Do Mommies Have ESP? A Case Study

For weeks, I have been paranoid about my tires. I have no reason to suspect that I would have a tire problem. After all, they have all been replaced within the past 12 months, and I just had my car inspected less than one month ago. However, I have a small child in the car with me at all times, and sometimes I have two. This makes me worry about highway safety in general, but for some reason, I was fixated on my tires.

On Friday, I made arrangements to go see my friend Sophie and her brand new daughter, Elise. Details of the visit are on her blog, so I won't repeat them here. But I will share the story of what happened on my way home.

I was really nervous about making this trip. I was originally going to drive the three hours to Charlotte about two weeks ago, but Marcus got the sniffles after his sister coughed on him (she's such a good sharer) and Sophie felt it best that he not in turn cough on her one-week old. Even then, I was nervous that I couldn't drive there and back in one day with such a small baby in tow. I thought I would just be too tired, but I also worried that if I had car trouble driving back at night, what on Earth would I do? I just felt too vulnerable. So I was going to stay at Jason and Bernie's place (since they didn't already have a newborn in the house) and Chris and Athena were going to take the train down the next day (a Saturday) to drive back with me.

Anyway, this past Friday, after Sophie invited me to stay the night (it's amazing the difference a couple of weeks make to the mom of a newborn), I decided I could make the trip. After all, I've carted Marcus all over town and I've taken him on the one-hour-each-way trip to Greensboro TWICE, so surely he could weather three hours. And I was dying to get down to see Sophie, who has been hesitant to take her little one out and about, and drag her out of the house to go somewhere... ANYWHERE... so she could get used to running errands with a little one.

The drive down was uneventful. There was some traffic due to construction and Marcus screamed for twenty minutes before I could get to the next town and find a safe parking lot to pull into in order to feed him. But overall, I felt that the trip was a raging success, and I praised my motherly skills in getting both of us to Sophie's house alive.

We both had a glorious time (Marcus slept better than he ever has before) and I was sad to leave Saturday morning. But Chris was already cleaning out the pantry in search of "The Mouse" and I needed to get home to help him put it back together. Before I left, I glanced at all four tires, following up on that nagging feeling that a flat tire was in my near future.

The trip home was going well, except I neglected to stop for food in one town when I was hungry, and then there wasn't anything else until Asheboro (home of the NC Zoo). In Asheboro, I decided I would stop at a cash machine before hitting a drivethru, just in case the one fast food joint I chose still didn't take credit cards (I had a whole two dollars in my purse). As I approached the cash machine (a drive-up), I heard a sort of thumping coming from my left rear tire. It wasn't the thump of loose rubber though... it was more of a clicking sound.

I got my cash and pulled forward with the window still open. There was the sound again... a regular click, click, click that sped up as I sped up. I pulled into a parking space and got out. And that's when I heard the hissing.

Lo and behold, there was a rock the size of a golfball (with a sharp pointy bit jabbed into my tire) sticking out at me as if to say... "You knew it, didn't you!?" I had apparently just picked it up, because the tire was still full of air, but losing it rapidly. I made a quick decision to see if there was an Auto Zone or some sort of repair shop up the road. After a mile, I didn't see one, so I pulled into Burger King -- the first restaurant I came upon -- and went right to the back of the lot so that there would be empty spaces around me to facilitate changing a tire. I got out to check, and indeed, I had a very flat tire. I called AAA and did my best to give them good information about where I was while Marcus was expressing his extreme displeasure strapped in his car seat.

The tow truck arrived within ten minutes and the guy was SO nice... he unloaded all the junk from the back of the SUV, including the stroller, to get to my donut tire, then loaded it all back in when he was done. He then told me where the nearest shop was (only another mile up the road) and sent me on my way. I grabbed food and headed to the Merchant's Tire.

Again, a VERY nice man in the store made me feel right at home and they patched my car quickly. Nothing says "damsel in distress" like a woman with her six-week-old, I suppose. They said they had to use the biggest patch they had, and they still were a little unsure about it holding. I am checking on it frequently, and if needed, I'll replace the tire. (It's practically brand new, of course... I bought it in October).

