29 and holding

"The captain has just notified us that we'll be entering a holding pattern. The duration of this delay is, at this time, unknown. We'll let you know as soon as we're able to proceed."

Today, I'm entering my own personal holding pattern. I'm officially 29 years old. No, really. For the very FIRST time this year, I turned 29. In future years when I say that, you can doubt me, but for now it's the truth. Ask my mom! But then she may want to claim I'm only 20 or something, because no way is she old enough (since she's probably holding somewhere around 39) to have a daughter my age.

This morning Marianne woke up at 6:20. I was getting ready for work in the bathroom when I heard her come out of her room, and a few second later, the bathroom door eased open a crack. When I peaked around the door, Marianne had an arm across her face, shading her eyes from the glaring bathroom lights.

Me: Good morning, baby.

Marianne (throwing herself into my arms to be picked up): It's your BIRTHDAY tomorrow, Mommy! I'm gonna blow out your candle!

Me: Thanks, Marianne! Now go back to sleep. It's WAY too early for you to be out of bed!

The idea that my girl is mature enough to think of me before anything else when she wakes up in the morning is amazing to me. Sure, she got the date wrong, but the kid can hardly be expected to make the transition to TODAY after hearing "tomorrow" over and over the day before, right? And partly the excitement was over her getting to blow out candles, as opposed to purely excitement for it being MY day, but that's fine, too. It was the sweetest greeting I could have hoped for.

*****

Now that I'm almost 30, I think it's a good time to take a look at my life and really marvel at all the ways I've been blessed. No one who knows me would be shy about saying that I've lived a fairly charmed life up till now. As evidence, here's a list of some of my goals for my life when I was a kid in grade school through high school. The goals didn't really change much over the years, since I think they're typical of a lot of little girls. But take a look, and then go ahead and gag at how painfully perfect my life has turned out for me. I know. Although I take it for granted most days, when I think too much about it it just doesn't seem fair.

- Graduate high school and go to Harvard or other excellent private university. Okay, so Harvard wait-listed me, but I didn't bother waiting for them to decide because through school pamphlets and prayer, I decided ND fit that "other excellent private university" option just right.

- Meet and date an amazing guy at the university. Specifically, he must be at least as smart as me, have a strong faith in God, and be a couple inches taller than me at a minimum. Check - met him at freshman orientation, he's a rocket scientist, and he's got a good four inches over my height.

- Get engaged toward the end of college, married shortly thereafter, and spend a couple years as child-free newlyweds. Check, check and check.

- Start family in mid- to late-twenties. Have a few kids. Although I'm pretty much living this one as planned as well, I will say that my views have changed slightly. If you'd asked me in grade school what kids I wanted, I would have said I was going to have a boy first, then twin girls. Their names would have been something akin to Zack (not Zachary, Zack with a "k" as in "he's a lego maniac" or maybe as in "Saved by the Bell"), Sasha and Tasha (because there was a house on my walk to school with a doghouse labeled "Sasha" and I thought that was an awesome name; plus, twins' names should always rhyme, right?). Things have changed. I would prefer not to have twins (though would happily take them if by some fluke it happened) and I will never, ever name a child of mine Tasha. I promise.

- Stay home to raise my kids till they're in school. Here's the one point I'm missing. But then, I honestly can't complain. Nathaniel and I knew when we decided to start our family while he was still in grad school instead of postponing it a few more years that it would mean some sacrifices on our part. So I'll still get there one of these days. They're not in school yet, after all!

Happy Birthday to me! 29 years in and pretty much living the life I always dreamed. Sometimes it makes me nervous - like one person can't really get so much good in her life without something awful happening eventually, right? But I can't live my life paranoid of future downfalls. For now, I'm trying to enjoy every minute of this amazing existence that God has given me!

As usual...

I completely over-reacted and let myself stress about something that's really nothing.

I left a long-winded voicemail for my boss this morning explaining my revelation about the dates of the meeting. She responded that I shouldn't worry, as she had actually had a couple things come up that were making her want to push the meeting off till June, and this was just one more. Most likely there will be no Vegas meeting to interfere with Ruthie's birthday after all. Hooray!

*****

On a very serious note, I heard this evening that a friend of mine from ND, a fellow Howard Duck, was taken to the hospital this morning. I won't go into a lot of detail because it's not mine to share, but I think all of you who know her already know the background. She'll be having surgery tomorrow morning. Please keep her in your prayers, as well as her husband and her 10 day old baby girl. Here's to Smurray - the most boisterously happy person I think I've ever met. And a darn good singer, too. May God bring you back to good health quickly so you can hold your baby girl soon and for years to come!

