First Play date for Grace

Hi, friend! 

Emily Long (previously mentioned as Henry's one true love), came over for a visit.  She obviously got Grace's text about wearing Lavendar.  All the cool girls are doing it.

Ummm, Mom?  Do you really think a 7 month old is old enough to hold me?

Gracie, I promise when you are older you will like these playdates more.

Feliz Navidad (Can you tell I've been watching too much Dora?)

Before I post any pictures, I'd like to pose the following question to those Mommies of toddlers who had the pleasure of watching (over and over) The Dora Christmas Special--Why is it that Santa only wants Swiper to stop swiping on Christmas?  Does this mean that it is okay for him to be a thief the other 364 days of the year?  Just wondering...

Gigi and the Johnson and Phillips grandkids at the GCC Christmas Dinner/ Natalie's birthday dinner extravaganza.  Henry did not want to be in the picture.  Can you tell?  (Kiddos--William (13), Natalie (6), Henry (2), Grace (2 months), Caroline (8), and Sarah Grace (11). )

Little Chef Henry washing potatoes. 

It was a bit like being at Sea World.  There was a pretty large "splash zone".

One of my favorite pics of the entire holiday, just wish I'd taken the strap off Gracie's passy so she didn't look so odd.  Please note the hand in the bottom left hand corner.  It is my brother's.  And it is the only reason Henry is smiling.

The original Gracie carrying the littlest Gracie down the stairs to see if Santa left anything...

Santa did not dispoint Henry.  We can now reenact the entire movie Cars and Henry has taken to chasing people around with Frank the tractor while mooing.

On the 26th, we headed down to Charlotte to spend the night at Sloan's brother's house.  Bo (7) is letting me train to be a Jedi.  It may be one of the dorkier things I've ever done.  You put this headset on then stare at a ball while Yoda talks to you.  If you relax, you can use the force the raise the ball up the tube.  Only Marshall and I have completed the Jedi training.  Whatever that means. 

Gigi (3) in her Zhou Zhou pet ball hat (she and Henry each wore half of the ball for most of the evening) holding Grace.

Holly and Marshall's 1 yr old horse Great Dane, Dunkin, loved Grace.  Every time she made a peep, he checked on her.  He even protected her from Full Throttle (Henry). 

Dos Mesas

Just for a little comparison, this is Gracie's one month "Holla!" picture.

Gracie obliged me with a 2 month "Holla!" picture as well.

And in case your cute quota still hasn't been met...

We'll have the stats for you on Thursday.  She's having her 2 month check up in the morning.  My guess is she is pushing 13 pounds and roughly 26 inches long...

Merry Christmas (and the Ugliest Snowman ever)

I figured out that a snowman is easier to make if you use shoveled snow.  I learned this from watching our neighbor build a snowman.  A perfectly round and beautiful snowman that Henry calls "Fosty".  He calls our snowman "stowman".  Oh well.  It only gets better when you know that our neighbor built the perfect snowman while hobbling around on crutches.

Thanks a lot, Danny Kaye

Don't get me wrong.  I love snow.  I particularly love it at Christmas.  Who doesn't love a White Christmas?  I'd even go so far as to say the movie White Christmas makes my top ten list of all time favorite movies.  But a foot of the stuff?  The weekend before Christmas?  I'm feeling more than a little Bah Humbug about it.  Mainly because the image in my mind of what a White Christmas means--cups of cocoa with mini marshmallows, a snow man, sledding down hills with your scarf blowing in the breeze, plates of  Christmas cookies fresh from the oven--is vastly different than reality--twisting my knee in the snow, a toddler so excited he simply runs in circles and screams the word snow,  a pile of dirty snow at the end of your driveway from the snowplows, and the copious amounts of laundry that snow playing creates.

I'm not a total scrooge.  It is just that it is so much work for so little reward.  It takes us roughly 30 minutes to get suited up.  And this is not an easy endeavor.  Henry does not want to wait to put on extra clothes and his coat.  He wants to go in the snow.  Now!!!

