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."