Update: Smurray appears to have come through her surgery with flying colors and at the last report yesterday she was lucid and joking around with her husband and family. Thank God! And thank you all for your prayers.

My mom went to Vegas on my birthday and all I got was this stupid t-shirt

I can tell already that I'm going to have a rough time falling asleep tonight. My mind is racing. I'm trying to take care of that in advance by means of a strong fuzzy navel, but that may not cut it.

The thing is, I forgot Ruth's birthday. No, it hasn't passed me by quite yet, but that doesn't make me feel any better. A couple weeks ago, on a conference call at work, my boss threw out some dates she was considering for a team meeting (I'm the only person on my "team" in Denver, so I always get to travel elsewhere when we have big meetings). I heard the dates. I looked at them on my mostly-blank work calendar. I even penciled them in. All without it crossing my mind that one of days of this two day trip are my baby girl's first birthday! Last Friday my boss brought it up again on another conference call, saying that those dates looked good and she was just working to get final approval so that we could meet in Las Vegas in stead of our usual, LA. I was actually excited about this on the phone, along with the rest of my peers. Vegas! Cool! And the worst part... today I finally rolled forward the white-erase calendar that we keep on our fridge at home, and by some fluke I skipped 5/14 while labeling the days, so with that error it worked out that Ruth's birthday would be day before I left on my trip. Instead of noticing how dumb I was being, I got all concerned about Nathaniel having to take time off work to take Ruth to the doctor the day after her birthday, since I usually handle the doctor appointments (and like doing so). It wasn't till Nathaniel got home and I was explaining when I'd be gone and the issue with the appointment, and hey, I thought you said your thesis defense was scheduled for Friday but that date is a Thursday... Whoa! He stopped me because that wasn't right at all... Oh, I got half the month wrong and I'm going to be in a meeting in Vegas on my baby's first birthday! (Did I already say that? Yeah, I know I'm rambling. That's the state I'm in.)

I know well enough that if I call my boss tomorrow and explain, she'll tell me I can miss the meeting, or she'll try to reschedule (unless while I was off today they've moved ahead and all made their reservations). But I feel so guilty. She gave us the dates weeks ago. And it's just two days. We'll be celebrating Ruth's birthday with family the weekend before. She won't know the difference if we put off our personal celebration till the day after or do it the day before. But the thought of not being here on the anniversary of the day I gave birth to the kid breaks my heart just a little bit. I don't know what to do now.

Sorry to throw that all out at you guys. I think it may have been more effective than the sissy mixed drink at helping to calm my mind, though. Not to imply that I have an answer, but at least I've thought through the situation now. I'm sure I'll keep you posted on the outcome.

Feast or famine

Within minutes after publishing my relatively dull post last night, I thought of a handful of more entertaining things I wanted to say. So here's a laundry list of items for your reading pleasure, or at least for my work-procrastination pleasure. I've decided to do them in various posts, as they're each rather lengthy stories/observations, and I want you to feel free to comment on each of them individually. I know you're all anxious to make comments, after all.

(If you've been seeing strangely numbered bits and pieces of this during the day, blame Blogger. There've been major issues with getting posts to publish today...)

#1 - kitty update

Remember our super sweet cats that I just couldn't tolerate? They eventually ended up with our friends Ted and Kristi and their two other cats. I was a little concerned about how they'd get along with other pets, since they'd been together since birth but had never had to deal with other animals. This weekend we went to Ted and Kristi's for dinner on Saturday and were able to see firsthand how Corby and Lula are doing, which is great. It sounds like not all the cats love all the other cats, but for the most part they get along fine. Marianne was beside herself with excitement over seeing her kitties, and she spent a good portion of the evening reminding the cats why they're probably better off where they are by chasing them around and loving them a little too hard. It was definitely a relief to me to see the kitties happy and healthy. Not that I ever doubted the ability of Ted and Kristi to make them happy, but I still have some feelings of guilt over giving my cats up. My stress level has decreased dramatically since they've been gone, though, so I can say with certainty that it was the right decision to make.

