It's the middle of the night and I'm fast asleep. Then maybe my husband shifts on the bed or I take a deep breath or the baby rolls over or who knows what but my uterus gently begins to pull to one side. I wake up and I know what's coming. OH MY GOD SOMEONE'S STABBING ME IN THE SIDE WITH A STEAK KNIFE PLEASE GOD MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP. Nothing makes it stop until I find a neutral position - which varies, incidentally - and sit/stand/lie there shaking and whimpering for a several minutes as the pain gradually subsides to manageable levels. I also experience "round ligament pain" if I shift direction too quickly or do something unwise during the day like sneezing without getting into the proper position. These are modifications I've quickly made to my motor plans. But I can't figure out how to stop my uterus from shifting around inside me while I sleep. (No, the maternity pillow prop doesn't help.)

Heartburn. But only when I eat or drink anything I enjoy.

Extra body hair and skin pigmentation. But how much do you really want to know about me, anyway? Surely not nearly this much. So I'll leave out everything to do with the lower end of the digestive track and won't go anywhere near the "h" word for now.

Congestion. At the moment I'm recovering from a nasty cold. But I've felt stuffy since August. I wake up in the morning, eager to relieve the pressure in my clogged sinuses, but nothing comes out when I blow my nose. This is because of edema in so many of my tender tissues and is unrelated to bacteria, viruses, or allergies. It's all hormones, baby. My husband would say that I snore when I'm pregnant, too, but we don't believe him.

Edited to add: Relaxin. (Not to be confused with "relaxing.") My most pressing complaint at the moment has to do with the fact that my pelvis is spreading to allow the baby more room to escape. Have you ever slipped and fallen into the splits, straining your groin? I've felt that same sort of pain with every step I've taken for the past week or so. It's increasingly difficult to walk normally without devolving into a splayed-legs waddling but I will persevere!

Blah blah blah contractions, blah blah blah nothing fits anymore, blah blah blah I need to pee whenever I stand up or cough or have a funny thought, blah blah blah what's happening to my dainty little ankles, blah blah blah did my eyesight really just get worse blah blah blah is that my cervix attempting to communicate with me, blah blah blah those are tender, dadgummit, blah blah blah and so forth.

I enjoy being pregnant, I really do. And I am so fortunate to have experienced three healthy pregnancies. But I can't say I'm really sad (yet) that this is my last time.

White Powder

Late at night. Exhausted. Stayed up to watch the Olympics, now ready to pass out in bed. Start thinking about tomorrow's schedule and how to fit in everything I want to accomplish.

This is the way mistakes are made.

Head for the bedroom. Catch sight of self in darkened mirror, contemplate how I like the way the bottom of my hair looks the day before I wash it but dislike how the roots lay flat against my head.

Wonder if there's anything I can do about that. See a bottle of Shower to Shower powder on the dresser. Think: talc absorbs moisture, including oil.

The more I think about it, the more I'm sure I've heard of people doing exactly this. So tired. I figure: best case, it looks great and I've learned a new trick. Worst case, I wash my hair first thing in the morning.

I pour a little Shower to Shower powder into my hand and pat the crown of my head, step into the bathroom, and flip on the light.

I've aged ten years. I suddenly remember the context in which I've heard of people powdering their hair. It's to look older on stage, or to appear a proper 18th Century English gentleman.

Crap.

Oh, well, too tired to care. I go to sleep. In the morning: hey, it worked! Powder's gone and hair looks great! Ego took a bit of a hit, though.

Letting Go

I'm not good at letting go. I'm not good at giving up anything . . . except, possibly, sleep and other good habits.

I know my sense of depletion is due to being one week out from NaNoWriMo. I know it, intellectually. After all, this happens to me every year. I hit the ground running in December, frantically trying to catch up with all the things I should have been doing last month but wasn't.

My to-do list this weekend was huge. I worked hard. And I barely dented it. I didn't finish as many chapters of my freelance project as I hoped. I didn't get my novel sent off to an online critique partner as I'd have liked to do. I did a fair amount of holiday baking, but didn't get my mom's birthday cookies baked or shipped. (Her birthday is tomorrow. No, today.)

I did dusting and tidying and decorating, but none of those things are completely done. (Are they ever completely done? Of course not! Because no sooner do you stop dusting than you really should start all over again, especially when there's a soft, gorgeous fir in the middle of your living room.) The tree is up and it looks fabulous. The kids have been into the whole experience this year, from the Christmas story to the advent calendar to the tree finding/cutting/decorating to the baking.

