The Art of the Papercut

Bryn manages to inject a great deal of drama into literally every aspect of her life. From who gets their shoes on first to which cup she drinks from to injuries...she has an amazing flair for making it a bigger deal than necessary. I love her for it...I'm sure there's a future for her in theater (or therapy, depending on whether or not we get a handle on it early.)

Last night, we were sitting together, with Colt, reading some of the books she got for Christmas. Several of them weren't exactly heirloom quality literature, so we were reading paperbacks. Alas, the key word there is PAPER.

Since I was holding Colt, Bryn was in charge of holding the book and turning pages. Usually, she's great about such responsibility, but yesterday, she managed to get a papercut on the skin between her thumb and pointer finger.

For the record, papercuts do hurt. And a papercut right there, downright, stinks. I get it.

Bryn's reaction, however, was to go berserk. Beau came running into the living room wild-eyed for all of the racket. I calmly let him know that she'd gotten a papercut, because he was getting nothing from her except, "I NEED a bandaid. Owie, owie, it hurts, it HURTS!" over and over.

This is typical interaction for minor cuts and scrapes, but my favorite part of the whole event was, while Beau was fetching the bandaid, Bryn wailed, "SOME-BODY HELP ME! PLEASE, SOME-BOD-EE-EE-EE!"

The bandaid shaped like a yellow crayon seemed to do the trick.

My Head Hurts

I got a book for Christmas that I have been really looking forward to. Now that I'm over halfway through it, all I can say is...my head hurts. I feel like I'm back in graduate school in the most philosophical class anyone has ever created.

I have no idea why the emergent church has captured my attention so. Sadly, I've never thought so much about exactly what I believe, much less been so intrigued by what someone else believes.

Anyway, I'm going to bed before I completely lose my mind. Chapter 7 tomorrow.

Think it might catch on?

I have a friend who firmly believes that everyone should make up their own holiday--complete with traditions--and celebrate it every year. Hers is summer solstice (and she was incredibly disappointed to learn that it is a national holiday in much of Scandinavia). For the past couple of years, she has thrown a summer solstice party, and the tradition is to stay up and watch the sun set on the longest day of the year.

Bryn always likes an "itinerary check" in the car. We had swim lessons last night, but there is nothing special planned for tonight. Instead, Bryn had a great brainstorm on our way to school.

She offered, "Is this a good idea, Mom? Tonight, we should go knock on doors and ring doorbells, and collect good food."

I'm not at all sure of the audience for her invented holiday tradition, but I like her thinking.

And baby makes four....

If there were an easy way to blog and nurse at the same time, I'd have already posted this, but alas, it sat in "draft" for a week waiting to see the light of day.

Our blessed bundle arrived on September 15, five days before his due date on record. (or three days after the first one we calculated or two days before the one estimated at the 20 week ultrasound...again, due dates are pretty imprecise. Babies come when they want to come.)

I have a separate post planned to officially chronicle his birth story, but to just hit some high points of the occasion...

1. Went to work

2. Sat through 2 rather brutal meetings.

3. Was invited to lunch with some colleagues around 1:00, but when I stood up to leave...my water broke.

4. Beau came to take me home...wanted to change clothes, gather my things...

5. Went to the hospital around 2:30 and had my arms mutilated trying to get a Heplock in place with my small veins.

6. Following an intense, drug-free labor and delivery, had a healthy baby boy at 7:08 pm.

He was smaller than his sister, by a full pound, but my, what a difference a pound makes. He looked so tiny...Beau and I just kept looking at him in disbelief that we ended up with a pixie child! (He was labeled LGA, "large for gestational age" so we, apparently, are the only ones who think 8 pounds, 15 ounces is pixie sized.)

Welcome, Colt. We're delighted that you're finally here...no one perhaps as much as your sister.

Lunchbox drama

Part of me really misses Bryn's former daycare/preschool that fed her a legitimate hot lunch; nonetheless, in exchange for a more sound curriculum, we've taken on the task of packing a lunch for her each day. This change dramatically affects the number of vegetables the poor thing is exposed to in any given week, but we make it work.

A typical lunch is a sandwich (either PB&J or ham/turkey and cheese), some type of fruit, milk, maybe some yogurt and maybe something crunchy like cinnamon granola bites or graham crackers. Raisins are a treat as are Fruitabu (if you don't know Fruitabu...get to know them. They are fruit snacks made up of--get this--just real fruit!)

Apparently some of her little compadres show up with slightly more exotic lunches. Clearly, they compare lunches, and Bryn must be coming to the conclusion that hers are fundamentally flawed. Here's the conversation coming home yesterday.

Bryn: Mom, how about this for my lunch tomorrow? ... apples and PEANUT BUTTER! (she exclaims with such enthusiasm as though she was the first to think of this combination.)

Mom: That sounds good, Bryn. We can do that.

