A Tale of Two Bunnies

I finally got around to taking Madeline's annual bunny picture before September gets away from us.

Madeline isn't really enthusiastic about getting her picture taken these days.  Sometimes she straight-up tells me to put the camera away.

But usually, it goes something like this:

Maddie, smile.

No, a real smile.

Look at the camera.

Look at the camera and smile.

No, put your tongue away.  Smile.  

Then there's little sister who barely lays still long enough to stay in the frame.

Peace out, Mumma.

They're both like whatever, mom, we've got better things to do than pose with this dumb bunny.  

If they think they have it tough now, just wait till I show up to their graduations with the bunny under my arm.  I'm only half joking.  

Vivi: Forty Weeks

If our life this past week were to be made into a mini-series, it would be called "Les Trois Rousses Malades" or "The Three Sick Redheads."  It would be the most boring footage of us blowing our noses, lying on the couch looking sad, and watching too many hours of Disney Junior to count.  Very artsy.  

So far, Vivi has suffered the least of it with a runny nose and a slight cough.  I have my fingers crossed for her because I was KO-ed for a good 24 hours and now Eric is suffering its wrath.  We'll see.  

The big news in the land of Vivienne's is that she's crawling!  

Any time that she sees a coffee mug, an electric cord, or a lamp she's off!  My days of lounging on the couch eating bon-bons while she sits on the floor playing with cardboard boxes is officially over.  Shucks.  

I must say, she looks really cute when she crawls.  She wiggles her hips back and forth to propel herself forward like a wind-up toy.  

Obviously, she's been getting into Madeline's toys a lot.  I watch her very carefully when she makes her way toward M's Lego bin or bucket of dolls.  Vivi pulls the toys out one at a time, studies them closely, then tosses them in a pile before inspecting the next one.  She's so methodical.  

She's been saying "Mummmm Ma" a lot this week.  I don't think she knows what she's saying, but I'll take it!

She had a few rough nights of sleeping last week, but she seems to be settling back into a good rhythm now.  Her tummy is back to normal for now too.  

And getting a bunny picture this month?  Ummm...a nearly impossible feat.  

Tucked Away Memories

Every time Madeline draws a picture, she hangs it on the refrigerator with pride.  My kitchen is so cluttered with colorful squiggles, crude letter M's, princess stickers, and stamped handprints that one can barely tell that there's a refrigerator under the mess at all.  And so every few weeks, I sift through Madeline's masterpieces.  Most are placed discretely in the recycling bin, while the best of the bunch are tucked away in a box on top of our bookshelves for safekeeping.  

Meanwhile, Vivi outgrows clothing so quickly that I am constantly juggling what needs to be folded, donated, or discarded.  The most precious of her outfits are saved under her bed in a box that's identical to the one that holds Madeline's baby clothes.  

When the girls are grown, we'll open the lids and marvel that their feet were ever so tiny.  We'll smile at their early attempts at writing their names.  Favorite toys will bring up long-forgotten memories.  Some of the contents may be passed along to their own babies one day.  

Those boxes are mini museums housing the priceless artifacts of my children's lives.  And as the years pass, more and more boxes are stored under our beds, in the back of our closets, on the top of dusty shelves.  

But there's one box, safely nestled in my nightstand, that is never added to and will never multiply.  Ellis Jane, who came into this world still, has just a handful of items to prove she existed.  Her box  contains an envelope of photographs, her footprints, hospital bands, the clothing the nurses dressed her in, which miraculously still smells like baby.  

I used to pour through the contents of this box daily, then weekly, then every now and again.  Six years later, I am almost reluctant to open her box and be drawn back into that place of sadness. 

So much has filled the space between then and now that six years feel like another lifetime ago.

But today is her birthday, and today I will let myself remember.  Tonight, when the girls are safely tucked in bed, I will open the lid, flip through the photographs, study the footprints, and let my fingertips smooth out the wrinkles of her tiny pink sweater.  I will feel sad, and grateful, and maybe even an odd kind of peace.  Then the lid will close till next year.  

We love you, Ellis Jane, our forever baby.  

On Love Bugs and False Hopes

You guys...

I'm in love.  

Isn't she beautiful?  

I used to drive a VW Beetle...a lime green Beetle to be more specific.  Go big or go home, ya know?  

It had a sunroof and a flower vase.  I could always find it in a parking lot.  Children would punch each other in the arm when they saw me drive past.  It was fun, young, and so very me.  

