Early Spring: the lone drawback

The incredibly mild winter was all-out awesome, and spring coming early is like the cherry on the icing on the cake.  The only problem is that I am totally unprepared to clothe my children for warm weather.

Katie has the benefit of enough hand-me-downs to clothe twelve children.  As a result, she is ready for anything and generally dressed adorably, no matter what the weather.

I hope this doesn't take too long.  I'm due at a picnic with Audrey  Hepburn.

Gracie, on the other hand, does not have the benefit of hand-me-downs.  She has slightly-too-small clothes from the fall and too-large clothes that I ordered, thinking she would be bigger than she really is now.  She is also fond of odd combinations, and when I'm in a hurry to get her dressed, anything goes.

I hope this doesn't take too long.  I'm due at Swap-o-Rama with Bogdan and Basia

I didn't realize just how ill-fitting and ridiculous the outfit was until we were already late to leave for the pediatrician, so I did what any rational person would do, and lied to the front desk staff, telling them Gracie dressed herself.  (They didn't ask.  I volunteered the information.)  One of the girls cocked her head to one side and said, "Awww!  Obviously!"

Compounding the problem is my utter lack of organization.  I took some time from a workday, while the girls were with Grammy, and came home to do closet-cleaning.  I got through all the storage totes, the closet, and Katie's dresser, and was left with eight bags of clothes to donate- and that does not include the stuff that was too grotty to even donate.  The sad thing is, four hours later, I ran out of time to clean out Gracie's dresser, so I still have no room for actual spring clothing that fits the child, so I can't even go shopping for her.

This is what hoarding hath wrought.

Fortunately, her shorts from last summer still fit. Not so fortunately, her t shirts do not. If I don't get on the ball soon, she's either gonna be walking around with her belly hanging out, or in those same two purple t-shirts that are roughly a size and a half too big, and I'm gonna have to keep lying about who picked out her clothes. Which works just fine for me, actually, but let's be real here: it's Gracie. I tell that lie again, and she corrects me. Promptly. And it is the fear of that shame that motivates me.

....someday. For now: couch.

Various

I keep having all kinds of things I want to blog about, funny things the girls do, mostly, and assorted random thoughts, but as luck would have it, we are getting our house ready to put on the market and simultaneously, Katie has decided once and for all that naps are for pansies, and since I am the Queen of the Pansies, I am TOO TIRED to blog by the time I get them to bed.  This means I have missed blogging about all sorts of funny/cute/sweet things they've done lately, but such is life.  If they wanted a better record, they would SLEEP MORE.  (OK, just Katie.  Gracie has, against all odds, become a champion sleeper.  So, I mean, there's hope for the future but I live in the present and I am exhausted.  And rambling.)

So in no particular order:

ONCE again, while nursing a child, I found myself a running superstar.  I trained for a half marathon with relative ease (though the race itself was, of course, not quite what I'd hoped for).  I ran a ten miler in record time.  I was regularly running sub-9 minute miles (which, yes, this makes me pathetic, but that is FAST for me).  I was a MACHINE.  Having visions of 25 minute 5ks.  The weather even cooperated, with the warmest winter of my entire life, so theoretically, no post-treadmill adjustment period.  And then I weaned Katie and promptly found myself barely able to run a mile.  W...T....EFFFF???  and then I remembered: the *exact* same thing happened both while I was nursing and after I weaned Gracie.  And I hate to keep going back to the same well on this, but it makes MAJOR evolutionary sense for a woman to become an exceptional runner while they're feeding another human.  I am not entirely sure why we have to become pathetic sloths after we wean those humans, but such is life.  The more attractive side effect of weaning is that the stubborn eight pounds that I could. not. drop while nursing are in the process of falling off, in spite of me eating a whole lot more and obviously running a whole lot less.  Which, YAY!  ...but oh man, I am TOTALLY going to become one of those women who gets that odd puffy look immediately upon reaching menopause.  There is nothing to be done about this.

THERE are very few things on this earth more awesome than Gracie pretending to nonchalantly whistle by saying "fuh fuh fuuuhhhh..."  Except maybe the belly laugh she whips out when she's (nicely) teasing Katie.

This is just here to show you how adorable she is.

KATIE is climbing stairs at every possible opportunity.  She is pretty much going to kill me dead.  She also nods her head yes in response to questions, tries to put socks and shoes on, and loves to stick monster finger puppets on her index finger and chase us while roaring.

no fear...for HER, anyway.

WE are listing our house soon.  And you know, moving is necessary, for various reasons.  But it's hard to think about leaving the first home our girls knew.  I was watching them play today and wondering if Gracie will even remember this house (obviously Katie will not, unless of course we never actually sell the house...)  It's just weird.

STEPHEN told Gracie awhile back that I have to work to make money to buy toys.  Ever since then, she greets me at the door, asking to see her toys.  Which, for the record, the toy is usually something like a note card or a bandaid or something like that, but I was at Target without her and hit up the dollar section, so she got a few good things, too.  Once, I got her a packet of sushi erasers, which are totally weird and probably don't even erase anything, not that she writes with pencils, anyway.  I figured she'd look at them and toss them aside, but they were funny so I bought them.  You guys.  The girl has not stopped playing with them.  it's been MONTHS.

The fish eggs are Stephen's favorites.

I am eating popcorn.  Cookie bars are next.  Don't be jealous.

Can't Think of a Good Title

It's really weird, to lose a friend you've lost touch with.  When someone isn't a part of your daily, or even special occasion-life, there's not that reminder that they're gone.  And you feel like you shouldn't be sad, because how can you miss someone you no longer really talk to that much?  But when that person was once one of your best friends, such an integral part of so  many memories that you can't even think of high school without thinking of them, it's hard to not feel the loss.