Bathrooms will have to wait another couple of days. (I might be an enemy of the earth, but I sure do love Clorox wipes!) Budgeting will have to wait, too. Holy cow, we're a week into December and still working off November's budget. And December's hardly a typical month! At least we're still OK . . . because I certainly haven't been doing any Christmas shopping!

As we tell Ellie: Stop. Take a deep breath. Relax.

I know I'm depleted from writing an entire novel in November. I know that this is a crazy-busy time of year at the best of times. And I know that it seems unmanageable now because I am (and will continue to be) sleep deprived.

We aren't having a big Christmas open house this year. I've let go of the Christmas cards, too. (We usually send a hundred.) But there's still Christmas present list-making and planning, crafts, things to ship all over the place, and a ton of yard work left to do.

Book club's tomorrow. Today. And I'm supposed to be teaching the Christmas Story to kindergartners and first graders at Bible study Wednesday night.

Stop. Take a deep breath. Relax.

Focus on: Ada coming home from preschool last week and explaining the advent wreath to me. (They took a little field trip down the hall to the sanctuary.) Last week at LOGOS the kindergartners and first graders listened to James Taylor's Some Children See Him and drew pictures of how they "see" baby Jesus. Most of the babies were white, often with blond hair and blue eyes. Ellie's picture was green with polka dots.

Prepare.

Six

"It's MY birthday today!" At 5:45 this morning, Ellie burst from her room, delighted to be alive. "Happy Birthday to MEEEE!"

Soon, all of us were awake and bundled into the dark, cold car for a special birthday doughnut run. (Doughnuts might be the very best thing about birthdays at our house.)

"How old are you, Ellie?" asked Paul.

"I'm six!"

She told us she wanted spaghetti (p-bsketti) and garlic cheesy bread for dinner. "And milk!" She let us know, periodically, when she wanted us to sing to her. She absolutely gets the whole birthday experience. Of course she loves it! And she's really looking forward to her party.

Kindergarten is hard for Ellie. But it's so good for her, too. Over the last month and a half, Ellie's made huge strides physically (gross motor, fine motor, speech) and emotionally (independence, making cool connections all over the place).

Reasons to celebrate abound.

In addition to my delight with my beloved daughter, I'm also healthier than I've been in a long time. I don't mean physically; I have a terrible cough that refuses to heal. But for a month and a half, Ellie has been going to bed at bedtime. And sleeping all night. It's been SIX YEARS since we've been able to have stress-free bedtimes and parents-only evenings. (I've also lost 20 pounds. Coincidence? Perhaps.)

Have I mentioned that I love Kindergarten?

(Picture legend: Above, Ellie relaxing at the end of a long, wonderful birthday. She's watching The Little Mermaid before bed.)

Love Is Murder (and so are sleepless nights)

I am trying not to have an entire blog that says, "I am very, very tired," for about 5 posts a week.

Instead, I will say these things:

• I am planning to attend Love Is Murder this weekend, and if you're planning to be there as well, please seek me out to say "hi!"
  
• It will be the first time I've left Ada.
  
• I am a little anxious about the whole thing, but am really really really looking forward to it, too.
  
• I have nifty business cards with a great little image that Paul designed for Seek Ye First. (It involves a thumb drive and coffee, so how could it not be great?)
  
• I've decided that book sucks, by the way. I still love the characters and the story; I'm just convinced that I'm a talentless hack and will be rewriting it until I die. Which might be soon.
  
• On an entirely related note, we are struggling with sleep. And by "we" I mean Ellie. And by "struggling" I mean that bedtime involves over an hour of working to get her down to sleep at night, while afternoons are currently a negotiation between "nap time" and "quiet time" in the hope that if we can keep her awake all day, she'll sleep better at night. That's not working as well as I'd hoped. She's cranky and tired in the late afternoons/evenings, while still waking up several times a night (she's been out of her room twice already since midnight tonight) and getting up before 6:00 am. But at least she didn't fight sleep as hard at bedtime today.
  
• Have I mentioned that I'm sleepy? Oh, I wasn't going to talk about that. Nevermind.