 And once we're outside, let's talk about the  frustration of being 2 and wearing so many clothes you can barely move.   It doesn't help to start chanting, "Mommy, I stuck" or "Daddy, I fall.  Fall down.  Help!" if your parents are laughing at you.  Seriously.  We laughed at him, because he couldn't bend at the waist to prop himself up.   No matter, he still wanted to simply roll around in the snow.  I thought about teaching him how to make snow angels, but not owning snow bibs myself, I simply was too lazy to get down in the snow and do it.  Yeah, I know.  I'm a sucky mom.  But that there snow is cold.  And wet.  I'm also completely helpless as to how I'm supposed to build a snowman.  I think maybe the snow isn't wet enough.  Is this a possibility?  And I've got an unattended baby inside in her swing... 

Yeah!  This year we've got an actaul sled, so Dad's not just pulling me around in a bucket.

Of course, the bucket is a little more secure.

Um, Dad, a little help here.  I've fallen and I can't get up.

Eventually, we did head inside for cookie making.  I was imagining Henry really being into this.  He loves to play with playdough.  We would sing Christmas Carols, decorate cookies, and sneak bites of raw cookie dough.  Nope. When I attempted singing, he told me to be quiet.  When I tried to get him to eat a piece of cookie dough, he promptly spit it out and said, "Out of mouth."  (Which tells me that he has been listening.  Sometimes...)  I did get him to punch out a couple of cookies.  But mostly, he just looked out the back of the house, screaming that he wanted to go outside again.

We did eventually head outside again, this time with Gracie in tow. (Much to Sloan's protesting.)  I'm not sure there is anything cuter than this picture.  I love the expression on her face and the dab of formula at the corner of her mouth.  In truth, I kind of think she looks like a tanner version of her cousin Natalie in this photo.

  Henry wanted in on the action.

But only for about three seconds.

Dang it, Mom.  I keep falling.  Gracie, a little help.  Grace?  Grace?  Mommy, why are you holding your crotch while you laugh?

Ho Ho No

The visit to Santa was an epic fail.  Despite the fact we've been talking about it all week and he had finally decided that what he wanted for Christmas was "toys for friends."  (This was his doing, not mine.  I've been pushing pretty hard for him to ask for a rug that looks like Radiator Springs and some Cars movie Matchbox cars.)

I had not planned on being in the Santa photo.  Oh well.  At least I'd bathed today.  Too bad that you couldn't see Henry's adorable Janie and Jack Christmas Penguin sweater--I'm sure if you're in Richmond, you'll see it.  It was expensive, so we've been trying to get our money's worth out of it.  It is the 3rd time he's worn it this week. Grace seemed thoroughly nonplussed about the entire situation--as if to say, "You took me out of the car seat for this guy?"  I know, Gracie, I'm a bit skeeved out by the knot in his beard as well...

I don't think you're ready for this jelly...

OMG.

Move over Beyonce.

Skinny jeans? Check.  Uggs? Check.  Girly top? Check. 

Being all dolled up when Mommy spends the day in sweats?  Priceless.

Life with Two FAQ's

The blessing of having two extra kids in your house for several days is that once they are gone, life seems simple with just two kids.  For about 45 minutes, you think you've got it easy. But mainly it leaves me with a bunch of questions...

I was never good at physics, but Grace's poop seems to defy the laws of gravity.  How does one poop up their back and in between their shoulder blades?  That being said, on Sunday, while I was changing her diaper, she managed to pee all over the couch in the ladies' locker room at Farmington Country Club without getting a drop of it on herself, her clothes, or her mommy.  Again I ask, how is this even possible?

What are "man cookies" and why does my son keep asking for them?  Is this his way of keeping the Yuletide gay or is he wanting to be grown-up?  Or, perhaps, as I suspect, we need to reinforce that they are called "Gingerbread Men". 

At what point did I equate having bathed in the last 48 hours as me being clean?  And who told Sloan this was our new grooming pattern? 

