Heigh ho, Heigh Ho

It's back to work I go!

After almost six weeks "off", I walked into work this morning more like it was the first day of first grade!

I was so excited to have an excuse to dress up, wear nice shoes, apply some make up and engage in adult conversations that had nothing to do with the consistency of my child's last poopy diaper.

I am eternally grateful for the opportunity to work on a part time basis, and to have my dad as my boss. It's a great situation, and it works so well for our family.

(It also eases my conscience to receive multiple phone calls from Grandma, thanking me for the opportunity to rock a baby all morning!)

As I sit here at my "other" job, though, I have to tell you how grateful I am for the chance to wear sweatpants & flip flops, wash off the make-up, and watch "A Boy Named Charlie Brown" with my son.

While my daughter works on making a poopy diaper.

Guess that's my cue...
Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho!

Holidays

With a new baby, followed quickly by three consecutive holidays, I haven't had much time for blogging these days.

Hoping that all changes soon, but I wouldn't trade these precious moments with my kids for the world...

Here's what we've been up to (and here's hoping I find a few moments for more updates soon!)...

Miss M turns 1 month old and we pose her with her teddy bear for a picture. I'm hoping to continue this type of photo once a month to watch her growth. You know, 'cause she seems to love it so much...


Drew shows off the crafts he made at "Turkey School". A friend of mine invited us over on one of our vacation days from school to do crafts, read Thanksgiving stories, and enjoy some fun times!


We also decided to pay a visit to Santa. Here are a few shots after we got home.

The Divine (Little) Miss M

At four weeks old, Miss M has decided that she would prefer to be held. Always.

This explains why she had lasagna in her hair yesterday and white cheddar popcorn in the folds of her outfit today.

And why my blog posts have recently been typed with only one hand.

Do I Have a Big Shoe Print On My Rear End?

Because today kicked my butt. Handily.

It all started when my precious, delightful, "good-sleeper" newborn decided that she would like some girl time. From 3am to 6am. She wasn't fussy. She wasn't hungry. She was just awake. Wide awake. And nothing I did convinced her that it was time to sleep.

When she finally dozed off at 5:55 am, I sighed, knowing that my alarm was set to wake me in a mere 20 minutes.

I hit the snooze button until 7 am, so the day started about an hour behind schedule.

I gently nudged my son awake, happy that we wouldn't have to fight about clothes. I knew today would be busy, so we had chosen his clothes the night before. Unfortunately, when Drew woke up, he had a change of heart about his wardrobe.

So, instead of the adorable red Nike shorts and matching layered t-shirts, he chose to wear a pair of bright green shorts with the shirt my brother brought back from his wedding in Jamaica. I admit, I had a hard time obeying the shirt's message to "Smile, Mon!"

Because of our late night party, Miss M had to be loaded into the car still asleep in her jammies as we headed off to preschool. When she woke up, screaming for her breakfast, I had to pull out of carline and into a parking space. We walked Drew into his class and came back to the car.

That's when I realized that I'd lost my cell phone. After 20 minutes of searching and several of my preschool mom friends calling my phone over and over while listening for the ring, I found the phone and was finally off to our big outing of the day...

BIBLE STUDY!!! I was so excited to return to my ladies' Bible Study this morning for the first time with my daughter. And although I was exhausted from a rough morning with little sleep, I had a wonderful time catching up with friends and spending some precious time in praise and worship.

After Bible Study was over, I walked out to my car and noticed that I'd missed 5 phone calls and 2 text messages. With an hour to spare before I had to pick up Drew from school, I made my way home to return the phone calls and check emails.

Before I knew it, the time had come to go pick up the boy.

That is when I realized that I'd lost my cell phone.
Again.

A frantic search turned up nothing. I left without it and picked my son up from school. I made it with not even a minute to spare before I was officially "late". The last mom (and aunt, I was picking up my nephew, too) to pull through, I was informed by both boys that I was late and that they were the last kids to be picked up. As I apologized, my son looked at the preschool director sympathetically and said to her, "OK, Now you can go home, too!"

Sigh...

We arrived home with a mission in mind. FIND THAT PHONE!! Only after cleaning out my entire car, dumping the diaper bag, employing the help of my sister and remembering that the phone was on vibrate... we finally found it.

At the bottom of the big black trash can in the garage. I have no explanation for that.

I'm happy to report that I made it to the end of the day without losing the phone (again) or any of my children.

My mind? Well, that's another story...

Everything Except THESE

There's a little box sitting on his bookshelf. It's for his spare change. He's helping raise money to build a brand new playground. An INSIDE playground!

Oh, and there's a brand new preschool building that needs to be built around that inside playground.

He's very excited to be a part of what God's doing at his church.