So how did I know the tire was going to go? As a Mommy, do I get a new psychic connection? Or have we just proven the adage, "Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean I won't get a flat tire?"

Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man; or, Sears on a Wednesday; or, The Second Level of Hell

I made an appointment for 11am yesterday morning at the Portrait Studio for Mr. Man's first photo session. I did Athena's pictures at five weeks as well, and they turned out pretty bad, but I'm glad I have them. You can't really get a baby that age to smile or wave or do anything cute. You just have to hope he or she does it for you and you catch it on film (or on disk, as the case may be).

I planned the morning carefully, making sure he was fed and watered and happy in time for us to be at the mall at 10:45. And it worked! I was right on time and he was napping happily in his carrier. There were two other women there, and the whole place seemed really quiet. Then the bottom dropped out.

The woman in front of me asked if I had an appointment. Yes, I do. Well, they are behind. One photographer called in sick. Great. "When is your appointment?" I ask her. "10:30." Shit.

So I decide to stick it out. The single photographer was clearly wrapping it up with the family before us. Ms. 10:30 had a small baby, so surely she wouldn't need too much time to get nothing from her. My only other plans for the day were to meet Chris for lunch. Oh, crap... I didn't eat breakfast. Well, no matter. This will be over soon. I wish I brought a book.

Then the baby woke up.

At 11:30, the family that had been a 10am appointment was still making decisions about the 800 pictures they were getting. Apparently, all five of them had pictures taken, plus there was a family photo. Great googly-moogly. Ms. 10:30 had to go change a dirty diaper and told me to go ahead. But Mr. Man had other plans. It was time for elevensies, apparently, so I had to duck into the vacant photo room to nurse.

One boob later, and he's happy. Ms. 10:30 still hadn't been seen. At 12:10, when Ms. 10:30 was done with the photos, but not done picking her choices, I called Chris and told him not to wait for me. He elected to come to Sears to keep me company. Have I mentioned what a great guy he is? Before he got there, Mr. Man demanded Boob Two: The Sequel, so back into the photo room I go.

She sees us at about 12:30 and Chris arrived shortly thereafter. As expected, Marcus is not really into "working it" for the camera. His expressions range from bored to angry to sneering. Not really a smile in the bunch. But we got about six poses to choose from, and one was really pretty good. At 1:15 pm, I was about to faint, and she was finally finished printing out and wrapping up the pictures for Ms. 10:30 and was ready to take our order. We dashed back out to the cars at 1:30 or so (about $80 lighter), and went our separate ways... getting lunch on the way back to work and the house, respectively. So much for togetherness.

I stopped at Burger King (after missing the entrance and making a U-turn) and headed home. Marcus screamed for about half of the twenty minute journey, then passed out.

All this for a mediocre picture. They did give us a free 10X13 of said picture, so that's something. As God as my witness, I shall never go to Sears Portrait Studio again (unless I have the 10am appointment -- first one of the day).

Who Am I?

I am completing an application that asks the following:

If your friends could state two adjectives to describe you, what would they be?

Well, geez... I'm not my friends... so what would YOU guys say? Be honest. After all, you all may pick different adjectives, so I can pick the ones I like best. But at least I would know that a friend really WOULD call me that...

(Hmmmm... perhaps "Honest" and "Lazy" may be the two words I should use).

Oh, and new friends and blog buddies are welcome to reply too. Don't hold back. First/Early impressions are often the best.

My Two Special Guys

 

Little Brother and Big Sis (Anyone who knew me as a kid can no longer say that Athena doesn't resemble me... this is me all over.) 

Digging the Bouncy Seat

 

Some Say That Babies Resemble Old Men...

 

Tiny Toes

 

First Bath (He has since come to like his bath, incidentally)

 

My Little Mouth-Breather

 

Sleeping - Two Days Old

 

Ooo, Pretty! And Other Ramblings

Mr. Man is sleeping happily in his swing after three attempts this morning to put him down. (Not like a horse, mind you... I mean literally put him down). He falls dead asleep in my arms, then within minutes of me depositing him in a sleeping-type place (car seat, swing, bassinet), he awakens and begins crying. This time, he is snoring... more a result of his stuffy head than anything, but I think he may stay asleep long enough for me to do a little post.