How much longer will it take me to complete simple tasks, even when they are attempted when both children are asleep?  Take Grace's stocking.  Not only did I have to redo the wings, I messed up the hanger side of it and had to redo it three times.  (Perhaps watching the Office was to blame.)

What kind of mom convinves her son that his parents playing the Wii is "watching a show"?  Is it bad that his new favorite show is the Lego Star Wars Show? 

And should I have stopped Henry from kissing Grace's feet?  What about when he stuck his toes in her mouth? 

Henry wants to make sure he is the best big brother ever and so is reading up on what he can expect from baby Gwace.

The future winner of So You Think You Can Dance.  By the way, she's a Jakob fan. 

You Decide

Which is worse?

Watching your son waterboard his cousin in the bathtub or...

Watching your son retrieve his cousin's poop from the toilet?

I Voted for Pedro

And all my wildest dreams have come true.  And I'm not talking about the whole, yeah, I've got a daughter thing.  I'm talking my husband has given me my Christmas present early.  And I'm getting a maid!  So people, starting tomorrow, every other Wednesday, I will have a clean house.  My toilets won't know what hit them and my baseboards will come to know they've long been neglected. 

I think he gave it to me, not only because I've been fantasizing about a maid for about 6 years, but also because he thinks it might reduce my freak-outs that having been coming about once every 36 hours.  And by freak out I mean one of two things--either just start crying uncontrollably in a puddle on the couch, or turn into a psycho bitch snapping at Sloan.  I think I've even done both at the same time.  Things I've freaked out about--the amount of television Henry has been watching lately, Grace's Christmas stocking and the fact that each Angel wing takes about 6 hours to make and I accidentally made two left wings, the copious amounts of laundry that seem to never get done, the fact that I'm so tired I was henpecking on 288 yesterday, the fact that Henry now cries when we drop him off at school, the fact that Henry now cries at bedtime, the fact that Henry was a wild man going nuts and almost ruined his friends Build a Bear birthday party (sorry Loren!), the fact that Henry has stopped being an adventurous eater and would now prefer either a chicken nugget or filet mignon only diet (oh! how that boy is my son), the size of the coffee table in the family room (Sloan quickly replaced it), the amount of ride on toys and bikes stored on our front porch and the fears that our neighbors soon expect an upholstered couch to appear, the amount Grace eats, the amount Grace poops, getting to church on time (and how Sloan and I seem to fight every Sunday morning because I feel rushed), the fact that my eldest nephew has to have open heart surgery in two weeks, my friend in Austin gave birth to beautiful twin girls (Welcome to the World, Ruby and Tess!) and I've made them a gift but am worried they'll outgrow the onesies and Grace's leftover newborn diapers before I get around to mailing it, the fact that two of my sister's kids are staying with us this week and Sloan still has to go out of town, the birth announcements, and the Christmas cards that came in the mail yesterday were incorrect.  I've also freaked out about the fact that I've been freaking out.  I'm trying to learn to take things off my plate--Christmas cards will be reordered and late.  Henry will get to watch TV, but I'll be sure to stop my sewing and addressing to cuddle him more on the couch.  I'm going to try to get more sleep. Because I'm pretty certain that exhaustion is a huge contibutor to the freaking out.

I think the stress of the Christmas season is adding to the stress of new baby.  I must also confess that I hate being stressed out about this stuff.  But, for better or worse, of all the Charlie Browns in the world, I seem to be the Charlie Browniest as of late.

I'm still giving myself permission to prayerfully freak out about Anderson's surgery.  Please join me in praying for my 17 year old nephew.  On Dec 21st, surgeons will rip open his chest, tear his muscles, and break his rib cage in order to correct the shape of his rib cage that has been impending his lung capacity and causing a heart murmur.  He hopes to be home by Christmas, but will be in serious pain for at least a month, and unable to play sports for at least 4 months.  Please also pray that he'll be fully healed and back in shape by next fall's soccer season.  (I know that sounds trite, but this is the boy who was All State this year and MVP in the soccer tourney and I'd hate for him to miss his Senior year.)

