Those girls just kill me. They just KILL me. Once they start teaming up against their parents, we will be powerless to resist.
Friday, August 29, 2008
cuteness at the Sears studio
We went a-studioing today. Here is some of the crazy cuteness that ensued:
Those girls just kill me. They just KILL me. Once they start teaming up against their parents, we will be powerless to resist.
Those girls just kill me. They just KILL me. Once they start teaming up against their parents, we will be powerless to resist.
hairy dilemmas
We've been having lots of drama over the past couple of weeks regarding Lizzy's mane.
The trouble with tresses started when she arrived home from school one day with what looked like totally ratted-out hair. She was asleep, and I assumed that Matt had had the windows down, and then her head slid around on the seat.
We didn't wash her hair that night, and by the time we did, it was in unbelievable condition. I had to keep applying handfuls of conditioner and running my fingers through it again and again, while she screamed "NO! NO!" and Maddie shrieked in the other room (Matt was trying to pacify her while I dealt with Lizzy's hair). If we were still in an apartment, I'm convinced the authorities would have arrived by the end of the shower.
Afterward, I sprayed copious amounts of detangler into her hair and combed it out. Problem solved! Except, it happened again (to a slightly lesser degree) the next day. What on earth?! This has never happened before. What was different?
Parenthood feels like an exercise in problem-solving so much of the time. Often when one's child is too young to verbalize its symptoms, but a good deal after that stage, as well. This time, I realized somehow that, irony of ironies, it was the detangler itself that was the culprit. I'd used this brand before (rhymes with, ahem, Schmanteen) with success, but this batch, for whatever reason, was stickier. But not enough so that I noticed when I applied it. So that junk got tossed.
This week's issue is ... I'm almost afraid to say what I suspect. But Lizzy's been scratching her head vigorously all week, and I'm concerned that it might be *wince* LICE. I haven't heard anyone at school or church say there's an outbreak, so I don't know where it would've come from. And on the eve of first grade. Not great timing.
I've halfheartedly looked through her hair a couple of times, but a) I'm not sure what I'm looking for, besides some kind of little bug, which I haven't found, and b) I kind of don't want to find anything. But the scratching continues. I'm scratching my head a little more these days, as well, possibly psychosomatically.
I'm not entirely sure what to do at this point. I know there are shampoos, and fine-tooth combs, and much washing and bagging of sheets and pillows and mattresses, and I'd soooo like to not bother.
It's odd to me that the baby herself is supplying the least drama around this house these days. (knock on wood) (prayers that it continues to be so)
The trouble with tresses started when she arrived home from school one day with what looked like totally ratted-out hair. She was asleep, and I assumed that Matt had had the windows down, and then her head slid around on the seat.
We didn't wash her hair that night, and by the time we did, it was in unbelievable condition. I had to keep applying handfuls of conditioner and running my fingers through it again and again, while she screamed "NO! NO!" and Maddie shrieked in the other room (Matt was trying to pacify her while I dealt with Lizzy's hair). If we were still in an apartment, I'm convinced the authorities would have arrived by the end of the shower.
Afterward, I sprayed copious amounts of detangler into her hair and combed it out. Problem solved! Except, it happened again (to a slightly lesser degree) the next day. What on earth?! This has never happened before. What was different?
Parenthood feels like an exercise in problem-solving so much of the time. Often when one's child is too young to verbalize its symptoms, but a good deal after that stage, as well. This time, I realized somehow that, irony of ironies, it was the detangler itself that was the culprit. I'd used this brand before (rhymes with, ahem, Schmanteen) with success, but this batch, for whatever reason, was stickier. But not enough so that I noticed when I applied it. So that junk got tossed.
This week's issue is ... I'm almost afraid to say what I suspect. But Lizzy's been scratching her head vigorously all week, and I'm concerned that it might be *wince* LICE. I haven't heard anyone at school or church say there's an outbreak, so I don't know where it would've come from. And on the eve of first grade. Not great timing.
I've halfheartedly looked through her hair a couple of times, but a) I'm not sure what I'm looking for, besides some kind of little bug, which I haven't found, and b) I kind of don't want to find anything. But the scratching continues. I'm scratching my head a little more these days, as well, possibly psychosomatically.