Today is Friday, and Mr. Man is five weeks old today. I have three weeks of maternity leave left. And in all honesty, I'm having trouble even thinking about work. Strange how your head can be so into something one day, and then that same thing seems so far removed the next. It doesn't help that I'm interviewing to work at a different library, so I feel like I don't know what job I'm going back to... could be the same one... could be different. Interview is May 5 for those of you keeping track.

Athena's latest catch-phrase is "Ooooo, pretty!" She says this in regard to pretty much anything she is interested in. It's cute, but curious, as she will point to pretty much anything, including something that isn't particularly pretty, and say it. Very funny.

I'm hoping to go see American Dreamz. Haven't seen a movie in a while, so I think I'll pack Marcus up and take him sometime next week during the day. I can sit in the back and nurse if needed, and I imagine there won't be too many people there in the daytime, so I shouldn't bother anyone. I was going to go today, but Chris is home with the eye gout (pink eye), so I'll come back here.

When Chris is home, it is so tempting to ask him to help me out with things (like the load of sheets that I just started in the washer for the third time. Those are going to be some CLEAN sheets if I can ever remember to move them to the dryer.) I'm trying very hard to pretend he's not here so he can get some work done. Eye gout doesn't stop you from working from home, apparently, although when I have any sort of eye problem, I never feel like looking at a book, nonetheless a computer screen.

Well, Mr. Man is awake... again. Seems he wants to be held, and there's just no getting around it. But at least I got a little update posted. I promise I will work on downloading some more pictures from our camera and getting them posted. Watch this space!

Things That Make You Go Hmmmmmmmmm...

First "Hmmmmmmmmm" moment:
I was doing laundry today. I rarely go into the laundry room, as this is a chore that Chris embraces whole-heartedly and he does exceptionally well. He does laundry, I fold it, then we put away our respective stuff. However, I'm home all day at the moment, so I do a load or two when the need arises.

I noticed three bras hanging in the laundry room, presumably to dry. This isn't really odd in itself, but the odd part is, these are not my bras. Now, they are most likely my mother-in-law's. She has been here a lot lately what with a new grandson and all, and she has done much laundry in that time. She has returned to Texas, though, so I presume I will be mailing these back to her. At least I HOPE these are hers, as the only other choices are Athena - which seems unlikely, Chris, or Chris' girlfriend's. I'm not sure which would disturb me more... if they were Chris' or Chris' girlfriend's.

Second "Hmmmmmmmmm" moment:
Marcus has the smelliest farts ever. I would say that I don't know what he is eating that could cause such putrid smells to emerge from his very cute bottom, but I DO know what he's eating. He is eating what I'm eating... just after I eat it. It must be changing into something really horrid along the way. You wouldn't believe the odor. Very alarming.

Third "Hmmmmmmmm" moment:
I went out this evening for an Arts and Crafts Girls Night Out and when I returned, some things were a little out of place. Here is the carnage left by one little girl, age Almost Two:

• Winnie the Pooh (her two foot tall one) was on Marcus' changing table. Apparently, he had a dirty diaper, but he was abandoned halfway through the process.
• Athena's dirty blanket from last week's crib (not dirty-gross, just dirty-used) was on the floor. It had been in the hamper. She has been dumpster diving. Thank goodness it was only in the hamper... not in the trash.
• Marcus' clean new blanket was on the floor, clearly having been dragged across it. It had been folded neatly on the dresser. Athena has apparently been blanket-theiving, as I don't believe Marcus is able to drag himself along the floor yet, nonetheless reach up onto the dresser and pull his blanket across the floor.
• My toothpaste and comb were placed neatly on the toilet seat (closed... fortunately). When I returned them to their drawer, I noticed my deodorant was missing. So I made inquiries. Chris told me that the deodorant was on the counter now, but when I looked, I noticed there was not much in it. This morning, it was half-full (I use the gel kind). He laughed and said he found her applying it to her arm. I suppose she smells very nice now. (No, Jessey, it wasn't Baby Rub, but isn't it still eerily similar?)

The Casserole Queen

Funny how our cooking focus changes over the years.

