Adios, winter!

So this week Catherine got the flu. We are so over you, Winter 2012-13! Seriously. RSV. Ear infections. Staph infections. Vomiting. And a dog who had to have his toenail surgically removed (which has actually been as big a pain as any of the girls' ailments...). Yes, we are done. We are ready for healthy everyone.

And now this flu which prevented a visit from two very dearly missed family members. It's enough to make me want to cry!

Anyway, here are a few pics of the last few months. The girls are growing. Catherine's been potty trained since January (hurray!). Caroline pulls up to standing and has said, "uh oh," "mama," and "dada." And she loves to stick out her tongue and "dance" upon request. Sometimes at the same time.

This speaks for itself.

Bath time is the best time. These two would stay in til the water gets cold and they are totally pruney. I love it!

 I had to share Catherine's impressive bedhead. Her hair is completely out of control. It's not long enough to restrain in any way. (Yes, she's almost two and a half and she's never had a haircut or even a little pig tail.) But it is long enough to be CRAZY when she wakes up.

 

Hanging out in diaper boxes in matching pjs

 

Looks like Caroline is getting to that magical age where she can "help" me with that messiness problem from my last post . . .

Okay, I promised cute pics in this post. I hope I delivered.

A confession

Every remotely introspective person has things that she doesn't like about herself. Here's one of biggest problems.

I am a messy. I have always been a messy. It's not my mama's fault. Heaven knows, she tried to fix me. But I am a mess. I stash stuff in convenient (but incorrect) places. I make piles and piles. When I get something out,  I have to consciously make myself put it away after I use it. And I do, of course, try to do that. But there are lots of times it doesn't happen too. And these days, when I go to clean, there's just so much to do that I don't know where to start.

I am not naturally organized. I like being organized and I can get organized. I like being tidy. If I have plenty of time, I can organize pretty much anything. But keeping it that way . . . ah, that's another matter. I have gotten into labeling things and it does help. I would like to hook myself up with some kind of shock collar that, er, surprises me when I put things in the wrong place. But as I have not found such a device yet, I have found that labeling where things go does, at the very least make aware when I am putting something else in this spot.

And then there's everything else in my life that makes keeping an orderly and clean home difficult. (Myself is the first and foremost problem, of course.) We have the Flash. Sweet, loving, mild tempered dog. Loyal and patient with all the ear pulling, climbing, and riding he endures (enjoys) every day. Now, I do have to give him credit for keeping our kitchen and dining room floors completely crumbless. But then there's the dog hair, the dust, the slobber he slings all over the house, and muddy paw prints. I just can't seem to teach him to wipe his feet. And drool . . . oh boy, this dog can drool. I think he has an hyperactive salivary gland. Seriously, it has to be a medical condition. This is NOT normal.

Our two year old enjoys cleaning up after herself, really. Just yesterday, she put away her little people and a flashlight in Daddy's running shoes. But seriously, she is like a little tornado. And the littlest one is on my hip more often than not...which means I knock things over and don't pick them up. Or I stick stuff places. Or I just don't get anything done!

I'm starting to get overlapping naptimes from the girls most days. So if I'm not scheduled to tutor on the computer, and everyone has clean clothes, and dinner is ready to go in the oven, then I have time to think about the state of the house. But I'm just not even sure where to begin. I always feel like I need a BIG (like hours) chunk of time to do any cleaning. And that is just not part of my reality. I think I need a support group. Anyone else out there suffer from this condition? Are all of my friends really as neat as I think you are? And if so, do you have any tips for me?

I promise, my next post will include lots of warm, fuzzy pictures of small children. Because really, that is what fills my heart and my days. I just needed to share a little frustration with myself!

"Mi casa"

For those of you hoping for a Valentine's Day post about love and mushy squishiness, I will apologize upfront. We've had a bit of a rough spot the past few weeks. Actually months. So we'll be putting off cupid and red and pink and love for just a bit. Not that our house isn't full of love; it is. It's just not so full of spare time or energy.

