Friday the 13th

I'm not a superstitious person, but Friday the 13th always makes me a little nervous. You see, 13 years ago, my family was awakened early one Friday morning (you guessed it...it was also the 13th day of the month) to a house quickly filling up with smoke. My then soon-to-be Eagle scout brother heard the alarm we slept through, and ran
through the house alerting the other eight of us, and even getting the dog out safely. As we ran out into the snow on that cold, Michigan, February morning, my sweet sister Maria began to cry. "Don't worry," we told her, "we'll be alright!" "It's not that!" She protested, "I'm not wearing any pants!" Pants or no, we piled into our station wagon and watched as not one, not two, but seven fire trucks pulled up to our billowing home to quench the threatening flames. The radio was tuned to the oldies station, and as "the pied piper" played in the background, my ears distinctly heard the lyric "I'm the fire fighter..."  Luckily (pun intended) the only permanent damage was to the laundry room, where I (yes, I) had put a load in the dryer late at night. The rest of the house was permeated with smoke, though, and we moved, temporarily, to a hotel while things were scrubbed from top to bottom. My sister and I both recall comments about camp fires at school that day, although we thought the clothes we had salvaged smelled okay. I guess "okay" is relative.
So another Friday the 13th is here. And I will go about my business with a touch of nervousness. But not enough to keep me from driving my little family through 5 states to NYC this afternoon. I might just rub my lucky rabbit's foot to be safe, though. Or more likely, offer a silent prayer. Which should probably be a prayer of gratitude. Because that day could have been so much worse. And I'm pretty sure it was more than luck that kept us safe.
Happy Friday the 13th everyone! (And for the record, I don't own a lucky rabbit's foot).

Munchkin off Sugar

This little munchkin fell asleep during dinner the other day. I think she's getting tired of watching the rest of us eat. Time to start rice cereal, perhaps?
In other news, Jon and I are not eating sugar for the month of May. It's been a bit easier than I thought it would be thanks to loads of fruit, but the side effects have been astonishing! Not only do Jon and I feel great and have lots of energy, but Olivia (who still eats the occasional grahm cracker, but by association eats MUCH less sugar than before) seems to have emerged from her premature case of the terrible twos, and has been an absolute delight! I admit that I always thought that people who didn't let their kids eat any sugar were demonstrating nazi tendencies, but I have been humbled to discover that they just might be on to something. I am now very interested in researching the effect of sugar on children, and I think this change might become a semi-permanent one. Thoughts?

Just giddy about turning four months old...

Anna is four months old today, and couldn't be happier about it!

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Sad babe

Today we were having a lovely morning. I was feeding Anna and Olivia was calling daddy at work. But when the conversation was over, I guess Liv was upset, because she chucked the phone. Right at Anna's head. Poor baby has a little goose egg. And Livi lost her "phone privlidges". At 22 months. What is this world coming to?

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Adding Injury to Insult

Yesterday was horrific. My all-time parenting low (to this point). Olivia has been sick with a terrible cough and a high fever over the weekend, which made for one extremely irritable toddler. Poor thing didn't even know what she wanted. She would demand to be held, not letting me put her down, but at the same time screaming and pushing me away. Anna was pretty much an angel, as usual, but since her sister refused to let me take care of her, she did put up a bit of a fuss in response to neglect. Add a trip to the doctors (sinus infection and antibiotics for Liv) and potty training on top of that, and it was, well, horrific. I felt like everything went wrong, including my reactions to what was happening. So when Olivia was finally in bed, I laid down on my bed and indulged myself in a nice long cry. It wasn't so much feeling sorry for myself as feeling completely inadequate and bewildered as to how I would handle tomorrow.
When I was done with my cry, I did feel better...except that my nose was completely clogged, and my ears had the plugged up feeling and wouldn't pop. Jon sent me off to take a nice, long, hot shower, which also made me feel better, except that my ears still wouldn't pop. Completely exhausted, I finally went to bed anyway. Only to wake up at 2 am with clogged and painful ears. So this morning, I headed to the doctor to see what could be done. I confessed my problem and its cause, she took a look, and said my eardrum had nearly burst, it was bulging and bloody from the pressure of all the crying and buildup in my nose and sinuses, and whatever I did, not to blow my nose (or the eardrum might actually burst). She prescribed claritin and antibiotics, and I won't be able to hear from my left ear for a few days. Lovely.
So, cryer beware, if you need to have a good cry, do it sitting up so things can drain properly.

California

We had an amazing trip to California for my cousin Emily's wedding. We took advantage of the trip to party hard with all my siblings and parents who were also in town for the wedding (the Okas already live there). Thursday we went to dinner with Maria and Shane so we could get some good Mexican food (hard to find in Baltimore). The carnitas were SO delicious! Friday the rest of the family rolled in, and we got to work making the traditional Haynie taco feast (if you know what I'm talking about, you know what I'm talking about). Yum! Then that evening we went to Emily and Joey's rehearsal dinner where we got to hang out with lots of cousins and eat (gasp) more Mexican food! It was so great to chat, albeit briefly, with Crystal and Emily. The three of us have always been close, and it has been way too long since we have all been together. Saturday morning was Dad's waffles and family pictures, which, considering there are now 13 adults and 6 kids in my immediate family, went incredibly smoothly. I'll post those when I get my hands on them. Saturday afternoon and evening was Emily's wedding and reception, which were beautiful, as was Emily. It was great to see so much family, and fun to dance with my girls and Jon. Sunday we went to church, had a great family home evening where we discussed the importance of the family, and how we can protect its sanctity in this day and age, and then finished the evening with a cook out and camp fire on the beach. It was so fantastic to sit around the fire as the sun set, singing hymns with the people I love most. That is always my favorite part of family get togethers. Monday morning about half the family took off, but Joseph, Maria and I, with our respective families, headed to Disneyland. We were a group of 11...six adults and five children (oldest age two), but we ended up having a magical time. Had to be magic that we all had fun with that many babies involved! We didn't get home from the park until after midnight, so it was all we could do to get ourselves out the door by noon today to catch our flight home (a flight on which I now sit, and on which both my children have been angels, thank heaven). I feel both rejuvenated and exhausted, if that is possible, and tomorrow it will be time to face reality again. Thanks, Maria and Shane, for being amazing hosts, and everyone for loving us and our babies.

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Return of the Poopmeister

When Olivia was a newborn, I dubbed her the Grand Poopmeister. I should have known it would come back to haunt me when it came time to potty train. The other day she had to go "poo poo". It was morning, and she was still wearing footie pajamas and a diaper from the night before, so I stripped her down and sat her on the potty stark naked. But she didn't want to go on the potty, she wanted to go on the toilet. I put a potty seat on the toilet and sat her down there and she went! Success! Cleaned her up, flushed, and washed my hands. While I was washing, she went and sat on the potty and went some more! Success! So I cleaned her up again, and was cleaning out the potty chair, only slightly flustered from all the moving and pooping when she came back to the bathroom somewhat upset. She pointed at her feet, and when I looked at them, they were covered in "poo poo". We cleaned off her feet, and then I asked her to take me to where the poo poo was. She took me to the kitchen. And there was a big pile on the floor that looked as if it had been danced in. Accident!? At least it wasn't on the carpet.