Soft, White, Pillowy

School is canceled again for tomorrow, but at least it's a real snow day this time, complete with snow! This morning, I could still see the dead leaves through the 2-3 inch dusting on our front lawn, and it just felt silly to have school called off for something so . . . insignificant. (Note that I used to live on the southern shore of Lake Michigan, and lake effect snow is . . . beautiful, fun, and significant!) This evening, it started to snow for real, and everything outside is now magical. I'm looking forward to tomorrow's snow day even more than today's . . .

Except that Kindergarten registration is postponed again and that means that I don't get either of my two writing mornings this week, a week before I practice pitching Seek Ye First at a writer's conference. Gulp. (It's not ready, though it's not nearly as bad as my outdated sidebar would suggest.) Plus, the girls will be very disappointed when they realize that there's no MusikGarten this week.

But, hey, there's snow! It's amazing how that really does cheer me up. Our finances this month look . . . unpleasant due to heater repairs and my conference bills hitting during the same pay period. (We'll make it, no worries, but we're having to be more organized and disciplined than usual.) But I can't be pessimistic about it. I keep qualifying the bad money news and not understanding why Paul's crabby about it. "We had to juggle some things around, but we've dealt with it. Cheer up!" I told him. Apparently, snow isn't a magical cure-all for my Wyoming boy.

Anyway, today I stumbled upon a fun blog quiz thingie on someone else's blog while I was doing a little administrative work. What does your sleeping position say about you? (It's so true! I am a big, cranky, light-sleeping baby. Except when there's snow! Also note: comfort can be spelled S-N-O-W but also C-H-I-P-S-&-S-A-L-S-A.)

Your Sleeping Position Says You Need Comfort

You are secretly sensitive, but you often put up a front. Shy and private, you yearn for security. You take relationships slowly. You need lots of reassurances before you can trust. If you don't get enough sleep, you are: Cranky and a big baby It's hard to sleep next to you because: You are a light sleeper

What Does Your Sleeping Position Say About You?

Preen

Our church has 2 sets of big glass doors, one facing north and one facing south, that are unlocked on weekdays. Between the two, in the bright, open intersection of two hallways, is a large, circular desk. We call it the Welcome Center and it's staffed daily by volunteer "Ambassadors" who greet people and help newcomers find their way. When there's no weekday volunteer, I occasionally fill in at the desk.

Yesterday, I was sitting there happily typing away when a woman from the church office (which is nestled upstairs and out of the flow of traffic) stopped by the desk. "You look so busy!" she said. "Are you studying for finals, dear?"

Bless her heart. I think I might wear this outfit everyday for a while. I'm wearing it again today because we didn't really get much chance to go to bed last night . . . pictures of this year's Christmas craft to come tomorrow for Friday Photoblogging.

Anyway: t-shirt over long-sleeved shirt. Casual khakis. Long, unstyled hair. no makeup. Glasses. Sleep deprivation. Yep! I can still pass for a college student!

So, How Was Your Monday?

Here's a summary of mine:

I was up late writing on Sunday night into Monday morning, so Paul got up with the girls. He brought Ada in to nurse with me around 6:30 am, then fed the girls breakfast and got them dressed while I tried to doze. (This is rarely effective, but always so tempting - and appreciated.) In the end, my assistance was required to find Ellie a pair of long pants. I'd only had a couple hours of sleep, but my day had begun.

I got myself dressed, and we loaded the girls into the car. Ada and I took Ellie to school, then headed to the grocery store. After shopping, I played puzzles and board games with Ada, but mostly I just tried to stay awake. Too many nights of too little sleep wear me a little thin.

Ellie's bus arrived at 12:30, and we all headed inside to make lunch together. After lunch, I chatted briefly on the phone with my mom while the girls played together. Then it was nap time. After getting both girls down to sleep, I collapsed in my own bed for an hour. By 4:00, we were awake.

The girls had snacks and watched Dora the Explorer while I straightened the house and popped dinner into the oven. (Thank heavens for Time for Dinner!)

Paul came home from work shortly before 6:00 and we had a lovely family meal. Afterward, he gave the girls a bath while I set out snacks for my book club.

Together, Paul and I got the girls ready for bed. Then I nursed and snuggled with Ada until my girlfriends started arriving at 7:30 and Paul took over bedtime duties.

My book club discussed an entertaining and provocative play called The Women, then moved into the family room to watch the 1939 movie starring Joan Crawford. (If the 2008 remake stays at the cheap theater long enough, several of us hope to go see that as well.)