Our house is what I wanted to write about today. We sponsor a little boy in Guatemala through Compassion International. (Insert plug for a fantastic organization here!) I have been woefully negligent about writing to him the way I should and the way I want to since the kiddos arrived on the scene here stateside, but I'm resolving to change that soon.

He continues to write us letters periodically and last week we got one that just stopped me in my tracks. I can't stop thinking about it. The letter was entitled "Mi Casa" and he described the place he calls home. The first thing he tells us is that they have a bathroom. They have one bedroom where they sleep and eat. They have a patio for hanging clothes to dry. He helps wash dishes and clothes in the sink (It was unclear whether or not that sink was in the bathroom.) So there you go - a bedroom, a bathroom, a patio, and I'll assume a small kitchen or kitchen area. His family rents their home.

And then he asks, "Como es su casa?" Um. Here, I mentally shift my weight uncomfortably. Each of my daughters has her own room. I have a laundry room with a washer and dryer. I have a dishwasher. Our living room is separate from the kitchen and from the bedrooms. We have two and a half bathrooms. We even have a bedroom for guests when they come to visit. And then I think . . . and we would like to move at some point. A bigger backyard, more space, a playroom area, updated fixtures, an eat-in kitchen. For real? An eat-in kitchen?

We have so much, but I don't stop to realize it much. I'm not sure even how to answer his question in a way that he will understand. Except that I can tell him that the best thing about our house is that the people in it are loved by God and love God in return. And we love each other. And then in my mind, I will thank this dear sweet boy for reminding us to be grateful for how God has provided for us and for the vast majority of Americans, who have never experienced anything like what he described. It kinda makes you think about needs, wants, and just what is enough.

Contentment. Elusive as it is, we are told to pursue it. I often think about the words I have seen often, but whose origin I don't know. Someone out there is content with less than what you have. Thanks for the perspective check.

Wiping noses

So I've been thinking a lot about my blog. And not writing a lot.

I have a bunch of ideas for posts: some reflections on being newly married; some thoughts about how birth order affects parenting and children; the potty training journey we have traversed this month; the one facet of house-wifery I do well; the other twenty facets I don't do well; my attempt to learn to use our camera.

But this posts isn't about any of those things. All I have to say is that I've been wiping noses and rocking babies. The last two months has brought us a constant stream of colds, runny noses, and ear infections. Coupled with Caroline's vomiting and difficulty sleeping, this has been a challenging month. This has probably been rougher than the first few months of having two kids (and that was ROUGH). We are thankful for love and support from our families and friends.

Anyway, we're getting through it and making it and just trying to remember that winter doesn't last forever; neither does their infancy. Our babies are growing and learning, even through the mess. And they are healthy in general. Caroline has five teeth and is crawling like a champ. Catherine can tell you the opposite of most any word she knows and knows all of her letters. She knows her right and left. After night after night of minimal sleep, I'm glad I have her to remind me of which is which.

Runny nose. Yes, I took a picture.

Sad, tired, don't feel so good baby (and Daddy!)

So we'll be returning to public contact . . . maybe in June? Maybe I'll get a chance to write some of those posts before then.

Funny Girl

"My silly face"

 Not like the Barbara Streisand kind of funny girl . . . well, she does like to sing.

A few goofy stories about the way things are around here right now. Our big girl Catherine has developed quite a sense of humor. One of her favorite expressions lately is, "Oh, that's funny!" Sometimes she uses it in appropriate context, other times, not so much. But then, it's funny to us when she uses it wrong.