#2 - simple pleasures

One of my favorite things about the arrival of spring weather is that (at least outside of work) it means I can put away the pantyhose and break out the sandals to wear with my skirts. (An especially happy event this year, since I have my rockin' new sandals!) I've always loved weather warm enough to forego tights/pantyhose, but it's taken on new joy now that I'm in the habit of dressing two little girls for church every Sunday. There are few things in the world as cute as a toddler girl dressed up in her Sunday best with white tights and patent leather shoes. But there are few things more frustrating than trying to stretch white tights over the chubby little thighs of a 10 month old who is trying to squirm away from you and refusing to use her tiny legs to stand up. Now that Easter has come and gone, it means I can put that to rest and rely instead on cute white sandals for my girls until Labor Day. Hooray!

#3 - a word of thanks

It was just about a year ago that Nathaniel and I thought we were going to put our house on the market. Nathaniel was hoping to finish his thesis over the summer, and there was a strong possibility that if he did, we'd be moving in the fall for him to start some new job... We love our house, but it has a lot of things that need fixed before we could reasonably try to sell it. One of those things was the stairs to our deck. Since before we bought the house, the stairs had been uneven and wobbly, and the deck itself was peeling all over. We had big plans for Nathaniel to take apart and rebuild the stairs, and then we planned to repaint the whole thing. It needed to be sanded first, though. One Friday afternoon when work was slow, I took off early and came home to sand the easy parts. It was a nice, sunny day and I didn't mind spending the afternoon outside. That night, Nathaniel was on the phone with is brother, Phil, and mentioned that I had spent the afternoon sanding the deck because we had so many projects, and he was so busy, that he just couldn't get to everything. Did I mention that I was about two weeks from my due date with Ruth at the time? Apparently it struck Phil as more than a little sad that Nathaniel's 9 months pregnant wife was having to do such hard labor, because he immediately arranged to drive out the following weekend with another of Nathaniel's brothers, Sam, and the three of them spent the weekend renovating our deck. It meant Phil's wife, Renee, was left home alone for the weekend with their baby boy, so I felt bad about that. However, if not for that help, I don't know if our deck stairs would be safe yet, and since Marianne climbs up and down those stairs numerous times every day, I can hardly express how grateful I am to have had the help. Nathaniel has an amazing family and it's never more evident than when they all pull together to help one another out. So thanks to Phil and Sam! Our new deck stairs are a year old and every day I take for granted how perfect they are. That wouldn't have been possible without your help!

#4 - late night wardrobe change

Last night Marianne took a while to settle down for bed. She stayed in her room when Nathaniel put her to bed, but wasn't happy about. Fifteen minutes later she was out of her room wanting to get a kleenex and a drink of water. When I tucked her back into bed, I discovered that she'd dragged all the diapers from the changing table into her bed and so I put them away. After that, she seemed quiet.

Just before I went to bed a couple hours later, I stopped in to make sure the girls had blankets on them and to turn off the fan in their room. In the dark room lit only by Marianne's nightlight, I was confused by what I saw. Marianne was mostly under her covers but I couldn't quite make out where her arms were because I was looking for the pink jammies I'd left her in. What I found instead was Marianne fully dressed in the clothes I'd set out for her to wear to daycare today. She had gotten up and put her whole outfit on over her pajamas! I told Nathaniel to have a look because I was laughing so hard about it myself that it would have seemed unfair not to share. Nathaniel, being the brave soul that he is, actually decided to take the extra layer of clothes off the child so that she wouldn't overheat in the night. I stood behind him cringing at the thought of Marianne waking up, crying, waking Ruth up, and an hour spent in that room trying to get kids back to sleep... But Nathaniel just whipped the extra shirt and pants off, Marianne rolled over and was still out cold as he tucked her back in.

Excuses, excuses

Would you believe work has been really busy lately? And with Nathaniel constantly working on his thesis, I don't have much free time at home either. Then, of course, there's the fact that my girls don't really do anything cute or press-worthy anymore...

Okay, so the last one can't possibly be true, but the others are the best excuses I have for why my posting is sporadic lately. On Friday I actually had to force myself not to check personal email or blogs AT ALL until well after lunch because I had so much to accomplish, and even then I was cheating because I still hadn't finished my to-do list. I hate it when that happens. Don't get me wrong - I don't want to have nothing to do at work. That makes the time drag and causes me to spend the day wondering why I'm even in an office rather than home watching my girls grow up. But I don't mind a little time during the workday to surf the web and post on my blog, either. All things in moderation, I say!