By a quarter after 11, book club was over (it ran unusually long because of the movie) and it was time for my evening to begin. I did 45 minutes of cardio, then sat down with Paul to watch an episode of Law & Order from the Tivo for another 45 minutes. He made lattes, and I moved to the kitchen table and pulled out my computer.

First I put up my nightly blog post, then I alt tabbed over to my NaNoWriMo novel to get in my nightly 2000 words. Paul stayed up with me for a while, rubbing my feet the dear man, before doing the sensible thing and going to bed.

Shortly after 4:00 am I headed back to the bedroom to start the process all over.

But now it's Thanksgiving vacation, and the end of NaNoWriMo is in sight! I don't love the novel I wrote this year - we'll see what I think of it in a couple of months when I've let it settle and then reread it - but I learned something valuable. Last November I learned that I could write a novel. This year I learned that it can take me a whole year to write a novel at a pace of 2000-4000 words per week. And this November I learned that I can write a whole novel - this year's novel should be complete at 50,000 words - in a month without stopping my life.

As long as I sacrifice sleep.

Perhaps I Just Need a Nap

I'm so tired I think I might die. Not really, but there is a certain appeal to the idea of lying in a quiet, shady, well-tended cemetery for an indeterminate length of time.

Presumably this tiredness stems from the facts that I am chronically sleep-deprived and currently overweight.

As to the latter, I continue to stubbornly refuse to diet but have been exercising. (Which just makes me more tired, but hopefully will begin to help soon.) I do my cross-training machine in the basement while watching "hour long" dramas on DVD. This works well if I can find just the right show. It has to be interesting enough to make me really want to watch it, but not so tough to follow that I can't concentrate on it while huffing and puffing.

And tonight I started alternating/supplementing those workouts with Wii Fit workouts. I love everything about the Wii Fit except for the exercises themselves, which are just so-so. When cardio kickboxing comes out, I'll jump for joy. And kick something that's at least waist-high.

The greatest thing about the Wii Fit is the Body Test thingie, which measures your center of balance, BMI, and body control to determine your Wii Fit Age. It tracks everything in motivational graphs, and I keep my data locked so that my husband can only guess at my weight and Wii Fit Age (currently +5, but as my strength and balance continue to improve by doing the suggested daily exercises, that will come down).

So that's the other great thing. It's not just about cardio, BMI, and weight loss. it's about improving strength, especially core strength, improving posture, gait, flexibility, etc. It's about being healthier. Plus I can do it in my street clothes standing in front of the TV upstairs. What excuses do I have left?

Oh, yeah, right, I'm really really tired.

Ugly Butterfly

This afternoon, I was exhausted (my own fault, of course) and frustrated. My girls weren't exactly thrilled to be going down for their naps, but we all needed the rest. And the break from each other.

Ellie, exhausted toward the end of her first full week back in school, was particularly contrary. And she would not stay in bed.

Finally, I had Ada down. Not sleeping, but in her bed and quiet for a minute. Here was my 15 minute break! But no, here came Ellie again, complaining about a butterfly on her arm.

What?!

I sent her back to bed, carefully lifting all the layers of covers to check for bugs. Perhaps it was a spider that she brushed off without seeing it clearly? I saw nothing except the usual carpeting of toys.

She came right back out, holding her arm and complaining about a butterfly. Again. I looked at her arm; it was fine. I put her back to bed, a little more angrily.

The third time she came out complaining about a butterfly, I was really frustrated. I was just trying to go to the bathroom, pick up my book, get a glass of water, before joining her in her room and keeping her company while she went to sleep. Couldn't she wait a moment? She's 4-1/2 years old!

But she was really anxious, so I got over my frustration and listened more carefully. I set down my quarter-filled water glass and went with her to her room, sat down on the bed and tucked her in.

Almost immediately, a mosquito swooped in for the attack.

I smacked it against the wall, killing it.

"It's all done!" Ellie exclaimed, excited. But she was still a little freaked out. "Clean the wall! Clean the wall!"

And she wouldn't stay in the room alone while I went for a Kleenex. So, after I cleaned the wall and washed my hands, I took Ellie to my room and settled her on Paul's pillow. I lay down next to her, soothing her gently until she fell asleep.

And then Ada started screaming about being neglected in her crib for so long.