"My goldfish face"

Catherine's favorite pastime these days is singing. Her singing voice has one volume. It's very loud. When I'm lucky, I get a medley of all Catherine's favorite songs. If you're happy and you know it, Jesus loves me, Frosty, Jingle Bells, the Itsy Bitsy Spider, and the Grand Finale the ABC's. Now, I think she can carry a tune fairly well for a two-year-old. But still, much of the melody is lost in single note repetition. Did I mention it's really loud? It's one thing in the car, but she's also taken to doing it in public. Hobby Lobby, the grocery store, even Home Depot last week. "Mommy, I said touch your nose!!" I guess I just must not be happy. Or maybe I don't know it. No, my finger does usually end up on my nose.

"My tongue face"

 So one of the things she's been saying lately is, "____ made a mess!" I guess she hears that a lot. We've had a really rough month around here. We've had six ear infections, two colds for each girl, and a round of RSV for Caroline that seems to linger on and on. Unfortunately, when Caroline gets congested and then cries, she tends to vomit. That's been happening way too much this month. So that is so unpleasant, but each time she does, it is met with Catherine exclaiming, "Ca-wo-wine made a mess, Mommy!" She also said "I made a mess," when she dropped a large pyrex bowl, which shattered into a thousand pieces on the kitchen floor last week. Don't you love understatement?

Other funnies:
When Caroline is crying, she often says, "Mommy, she's just falling apart." Or she'll repeat other expressions we've used. "She needs a nap!" She regularly refers to Flash as "Buddy." As in, "Don't eat my food, Buddy."
She feels compelled to name the color of each article of clothing you are wearing. Also to point it out if anything is different about your wardrobe. "Gasses, Mommy!! Mommy is wearing gasses!" (Glasses, of course.) 

Her baby dolls are named "Alabama" and "Julie." The family of stuffed animals that live in her bed are Tigee (he's the baby, she says), Lamb (the big brother), Pink Monkey (the mommy), and Brown ("bown") Monkey, the daddy. They have all sorts of adventures. Most of which involve using the potty, putting the babies down for napses (her expression), kissing boo boos, and making lunch.

Catherine is cutting her two-year molars. It's a whole different game when they cut teeth after they have gained the ability to communicate. Yesterday, she said her mouth hurt. And could I please kiss the inside of her mouth. In the back. Please? Please?

And this "silly face?" I looked up from feeding Caroline lunch today. And this is what I saw. Catherine, why aren't you eating? Because this is my silly face. Readers, was it one of you who taught her this? I'm pretty sure I didn't. Or the goldfish face.

"My silly face again"

 

Don't blink!

You just might miss a year and a half of your life.

So . . . I actually stopped updating the blog because just before making my last post, I discovered I was pregnant with our second child. Yes, when Catherine was just 9 months, I learned that #2 was on the way. I had no spare energy for blogging. Or bathing sometimes. Well, that hasn't really changed, but I am going to try again. There's just too much happening that I want to hold on to, to remember, to record. I'm awful about baby books and such things. The one thing we do well is take lots of pictures. Lots. Anyway, I know if I can record anything that happens here, it will be better than none at all. Let's be real, I'll never blog like Big Jen (aka the Punisher). But I think I'll try again.


So back in March, we welcomed our second little girl, Caroline, into the world. She is a joy. So different from her big sister, but so wonderful just the same. Caroline would have done quite well with attachment parenting. As a nine month old (who is twenty pounds, by the way), her favorite spots in the world are on my hip or strapped to me in the carrier. Catherine never had much interest in being held, carried, snuggled. Our little Miss Independent, Catherine just wanted out from day 1. I already know Caroline will be affectionate and loving as she grows up. It's just how she is.

Here is Caroline at 7 days old. Caroline was born at 6 lb, 6 oz and well under 6 by the time we left the hospital. There were a few problems in utero that kept her from getting full nutrition, but they had no long-term detriments. She came out hungry! I know that there are lots of babies out there who have an even smaller start to life, but I couldn't believe how small and skinny she really was. Anyway, she's up in the 60th %ile for weight now and is much bigger than her sister was at the same age. She is doing great. The girls are crazy about each other. I love having two little girls!! It's so much fun!