I'm not entirely sure what to do at this point. I know there are shampoos, and fine-tooth combs, and much washing and bagging of sheets and pillows and mattresses, and I'd soooo like to not bother.
It's odd to me that the baby herself is supplying the least drama around this house these days. (knock on wood) (prayers that it continues to be so)
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
just when you think you're making it ...
I've been grateful recently that, in what feels like an incredibly debt-ridden, not-so-wealthy stage of our lives, some expensive things that could go wrong with the house(s) we own, haven't. And then I feel anxious for having thought that, as if I'm going to jinx us. And then I feel as if I lack faith for worrying about 'jinxing us,' and not relying more on God's provision, regardless of circumstances. And then I remind myself that God's not the one who decided to take on some of the debt we have. So why would I pin anything on Him, anyway?
The basement -- which, as most of you probably know, we just 'recovered' from Matt's dad last month -- is one of those things I'm anxious about. It seems like a lot could go wrong with the lowest point of one's house. The homes in our neighborhood, to my knowledge, have either a basement or a crawl space. So it's rather important for that pump to keep workin', because we all know the nightmare of flooding in a home.
It hasn't rained recently, so imagine my surprise when my foot lands with a *squish* on the basement carpet at the bottom of the stairs. Okay, who spilled something??? Must've been water, because I don't see a discoloration on the carpet. But then I looked a little closer, and realized, with a sinking feeling (figuratively), that the moisture was coming from underneath.
That was Sunday -- right before we had guests coming by, no less -- and we still don't know what's up. Matt and his brother have pulled back the carpet and are trying to keep the carpet and pad dry with towels and a dehumidifier, and Matt's planning to tear into the wall tonight or tomorrow in the hope that it's a broken pipe, and not a crack in the foundation. Which, need I say, would be catastrophic? I don't even want to think about the expense/effort/sacrifice that would be required in that instance. As Matt put it, "we wouldn't have a basement any more."
Here's what it looks like in that corner right now:
Here's hoping it turns out to be something relatively minor. And relatively cheap.
The basement -- which, as most of you probably know, we just 'recovered' from Matt's dad last month -- is one of those things I'm anxious about. It seems like a lot could go wrong with the lowest point of one's house. The homes in our neighborhood, to my knowledge, have either a basement or a crawl space. So it's rather important for that pump to keep workin', because we all know the nightmare of flooding in a home.
It hasn't rained recently, so imagine my surprise when my foot lands with a *squish* on the basement carpet at the bottom of the stairs. Okay, who spilled something??? Must've been water, because I don't see a discoloration on the carpet. But then I looked a little closer, and realized, with a sinking feeling (figuratively), that the moisture was coming from underneath.
That was Sunday -- right before we had guests coming by, no less -- and we still don't know what's up. Matt and his brother have pulled back the carpet and are trying to keep the carpet and pad dry with towels and a dehumidifier, and Matt's planning to tear into the wall tonight or tomorrow in the hope that it's a broken pipe, and not a crack in the foundation. Which, need I say, would be catastrophic? I don't even want to think about the expense/effort/sacrifice that would be required in that instance. As Matt put it, "we wouldn't have a basement any more."
Here's what it looks like in that corner right now:
Here's hoping it turns out to be something relatively minor. And relatively cheap.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Woe is Wii
Matt procured a Wii Fit for us -- he's been talking about it for probably a couple of months. It's pretty cool, as I've heard. Also, humiliating, as I've also heard.
The clever little balance board takes your weight, and you key in your height and the weight of your clothes, and your age, and it tells you exactly how sad a mass of goo your body is. We had "fun" figuring it out last night. I'm technically obese -- hooray! Right now, my body is about 30 pounds sadder than it has ever been (non-pregnancy-related). And that 30 pounds lighter is no testament to a fit body, either.
I realize that now counts as pregnancy-related, but the fact that I haven't lost any weight since about the first week and a half after I had Maddie is a great concern. What have I been doing? Sitting like a lump in front of the television, but also -- BREASTFEEDING! It just isn't working quite as magically as it did the first time around.