I find myself visiting her facebook page, every few months, staring at her face and thinking, you're dead.  You're gone.  You're dead.  Because you know, when you don't have that daily reminder, or change in routines, it's kind of hard to believe. 

I talk to her more now than I did when she was still alive.  Which is not even all that often, for the record.  I don't want to make it sound like I have daily conversations with her or anything.  Usually when I'm trying to figure something out, or about to do something stupid, or when I'm really, really wishing for something, I talk to her about it.  And sometimes I try to imagine her answer.  Usually when I know the answer and I don't really want to hear it.  I like to picture her being exasperated, because I think it's funny.

It makes me sad that she never met my girls.  I talk to her about them a lot.  She loved kids, and she was so good with them. 

She was difficult and imperfect and I don't mean to make it sound like it was only a matter of time before we reconnected and were thick as thieves again, because realistically, that was never going to happen. 

When her family had a memorial service a month or so after she died, there were more than a few people there from high school.  One of them was a girl she'd been close friends with throughout grade school, someone she'd grown apart from in high school.  This girl was one of Those Girls.  I'm pretty sure she never had an awkward phase, with long shiny hair and perfectly straight white teeth and clear olive skin, the queen of the dance team...one of Those Girls.  And the fact that they grew apart was pretty one-sided.  And I remember being so, so happy to see her there, and thinking that of all the people there, my friend would have been the happiest to know that she was there. 

It's been two years, and I haven't stopped thinking about her, and I never will, but I'm pretty sure I'm never going to figure out how I feel about it all.

Deep Thoughts

I was thinking today about Grace. And how, even though I'm her mom, she's going to have all these experiences that I never will. Like, she's a firstborn. I'm not. She's going to grow up as the biggest kid in the house, the one who's kind of in charge. And I'll never know what that's like. And she has a sister. I never had a sister! But she does.

I also need to record this exchange so I never, ever, ever forget it:

Gracie (on waking after her nap): Daddy! Kids gave me a brown popsicle!
Stephen: Really? In your dream?
Gracie: Noooo, daddy, in my MOUTH.

A whole year

(Two days late, because parties are exhausting for kids AND parents)

I don't know what to say that I haven't said a million times already.  This girl.  She is sweet and crazy, loud and thoughtful, climbs on everything, eats only certain things.

Dropping all the crayons down the cold air return was a bit of a tactical error.

It's so different, the second first year.  With Gracie, every month felt like a marathon.  When her first birthday came, it was a little shocking, but mostly felt like graduating from college.  We worked hard, and WE MADE IT.  This time, it was a big blur of wtfshe'sHOWold???  It started when she was a month old, and went on hyperspeed from there.

I remember when this was shocking.  How quaint.

We celebrated by finally depaganizing the little critter-

The water didn't sizzle and the basilica didn't get struck by lightning: baptismal WIN.

And followed that up with party and cake.

CAKE:)

It was a good birthday. I don't think she has any complaints, anyway.  And I learned something this year: two hours in the middle of the night last an eternity, but a year in the light of day passes in the blink of an eye.

Who has two teeth and hates weaning?

THIS GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!

SERIOUSLY, you guys, OMFG.

Eliminating nursing before morning naps was not perfect, but it's okaaay.  She usually screams awhile and then falls asleep.  We're still nursing before afternoon nap and bedtime, and I cannot make up my mind which we will eliminate next.  She's had some cow's milk mixed with breastmilk in a cup, and so far, so good.  But in the middle of the night?  Aw hell, it's Suck City. 

First of all, she's just not a good self-soother.  At ALL.  So even though I had already cut G off on middle of the night feeds sometime around month eight, Katie was still getting to nurse until we started weaning.  I KNOW, I KNOW.  So she wakes up, and she hasn't the first clue how to get herself back to sleep.  So I go in and try rocking her, patting her back, whatever, and she calms down, but the minute I try to leave, all hell breaks loose.  She loses her frigging mind.  Occasionally, she sleeps through the night, but when that happens, she wakes at 4:30am.  And that's rare anyway, mostly it's the two hours in the middle of the night marathon.  And you know, I was SO happy we skipped that stage when she was a newborn.  Apparently it is required that all our children go through this phase?  I am so not on board with this nonsense. 

We ARE weaning.  I am so ready.  She may not be, but listen: I don't care.  Yes, obviously, I DO.  It is heartbreaking when it is clearly the only thing she wants in the whole wide world, and it is frustrating when I KNOW she would instantly calm and fall asleep if I would just nurse her, but I need- NEED-to be done with nursing this child. 

Oh yeah, and apparently, she is going to be a year old tomorrow.  LIES.  Vicious lies.  It was just a few months ago that I was sitting on the couch and complaining to my friend about the hideous Braxton-Hicks contractions I was having, as she rolled her eyes and suggested that I may want to consider that I was in labor.  Either that, or five years ago.  One of the two.

My Cabbage Patch

One of the things that makes me sad about my hospital moving downtown is...kinda lame. 

See, because, here's the thing: getting off the expressway, driving the route to the new hospital, is also the way to my doctor's office and the hospital where the girls were born.  And right now?  When I drive that way, I feel buzzy and happy and content and wistful and a million other things.  It is the most Proustian route in the whole wide world.  But soon?  It will just be the way I drive to work.  And because I am a big fat sap, that makes me sad.

And being down there today, just days before Katie's first birthday...a big fat sap like me spent almost as much time staring out the window at the building next door as I did looking around my  new stomping grounds.

And I'll get used to the view, and it won't be the same, and you know, the less sappy I am in general, THE BETTER, but today, it's weird, I kept getting stuff in my eyes...

JUST KIDDING I WAS TOTALLY TEARING UP BECAUSE I AM THAT SMURFY.