The year before we had Madeline, I traded my Beetle in for something more "family friendly" and "practical".

My current car is dark gray.  It doesn't have a sunroof or a vase.  I can never find it in the parking lot because every other car looks exactly like mine.  I've even tried to get into the wrong car no more than one occasion.  It's a good car, really it is, but it's pretty boring.

Let's face it, my life is pretty boring these days.  But it doesn't have to be.    

Driving to preschool...Driving to the supermarket...Driving to the doctor...Driving to pick up, yet again, more diapers...It would all be so much fun in my bus!

As soon as I saw its picture float across my Facebook feed last week, I had one thought only: She will be mine.  Someday. Oh yes, she will be mine.

I texted the picture to Eric.  He said we could get it, but that he should never be expected to drive it.  I could live with that.  That night, I dreamt of carting my two kids, a dog, and even a tuba around in my mom bus.  

But alas, all dreams must come to an end.  I scoured the Internet looking for release dates, prices, any information about when this beauty could be mine.  There were conflicting reports....and then I learned the cold, hard truth.  Volkswagen has no plans to reintroduce a Microbus.

Damn you Internet and your false hopes!  Don't you know that it's dangerous to toy with the feelings of an exhausted mother desperately trying to reclaim her youth?  

And so, please, Volkswagen.  I implore you.  Make my dreams come true.

Vivi: Thirty-Nine Weeks

I had to look back at last week's update to remember how old Vivi is.  Second child, man, what can I say?

And, whoa Nellie, she's nine months?!  What's up with that? 

To
And she can do this?!

 Who is this munchkin?  What happened to that loaf of bread who used to sleep on me all day?

Seriously, I still sometimes think that Vivi was born last week. It felt like Madeline was a baby forever.  I basicaly had nothing else to do but watch her be a baby all day long.  This time around, life is not so laid back.  Vivi spends so much time being carted around our messy lives that I've forgotten to just watch her be a baby.  I've been trying to do more of that on the mornings when Madeline is in school.  I sit on the rug and focus on nothing but Vivi....and sometimes my pumpkin coffee.

This morning I watched her crawl across the playroom to try to pull a lamp over.  I stopped her before she got to the lamp for obvious reasons, but she was really, truly crawling.  She hasn't done it since (her toys are not as motivating as a lamp...that rascal), but I'm on the lookout to make sure it wasn't a fluke crawling. 

She is also taking steps while holding our hands for support.  She's a go-getter all right.

It's funny because Vivi figures out how to manipulate objects much more quickly than Madeline did.  She can press buttons, flip lids, and throw things with purpose.  But Maddie was ahead in terms of social interactions.  She could wave, clap, and say a few words by nine months.  Vivi doesn't do any of those things.  Mostly because whenever I try to show her how, she gives me a look that says, "I don't give a damn about choo and your clappin'!  Gimme that lamp!"  

Vivi has major stranger anxiety.  She had two doctor's appointments this week, and she gave the poor nurses and doctors a real earful.  (That lady is looking at me...Bwaaaa!)  And whenever a kind person tries to smile or wave at Vivi, she suddenly finds the floor fascinating.  

We discovered that Vivi has gained over 8 ounces since her last doctor's appointment three weeks ago.  She's moved up to the twelfth percentile.  Hoo-ray!  That formula certainly packs on the pounds.  

She had a poop attack again last weekend.  The doctors think we just need to give her more time to adjust to the formula.  They also recommend allergy testing when she turns one...which is only three months away?! How did this happen?!  

Big Sister Strikes Back

We already know that little sisters can be obnoxious.  But as it turns out, big sisters can be just as bad.

M: Let's take a cute picture for Mumma.

V: Okay, I'm just gonna chew on this booger sucker.

V: Okay, I'm done.  Let me go.

M: Nope.  

V:  Let me go...

M: Nope.  

V: Very funny.  Seriously, let me go.  

M: Nope.

V: Quit it!

M: Nope.

V: Lemme go! Lemme go! Let. Me. Go!

M: Heh-heh...Nope.

V: (Whine. Whimper.)

M: And...nope.  

V: Are you kidding me with this crap?!

M: Look into my eyes...Nope!

V: Mumma!

M: I don't know what she's so upset about.  