I don't talk about work much, so I think I'll stop now and move on to more important things. Marianne officially turned two and a half the other day and The Lion King and potty training are (still) the two biggest things in her life. She's showing a strong favoritism toward me lately, probably because Nathaniel is working long hours. He's taken a few more "bad daddy"s from Marianne than anyone should have to. The result isn't as fun for me as you might think. She doesn't just want to spend more time on my lap reading books, or snuggling. She wants ME and only ME to take care of trips to the potty, to hold her when she's in full tantrum mode (which means most likely being kicked or pinched in the process), etc. It's not all bad, but it's a whole lot of work considering that only in the past few weeks has Ruth finally given up her extreme stranger anxiety and allowed me to put her down or hand her off to someone else. Now I can finally have my hands free of Ruth, only to find them filled with Marianne.

I'm not really complaining as much as that last paragraph implies. I'm fully aware that this is a precious time in both girls' lives, and I wouldn't trade it for the world (thought I might skip some of the tantrums and move ahead to the part where Marianne can use the potty consistently on her own...). I love knowing without the slightest doubt that those beautiful girls love me, their mommy, above pretty much anything else in the world (no offense, Nathaniel - I'm sure you're a close second).

Reason #2387694 Marianne needs her nap

We went to the zoo today with a friend and her son. It was an all around good time. Marianne got to see the "Simba lions" (the ones with manes) and her brown bear (though the one at the zoo is a lot larger and scarier than the plush version on her bed). However, as with most playdates, the end result was no nap in the afternoon. Marianne fell asleep for 15 minutes in the car on the trip home, then managed to avoid falling asleep for a real nap despite my insistence that she stay in bed for over an hour after we got home.

Tonight we hosted our prayer-group for dinner. Things seemed fine till dinner was over and Marianne cracked. She couldn't share toys; she couldn't play by herself; she couldn't be held. She had a couple potty training accidents and after the last one she came back to the living room to find the other two toddlers playing with the toys she had set up and completely lost it. Tantrum, tantrum, tantrum. By the time we were attempting to get her into bed an hour later she was stuck somewhere between hyperventilating and screaming so hard she nearly threw up. Fun!

Eventually we calmed her down enough to get her to lie in bed, where she passed out asleep within 30 seconds. I've been instructed by Nathaniel that I'm no longer allowed to participate in any activity that keeps Marianne from her afternoon nap, though. At this point, that seems fair.

And then she said

Ruth has started to communicate. I hesitate to call it talking, as often it's her and Marianne taking turns making a high pitched squealing sound and cracking up laughing at each other, but there's definitely some form of communication taking place. Here are some attempts at phonetical spellings of what Ruth says, and the words I believe those sounds translate into:

Ruth (in a low, whispering voice, like she's sharing a major secret): Puh. Puh.

Translation: Puppy. (This sound generally comes when she hears the dogs next door barking, and includes excited attempts to get to the back door to see the puppies in question, so I think the translation is fairly accurate.)

*****

Ruth (without hand gestures): Muh. Muh.

Translation: Mama. (Hooray!)

*****

Ruth (with hand gesture of reaching out for something, or grasping something): Muh. Muh.

Translation: More of that. -or- Put that food item into my mouth now, please.

*****

Ruth (holding toy phone, remote control, plastic hot dog bun or any other item to up to her head, generally just behind her ear): Whoa?

Translation: Hello? (As in, answering the phone. Usually this is followed by "Da?" since that's obviously who I most often talk to on the phone)

Happy Easter!

I hope you all had a wonderful, blessed Easter weekend. And much candy. We certainly had all of the above. Nathaniel spent Saturday assembling what I like to consider our next big step toward a completely suburban lifestyle:
(Please ignore the dead grass - Nathaniel's working on that - and instead check out our lovely mountain view)

Ruth got a huge kick out of the new toy!

Within a few hours of having the swingset up, our back yard was host to about half the neighborhood kids and several of the adults. We weren't planning on staking it to the ground, as we'd like to be able to move it occasionally for the sake of the yard, but after watching it sway when three kids are swinging, we've changed our minds.

Easter Sunday was hot and sunny - a nice change of pace from the past couple years. Marianne still didn't fully grasp the idea of hunting for eggs when she woke up. She had to be coaxed to each new egg, as after the first she seemed perfectly content to settle down with that handful of candy. The Easter Bunny was very generous this year. Nathaniel and I had to purchase little more than a couple bags of candy and Ruth's basket (since this was her first Easter), as the recent visits from grandparents had supplied the rest of the goodies. Thanks to all the grandparents who contributed! The toys are greatly appreciated.