I've also freaked out about the things that no one tells you about having a second kid.  Remember how with the first child everyone tells you to nap when the baby naps?  You can't do that with the second child.  Or, you can, but fully expect for every train and piece of track from the train table and the contents of the trash can to be strewn about your son's bedroom floor.  And I miss the whole just sitting around staring at your baby that I had with Henry.  I want Gracie to know it is not that I don't want to hold her and stare at her, it is just that if I don't put her down soon, Henry will have removed every baby wipe from the container and will have completely undecorated the tree. 

And she doesn't want to see that freak out.

2 One months

Today it has been one month since Grace has been ours.  One month ago, we sat in the Bethany office in Richmond and signed papers confirming the great work God had done--Grace was ours and we were hers.  For keeps. 

When loopy from being tired with Henry, I crafted.  I made what has become known in some circles as "The Ambien Toy".  This time, when loopy from exhaustion with Gracie, I've written a poem. 

(There is part of me that wants to explain to you that writing poetry isn't my bag and beg you not to laugh.  But my 11th grade Creative Writing proffesor always told us never to begin a presentation of our work with the disclaimer "This isn't good."  Rather, he made us slap our desks and exclaim "Damn!  I'm good!"  And nothing makes you seem cooler to high schoolers than telling them to cuss in class.) 

I will simply explain that this came about when I was reflecting on our discussion of what to name our daughter.  We knew it needed to be something that accurately reflected God's heart towards us.  I proposed Mercy Margaret, Margaret Grace, and even, laughingly, Glory Grace.  (Margaret, thinking we'd use the nickname Meg, had always been our "after Emma" baby name.)   So, without further ado, I give you the poem I wrote for Grace.

Out of the darkness we prayed

for you.

Love ripped from our hearts.

A gaping grave.

We begged for Faith.

We needed Mercy.

Joy unnattainable.

Hope beyond our grasp.

Glory unfound.

But Grace. 

Sweet, surprising Grace.

Pouring down; spilling over.

Finding and filling our lowest points.

Lifting our heads.

Raising our voices.

And because the title is "2 one months", I will post Grace's one month "Pose with Baby P" pictures.

Sleeping Beauty.

Holla!

Oh, Mommy.  I can see why you sleep with this bear, Baby P. 

He is fantastic.  Maybe you could give this one to me and have Henry make you a new one?

Hot and Cold Turkey

As if adjusting to having two children wasn't enough, the holidays are upon us.  I'm overwhelmed by not only lack of sleep, Henry's sudden need to hug me all the time, Grace's thrush, the fact that I can't even remember the last time I cleaned our bathrooms (September, maybe?), but the fact that I also can't seem to find the time to clean the house to get ready to decorate for Christmas, order birth announcements, finish making Grace's stocking (why did I decide to sew on all these sequins to the angel wings?),  take a Christmas card photo, and oh yeah, order Christmas cards.  Adding fuel to this fire is the onslaught of leaves and the fact that somehow, while we were away for Thanksgiving, my neighbors all seemed to rid their yards of the aforementioned leaves.  So we are now those neighbors.  The ones with three foot leaf dunes and various kid toys strewn everywhere.  To my neighbors I say "You've got to be kidding me.  Where do you find the time?"  I think the past couple of weeks can be best illustrated by the fact that a friend said to me this morning, "Elizabeth, I was so impressed by how quickly you got out the thank you note to me for Grace's gift.  Even more impressed when a second note arrived a few days later.  It's the first time I've ever been thanked twice.  And they were even worded differently."  (I'm taking solace in the fact that also today, for the first time in my life, I wore a white shirt ALL day long without spilling anything on it.  Take THAT world!)