Since it's the last day of 2012, I'll give you a couple of the highlights. In June, we traveled with a two month old and a nineteen month old to San Antonio to see Uncle David marry Aunt Liz. (Whew, it was as wonderful and as exhausting as you might be imagining...) At the end of July, Caroline was baptized at our church, Southwood Presbyterian. We celebrated Catherine's second birthday in October. Thanksgiving this year was spent at home. Uncle Josh and Nana came to enjoy the holiday with us. And we just wrapped up a wonderful Christmas holiday with Peaches, Grandpa, and Aunt Allison.

It's been a whirlwind of a year. Having kids creates a time warp. You get through, day after day, doing the same thing and then you look back and realize a month or more has just, well, passed.

The most recent family picture, on our way to the service Christmas Eve. I have to admit, I was actually wearing a pink shirt. I used photoshop elements to change it to match the girls' dresses. I just learned how to do that and I think it's SO cool. :) Happy new year to all.

Farewell, old friend!

We got our first dog, Bandit, from the animal shelter in downtown Atlanta the spring after R and I got married. We had talked about getting a dog from the time we got engaged. As soon as R had the promise of a full-time job, we went to pick out a furry friend.

I remember looking at apartments in Huntsville before we had even moved here. In every apartment we saw, we talked about where we could walk "our dog" and all the things about it that would be good for "our dog." All before we even had "our dog." We planned and hoped for him for a long time.

We brought Bandit home from Fulton County Animal Services in May of '06. This shelter was the saddest place I've ever been. They told us they got up to 200 new dogs a day sometimes. And the majority of them wouldn't find permanent homes. The shelter guessed Bandit, the German Shepherd mix we'd picked, was 6 months old, but the vet told us he was more like three. He was skinny and nervous, wrought with intestinal parasites and mange. After two months of living with us, he had doubled his weight, cleared his skin, and really come out of his shell. He became our instant companion. Bandit was the most loyal animal I have ever encountered.

This is on the day we brought the Bandit home. Can't you see why we picked him?

 

 

 

In this picture, Bandit is about five months old. Lovin' on his daddy!

We joked that this would be a great ad for Angel Soft toilet paper.

Unfortunately, with intense loyalty comes suspicion. As Bandit lived with us, he grew skittish and fearful of others who didn't look and act just like R and me. This included children. Toddlers particularly frightened him, with their squeals and sudden movements. Naturally, this was getting to be a problem for us. Though Bandit was always very good with C, even when she would grab at him or squeal and shriek, he remained cautious and wary around our friends' children. We started to look for a new home for our long-time companion.

Bandit went to live with a friend of Aunt Allison and we hope he's doing well. We really miss him. He always made us laugh with his quirkiness. When we broke with his usual daily routine, he liked to hide in the closet. His favorite position was sitting on your lap. He really loved chewing up glossy paper. Unlike a certain second dog who lives in this house, BANDIT never destroyed anything (except the occasional piece of junk mail). He loved to give hugs. He is a sweet, sweet dog and he is greatly missed.

Flash has been mourning the loss of Bandit by getting into tons of trouble. Since Bandit's been gone, Flash has been on a quest to eat all the food in the house. Once, I left him out on accident when I left for the afternoon with C. He tore up any food that was out in the kitchen that time. A second time, I didn't get his crate closed well and he tore up all kinds of things...including a diaper genie full of diapers. I'll spare you the details, but it was disgusting. He has been snatching C's food from the table or her high chair. And most of all, he thinks we should play with him ALL the time. Ball, ball, ball. I think he really does miss his companion, but he sure has a weird way of showing it. It's a rough transition, but I know Bandit has a good home where he won't be terrorized by small people who do unpredictable things. Life's rough.

Our boys snuggled up together. On a down comforter. They both love soft things. And have expensive taste...

Bandit . . . on my lap.