The girls looked lovely in their new dresses and hair decorations (no bonnets for us yet - maybe when they're older and would actually leave them on their heads for up to 5 minutes at a time).

Later in the day, when we were once again out playing on the swingset with assorted neighbor kids, the woman from across the street said, on her way home, "Enjoy the rest of your sugar day... or Easter... or whatever you want to call it". {sigh} Sometimes I miss living in an area with stronger religious ties. I'm not saying I want my kids taught intelligent design in science classes, but living this close to Boulder, there's a noticeable lack of religion of any sort. I was surprised to hear that our friends' Ultimate Frisbee League had matches scheduled for 10am on Easter Sunday. It's bad enough that they'd play in the morning on normal Sundays, but on Easter? Even if you're not a regular church-goer, Easter is a day that most people celebrate with family, and sometimes the only day out of the year that families do attend church. I would expect organizations to recognize and respect that. Easter is the single most important Sunday in the Christian calendar, yet is often treated as a second-tier holiday, and that is truly a shame. Our church gave out car magnets around Christmas that said "Keep Christ in Christmas". We noticed a car in the parking lot yesterday that still had one on, and Nathaniel jokingly said that maybe they should have handed out "Keep Christ in Easter" magnets as well. It doesn't have the same ring to it, but it's a valid point.

Personal shopper

You guys have got to try this! It's a great new service I discovered. I just send a message to my personal shopper describing what I'm looking for, which in this case was a pair of shoes to go with a dress I'm making. I told her a little about the dress and how fancy I want the shoes to be, plus any other stipulations (no wedge heels, etc), and within minutes my email inbox was filled with pictures of shoe options! I picked out the ones I liked best, she sent me the details on where to find them, and yesterday I stopped by the store and bought myself a pair! I know the dress still hasn't been made, but the shoes were so pretty and will work with several other dresses I already have, so I thought I might as well start getting some use out of them now.

Okay, that's not a real service (at least, not the way I did it, though something similar probably exists in the world). It's just my friend Ginny. She's good with fashion. I'm glad, because I'm not, but I'm totally in love with my new sandals! Thanks, Ginny!

(Shoes featured are a few of my favorites from a much longer list of offerings. The ones that are now officially MINE are the top left. All photos shamelessly taken from the Nordstrom website.)

You ack me up!

That's Marianne's favorite new thing to say. Yes, I tell her all the time that she cracks me up, so I'm not at all surprised. The way she says it, though, is what really kills me. She'll do a completely fake laugh, with a grin so big it scrunches her eyes into little slits and say "Ha ha hee! You ack me up, Mommy!" Anytime now that I say it to her, she immediately responds with "No, YOU ack ME up!" This game started as part of potty training. She made it to the potty with dry pants in one of the early, accident-prone days, and I said, "That's so great, Marianne! You're a superstar!" To which she instantly replied, "No, YOU're a uper-ar!" The way she says "superstar" is probably what initially "cracked me up", come to think of it. It's all a vicious cycle.

Ruth cracks me up, too. She's a very jovial kid now that she's quit being terrified of everyone but Nathaniel and me. She'll sit in her stroller or shopping cart when we're out and beam at everyone who passes by. I've had several people stop in the their tracks to come back and smile at her. Maybe it's the mouth full of teeth or the blue-brown eyes or something else entirely, but she's got a show-stopper of a smile!

The sweetest thing

Marianne woke up early this morning. I didn't actually hear her wake up, which usually involves a lot of chatting with herself or with her stuffed animals. Instead, this morning I heard her bedroom door close. I was in my bedroom across the hall getting ready for work. I stepped out of my room into the hall and saw Marianne taking tiny, shuffling steps toward the living room, where Nathaniel was seated on the couch saying morning prayer. Her hair was wild and ratty and she was wearing a mismatched pajama set of purple flannel pants with a floofy pink satiny top. She was beautiful.

I didn't want to startle her, so I said quietly, "Morning, Sweetie." She turned around to my voice, glancing once up to my face. Then, tucking her chin into her chest with her eyes to the ground, she took a few big steps and bumped forehead first into me as her arms wrapped around my leg. She hugged me that way for a few seconds before her arms lifted over her head in the universal sign for "up". I hoisted her to my shoulder. She snuggled her head into the curve of my neck, circled me in her arms and relaxed into me with the precious weight that can only be my baby girl.