But just then Paul came home from work early! And took Ada with him to pick up our freshly repaired lawnmower (sorry about the ugly lawn this week, neighbors). So - I got to climb into my soft, comfortable bed, snuggle in with my favorite 4-year-old in the world, and rest for a while.

When she woke up, Ellie gave me a great smile and lots of cuddles. Then she saw a piece of lint on the bedding. "Butterfly!" she cried, with concern.

Wonderful afternoon.

The Olympics Are Hard Work!

Man, this pace is grueling. I'm exhausted from sitting on my couch and watching so many hours a day of the Olympic Games. But there's not much I'd want to give up! Thank heavens for Tivo. (I don't have to watch McCain's attack ads or beach volleyball, which is almost as bad. And I can skip ahead to the last round in the synchronized diving.)

A note to people I connect with in real life, like my children: you'll hear back from me in a couple of weeks, after it's all over and I've slept it off.

In the meantime, here's some helpful advice: How to Recycle an Old T Shirt Into a Sexy Bikini.

Don't throw that oversized and sloppy old t-shirt out just yet. You can make a neat bikini out of it with basic sewing skills and a pair of scissors. Here is how.

On a related note: How to Get a Bikini Worthy Body.

1. # Start eating healthy food.

(and so forth)

Hey, I eat healthy food. I just eat a lot of crap, too. It's the Olympics! What better way to celebrate than on the couch with rotel cheese dip and tortillas?!!

Pacing

In interesting fiction, characters usually have schedules that would wear a normal person right out. I mean, "and then I went home and laid on the couch for two hours before pouring myself a bowl of cereal and attacking my laundry" isn't exactly page-turning excitement, flat prose aside. Since I'm about to detail my entire weekend for you, it's a good thing that this one was paced more like commercial fiction than like, say, my idea of a good time.

Friday was a day of exciting storms, followed by dinner with a friend and his new girlfriend. They stayed late, which was fun, except . . . well, I was starting to feel a little off.

Immediately after they left I realized that I was unpleasantly ill, presumably with whatever felled Paul last weekend. The problem with that was that I was planning to leave the house around 6:30 on Saturday morning to drive down to Cape Girardeau for the Heartland Writers' Guild Conference. After setting out some things for our neighborhood yard sale.

Paul woke me at 6:15, whereupon I nursed Ada and went straight back to sleep. In the house with my family. It was restless sleep. Paul took a couple of the yard sale things down, and left them out with honor-system envelopes. After listening to Ada crying for a while - she was upset that she wasn't getting her morning nap - I gave up on my own sleep goal and snuggled Ada into her crib.

While she napped, Ellie and Paul went to go get a babysitter while I readied a few things around the house, tried to rest some more, then showered and got dressed when Ellie and Paul left for gymnastics and the sitter was having trouble keeping Ada happy. My precious younger child knew that I was in the house, and naturally wanted my attention.

So I plopped into our rental Hyundai and headed for the conference. By myself. The car was full of old Starbucks detritus, but sadly bereft of fuel, as I noticed as I headed south of I-55 with the dashboard's orange warning light staring at me accusatorily. I pulled off at Festus/Crystal City, and learned that the whole community was completely out of power. Next services, 13 miles. Gulp. Fortunately, the under-powered Elantra sipped fuel slowly enough to coast into the gas station under its own power, though the driving experience didn't impress me enough to want to petition Enterprise to let us purchase the car rather than returning it on Monday.

I still felt like crap, but I really enjoyed the conference and am very glad I went. The Guild includes some really friendly people and I got a lot out of all three "workshops" I attended (really speaker sessions with Q&A at the end). A couple of the authors were painfully bitter, but I learned from them, too. Overall, a very positive experience despite my ailment and the fact that the sole women's restroom on our floor was out of commission all afternoon.

The trip back was uneventful, including my next stop in Festus/Crystal City for some desperately needed Sarahlynn-fuel. Sadly, despite a complete lack of obvious storm damage under the day's bright blue skies, power was still out and no caffeine was to be had.

I made it home safely and got Ada to bed before collapsing on the couch to car shop online for a few hours before stumbling to my own pillow.

On Sunday morning, Paul was very solicitous, taking the girls to get Starbucks while I slept in a little. I was feeling much, much better, but appreciated the slow start to my day, especially knowing what was coming.