Maddie's protesting that she's been put down for 10 whole minutes, so it's time for me to get over myself and go get her. Ugh. And, well, take a walk, I guess. Darn the brutal Augusts of the D.C. area. :(
The clever little balance board takes your weight, and you key in your height and the weight of your clothes, and your age, and it tells you exactly how sad a mass of goo your body is. We had "fun" figuring it out last night. I'm technically obese -- hooray! Right now, my body is about 30 pounds sadder than it has ever been (non-pregnancy-related). And that 30 pounds lighter is no testament to a fit body, either.
I realize that now counts as pregnancy-related, but the fact that I haven't lost any weight since about the first week and a half after I had Maddie is a great concern. What have I been doing? Sitting like a lump in front of the television, but also -- BREASTFEEDING! It just isn't working quite as magically as it did the first time around.
Maddie's protesting that she's been put down for 10 whole minutes, so it's time for me to get over myself and go get her. Ugh. And, well, take a walk, I guess. Darn the brutal Augusts of the D.C. area. :(
another take
Here's a fresh photo of baby Madeline, upon request, taken just a minute ago:
She seems to be feeling better than she did on Monday, so I'm hoping colic remains merely a paranoia for me.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
uh-oh
(I don't know why this is all underlined, and I can't figure out how to fix it ... sorry.)
Could we be entering ... the colic zone? (cue Twilight Zone music)
My sweet little girl disappeared yesterday, and a tiny screaming monster took her place. Ugh.
I think she was having some tummy troubles. I sure hope they're temporary.
I told Matt and Lizzy about it when they got home, and Lizzy suggested that maybe Maddie was tired of watching the Olympics. Cute, kid. Real cute.
Madeline is also breaking out, as I told Matt, "like Atari in 1977." Yes, and I'm actually pretty proud of that joke. The curse of baby acne. So she looks AND sound miserable.
But, in general, we're doing fine. I just hope and pray that the screaming jags aren't to be a regular thing around here.
And now, if I can get them to work, here are a bunch of more recent photos of the fam.
Lizzy's having fun with Daddy down in his new 'studio' (back corner of the basement). We found a nice futon on Craigslist for the studio, and he's got his new music-making computer down there, and his brother's drum set and his guitars ... it looks quite impressive. Lizzy enjoys laying down some drum beats from time to time.
Could we be entering ... the colic zone? (cue Twilight Zone music)
My sweet little girl disappeared yesterday, and a tiny screaming monster took her place. Ugh.
I think she was having some tummy troubles. I sure hope they're temporary.
I told Matt and Lizzy about it when they got home, and Lizzy suggested that maybe Maddie was tired of watching the Olympics. Cute, kid. Real cute.
Madeline is also breaking out, as I told Matt, "like Atari in 1977." Yes, and I'm actually pretty proud of that joke. The curse of baby acne. So she looks AND sound miserable.
But, in general, we're doing fine. I just hope and pray that the screaming jags aren't to be a regular thing around here.
And now, if I can get them to work, here are a bunch of more recent photos of the fam.
Lizzy's having fun with Daddy down in his new 'studio' (back corner of the basement). We found a nice futon on Craigslist for the studio, and he's got his new music-making computer down there, and his brother's drum set and his guitars ... it looks quite impressive. Lizzy enjoys laying down some drum beats from time to time.
Daddy love!
Lizzy thought this was cute -- that it looked like Maddie was waving. I think it looks like she's drowning. Big sisters! Hmph.
I've gotta repeat something Lizzy said recently. She said, "I wish I were Maddie." When I asked why, she explained that she's so little and cute. I said, "You were a cute little baby at one point! And you still are cute!" She said, "Well, she's got one thing I didn't have." (what's that?) "A wonderful big sister." I love the lack of modesty. But, she's right!
The two of them sleeping next to each other is, while a mite dangerous, about the cutest thing I've ever seen in this world.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
still chuggin' along
I was reminded yesterday that I haven't blogged since my boast that, basically, it was 'so far, so good.' Yeah, well, things are still good, but that kid loves to snuggle on Mommy's chest! And all the 'guest chests' left town last weekend when my parents' weeklong visit came to an end. I am learning to put her down, but I don't entirely want to, either. We have a good time snuggling, my Maddie and me.
We had a great time while the grandparents were here. As usual, it was really hard for me to see them leave, after they've been such a help and support in that first new-baby week.