It all happened in less than a minute, but it was a very happy minute.

Note to self:

Cleaning up a kitchen floor covered in glass shards at high speed without shoes while trying to fend off two small children and protect their precious, tiny, bare feet is a highly dangerous endeavor. In the future, make more effort not to let the heavy glass water pitcher fall from the shelf above the stove when putting dishes away.

Happily, I managed to avoid serious injury, though I was inflicted with high levels of stress and most likely a greatly elevated blood pressure for several minutes. I'm also very lucky that Marianne seems to have missed the obscenity shouted while I tried to catch the pitcher as it fell through the air, instead bobbling it between myself and some dirty pans before it finally smashed. I may discover in a few days that she didn't miss it at all but is saving it for some key moment - perhaps a quiet point during mass on Easter? - to give it a little more pizazz. Only time will tell.

Shortly after I finished cleaning the shattered glass from the counters (bowl of glass filled sugar, anyone?), I was putting away clean dishes from the dishwasher when a pint glass broke in my hand as I set it on the shelf. It didn't clink against anything that I noticed; it just broke in two. I think I'll be a little extra cautious around glassware for the rest of the day.

Other than those adventures, it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood! We went to the park before lunch and if all goes well, we'll head to the library after naptime. I finished "Passing for Thin" last night. It was very good, though Frances was still dealing with some major struggles even at the end of the book. Toward the end, she had a little binging spree in which she gained something like 20 pounds over a long weekend. How is that possible? Then she lost 10 of it within a week of getting back on track. I've occasionally gained or lost as much as 5 pounds in a week (not counting any crazy pregnancy fluctuations), but to gain 20 in just a few days hardly seems possible. Carrying around so much extra weight and then losing the whole huge amount must do crazy things to a person's body!

Book review, etc

I stumbled upon a book at the library that I want to mention because I have several friends who likely would really enjoy it. It's called Passing for Thin: Losing Half My Weight and Finding Myself, by Frances Kuffel. I know several people who have lost a lot of weight in the past few years, though no one quite like this woman. She was obese literally her whole life. I think she said she hit 100 pounds in second grade, and her high was well over 300 pounds. I believe what she has to say can hold true for people who've only lost (only, ha!) 50 pounds or 30 pounds, as opposed to her 170. I would not recommend it as a motivational tool if you need to lose weight, because as a newly thin person she had a lot of issues to deal with and she doesn't gloss them over. But it is a good read and I can relate to much of what she has to say about major weight loss. I'm only 85% of the way through, so I could end up hating it, but right now it's making me laugh and I don't want to put it down. In fact, the only real problem I have with the book so far is that once, 50 pages ago or so, she made a comment about the excruciatingly long BBC Pride and Prejudice miniseries (I can't recall the exact quote). That's one of my all time favorite movies!

Which brings me to topic #2, Pride and Prejudice. With the on-going potty training adventure at our house, I'm doing a lot of laundry (at least one load every evening after Marianne is in bed and therefore finished dirtying things for the day), and folding a lot of laundry. I don't mind, because I can fold it while watching television. Happily, I own the 6 tape set of P&P. I just finished watching it for the gazillionth time the other day. If, somehow, there is a woman out there who has not yet seen the miniseries, GO RENT IT! Yes, it's six hours of movie, but it's absolutely worth your time. I can't count the number of times I go into fits of giddy giggling while watching Mr. Darcy (and so began my decade long school-girl crush on Colin Firth) gaze at Elizabeth from across the room. Or the number of times I shout at the TV when Lydia does something utterly stupid. It's truly a masterpiece. The minute the credits start rolling on the last tape I'm tempted to pop the first in and start over.

If, on the other hand, you've only seen the recently released two hour P&P with Keira Knightly, please don't let that be your point of reference. The one scene that made me laugh outloud was when the Bennet girls frantically try to make themselves look busy before Mr. Bingley enters the room. Most of the movie alternately adds silly things that don't fit Jane Austen's style, and cuts parts of the book that I consider very witty or crucial to the plot. It's too little time to do the story justice. I suppose they made a decent effort, but it can't compare to the Colin Firth, I mean, the BBC version.

