cocktails and cardiovascular progress

Two funny things happened to me.

First, I was in the wine aisle at the grocery store, and I thought, "I should drink more."

No, that isn't the funny part.

To say life has been stressful for me lately would be like saying it was just sort of okay that we just inaugurated a black president. My brain works overtime most days and I am usually running on empty- the kind of empty where the low fuel light has been on a while and your really pushing your luck. So I thought a little unwinding at the end of the day would be reasonable idea to give myself a break. I bought a bottle of Riesling.

Now, I am not saying that I don't have my addictive/compulsive tenants to my personality. I could easily abuse any cake, peanut butter cup, ice cream or chocolate, good or poor quality. God help me if it is a peanut butter cup ice cream sundae with chocolate sauce served over warm chocolate cake. Okay, you get the point. But, bysome stroke of miracle given the alcoholic genes I carry, I just am not drawn that way.

So the next day, I realized I had forgotten to drink the Riesling. And I thought, "Dammit! I forgot to have a drink!" Luckily, my friends Meredith and Jason brought the alcohol part of a cooperative dinner part last night and she made me the yummiest blackberry pomegranate martini (okay, in truth it was more than one.) Real friends won't let you forget a promise you make to yourself to consume more alcohol.

Secondly- okay really 1A- I seem to have a penchant for running in the snow. I've been running most days and every time I lace up, the powder falls. Except yesterday it was ice slivers shooting into my eyes like glass. The rest of the day? Sunny and warm... I ran during the only period of precipitation.

And the second thing... I went out for a run today just to blow off some steam. I didn't feel like running, was just going for survival of the fittest. And a crazy thing happened. My frickin heart and legs just went out and did it. My mind was not in the game- I even thought about just walking- but there I was running for dear life, thinking about stopping, and my body saying, "Um, you know we can actually handle this..." Whose body is this anyway?

the call from Mensa that won't ever come...

This morning Ella and I had breakfast alone. Sandi was asleep after a brutal four days in the most critical of critical care and Maya was still asleep because she decided that from 3 to 4:30 a.m. she would grace us with her wakeful presence.

What do you do with a four-year-old at breakfast once the cereal box backs have been mastered?

You work on Highlights for Children magazines. Apparently this isn't just for the 4-7 crowd as indicated on the worksheets.

Okay, I could get the "what's wrong with this picture?" just fine, but, I started having problems when we moved on to the hidden picture segment. Seriously, I was SEVERAL minutes hunting for the brown ladder in the book stacks in the library picture. I was even having doubts about its presence and the possibility that they had made an error. I was even thinking of writing a letter about the rudeness of torturing young minds.

OMG. My brain cells are gone. I found it after about (no joke) 4 minutes and I thought about running to the computer to whip out a quick resume and get a real job- one that doesn't involve snot and limit setting and playing games like find the stuffed animal when it is sitting on the sofa. I was overcome with jealously for my teacher friends, my social worker friends (okay, no offense guys but a little less jealousy-only because I went through premature social worker burnout), and Sandi and her super smart nursey mind (even though her patients die and mine only ever scream or whine.) But, seriously, I'm afraid my brain will atrophy.

Even this blog is about the kids!!!

So...I will tell you a little bit about me. I have started running and I LOVE IT. This is remarkable because I used to say the only good thing about running was stopping. I have officially decided to do the Bar Harbor half marathon (13.1 miles!) in September. It's official to the point where I have running mixes (they are actually called that) on my ipod.

I just finished the last Harry Potter book. Scoff if you want. It was awesome. I have an enormous amount of respect for J.K. Rowling. I think she is brilliant. And I think she did the series justice in the way she wrapped it up. Okay, and I even shed a tear or two.

I think I have a hero. An actual hero. I have never had one before, or maybe I used to but I don't remember because my brain is so saturated by dirty dishes, diapers, crayon marks on the wall and pretending that eating plastic play food is enjoyable. I am going to come on out and say that (PRESIDENT!) Barack Obama is my hero. Never seen anything like him before.