Grandpa Williams got us all hooked on the Tour de France, of all things -- we're all suckers for athletic competition on TV of all weird kinds (excluding golf and auto racing, that is, but almost everything else) -- and we went on a few outings. That Sunday -- Maddie was three days old, or four, if you count Thursday (since she was born at 3 a.m., after all), Matt and I took her to see The Dark Knight. I don't know if it was my 'mother of a newborn' mentality, or the fact that I had to leave at, oh, about the time any self-respecting movie would be over, anyway, to change a very poopy diaper, or what, but the movie seemed like one of the LOUDEST I'd ever seen. And, really, too dark. C'mon, now. It's a comic book character, for pete's sake. Must we overdo the psychotic element to quite that degree? But, again, in fairness, I was a bit distracted, and I did miss a few minutes in there somewhere. I've gotta give it a thumbs-down, though. Iron Man still rules this summer, as far as I'm concerned. Maybe I'll give it another try when it comes out on DVD. Then again, maybe not.
Mom, Dad, Maddie and I went to Harper's Ferry on, uh, Wednesday, I think? So she was a week old. Dad's into the Civil War history stuff, so it was fairly enjoyable, though it's far more geared toward the cheesy tourist population than I recalled from my last visit there. Pretty place.
On Friday, we took Lizzy and Maddie to the local air and space museum -- the one at Dulles. Lizzy gave it a "I didn't like it; I LOVED it!" review. Not sure what she loved -- perhaps the ice cream she stole from me at the McDonald's eatery there? or the Astronaut Barbie? -- or maybe it was actually the planes. In any case, cool museum.
I was out and about in Alexandria and D.C. for the day with Maddie this past Tuesday. It feels a little like being a celebrity. Or perhaps accompanying one. This feels especially odd, coming as it does so soon after being heavily pregnant, when I felt like more of a freakish oddity than anything. Now, I've got people coming up to me with adoring looks for the baby, questions about her age or tales of their own offspring, and looks of shock when they hear how young she is. It would seem that some people don't believe in taking their babies out of the house until they're at least three months old. "And how are YOU doing?" they'll often ask. Uh, I'm fine. Except for this infernal D.C. heat. That sucks, but it would do so regardless of my physical condition otherwise. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate it here in the summertime? (I don't care for the winter here, either, but I digress.)
So, oh yeah, the baby. She's doing well. They're so 'not quite human' at this stage, it cracks me up. More like funny little pet mammals of some other species. She'll do this thing when she's trying to convey that she's hungry (besides crying, I mean) where she'll open her mouth really wide and shake her head back and forth really fast. Or, if someone's holding her, she'll head-butt them repeatedly in the chest. She likes her FOOD, darnit! Give it to her NOW!
She's still an 'eating and sleeping and peeing and pooping' champ, except, oddly, late at night. It seems to take her until close to midnight to settle down for another good sleep. She suddenly turns ravenous, and wants to feed repeatedly. I try explaining, with less and less patience, that the breasts will not suddenly swell with milk after having just been drained, no matter how much one attempts to drain them again. I'm about at the point, against the midwife's advice, where I'm considering having formula on hand (haven't given her any yet) so she can have a bottle on these particularly hungry-seeming nights. It just doesn't seem right to try to get her down with an (apparently) empty stomach. But I took her to the doc on Friday, and she's up to nine pounds, so she's gained back what she lost, and then some. Hooray! This breastfeeding thing is actually working this time around. My faith in the human design is (at least partially) restored.
I'm finding it hard to have patience with Lizzy these days -- now there's an unexpected shocker, eh! Yeah, I know. It's so (again, brace yourselves for a revelation) different, having more than one. I just feel like telling Lizzy to go away and leave me in peace a lot of the time, but how fair is that? She deserves some attention, too. Matt decided to stay home from work on Thursday, and I was filled with a wee sense of despair at the idea of my solitude being thus intruded upon. Clearly, I haven't been at this maternity leave thing very long. Shouldn't I love the idea of the rest of my family being around? It's great some days, but on other days, I have to admit, I'm really enjoying the quiet time with my newest daughter.
All in all, she's a pretty cool little mammal.
We had a great time while the grandparents were here. As usual, it was really hard for me to see them leave, after they've been such a help and support in that first new-baby week.