One last note: Ruth is so close to walking it scares me! This weekend I watched several times as she stood herself up in the middle of the room, balance without holding on to anything, then took one or two little steps before falling over. I'm so proud of her, but so freaked out by how big she's getting. For all I know she may stay at just a couple tiny steps for two months before she really starts to walk. But before I know it the girl will be walking, then running, then skipping and playing hopscotch and dating and going off to college! Eek! I'm not old enough for this.

Money matters

Is it just me, or does spending money make everyone want to spend more money? I can't buy myself one little treat, feel good about that, and save the rest of my money for another day. Once I buy one thing, it makes me want to buy more, and more, and more. I suppose it has a lot to do with my attitude about the first expenditure. Today, for instance, I was forced to spend $9 on parking downtown (transit strike in Denver = jacked up parking rates all over the city). It annoys me that I had to spend that money. Add that to a high level of irritation with the commute into downtown, the horrible traffic on the way here, and some cold, rainy weather, and the result is that I really want to stop by Starbucks on the way into my office and console myself by spending more money. Today I resisted, but I'm not always so strong. Parking fees can hardly be considered buying myself a treat, but the same holds true if I'm at the mall and shopping for clothes. I find some good stuff (or I'm frustrated with finding nothing - either applies) and with my shopping bags in tow, I can't resist stopping by the food court for a treat to celebrate my purchases.

Now that I'm reading my own thoughts on this, my real problem may be with food cravings. The food would be significantly less of a draw, though, if it wasn't purchased while out. There's something satisfying to me about buying restaurant food. Fast food or something nicer, I'm really not picky. It comforts me if I'm having a rough day, and it makes a good day a little bit better. What's not great about having a nice fountain soda in the stroller cupholder when you're shopping with the kids? Or having a steaming hot half-caf percent caramel latte on your desk when you're stuck on a two hour conference call? A can of coke from home or a mug of coffee from the kitchen at my office just doesn't have the same effect. I have precious little will power to resist these impulses, but I'm trying. Now I just need to keep myself from celebrating my success at passing by the Starbucks this morning by getting something expensive for lunch.

Hold on, Simba!

This morning I tip-toed into the girls' room to get Ruth up for her morning feeding (I'm normally of the "Don't wake a sleeping baby!" camp, but I have to maintain some sort of schedule in order to feed Ruth before I leave for work three days a week), and found her fast asleep on her back with her arms spread eagle. This was so totally unlike her, and so like Marianne instead, that I had to stop for a minute to watch. I can honestly say that this was the first time I remember finding Ruth sleeping on her back since July, when we discovered that she'd sleep through the night if we put her on her tummy instead.

*****

The weather is much cooler today than it has been for the past week. It's sunny and nice enough, though, that we went for a walk this morning to a pond nearby to feed the ducks and geese some stale hot dog buns. On the return walk, Marianne started quoting from her current favorite movie, The Lion King.

Marianne: Hold on, Simba!

Me: Who says that?

Marianne: His father says that.

Me: When?

Marianne: When he's in the tree. The birdie says, "Hold on, Simba. Your Father is on his way!" and his father says, "Hold on, Simba!" That's before his daddy gets dead.

I need to get some other movies into the rotation. She's obviously seen this one enough times.

Shortly after we got home, the girls were eating lunch when I glanced out the kitchen window and saw a perfectly blue sky and falling snowflakes. (On closer inspection, there were clouds high overhead that were not visible from my original angle). I'm glad we got our walk in early.

Happier times

I can't leave that last post at the top long. The truth is, for all that she couldn't keep food or beverage down last night, Ruth was remarkably good, and our sleep was only interrupted for an hour or so. She didn't eat much at daycare today, but slept well and seems in better health.

On a happy note, I thought I'd share a couple pictures of the beautiful day I had with the girls on Tuesday (pre-vomit).

A huge thanks to Kate for the suggestion on making "washing the dishes" less stressful. Marianne got a big kick out of getting to play with soapy water away from the sink.

The daffodils may be dead next week from all the dish soap poured over them, but I say it's worth it.

Ruth made an excellent new discovery while we were out - GRASS! The taste left something to be desired, but picking it and putting it on the blanket proved highly entertaining.

Hooray for spring weather! Too bad I heard something on the news tonight about a blizzard tomorrow night.

The wonder of it all

- Explosive vomiting by a 10 month old midway through her bedtime nursing, soaking her and mom in nastiness, and requiring a bath for baby, shower for mom and a load of laundry.