My friend Jeanine is on vacation and it is just not the same blogging without her, knowing she will not be reading. This is aggravated by the fact that she and Maria are in the Caribbean I think. Dammit. I want to go to Mexico so badly that I can smell the salt on the lip of the margarita glass... but we are going to see Brandi Carlile in concert in early April and have a night away in Portland with friends. Super excited about that...

girls...squared

Despite the recent ups and downs of our household, I must admit that I often believe there is a slight advantage to the two-girls-head-of-household model. No toilet seats left up, no roaming testosterone, no Monday night football (usually), no feeling of gender disparity. Then, conversely, you've got the empathy, the good communication, the bonus second wardrobe, the tandem hair color appointments, the shared love of a good chick flick, the easy decorating decisions, the love of a good cuddle, and the each-parent-able-to-give-birth extra credit.

Now, apparently I'm not the only one that thinks this. My only niece told her mom the other day, "I want to be like Aunt Suzanne when I grow up." Now this rocked my world because I think Michaela is pretty much as awesome as it gets and to think she might think the same of me was the best compliment ever. But it gets better. "Yep," she says, "when I grow up, I'm going to have a girl move in with me, too."

Okay, she was kidding. Please don't call the Christian Civic League...

P.S. I. Love. You.

Ella loves to snuggle- when she is tired, when she is lonely, when she gets hurt, when she goes to sleep, or just because. Who can blame her?

Her more recently acquired four-year-old expression of emotion (especially love), in conjunction with her super snugly sleepy bedtime self, has made putting her to bed and exercise in building my self-esteem.

For instance, the other night...

Me: Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you so much.
Ella: Goodnight, Momma. I love you so much too.

Hugs, kisses and more hugs.

Ella: Momma, you love me always- even if I poop or pee in my pants, even if you are angry with me or I am angry with you, right?

Me: That is right, honey. There is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.

Ella: Is there anything I could do to make you love me more?

Me: Nope. Except that I love you more and more everyday. Not because of anything you do, but just because I keep loving you more all the time.

Ella: (big grin I can hear in the dark) I love you all the time too, Mom.

Me: Okay, goodnight then, baby.

Ella: Momma? I will tell you goodnight and I love you every single night. But if I forget sometimes, is that okay?

Me: Of course.

Ella: Okay.

Me: Goodnight, love. I love you so much.

Ella: Goodnight, Momma. I have a wedgie.

Child vs. Swine

We went to the Olive Garden with the Carvers last night to celebrate Sandi's mom's birthday. We planned well and went at 4 pm- perfect to beat the Friday crowd and perfect for the young and the restless.

There we were- all 11 of us, eating and enjoying the great company- Ella and Brevan trying to keep their exuberance to a tolerable level for other dinners, Maya sucking on a very obscure pacifier whose front was two giant buck teeth. There she was, full on scowl and looking like bucky the beaver for all the world to see.

Anyway, after we ate, I was surveying the still nearly-full plates of our youngest dinners and commenting on just how much food is wasted on these little eaters everyday. We compost and grace the dog with the occasional scraps, but still the waste (and the cost) is considerable.

Seemingly out of nowhere Kristi offers, "You would be money ahead if you just got pigs."

Huh?

Perhaps it was my mind being tangled up with the regret that I hadn't ordered the Pina Colada or the Long Island Iced Tea I had been considering, or perhaps it was my lack of sleep, but this made absolutely no sense. I knew Kristi's Mensa-like mind must be saying something of value but I just could not put it together.

My confusion and horror must have shown because she quickly filled in, "I mean for the table scraps- you feed them to the pigs all year long and then at the end of the year you eat the pigs. Your money ahead."

I'm glad she clarified. For one freakish minute I thought her pregnant brain was actually saying that pigs would have been a better choice than kids. I have to say, I pondered this thought in the wee hours when Maya woke with a fever at 2:45 a.m. and I only caught another broken 40 minutes of sleep for the rest of the night...

Finally... photos

It's been a while... in case you forgot what they look like, here are our girls...

Smaller than a bread box?

She takes her outfits seriously, but then, you already knew that.

Can't you see the mischief?

first steps, second words and deep thoughts

Maya walks now. Sorry to not have told anyone. It's super cute.