Mid-morning, we all loaded into the van and went to Forest Park for the Down Syndrome Association's annual Buddy Walk fundraiser, where Ellie enjoyed a bouncy house and 2-story inflatable slide (though she burned her face on the hot vinyl) and both girls played in the Discovery Toys booth. They were ready for solid naps when we got home, since 90-plus degree heat doesn't agree with any of us.

After naps, we headed the opposite direction, out to Wentzville for The Greater St. Louis Renaissance Faire, which Paul really wanted to attend. No, no, I enjoy it also. And the girls had a good time, too. Their big favorite was the petting zoo (goats! llamas! a bunny! a donkey! dogs! ducks!) and Ellie had fun on her "warhorse" pony ride. Paul delights in bad pirate humor and bawdy singalongs.

By closing time, when we piled back into the van, we were all overheated and exhausted again. it was really really hot in St. Louis today. By 6:30, on the way home, the temperature had dropped down to 90 again.

Dinner, baths, Ada to bed . . . I passed out for a while, waking up to watch Law and Order CI with Paul and write this. Soon, I hope to head to bed for an uninterrupted stretch. Best laid plans and all that.

Interspersed throughout all this, of course, was car shopping and car talking. The rental goes back tomorrow, and we're still chasing our tails. Paul's planning to go in a little late tomorrow so that we can take a candidate car to our mechanic bright and early. Here's hoping we have a little more debt soon. And maybe a pre-loved hybrid Accord.

Spring Forward

As a teenager and young adult, I preferred "Fall Back." Who wouldn't? An hour more sleep!

As a parent of young children, I've been extolling the virtues of "Spring Forward" for the same reason. Picture this: it's Sunday night, and the clock on the DVD player says midnight. "Time for bed!" you think to yourself. But your body feels like it's only 11:00, so you're really going to bed a bit earlier than usual. Then, on Monday morning, your children awake at what feels like their usual time to them, but is 7:00 according to the clock beside the bed! Bonanza! You feel like you've won twice, and you really are probably getting about a hour more sleep than normal.

Sunday night wasn't bad, but, sadly, last night didn't work quite the way I had hoped. Ellie's been in a fighting bedtime phase for a several weeks, which is frustrating and tiring. Then, for some reason, Ada woke up in the middle of the night and wanted to nurse for a long time. Soon after that Ellie got up for the day at some ridiculous hour, like 4:30 or something like that. At that point, things are all a bit fuzzy in my head, and Paul's too. At one point, he found her curled up in bed with us . . . wearing nothing on her bottom half. That could have been bad, but she was wide awake so we were safe. Predictably, by time to leave for school this morning, Ellie was a weepy, tired mess.

Here's hoping that tonight is better! Also, Paul's head is full of pressure and he's running a fever this morning. (Of course, he's at work.) There's a chance all this could throw a major wrench into our plans to take a pleasure drive of more than 2000 miles later this week.

Yawn, Growl

This doesn't feel like one of Ellie's sleep diets, but my exhaustion and lack of patience are certainly the same.

Sunday was an overwhelming day and Ellie slept hard that night. Monday afternoon to Tuesday afternoon, she ran a low-grade fever. Monday night she couldn't sleep until we gave her some Tylenol; then she slept like a log. Tuesday night she was not running a fever anymore, so no Tylenol. And no sleep.

Paul and I tried to take turns but were so groggy that we couldn't even do that effectively. I would be surprised if any of us got 2 hours of consecutive sleep all night. I had an all-day meeting at work on Wednesday and by Wednesday night, all three of us were toast.

Ellie went down quickly last night and slept hard until 1:48 am. I remember the time because it took me a long, long time to realize that it was the actual time. I pulled Ellie up into our bed when she came in, babbling happily, and took my basal body temperature. I started to record the temp and the time and realized that something didn't make sense.

I tried to explain what was going on to Paul, who was ambulating about, but he was too asleep to comprehend what I was saying. He took Ellie out to her potty to start the morning routine, and kept staring at the clock on the VCR thinking that it must be on, with the timer set almost 2 hours into a movie. Finally, he realized that it was 1:something am and not morning after all.

(As you can see, we're not used to a happy, chattering toddler waking us up in the middle of the night.)

But Ellie wouldn't go back to sleep. Nor would she stay in her bed. Or even in her bedroom. No amount of cuddling, loving, firm speech, or bribery could convince her to play or sleep quietly. And whenever we brought her into bed with us - often a wonderful way to extend naptime - she had boundless energy and would alternately kick us and bounce on us while chattering in a very high-pitched manner. Shutting her into her bedroom produced screams and very real tears.