• In college... I was trying to master Mac and Cheese and Spaghetti Sauce
• Just after college... I was learning how to cook with olive oil and feta cheese in an effort to eat healthier
• In my mid-twenties... I was learning the art of entertaining - making pasta from scratch and trying recipes from gourmet cookbooks
• Once I got married... I was trying desperately to look like I knew what I was doing (sometimes I succeeded)
• And now that I have kids... I'm learning to make it fast, and often to make it in one pan

To this end, I purchased the most recent America's Test Kitchen cookbook. It has a little of everything (really... everything... even cocktails I think), and it is well marked as to what is quick and easy and what will take all day. So just before Marcus arrived, I picked a few recipes to try out of this book and sent my mother-in-law out to buy the ingredients.

Unfortunately, Marcus arrived THAT NIGHT, so none of the recipes got tried. But tonight, I made a chicken recipe that is basically pizza, but substitute chicken for dough. Sounds weird, I know, but it had only a few ingredients, and it looked tasty.

I now know what makes a really good recipe. If you can mess up every step of the recipe, and even be a little short on one of the main ingredients, and the meal STILL turns out to be one of the tastiest quick meals you've ever made... THAT, my friends, is a good recipe. I accidentally put the cheese and pepperoni on before I started cooking the casserole. I knew this meant that they would be burnt once I realized the instructions had me adding them after the chicken was cooked, about five minutes before the dish should emerge from the 450 degree oven. However, we cooked it anyway.

Yes, the toppings burned. But let me tell you... that was a freaking tasty meal. I can't wait to have it when I actually do it right! Yum!

Oh, and an update for those of you curious about my baking... I haven't been able to do much of anything. My mother-in-law noticed that I hadn't yet used the way-cool rolling pin she gave me, and asked if I didn't like it/want it. NO!! NO!! NO!! I love it! Please don't take it away. I just haven't been able to use it yet. I will, I promise.

Today, I made a pie. Still couldn't use the pin because it was a graham cracker crust. And I believe it was a total disaster. I chose to make a lemon chiffon pie because it seemed appropriate for Easter dinner. Alas, I don't think the lemon part turned out thick enough, and it may have curdled. I tasted it, and it was okay... but I'm just not sure.

Fortunately, the only people who will be at my table tomorrow are close family and friends, so if it sucks, they'll just laugh at me and move on... no harm done.

Cutting the Cord

Well, today was the day... the day that my son finally gave up the little stump of his umbilical cord. Today, early this afternoon, said cord finally let go, thus ending any acknowledgement of the time spent as a parasite, living off of whatever Mommy ate. Oh, wait... he's breastfeeding, so he still does live off of what I eat. Okay, well, you get what I'm saying.

This brings up the fact that my son and my daughter are eerily similar. In fact, there are many coincidences already, and Marcus has only been alive (outside the womb) for four weeks. Now I know that one isn't supposed to compare one's children lest one feel that a particular child is favored... but let's see just for fun:

• Marcus and Athena are almost exactly as far apart in age as my sister and I are. Only three days off.
• Both Chris and Marcus were born on holidays that you don't get off work for. (Chris on Halloween and Marcus on St. Patrick's Day)
• For both children, I went into labor around 9:30 exactly four nights before they were each due. Athena was due on a Monday, I went into labor Thursday night. Marcus was due on a Tuesday, I went into labor on a Friday night.
• Marcus' labor was exactly half as long as Athena's.
• Both children were born on a Friday... Athena at 2:55 am and Marcus at 11:49 pm. It will be interesting to see who is a morning person and who is an evening person. Athena is already winning the "good sleeper" award.
• Both children lost their cord stump on the day they turned four weeks old.

Now, there are differences as well:

• They had to break my water with Athena, but Marcus took care of that himself.
• Athena hated the car seat... Marcus loves it.
• Athena preferred to swing front to back in the cradle swing, while Marcus seems to be a side-to-side kind of dude.
• Athena is an outie. Marcus is an innie. (Belly buttons, folks, in case you are wondering)
• Oh, and well, they are two different sexes as well, but that goes without saying.