She waited until she could climb, scratch, bite and jimmy her way to the top of anything and then she decided, at her 15 month mark (and exactly on pace with her Mommy) to walk - a mere 2 months after she took her first actual steps.

She also says "Ma-ma" (utilized equally for Sandi and I) and this morning debuted word # 2- "uh-oh." Now, I cannot help but chuckle at the irony of that...

Ella has been all about the nose lately- the picking, the thinking about it and the idea of what it contains. My apologies but these must be noted. Here goes:

Regarding not playing at Skyler's because she was sick: "Well... maybe if Skyler doesn't pick her nose while I am there she won't share her germs with me. Kind of like how I only pick my nose at home."

Noting the presence of broccoli at the tip of Maya's nostril, "Oh, yuck! There are boogers in there!" (And she would know.)

Today at lunch with Sandi at the hospital:

Me: Ella, please take your finger out of your nose.
Ella: But there are crusties. Momma will you pick it for me?
I decline. "Mommy, will you pick it for me?" Another refusal.
And then once we are in the car, with a hint of exasperation, "Can I please pick my nose now?!"

If anyone remembers from last year how I had to enter a year's worth of our check book into Quick Books for our taxes, you will be impressed to know that I finished all of 2008 before the end of January of 2009. Okay, well if you're not impressed than I will be for you.

And lastly, if any of you have heard me talk about our godson, Reed Manhart, dive into a pool and swim underwater, you must go to Emilie's blog and see for yourself. It is hysterical. And this little swimmer will only just be turning 2 tomorrow! This brief documentary is proof that the Manharts do in fact have tadpole genes in them somewhere. Go to
www.manhartfamily.blogspot.com and if you scroll down a little you will even see some pictures of my very adventurous and daring girls night out and a slight modification I made to my body...

The tired, the weary, and her wardrobe

I lost my voice this week. I wasn't sick, I was just without vocal chord function. You don't realize how much you need your voice until it is absent- how much you depend on sound to follow the forward momentum of thought as it makes its nearly instantaneous journey from your brain out your mouth in the form of words.

The funny thing is that when you whisper to people, they whisper back. People helping me in stores, friends, and especially Ella would carry on entire conversations in an unnecessary whisper. How polite a species we are...

Ella was very concerned about the whereabouts of my lost voice. Initially she thought the sea witch from the Little Mermaid had stolen it like she had Ariel's, but when that seemed a tad far fetched, she narrowed her theories a bit closer to home.

We were dog sitting for the lovely and very mild-mannered Zoe this past week. Ella ventured, "Zoe and Mochy and I could go look for your voice. Maybe it is behind the couch. That would be a good hiding place for a voice," she mused. And then, "But I don't think I can reach under there..."

Perhaps, if I really want to find my lost voice I should look in the same place that all my lost hours of sleep are- I would bet money they have some clandestine hiding place. Friday night I got 4 hours of seriously broken sleep and last night a mere 5 1/2. Restlessness, stress, ear infections and sheer curiosity to see how much their Momma can take have my children waking at the craziest hours these days...

We made cookies today- Ella outfitted in her tulle princess dress with full wings under her red "Cookie Taster" apron felt she needed a new name to go with her fairy chef persona. "How about Chef Ella?" I very unimaginatively suggested.

"How about Tinkerbell Rockstar?" she returned.

Following the cookie baking (which it turned out she didn't like the cookies because I made them with less sugar and whole wheat flour- the health conscious be damned) she got the hiccups. (Okay, I have to say, this account makes my life sound REALLY, REALLY boring even to me, but it was kind of funny...) She got some apple juice and said, "This apple juice will go down and make my hiccups so slippery they'll slide right away."

I'm going to hold out the possibility that Ella wouldn't eat the cookies because the truth is she was having and internal gastrointestinal wrestling match with the stomach flu. After a couple of rather dramatic episodes of vomiting this afternoon, I got her in the tub to clean her up and asked her what she wanted to wear. Comfy fleece pants? Pajamas?

She lifts her head, eyes tired and hair matted with vomit. "A skirt and a shirt and tights," she offers weakly. And then, with more gumption, "my black velvet twirly skirt with a pink shirt."

That's my girl...

New eyes tomorrow......