We are Loved: We are Hated: Mostly We are Barely Tolerated

Going places used to be no big deal.  I was just another forgettable face in the crowd going about my frozen-pizza-buying business quietly and efficiently.  But now that I have two small children, we can't go anywhere under the radar.  Running errands is an event.  We've arrived everybody, stand back less you get sucked into our maelstrom of drool and budding estrogen!

I popped into Starbucks on a whim this morning because the pumpkin spice latte is back, and I think it's some sort of requirement for young, white, middle-class women like myself to indulge in at least one a week if we want to keep our lady bits thawed for the winter.  So since Madeline was at school, and I was in the same plaza doing errands anyhow, I thought I'd just pop in to satisfy my weekly quota.  (My town does not allow drive-thrus because they like to make parents of young children miserable.)

The barista behind the register threw us a smile, but it was clear that she was not thrilled to see a baby balanced on my hip.  Her words were welcoming, but her eyes read, "Okay, how's this baby and her bitch mother going to make my job harder?"  Her feelings were justified when ten seconds later, my spawn knocked an entire display of gift cards across the floor.

The woman behind the counter sighed wearily, her smile a little more rigid, as I apologized and tried to scoop up handfuls of the spilled cards.

"I have three kids at home," she nodded.  "I know how it goes."  Clearly, this woman was in no mood to deal with my child's shenanigans when she had her hands full cleaning up after her own.  And then she shouted toward the back, "Can someone come pick up these cards that just fell all over the floor?"

A manager poked her head out from behind the counter, a clear "WTF" etched between her eyebrows.

"The baby did it," the barista deadpanned, pointing in my direction.  The manager gave me another exasperated, frozen smile as she went about cleaning up our mess.

As I tried to disappear into the haze of artfully brewed coffee and glowing laptop screens, another customer started cooing over how cute Vivi is.  Then she launched into a history of her own teenage daughter.  My pumpkin spiced latte arrived, and still the woman chatted on about her child and mine.

And so, I find that the world's population can be divided into two main categories:  Strangers who are happy to see my kids and strangers who are most definitely not happy to see my kids.

People who are happy to see my kids include the following: most teen-aged girls, moms of much older children, men in business attire (who very rarely take the time to say anything to us, but smile nonetheless), the elderly, fellow redheads/ former redheads/ relatives of redheads, and grocery store cashiers. 

Meanwhile,  attractive young women on cell phones, moms/dads of young children who are trying to get a break by leaving them at home, grumpy old people, pretentious ass-hats*, and every member of the service industry, except for grocery store cashiers, are usually not happy to see my kids.

(* Special Note:  These people are not ass-hats because they don't like my kids.  I suspect many people view my children the way I view other people's pets.  Sure, that hamster seems nice, but I just don't know him well enough to find him cute and/or particularly interesting.  And that's okay.  These people are ass-hats because their heads are in the wrong place, AND they don't like my kids. This includes the lady who spent twenty minutes inspecting and critiquing every slice of meat she ordered at the deli the other day, but who also gave me a dirty look when Madeline knocked over a package of kaiser rolls.  Move along, lady.  Move along.)

There's also a third category of people who don't notice my kids either way.  This includes the moms/ dads who also have their young children with them because A. They are two busy dealing with their own brood to bother with mine, and B: They think their kids are cuter anyhow (false).  This third category also includes most adolescent males who don't notice much of anything at all.

Here's what a recent trip to the grocery store looked like for me and my girls:

Vivi spent the entire time growling, giggling, pulling Maddie's hair, and kicking her in the head.  Maddie spent the entire time screeching, giggling, and pretending to be angry.  (I know M looks sad in these pictures, but don't be fooled.  She was egging Vivi on the whole time.)

Some people smiled at our chaos.  Some scowled.  Some laughed.  Some threw me looks of absolute horror.  Some were too busy blocking the aisle to notice us standing there at all.  Some stopped to compliment Maddie's hair and talk about their ten redheaded grandchildren.

We're now out of paper towels, but I'd rather let the girls wipe their faces with bits of toilet paper than bother with bringing them to the store.  I hope that brings the people who are not happy to see my kids at least some measure of comfort.  And I won't be going to Starbucks anytime soon either.  I'll drive two towns over to use the drive-thru.    

Birthday Weekend

I've had "Let it Go" stuck in my head since we first saw Frozen last November.  That's right, it's been playing on a continuous loop in my brain for almost a year.  I blame Disney for my recent lapses in memory and my extreme irritability. It might even explain why I've started twitching.