- Additional vomit on and around the same 10 month old, now sweetly sleeping in her crib, at midnight, necessitating baby washing, sheet changing and comforting of rudely awoken baby (the vomit didn't bother her a bit) while trying to maintain quiet so as not to wake up the still-sleeping 2 year old. More laundry.

- Third (and thankfully, final) occurrence of vomiting in parents' bed 45 minutes later while 10 month old is being comforted to sleep, requiring yet another baby cleaning and changing of towels on the bed (since parents were not silly enough to put her on the bed without some sort of protection).

These are the nights that make being a parent so wonderful. As in, it's a wonder anyone does this. Ever. On the up side, this morning the 10 month old in question was cheerful as can be and showed no signs of further vomiting. We'll blame it on some of the undigested, and for that matter, apparently unchewed, food that I was lucky enough to examine at close range last night.

My little jawa, pretty jawa

(The title goes to the tune of "My Little Pony", in case you didn't catch that on your own.)

We got a package in the mail from Australia a few days ago! What with all the company and having to work yesterday, this is the first opportunity I've had to share pictures of the awesome cardigan that Kris knitted for Marianne. (For examples of the other amazing handiwork Kris has sent us, see here.)

Marianne was actually asleep when it arrived, so Ruth called first dibs on testing it out.

When Marianne saw Ruth in it, though, she had to take her turn modeling. Here are a couple shots from the front and side.


I LOVE the pointed hoody! And you can't see it, but there are pockets along the side seams. I'm in awe that people can make things like this by hand. It's definitely large on Marianne (and Ruth) right now, but by fall I expect you'll be seeing it in a lot of the candid shots I take. The sleeves may be rolled up, but that's so much better than if it fit Marianne now but she could only wear it for a month before out-growing it. Thank you, Kris!

Oh yeah, and these were in the package as well.

Why, you may be wondering, are the Tim Tams only half gone, when I've had them since Thursday? That's easy - I didn't want to eat them too often while my parents were here because I didn't want to have to offer to share. I did offer once. I'm not totally selfish. There was some other candy also, but it's long gone!

March - Official Month of Houseguests

The month of houseguests has come to an end. For the past four weeks we have had visitors almost non-stop. Our last boarders, my mom and dad, left this morning, and it's a sad day. I love having other people around to help around the house and entertain the girls, and I love being a hostess. Cooking food that's a little nicer than usual since it's for someone else. Serving dessert more often. Having an excuse to skip out of work a little early or roll in a little late (or to take time off entirely). Thankfully, in less than 6 weeks, we'll have a house full of family again. If reading that didn't just give him a heart attack (because 6 weeks is not very long to finish and defend a thesis), we'll be celebrating Nathaniel's graduation as well as Ruth's 1st birthday all in the same crazy fun weekend. That means I get to plan two parties. I can't wait!

This weekend my parents took the girls and me to the zoo. We have a pass now, so we'll be able to go back at will. Marianne is a great age for this from the standpoint of loving to see all the animals and to ride the carousel and to be outdoors in general. But from the standpoint of my ability to control her in such an exciting environment, I foresee a rough summer ahead of us. I honestly think that the kid has learned to tune out my voice. She gets completely wrapped up in what she's doing, be it watching a gorilla, chasing a peacock, or just generally running away from me, that I could scream at the top of my lungs without eliciting the slightest reaction from her. She'd keep right on running toward that crowd of strangers and the little zoo train without noticing the multitude of dangers involved.

I have serious fears of one of my babies being kidnapped. Last night we were walking along an open pavilion between a parking lot and a restaurant. Marianne wanted to walk by herself, so I was chatting with my mom while Marianne followed. There was not a single other person in sight. As we approached the corner of the building I turned around, saying "Come on, Marianne. Hurry up." Only I didn't see Marianne. It probably was less than a second before she popped out from the tree she was hiding behind, but I think my heart nearly stopped in that time. Crazy things happen. Kids disappear. I can't handle that when Marianne decides she wants to run away from at the mall or the zoo, or even just down our street, she could run around a corner and scary things could happen. How do you make a child hear you? Make her stop and listen when you're trying to warn her? I'm sure if I knew that, I could make a million dollars on the talk show circuit. Since I don't though, I'm open to suggestions. I love my baby girls, and I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to them.

A worthy goal

Marianne: I want a snack. I want some cereal.

Me: What kind?

Marianne: Life.

Me: Okay. Do you want a little cup of Life?

Marianne: No. I want a BIG cup of Life.