Bryn: And, how about some healthy fruit snacks? (we've distinguished between the gummy junk that has princesses, etc on the packages from some gummy, slightly-less junk ones where the first ingredients aren't sugar followed by high fructose corn syrup. Here's where Fruitabu typically comes in, but we've started to cast a slightly larger net to include some sweetened with applesauce.)

Mom: That would be good in a lunch, too.

Bryn: And....(pausing for effect)...a Lunchable!

Mom: (wondering how she has become conversant in a branded product so dadgum quickly)...we don't have any of those.

Bryn: Well, we'll have to get them at the grocery store. (she offers incredulous that I don't know the simplest solution to our Lunchable-acquisition issues.)

Mom: What is it about Lunchables that you like, Bryn?

Bryn: cheese.

Mom: (thinking "OK, I've got this.") Oh, well... you know what, we do have cheese, and some crackers, and some ham, so we could kind of make your very own special lunchable. How about that?

Bryn: But it wouldn't be all together in a little TRAY! I really need the little tray.

Mom: (Pause)... Sorry, you're going to be disappointed about your lunch tomorrow, Bryn.

As a point of follow up, she got everything on her list--except of course the Lunchable or even the clearly sub-standard homemade version. Unfortunately, there's one little thing about peanut butter that's been refrigerated. Apples don't dip into it quite as well as one would hope. Fortunately, she said she liked her lunch, so maybe the secret is co-creation. We'll give it a whirl tomorrow and see how it turns out.

Not winning any awards

I know, I know...it's been awhile even after I almost, half-way promised that it wouldn't be. I'm deeply ashamed. As a child, all the discipline I really required was a stern look and an accompanying "I'm very disappointed" from my parents. So, I'm self-inflicting an "I'm so disappointed...."

There, I feel appropriately chided. But feel free to leave a comment if you think I'm not appropriately remorseful.

So as to not mix cute daughter stories with such negativity...I shall close this post and IMMEDIATELY open another one to continue on a brighter note.

Time Flies...

Apparently, time flies both when you're having fun and when you're desperately trying to keep you head above water. I am completely shocked that it has been nearly two months since I posted anything about what all's going on around here.

Gracious. You'd think I wasn't even trying. :)

Lots of tidbits swirling around in my head...which helps no one until I sit down and write.

So... here's a little of what I've been thinking about lately.

Things I love about being pregnant (in no particular order)
1. Having kind people offer that I seem to be "all baby."
2. Being "all baby" and feeling the little bugger do flips or otherwise shift around in the middle of marathon meetings we've been having at the office.
3. Hearing my husband say that I'm beautiful.
4. Hearing my daughter say that she can't wait to be a big sister. She wants to "pat his back" every night. The other day, she pointed out that she was tired of waiting because it was really taking a long time for him to come out. Indeed, child. Truer words...truer words...
5. Having the baby "measure big" and then my doctor noting that she's not concerned because "we already know that you can push out big babies." (another time, I'll share her previous doubts on the subject...which basically turned into a dare--which I ROCKED! But, seriously, another time.)

Things I most decidedly do NOT love about being pregnant (also in no particular order)
1. Getting worried questions from random strangers about when I'm due, with the subtext screaming "Please, lady, don't have that baby in my checkout line....I'm about to go on break."

2. My wedding rings not fitting...which always makes me self-conscious in public. I technically don't care what people think, but I have a wonderful husband and father of this child, so hate to seemingly misrepresent my situation. Not that I care, of course, I'm just saying.

3. Getting unbelievably inappropriate questions from strangers. I'm immune to the "how much longer?" ones because clearly I'm pregnant and...well... see #1. I think it comes from a place of concern (if you squint). But it was the day that a woman behind the counter followed it with "So, are you getting stretch marks?" that I decided I--in fact--had a limit.

4. Being pregnant during the summer in Texas....and not for the reasons that one might think. I hate the implication that somehow 104 is hotter to me than the rest of the poor people here. That's just plain hot, folks. No matter your girth, it's hot. Let's not dwell on it. OK? Just scoot into the AC, have a tall glass of water, and be thankful that we have such options. Summer was plenty hot in Virginia withOUT central air. I've seen the other side...and I'll take this any day. Plus, I'm married to a blessed man who believes strongly that you should be comfortable in your own home. We keep our house a solid 10 degrees cooler than most people probably do.

5. Seemingly being on the verge of complications at all times. First, it was a "viability" issue because of completely imprecise due date calculation methods. Then, thyroid issues that got "hot-potatoed" for a specialist to deal with. And most recently, borderline high blood pressure. Come ON! I'd love to just ride the wave to the end without all the drama. I'm not into drama.

6. Various people offering that "there's no way you'll make it to your due date." It plants expectations, people. Natural childbirth is all about patience... not rushing things. Now, I have this little seed planted that--somehow--I'm NOT five weeks out. So, now, every week that passes, I grow more impatient when I shouldn't be starting that mess until after the imprecise due date comes and goes.

I'd say, "more later" but I doubt anyone would believe me (and I completely understand). For real, though, Bryn's been very funny lately, so I'll be posting some quotes as soon as I can.

More later...