Here's the last look at my glasses.... forever.... lasik tomorrow.

four-year-old wisdom

Ella was trying to understand airplanes the other day. What? They are seriously carrying people, real people, up in the sky? I don't know why it never occurred to me that she hadn't made that connection before.

As with all good preschooler conversation, herein entered a tangent about flying fish. She ties the two together with a thoughtful, "A flying fish might look like an airplane but it isn't really carrying people."

Tonight we were snuggling when I put her to bed, doing my usual round of light fingertip brushing her skin as per her request- down her arms, legs and back- when out of the dark comes, "Hey, Momma. My belly isn't really one of my rubbing spots." Excuse me.

I have found an excellent therapy to deal with emotion which I seem to have in excess at the present. Cleaning. Today I cleaned my medicine cabinet (who ever has the time or energy for that?) my freezer, my desk, the office, rearranged the living room and next I'm headed for the fridge. Also the fact that I am not sleeping very well or very long adds more hours for my new found outlet. It leads me to wonder what I could do if I didn't need to sleep at all, or even just 2-3 hours a night. I could probably solve the world energy crisis, establish world peace, invent calorie-free chocolate, write a book and learn Chinese in the first week alone...

thank you

Thank you Emilie Manhart for the best Christmas present.

A day to myself. A personal day. A day without kids. A day to do whatever I want.

And what did I want to do? Everything! It went by impossibly fast but included an hour of uninterrupted exercise, a long, lingering shower that involved an actual razor and hair removal and no children crawling into the stall, lunch with a friend, a hot cup of chai tea, a leisurely trip downtown and to the grocery store and a mad dash removal of old toys and the putting away of new ones (I know, I know not so much about me but it makes me feel better, PLUS no one could complain about the 2 + trash bags that I will take to Manna tomorrow.) A quiet house. Music I wanted to listen to. No one's needs but my own.

And rumor has it my girls were absolute angels. Thank you girls. Momma appreciates it.

At bedtime tonight, Ella told me she was nervous at first but that she is a big girl and had a great time (a great time that allegedly includes some cool dance moves, playing freely at the open gym, talking up a storm and generally coming out of her shell in my absence.) Then she told me, "I'm four. That is four fingers with the thumb down. Someday, I'll be five with the thumb up. In a really long time. Like 8 minutes."

For photos of their day, and Emilie's account of it, visit www.manhartfamily.blogspot.com.

Thanks again, Em. You're the best. And really, thank you to all of you have shown me just how deep friendship runs and just what loyal and loving people we are surrounded by.

Piper Mountain 2008

On a Christmas tree hunt with Mindy, Charissa and Emerson.

Mindy found these two instead of a tree...

Failed attempt #2 for a Christmas card photo.


Till next year Piper Mountain. Thanks for the good times.

Proportionate?

Maya had her one year check up and this is how it looks:

Height- 50th percentile
Head Circumference- 90th (!) percentile
Weight - 10th percentile

So what this means, basically, is that she is an average sized toothpick with a gum ball head.

You know they say that if Barbie were a real woman she would have to walk around on all fours because her proportions are so skewed? Maya would need some sort of head support, like a cane for the head. Maybe this is why she is slow to fully walk and only takes these occasional steps. Her head is just too big for her little legs! Perhaps I should start her on quad extensions...

Good thing she's got those redeeming adorable dimples.

A downed limb

The pine tree, as statuesque and picturesque as it is being the emblem of the state of Maine and all, just can't hold its muster.

That unbelievable storm we had the other night made this fact apparent to me, not just in all the downed pine limbs littering the yards all over town while their sturdier counterparts of spruce, birch, maple and cedar stand proud and unruffled, but because of the fantastic light show we had when a massive pine limb interfered (quite rudely I might add) with our electrical line.

We heard the large bang in the night and wondered at its origin. The morning light reveled an ice laden branch cracked and leaning a tad too heavily on the power line. Shortly after we woke, the branch snapped all the way, met with hearty protests from the electrical wire in the form of shooting sparks and arching electricity.