And we were just too tired to think clearly enough to come up with anything else. She screamed and then collapsed limply in our arms when either of us would snuggle her up and go into her room. So we took turns sitting in the rocking chair with her most of the night for the last two nights.

What's worst is that this is mostly between 2:00 am and 6:00 am, my critical sleeping time.

And I don't know why it's happening so I don't know how to fix it or when it might stop on its own.

But I am so tired. I hope for an afternoon nap, send grateful thanks to whomever discovered caffeine, and hope that this "phase," like others that have preceded it, will be over soon.

Weird Night

I had so little energy last night that I could barely stay awake long enough to get Ellie to sleep. In fact, I didn't quite make it. I decided to take a quick doze on the couch while Paul took his (second) shift with Ellie, so that I could be awake for a little workout, a little TV togetherness, a little email checking and blogging, then a little picking up of toys later on.

But Paul came out from Ellie's room and wanted to watch TV Right Away, so I was banished to the bedroom. And night-time naps in bed never work. So I spent the whole night in a weird sort of twilight half-sleep. I was still in my nice slacks and shirt for work, not to mention the underwire bra. I didn't brush my teeth or wash my face. This is all very unusual for me. I have very specific nighttime Routines that I must follow or surely the world will spin off its axis.

Then Lizzi decided that she wanted to go outside at 4:30 am. That turned out to be good timing on her part, because it started storming shortly after 5:00 am. And then Ellie woke up because she needed the potty. This was all me, of course, because I'd gone to bed so early.

So now it's 7:30 am and I've already been up for 3 hours (sort of all night, in fact). I've worked out; I've taken my vitamins; I'm on my way to the shower. I feel very odd. I'm hoping for a nice long nap later on today.

But on an unrelated note, Ellie has started doing a new adorable thing lately. She'll roar like a lion, then put her index finger against her lips and say, "Shhhhhhh," then laugh like it's the funniest joke in the world. And it kinda is.

It's Time for a Picture

Here we are, in front of the Christmas tree, in our matching sweaters. Isn't it nauseating?

I thought that we were long overdue for a dose of cute; the diatribe:diapers ratio here was getting skewed.

In related news, I'd be sending out our Christmas letters, creatively designed on the computer and ready to be printed on pretty paper, except for technical difficulties.

I tried to print a test copy, and learned that we were out of black ink. Paul purchased and installed a new cartridge, and the printer stopped working. He removed the printer to take it apart and fix it, and now the (temperamental cordless) keyboard's a bit screwy. And the printer still isn't printing right. So, the Christmas cards will have to wait until the curse lifts.

Giving up for the night, I tripped over a shoe in the dark and spilled a glass of water all over my side of the bed.

Two Steps Forward . . .

What I love

Ellie is determined to learn to walk. For the last few days she's been standing up and walking to Paul or me over and over and over again, with a look of incredible pride on her face. She's getting much sturdier!

At yesterday's visit to the Audiologist and ENT, Ellie was more compliant with the behavioral hearing screening. She tested just below the normal range, and neither the audiologist nor the ENT were concerned. Her ears look good - no inflammation, no fluid, so they figure that the loud, raspy breathing from her cold (foreshadowing!) was probably keeping her from hearing the softer sounds. No surgery or sedated ABR indicated. Recheck in 6 months. Christmas came early!

It has begun. Last night Ellie had leftover garlic chicken mozzarella Alfredo for dinner. She's a big pasta and green veggies girl, not so much with the meat. When I was cleaning off her high chair last night, I found every piece of chicken larger than a pea stuffed into the drink holder. Why you little mischievous . . . I love it!

What I don't love

After our jam-packed weekend, my reserves were shot. So when Paul left on Sunday afternoon for a business trip, I was already running on empty. After two nights of Ellie's cold keeping us up (I told you!) I'm about to fall over. At about 2:00 this morning, I finally laid her down and told myself not to wake up unless she was screaming loudly enough to wake the neighbors. That would never work, of course, so it's very fortunate that she chose that very moment to finally sleep for 4-1/2 hours. I have my fingers crossed for a good nap today and a restful night tonight. I'm turning into Low-Patience Mommy, the toy all children want to return to the store.