Perhaps you don't find this at all interesting, but I do. Just thought I'd share.

Back to Reality, Oop! There Goes Gravity...

So I've been doing well with this whole mommy thing. Yes, there were the (insert "H" word here) and there is the fact that sometimes Marcus sleeps when you expect him to and sometimes he doesn't, but I've been getting out, running errands, seeing friends, and generally keeping busy. I thought it wouldn't be long before I'm actually planning and preparing meals and managing the household and several other SuperMom things. But alas...

Last night, Chris took me out for an adults-only, just-us evening while my blessed (and if she keeps this up, I'm nominating her for sainthood) mother-in-law watched the rugrats. We left with Athena bawling her eyes out and Marcus only tentatively asleep in his swing. I felt horribly guilty, but not guilty enough to turn back.

Our evening was lovely and included good food and wine. We talked and laughed and used profanity freely without worry of a two-year-old parroting it back to us. We ate without wondering if our toddler would chew or spit out her food (or both). We enjoyed all of our own food without someone much shorter and cuter than us reaching over to our plates and demanding, "Some?!" And we conversed without ever raising our voices at each other, neither from anger or from trying to be heard over the increasingly loud shrieks of the harpie we call our daughter.

And we even got to enjoy some quiet time upon arriving home. Everyone was asleep and still. Until about an hour after we returned...

When Marcus awoke, it was clear that he was VERY stuffy. I had to suction out his nose with an implement we call "The Mucous Molester" because he can't blow his tiny nose himself. This instrument looks a lot like the bulb of a turkey baster, and the little turkey baster part is short and narrow enough to just fit into his nostril. You literally suction out the snot. It's one of the more glamorous parts of being a parent, trust me. At first you feel very cruel doing it, but then the relief it brings him is so worth it, you want to do it all the time. Granted, HE doesn't want you to do it all the time, but it's tempting.

Anyway, his stuffiness (at least I assume that's what it was) made him fratchy all night, and I got very little sleep. This morning, I had a 9am dentist appointment, so I took Athena to school and headed over for my once-a-quarter torture. (I go so often because I have a family history of gum disease and I would like to keep my teeth, thank you very much). Chris watched Marcus, but didn't expect my appointment to take an hour (Does anyone get out of the dentist faster than an hour? Nevermind, if I know that about you, I will then have to hate you.), so he got jumpy to get into work. He decided to meet me at a shopping center to do the great baby trade so he could get to work even faster.

I immediately assumed that it was because Marcus was being difficult, as I have really never known Chris to be anxious to get to work. In fact, at first I thought perhaps someone at work had died or had gone postal to make him want to go in so badly. But when he handed me our bundle of joy, he said Marcus had been wonderful and he just needed to get in and get things done. I can sympathize with that, so Marcus and I headed to Old Navy to kill time. His sister needs summer clothes anyway.

In the parking lot, Marcus made it clear he was hungry, so I nursed him in the front seat of the car. I've done this millions of times, so it went well and I was careful to use strategically placed burp cloths as my son has come by the Superhero nickname "The Dribbler" quite honestly. All was well, and in 15 minutes, he was in the front pack and we were inside shopping.

15 minutes later, we were out, and I found myself with a half hour to kill with a wide-awake baby before I met a group of my sorority sisters for lunch. I considered Target, and I considered BJ's Warehouse, but Marcus seemed hungry again, so instead, I found a secluded parking space and nursed again. This took me up to about 10 after 11 (20 minutes before my lunch date) and I was considering what to do to kill 20 minutes when I realized my strategic placement of burp cloths had NOT worked this time, and a great deal of the front of my shirt and my shorts were covered in milk. I wondered briefly if he actually ate ANY of the milk or if he just sprayed me with it while I wasn't paying attention.

Now, I haven't seen any of these women that were to be at the lunch in at least 15 years, and some I had never met. It was a meeting of the alumni club, which I keep meaning to participate in and keep not participating. There was NO WAY I was going into The Olive Garden looking like I had run through a sprinkler with eyes that had bags large enough under them that I would have been charged the oversize surcharge had I been trying to board a plane. So I sighed and bailed.