The best part? We have to pay to have the line fixed because it is on our property. Who knew we were actually "responsible" for this portion of the power line? Luckily our electrician was in the neighborhood and strung the line up with rope so no one would get electrocuted. Now Monday, the power has to be shut off (joy!) and the line restructured. (And sorry for anyone who lost power, and HEAT, for hours during that storm- I don't mean to complain TOO much about my scheduled power outage- you know when I'm alone with the girls for a four day stretch.)

So now, in addition to 2 eight foot blow up characters on the front lawn, we now also have a pine tree graveyard. I think I might just give into the tacky theme this Christmas and go pay $450 for one of those revolving, snow globe, Santa on ice skates, Rudolph on a Ferris wheel, the elves performing actual Broadway show tunes kind of blow-up decorations. Maybe I'll nix my classy white candles in the window after all...

The birds and the bees

The other day in the car, Ella asked me, "Will I be a kid forever?"

It was impossible to answer her through the tight ball of sadness that had lodged in my throat. She posed the question again. I answered, with a broken voice, that no she would not. "Why are you talking like that?" she asked of my emotion-filled voice. I told her it was because I was sad that she was going to grow up and someday wouldn't be my little girl anymore. Then I told her that growing up was also fun and that she had a really great life of growing ahead of her (not wanting her to misread my tears.)

Fast forward to breakfast this morning when she asked me, quite pointedly and before I was truly awake, "How do babies get in people's bellies?"

Followed by: "You were sad the other day about me being a grown-up but you said it was fun and you didn't want to share the fun with me."

And finished with: "I can't have a baby when I'm four years old. But I can when I'm older. Like when I'm nine."

How does a two-mom family give the birds and the bees talk? Sure, it's easy if you can stick to the dad parts meet the mom parts in the dark of night tucked under the arms of love, but how about, "Well, you see there is a special bank where they have, not money, but sperm! Mommy and Momma pick through a catalog, scanning for eye color, hair color, genetic defects, education, personality and maternal grandmom's allergy to cats like we are choosing a new coat from the LLBean catalog. Then FedEx, not the stork, delivers the microscopic half of the life equation in liquid nitrogen to the Dr. and we go to the ultra-romantic exam table at the doctor's office and viola! A baby gets in the belly. If you're lucky. Or if you took your Clomid."

You see what I'm getting at? It doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

A little too far???

The other day at gymnastics a mom (and a very nice woman- I don't mean to assume she is only a mom and not also a human being) told me something that put a little quake in my step.

It was about self-esteem and it went something like this:

"Yeah, we used to tell Isabel how beautiful and lovely she is and now she is so entitled we can hardly stand her."

Yikes, maybe we ought to tone down the compliments on our front. We've always been believers in dosing out the high self-concept building remarks. Perhaps we should start telling Ella, "Well done honey. Really mediocre job" and "You look average today."

I fear I got my answer today when Ella, kind of whiny and testy all day anyway, donned a fairy outfit and with it a whole new personality.

Suddenly it was "this is my castle and haven't I decorated it so nicely?" and "what I lovely supper I made for myself" (um, that would be me...) and "Maya doesn't know to do that, but (insert grand gesture at self with the arm) I do" and "look at my beautiful Christmas tree that I got and decorated" and on and on, each comment more obnoxious than the last.

Lately she has been wanting to play "mom" with all her friends which is a game basically comprised of her bossing people around (lending to some existential crisis for me personally wondering if that is what she thinks being a mom is all about.) Not surprisingly, her friends grow weary after approximately 5 minutes of this nonsense and they want a turn being the mom/mob boss. I try to explain about how they don't want to be bossed around and the whole turn-taking concept, but she literally turns into a puddle and cries. She is really into taking care of babies (dolls) and even told me today, "I read the directions and it said to feed him everyday so I do."

Is this a stage, a gift, an obsession, an early warning sign of a personality disorder or simply normal? Have we created an dynamic, self-assured, go-getter or an entitled, Priamdonna, diva monster??

Crown thee

I am in the process of being crowned.

No, not in the fairy princess/jeweled headdress fashion.

Think numbing Novocaine, juggled children, drilling to China via my left molar, teeth and saliva being sprayed onto the portion of my face not covered by the giant eye gear, me gulping in oxygen to calm my rattled nerves.