But I love my kid, and that little nugget loves Frozen, so I put my sanity on the line to take her to see Frozen on Ice for her birthday.  

She got Anna and Elsa costumes as her birthday present, so she was allowed to pick one to wear to the show.  She likes Anna better, so I was surprised that she picked Elsa.  But let's face it...her costume is just too fancy to resist!  

My favorite part was watching a sea of miniature Elsa's walking the streets of Downtown Providence on the way to the arena.  Before the show even started, the place was plastered with glitter from so many costumes.  The floor of the ladies' room was positively sparkling with the stuff.  

The show was what you'd expect.  There was singing (on ice), dancing (on ice), and jazz hands (on ice!).  Madeline loved it!  

We had a busy weekend.  Before the big event, we celebrated Maddie's last day of being three, by letting her choose three things she wanted to do.  She picked a trip to the Disney Store, (where she got to use $10 of piggy bank money) Benson's Park, and the library.  

I'm glad she made three easy requests.  If she had chosen Disney World, we would have been in trouble...

Dear Madeline: September, 2014

Dear Madeline,

Today, you are four.  Four is still little.  You still need help putting on shoes, washing your hands, getting in your car seat.  But four is big enough to be considered a kid.  Not a baby, not a toddler...an honest to goodness kid.  You can get dressed yourself, get yourself a glass of water, help me unload the dishwasher.  You are my little buddy, my biggest helper, my shadow around the house. 

Sometimes I miss the baby that you were.  That tiny girl, with those chubby cheeks, and halo of red curls will never walk into the room again.  I now fully get what parents mean when they talk about time moving too quickly.  

But the best part of watching you grow is that each and every stage just gets better and better.  I miss baby Madeline, but I wouldn't trade the lovely child you've become for anything.  

You are smart, clever, at times sly.  You are funny, silly, unafraid to let your inner goofy shine.  You are sweet, kind, and gentle. You are brave to the point of sometimes being afraid to let your true feelings out.

  I know you are very big, but it is okay to cry if you fall and scrape your knee in front of your friends.  I know you are big, but it's okay to cry on Mumma's shoulder when a friend at school hurts your feelings.  Don't hold those feelings back, my Maddie girl.  Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself...to be yourself.  

Stay forever awesome, Madeline.  You are the coolest kid I know.  

Love,

Mumma

Vivi: Thirty-Eight Weeks

The big news this week is that Vivi has slept through the night the past four nights in a row!  I'm talking a solid eleven hours.  It's amazing.  Of course, I wake up every night around 4 am in a panic wondering where the baby is, but it's huge progress.  Now that I've made this milestone public, I'm sure she'll wake every hour tonight.  Knock on wood.

We've been battling the poop monster a little bit this week, which is frustrating.  It's been nearly two months since her last bad episode, so I had hoped that we were moving past this.  This time isn't nearly as bad as her previous battles, which is good, but there's been straining and crying and blockages and a crazy explosion for good measure.  She's fully weened from the breast now, but there was a bit of overlap two weeks ago where I was nursing in the middle of the night even though I had started adding dairy back into my diet.  I'm not sure if what we're seeing this week is the result of that poor judgement, or if it's just Vivi being Vivi.  Time will tell I suppose.

Overall, the formula is definitely working better than the breast milk was for us.  She's chunking up fast, eating more, and sleeping better.  She just seems much more comfortable...except when she tries to poop.

Eric and I continue to be amazed at how physical Vivi is.  She still isn't crawling, but she might as well be.  She gets around so well.  She's been fascinated with opening doors and drawers lately.  Madeline's play kitchen is a lot of fun for her.  I sometimes set up the pack n' play mattress on the kitchen floor while I'm getting things done in there, and she figured out how to access the baking pans in the drawer under the stove.  I really have to keep a close eye on her at all times.

She still communicates mostly in growls, but we're starting to hear more consonant noises thrown in.  Last night she kept repeating, "Dah-dah-dah-dah-dah," under her breath.  This morning there have been  more "Dahs" and lots of "Goos" and "Gahs."  

Vivi is a huge cuddle bug.  She likes to climb up Eric or I when we're sitting on the floor with her.  She stands hanging on to our knees or shoulders for a long time while we rub her back and she nuzzles her head into us.  It's nice.