Grandpa Williams got us all hooked on the Tour de France, of all things -- we're all suckers for athletic competition on TV of all weird kinds (excluding golf and auto racing, that is, but almost everything else) -- and we went on a few outings. That Sunday -- Maddie was three days old, or four, if you count Thursday (since she was born at 3 a.m., after all), Matt and I took her to see The Dark Knight. I don't know if it was my 'mother of a newborn' mentality, or the fact that I had to leave at, oh, about the time any self-respecting movie would be over, anyway, to change a very poopy diaper, or what, but the movie seemed like one of the LOUDEST I'd ever seen. And, really, too dark. C'mon, now. It's a comic book character, for pete's sake. Must we overdo the psychotic element to quite that degree? But, again, in fairness, I was a bit distracted, and I did miss a few minutes in there somewhere. I've gotta give it a thumbs-down, though. Iron Man still rules this summer, as far as I'm concerned. Maybe I'll give it another try when it comes out on DVD. Then again, maybe not.
Mom, Dad, Maddie and I went to Harper's Ferry on, uh, Wednesday, I think? So she was a week old. Dad's into the Civil War history stuff, so it was fairly enjoyable, though it's far more geared toward the cheesy tourist population than I recalled from my last visit there. Pretty place.
On Friday, we took Lizzy and Maddie to the local air and space museum -- the one at Dulles. Lizzy gave it a "I didn't like it; I LOVED it!" review. Not sure what she loved -- perhaps the ice cream she stole from me at the McDonald's eatery there? or the Astronaut Barbie? -- or maybe it was actually the planes. In any case, cool museum.
I was out and about in Alexandria and D.C. for the day with Maddie this past Tuesday. It feels a little like being a celebrity. Or perhaps accompanying one. This feels especially odd, coming as it does so soon after being heavily pregnant, when I felt like more of a freakish oddity than anything. Now, I've got people coming up to me with adoring looks for the baby, questions about her age or tales of their own offspring, and looks of shock when they hear how young she is. It would seem that some people don't believe in taking their babies out of the house until they're at least three months old. "And how are YOU doing?" they'll often ask. Uh, I'm fine. Except for this infernal D.C. heat. That sucks, but it would do so regardless of my physical condition otherwise. Have I mentioned lately how much I hate it here in the summertime? (I don't care for the winter here, either, but I digress.)
So, oh yeah, the baby. She's doing well. They're so 'not quite human' at this stage, it cracks me up. More like funny little pet mammals of some other species. She'll do this thing when she's trying to convey that she's hungry (besides crying, I mean) where she'll open her mouth really wide and shake her head back and forth really fast. Or, if someone's holding her, she'll head-butt them repeatedly in the chest. She likes her FOOD, darnit! Give it to her NOW!
She's still an 'eating and sleeping and peeing and pooping' champ, except, oddly, late at night. It seems to take her until close to midnight to settle down for another good sleep. She suddenly turns ravenous, and wants to feed repeatedly. I try explaining, with less and less patience, that the breasts will not suddenly swell with milk after having just been drained, no matter how much one attempts to drain them again. I'm about at the point, against the midwife's advice, where I'm considering having formula on hand (haven't given her any yet) so she can have a bottle on these particularly hungry-seeming nights. It just doesn't seem right to try to get her down with an (apparently) empty stomach. But I took her to the doc on Friday, and she's up to nine pounds, so she's gained back what she lost, and then some. Hooray! This breastfeeding thing is actually working this time around. My faith in the human design is (at least partially) restored.
I'm finding it hard to have patience with Lizzy these days -- now there's an unexpected shocker, eh! Yeah, I know. It's so (again, brace yourselves for a revelation) different, having more than one. I just feel like telling Lizzy to go away and leave me in peace a lot of the time, but how fair is that? She deserves some attention, too. Matt decided to stay home from work on Thursday, and I was filled with a wee sense of despair at the idea of my solitude being thus intruded upon. Clearly, I haven't been at this maternity leave thing very long. Shouldn't I love the idea of the rest of my family being around? It's great some days, but on other days, I have to admit, I'm really enjoying the quiet time with my newest daughter.
All in all, she's a pretty cool little mammal.
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