A crazy-frantic Thanksgiving has taught me that to seek perfection would be exhausting.  A long time believer that if you don't love Jesus enough to vacuum needles then you are not a real Christian--I've purchased a fake Christmas tree.  On some level, I hate myself a little bit.  On another level, the fact that I decided to not even try to make it look real (I bought a giant WHITE tree), I feel like I've turned a corner.  I've made the decision to recognize that it really doesn't matter that much one way or another and I'll be able to be a better wife and mother if I'm not always complaining about the mess that is the family room.  This is pretty huge for me.  I like to imagine that my kids will always have Norman Rockwell Christmases with golden turkeys and perfectly hung stockings.  Instead, I end up beating myself up because I just can't seem to make that happen. 

For Thanksgiving,  all that was missing was Burt Reynolds and Coors Light, as we cannon balled it down the entire East Coast logging over 26 hours of driving.  We went to Greensboro, NC on Monday night.  Then, at 4am on Wednesday, we went to Jacksonville, FL to spend Thanksgiving with Sloan's 101 year old Grandmother, Violet.  Nothing says Thanksgiving like staying in a hotel and lunch at a Country Club.  Then, Friday, at 4am, it was back up to Greensboro.  Then back to Richmond on Sunday.  Like Chinese take-out, after three days, time spent with family just turns bad.  (I think I've said this before but I'm pretty sure I've learned my lesson this time.) 

While at my parents' house, Henry earned the nickname "Full Throttle."  He enjoyed the slumber parties with cousins and pretty much eating cookies whenever, and by the last night there had finally figured out the physics that is sleeping in a sleeping bag.  (Who knew this was a skill?  He kept saying, "I want feet out."  No, Henry, they go in the bag.")  I think my favorite moment was when he decided to pre-treat my mother's laundry room with a brand new thing of Spray and Wash from Costco.  We found him splashing about, soaked from head to toe, in a gallon and a half of the suds.  Full Throttle, people.

But while I've been busy dropping the ball on the best daughter in the world and cleanest house on the block contests, I have been doing a fine job in the Mommying dept (Spray and Wash debaucle not withstanding).  Today, Gracie had her one month check up (despite really being 5 weeks old).  She weighs 9 pounds, 4.5 oz (around 30th percentile).  She is 21 inches long (25th percentile).  Her head circumference is 35.5 cm (15th percentile, up from 3rd percentile at birth).  She also is DRUG FREE.  Okay, so not really drug free--just controlled substance/Methadone free.  She has to take Zantac for Reflux (which they think may be due to withdrawal symptoms),  and Nystatin for the crazy thrush she has.  We've been using a sugar water syrup to combat the pain she's been having from withdrawal  (have you seen the movie Ray?) and this, combined with some propholactic antiobiotic they have her on, has my girl's mouth looks like a white North Face fleece.  So not Frat-tastic.  (She does, however, have a pair of teeny tiny pink Uggs, so maybe she is a little Frat-tastic and ready for her first Sorority social.) 

During her weaning, she has not been the screaming mess we anticipated.  She does need to be held to settle her down, and please, oh please, do not take her passy from her, but no more so than other babies.  We've had a few rough nights with her being up and irritable for hours at a time, but mostly all it takes is cuddles and a few verses of Amazing Grace to soothe her.  With all she is fighting, she is a trooper and an easy baby.  Even if she weren't combating all this junk, I still think she'd be an easy baby.  She wakes to be fed (between 5 and 6 oz) usually around 10pm, 2am, and again at 6.  Tonight will be the first night we don't have to wake her up at 3am to give her meds. That will help her (and us) sleep some more.  I'm looking forward to it.

Henry napping in his chair.  (Yes.  That's the chair from my childhood bedroom.  Non pink-stripe fabric has been purchased--just don't know any upholstery people in Richmond.)

Sweet cousin Natalie cuddles Grace (who doesn't mind having a double chin).

Napping in the hotel room.  (Don't tell G's doctors she is sleeping on her tummy.)

Great Grandma Violet loves Grace.

 I think Isabel told me no less than 100 times, "You know I wuv her."  This statement was usually followed by the question, "Can I hold her while sidding onna couch?  I alwedy washed my hands."