She's still Madeline's biggest fan.  She thinks her big sister is hilarious, and she wants to do whatever she sees Madeline doing.  Vivi and I have had a lot of alone time this week now that Maddie's back in school, but she's a lot more needy when her big sister isn't around to entertain her.  Madeline is a huge help.

Finally, she still doesn't have any teeth.  This is surprising because we've thought she was teething several times, but still, nothing has poked through.  Madeline had a lot of teeth by this age, and she was eating a lot of finger foods.  Vivi hasn't really started down that road because of her tummy troubles, and because of her lack of chompers.  I think I'll make some soft-boiled chunks of fruit next week to see how she handles finger food.

Come on, baby girl, grow 'dem teeth!

Parenting, Currently

On days when I manage to take a shower, I walk around this place like I'm Gwyneth Paltrow.  So, today, since I took two showers?  Damn, I'm Niki Minaj!  Somebody's anaconda don't want none...

Sure, shower number two happened because I was covered in baby feces, but I'll take what I can get.

The extra dose of laxatives that I gave the baby earlier in the week to help ease her burden finally caught up with us.  I love it when that happens.  And I use the term "love" loosely.  Very, very loosely.

Madeline sometimes tells us there's a "poop storm coming" when she hides under her climber in the yard.  We never knew what she meant by this before, but now I see she was right. Indeed, Maddie Bear.  A poop storm was coming.

Vivi: Thirty-Six & Thirty-Seven Weeks

We got trouble! Right here in River City!  Trouble with a capital "T," and that rhymes with "B", and that stands for BABY!

(Any Music Man fans?  No?  Just my husband? Okay then, moving on...)

Vivi is one mischievous child.  Every facial expression, every movement, every dastardly plan for world domination lurking in her eyes...it's all trouble.

Her most frequent facial expression is this one:

 Yup.  Trouble, trouble, trouble.

She speaks entirely in little growls and evil laughs.  "Ahhhrr! Heh-heh.  " She might actually be a pirate now that I think of it.

Plus, she's got an incredible knack for getting her hands on everything she's not supposed to touch.  I mean, I know that's what all babies do, but we never had this much trouble with Madeline.  We have to clear a three-foot radius around her when we go out to eat.  She somehow managed to fling a knife across a restaurant the other day even though I swear I removed them all the second we sat down.  Was she hiding it in her diaper?  I wouldn't be surprised.

She's the kind of kid who likes to play with objects more than toys.  If I give her something like a plastic cup, box, or pan to explore, she's content.

If there's nothing interesting in her line of sight to play with, she grabs my hair instead.  Sometimes she goes for my mouth or nose, but she prefers the hair.  In fact, she falls asleep yanking on it.  My hair has become this kid's security blanket.

Madeline's toys are no longer safe.  All the Lego towers get destroyed by hurricane Vivienne.  Luckily, Maddie is a good sport about it and usually just laughs.  I'm afraid this is only encouraging Vivi to wreak more havoc though.

She's still not crawling, and I'm thankful for that.  Once that event occurs, I will never be able to sit down again.  As it is, she wiggles to get down sometimes when I'm holding her.  I don't know where she thinks she's going.  Vegas?

The switch to formula has been a wild success.  Not only has she seemed to gain a lot of weight over the past two weeks, but her eczema is clearing up, and she's sleeping ten times better.

My baby, who refused to nap for longer than ten minutes, is suddenly taking two naps a day.  (Please don't smite me, Internet Gods!)  Meanwhile, she's getting eight-hour stretches of sleep at night.  She's really only waking up once during the night instead of two or three times, which is fantastic.  She still nurses in the middle of the night, partially because I'm too groggy to get a bottle made up, and partially because a bottle is not what she's looking for.  I'm sure the well will be drying up soon though.  Get it while you can, Vivi.

I'm a little sad about the end of my breastfeeding journey.  Vivi really loved nursing.  It's also sad to let go of this amazing thing my body can do for the last time.  But...I'm really glad she's feeling better.  Also, I ate ice cream for the first time this summer over Labor Day weekend.  Bonus.

In other news, her hair is redder than ever.  It's thickening up a bit.  Today it was sticking straight up in all directions.  She looked like a mad scientist.  And I thought her eyes were turning brown, but they haven't yet.   Eric thinks they look deep blue.  I say green.  They're sorta pond colored...which sounds gross, but is actually quite pretty.  We'll see.

We love this little ball of energy even if she seems to have made it her mission in life to bring everyone in her path to their knees.  She's a feisty little thing, and I adore her.