So, we find a big pile of change and I tell him that he can put it in his box. You know, for the big, new INSIDE playground. He's ecstatic. And he sets about to put the money in the receptacle.

But then he finds a big, shiny, silver dollar. He wants to keep that one. After all, it's big and shiny, and there are lots of other coins that can go in the box.

And, would you look at that!?? Another big shiny coin. This one's copper, and it's from another country, so that really wouldn't be helpful to build the new playground anyway.

A third, large coin is found. This is so much fun for him!! He grips his three coins tightly in his little fists.

And all of a sudden, it's occurring to me that the project has become more about what he wants to keep than what he's been blessed with to give.

And I start wondering why God speaks His loudest to me through my four-year old.

Cleaning Products.. the sequel

I don't know why this seemed so funny to me.

But after posting about our blessed mess yesterday, I just had to share what happened when my hubby came home.

The first thing he noticed was a bit of sticky residue on the floor below the kitchen counter. I grimaced as I watched him get down on his hands and knees to clean up the portion of spilled milk that I apparently missed.

He then went into the bedroom to say hello to our son (I'd banished Drew to my room to watch cartoons so I could have a moment of peace... your "tsk..tsk...bad parent comments can commence now!). He emerged, announcing that the boy had eaten something and now there were apparently crumbs all over the bed.

After dinner, my dear, patient hubby stepped out onto the porch to let the dog out. He returned carrying a cereal bowl and wearing a scowl. I remembered pouring cereal in that bowl several days earlier for my son, so I didn't even have to ask. What he'd discovered inside is better left to the imagination (but if you ever need a great science experiment, go ahead and mix Apple Jacks with milk and let the mixture sit in 80 degree temperatures for 2-3 days).

I just had to laugh as he wondered aloud how things can get so messy in the course of a day. And I realized that I had two options.

First, I could go on strike for a day and let him see just how disgusting things can get around here.

Or Second, I could become a little bit more vigilant about keeping the house in order.

Oh, or THIRD... I could start shoving everything into closets and under beds before he gets home to provide a illusion of order. That should work for a few days.

After that, the curdling milk would probably start to smell...

Cleaning Products

I registered for diapers and Dreft, trying to be a little more practical this time around. I included pacifiers, bottles, and nipple cream, too. No silly toys, no unnecessary clothing items, no blankets, diaper bags, books, or Baby Einstein DVDs this time around. I thought I was the epitome of rational forward-thinking new moms.

I had no clue, however, what I would really need as a parent of a four-year old and a two-week old.

Cleaning Products.
And lots of them.

Just today, I have:
dug my car keys out of salad dressing,
changed my spit-up-on clothes three times,
swept Doritos out of the crevices of the back seat,
cleaned up a glassful of cranberry juice from the coffee table,
soaked up the remnants of said cranberry juice from rug below the coffee table,
changed my daughter's spit-up-on clothes twice,
changed her dirty diapers at least five times,
rubbed lollipop residue off my son's forehead,
soaked eight tupperware containers in dish-washing detergent,
started two loads of laundry,
and mopped up 3 ounces of spilled breastmilk from the floor
(which, in a cliche' way, kinda made me want to cry).

I am out of windex, laundry detergent and lysol.

I am not yet out of patience, though. Because one sleepy accidental smile from my princess and one cuddle from my big boy are all it takes to remind me that I'm blessed beyond the mess.

I really do need to get the hubby to pick up some windex on his way home tonight, though!!

And Now I Know What a "10" Feels Like

When you're in the hospital, the nurses like to keep tabs on your level of pain or discomfort. They use the universal, "On a scale of 1 to 10... 10 being the worst", method of documenting a patient's pain.

Ten days ago, I finally learned what a "10" really feels like. For reasons still unknown, my beloved, coveted, twice-administered epidural failed to work.

Well, I take that back. It worked for the first several hours and only stopped providing pain relief when I got to eight cm.

Otherwise known as the really hard and painful part.

I can honestly tell you that I have never, EVER experienced that level of pain in my entire life. The sensations that accompany an unmedicated labor and delivery are almost too intense to put into words. And because my epidural worked so flawlessly with my son's delivery, I was completely unprepared for the experience.

No breathing methods to fall back on, no coaching skills for my hubby to recall. Just a lot of praying, panicking and pushing.

I wanted to scream, "TEN! It's a TEN!"

For the first time in my life, I understood the full measure of pain that my body could tolerate.

And then...

It was gone. And there she was - a perfect eight-pound little girl. Screaming, wiggling, wonderfully healthy. So tiny, so beautiful.

The nurses got busy working on her, cleaning her up, discussing numbers and ratings that I am not qualified to understand. I overheard her APGAR scores being discussed from across the room at one point.

"Eight and Nine" they said.

But I wanted to shout, "TEN! She's a TEN!