Upon returning home, Marcus didn't really want to sleep, but I forced him as I really DID want to sleep. We napped for about an hour, and he woke me up by butting his head against my chest like a demented soccer player. (This means "I'm hungry. Feed me you cruel wench!") He ate and dozed off, and now I can't sleep. *sigh*

The good news is, his sniffles seem to be better. I know how he got them, as just the other day, Athena was standing over him and coughing right in his face as if to say, "Here are my germs. I am sharing them with you because sharing is the right thing to do. It means I love you." Thanks, kid.

An Update From the Mommy

Well, here we are, entering Week Four of my maternity leave. Can you believe it? Marcus is three-weeks old, and at the end of the week, I'm half-way through my bonding period with my son. Astonishing. It's flying by. And here is an example of why...

Last Wednesday, I had my first "visitor who brings dinner." This is the best kind of visitor to have, except for the "visitor who cleans your house" or the "visitor who offers to babysit both kids so you and your husband can have a real grown-up conversation and remember why you actually fell in love." But the latter visitors are rare, so I doubly appreciate the one who brings me dinner. One of my coworkers (remember how nice they are?!) brought us a lovely roasted chicken with various tasty sides and a delicious Boston Creme Pie. I'm withholding her name since I didn't get her permission, but her initials are BH for those "in the know" of who I work with. Not only did she bring dinner, but she stayed and enjoyed it with us, giving me some much needed female company, and she helped do the dishes, and THEN she helped us with bath time! Great food, great help... all in all... just great! Thanks, BH!



On Friday, I received an email from an old Dialog coworker. She has apparently been training for, and has now completed, her first Triathlon! Wow! Kudos, Ms. Lila! You rock!




This weekend, we went to Greensboro to see Grandma and experience Bunny Day at the Natural Science Center. There were many bunnies to see, and several to pet. Athena was delighted. Marcus napped in the front pack. Then we went to PieWorks (gourmet pizza) and I made a huge pig of myself. Delightful!

Sunday we had a playdate with Aiden. Today, I went to a meeting regarding a franchise opportunity that I am VERY interested in. Won't say more about it now, but something is a simmerin'.

Looking ahead into this week, tomorrow I go to Greensboro again with Marcus to see my mom and get a haircut. Same guy has been doing my hair since I was 13. Why change now? Just because he is 75 miles away... no need to go through that whole "new relationship" thing with a new guy, right? Women are strongly loyal to their hairdressers. It's not just me, I know it. (And Jessey, if you have a hairdresser 75 miles away as well, it's just going to completely freak me out).

Wednesday, Marcus and I hope to go to Charlotte to visit with Sophie and brand new Elise. After all, friends who nurse together, suffer together! Thursday I have a dentist appointment (joy of joys). Then perhaps Friday, while my mother-in-law is here, Chris will take me on a date. We are (well, I am) desperately in need of a little alone time and a little romance. Our tempers have been mighty short lately, what with no sleep and all, and it will be nice to talk to each other in a civilized manner. I asked him last week if he would take me out on a date (a bit unconventional, but we're married, so it's okay) and so now I'm hoping that he can muster the energy to actually plan something and follow through. Neither one of us are high on energy lately.

Whew! And thus will end Week Four of my maternity leave. Where is it all going? And how am I finding time to do any of this stuff?! I'm off to bed now. Marcus has been asleep for a precious half hour, and I need to capitalize on this time. It's weird going to bed when it's light out, but it's even weirder to get up and change and feed your baby at 1am. Sleep is good. Oh, how I miss it.

Random Props and Apologies

First and foremost, hooray for Sophie, who managed to give birth to her beautful daughter Elise three days late, and she was still just over 6 pounds. Kudos! Chris claims it is taking all his strength to keep me from driving down to see you, but the truth is, I'm fully aware of how little you want a three-week old in your house waking you up whenever your own three-day-old is actually letting you sleep. I'm crazy, but I'm not mean. :-) However, I'm waiting for any and every call you want to make, whatever time of day or night. I've been there, girl... it's a bumpy road.