Enter in the news that I need to return to have the prized crown placed atop my newly whittled molar. With the girls. When the shock of this and the Novocaine begin to wear off so do two not-so-thrilling realizations.

One, I will have to return with the girls and I am not sure I possess enough exciting snacks to keep Maya busy in a stroller while I am crowned new molar mom. And, two, the molar waiting for it's betrothed porcelain cap, is no more than a jagged ant hill of tooth surrounded, with somewhat of an inferiority complex, next to the majestic pillars of a rear molar and forward eye tooth. Oh, and third, I can't really eat. Now, until 4 p.m. I am a hungry, one-tooth-less, child toting dental patient. Bring it on.

The 12 Days of Sickness

On the 12th (really the 49th-no joke) day of Sickness, my true love gave to me:

12 bags of cough drops
11 boxes of tissues
10 doses of Omnicef
9 tubes of Desitin
8 days of Amoxicillin
7 bottles of Nyquil
6 days of Zithromax
5 doctor's visits
4 ill girls
3 sick call-ins
2 ear infections
and a nasty, wet, choking cough.

thank you, thank you

Some recent highlights:

1. Frosty and Elmo are officially up (as in the 8 foot blow up Christmas decorations).

2. Maya has started to walk! She takes 3 steps here and there just as a tease and then shakes her head vigorously no if we encourage any more. (And when she gets mad, she bites- great.)

3. Sandi had two hair cuts in the past week- one professionally and one from Ella. Yup, a routine "pretend" hair cutting session ended in near disaster when Ella left a distracted Sandi in search of new child scissors. Sandi's attention returned abruptly when she heard the unmistakable sound of her own hair being sliced off her head. Luckily, Suzi the professional hair dresser, was able to repair any damage (as well as provide some kicky new highlights Sandi didn't quite trust Ella with.)

4. Thanksgiving was wonderful, albeit somewhat bittersweet since we were apart- Sandi so kindly taking care of those needy ICU patients while the girls and I had a lovely day with my family at my sister's house.

5. The Weekly question last week (you all remember what the Weekly question is, right? The newspaper polling question...) what are you grateful for? Eight of nine people answered family. I could think of nothing more compelling. It sums it all up. I am eternally, undeniably, inextricably, unwaveringly grateful for my family and my friends that are like my family.

6. I have been very emotional lately - kind of that raw edge that makes you feel a little crazy, a bit weepy, a little energized, very in touch and completely alive. My sister sent me this link and it made me cry (again, not SO hard to do these days) but I wanted to share it. Plus I wanted to see if I could post a web link.

http://cosmos.bcst.yahoo.com/up/player/popup/?cl=10849410

Lastly-
7. On the way home from Mindy and Charissa's tonight (Sandi is at work and they so lovingly made me dinner and provided some much needed company this afternoon) Ella told me, randomly, "The clock is ticking, Momma." Oh my, is she ever right.

And p.s. I don't really get the whole "Black Friday" thing. When did shopping become a competitive sport??

Happy Birthday Ella!

Ella had her 4th birthday yesterday. She had ice cream with every meal, told us she could do challenging things now because "I am four now- not three", accused Tia of stealing all of her birthday dessert at Pizzaria Uno (to which Tia almost cried and then went out and bought her Dairy Queen), looked stoically at the wait staff as they sang the Pizzaria version of Happy Birthday, donned multiple fancy outfits, learned how to get herself up on the low bar at gymnastics, told us she had "magic in her hands", got the "piano" she had asked Tia for (a keyboard) and played it all day long, and went shopping for a new fish tank. Phew! What a fun day it was!

Opening up a new fancy, twirly dress from Gramma. (She wore the tiara out to lunch.)

Ella and Gramma putting together a huge floor puzzle (another birthday gift.)

Ella, dressed for the fish-tank shopping occasion, pushing her own little cart. This made her so very proud.

The fish can't come home until the tank sits for few days so more pictures to follow about our newest pets. On the way home from the pet store she said (telling me she picked up on a conversation we had a lunch where the adults spelled all the pertinent words) "Momma, maybe Adora will die soon and we can get a new kitty!"

What did Maya get for Ella's birthday? Conjunctivitis. We go to the doctor this morning.