Second, my apologies to all my blog buddies. I have been very slack about leaving comments on your blogs, even though I read them all, and I occasionally have something witty to say. Chris tends to comment with whatever I would have said in many cases, but I didn't want you to think I was ignoring you. I often read your blogs while nursing Mr. Man, and that makes typing rather difficult. So apologies, and thanks for making me laugh at a time when I might just otherwise be driving my head into a brick wall.

In Praise of a Good Husband

My husband is awesome. Yes, I complain about him from time to time. Like this morning at five when I discovered (a little too late I might add) that once again he had used the remaining toilet tissue and not replaced the roll. But, for the most part, Chris is absolutely wonderful. I praise him today because he gave me a gift that I didn't think I would get for another few months. He gave me a very good night's sleep.

This is an especially challenging gift for the father of a breastfed newborn to give. After all, when the boy gets hungry, dad can't really feed him... and if he DOES give him formula, then I have to wake up and pump or else my upper torso turns to stone. However, Chris did everything he could to ensure that I could sleep.

First, when we got home from the hockey game, he offered to take Marcus and hold him so I could go lie down. That was about 10:30. At 12:30, he brought him upstairs to eat. I got two whole quiet hours of sleep. I went back to bed around 1:30, and didn't wake again until 5. When I went to bed, Marcus was asleep in his swing. When I woke up, he was lying in bed between us. I imagine he must have stirred during the night, but Chris got him before I even woke up and calmed him. 3.5 hours of uninterrupted sleep! HOORAY!

I feel like a new woman today. It's glorious. And it's all thanks to my wonderful husband. You rock, honey!

And We Thought America Was Paranoid of Lawsuits

Recently, Jessey called me out on my use of British English when I am not at all British. To my credit, I said "boot of the car" because my car is an SUV, and therefore doesn't actually have a trunk. What do you call the back of an SUV anyway? Is it still a trunk? I guess I used the British word because I don't know the American one...

Anyway, Cheryl and Wayne, our dear friends in London, sent us a baby gift, which we received yesterday. (Thank you, Cheryl. Your thank you note is on the way. When I say that, what I mean is, I am considering writing that note as I type this, not that it's actually in the mail or anything -- or is that "in the post?") It consisted of seven ADORABLE onesies (size 12-18 month... yay), five CUTE bibs, and a little giraffe for Athena. By odd coincidence, when Marcus was born, he also gave Athena a little giraffe. She's building quite a collection. But I digress...

Attached to the bibs was a tag that was bright red and very scary. Clearly, it was a warning label that I needed to read. Perhaps the bibs are lined with lead. Or maybe they could choke my little dear if worn incorrectly. So I read it. And I believe it is important information that we ALL should have. So here, dear readers, it what it said... word for word on both sides of the tag:

Marks & Spencer

IN THE INTEREST

OF SAFETY, IT IS

ADVISABLE TO

KEEP YOUR CHILD

AWAY FROM FIRE

AND FLAMES

Whew! I am SO glad they told me that. Guess I need to take the kid out of the fireplace now.

Can It Be a Tradition If It Only Happens Twice?

Today, we are making chocolate chip cookies. This is a post-pregnancy "tradition" for me, as you are not allowed to eat raw eggs while pregnant. Obviously, this isn't a huge problem, as most people don't want to chug raw eggs unless they are training for the Heavyweight title. However, raw eggs are in chocolate chip cookie dough AND chocolate mousse. Living without BOTH these things for nine months is just awful. At many restaurants, you can find chocolate mousse in which they have heated the eggs enough to kill any nasties, so you can get by, but real cookie dough... well, you just have to eat it right out of the mixer...

So, Chris is making the cookies while I "teach." He has recently taken a strong interest in cooking, as he has discovered he has a bit of a talent for it AND he is a control freak... so now he can control his food. As a fellow control freak, I can respect that, although I have warned him that he better treat my kitchen and all my kitchen toys with respect, or I'm giving him the boot!

Making the cookies was clearly destined to happen today. Both kids are sleeping AT THE SAME TIME! I believe if this happens twice more, it will signal Armageddon, so I will keep you posted in case you need to repent really quick.

So here we ware, at a time where we should probably both be napping, we are baking and enjoying raw cookie dough. YAY! Can life get any better?