Maggie the Baby Sitter

Once Bitten, Thrice Shot

Smiling Super Nova Baby Tova at 6-weeks with not one, but two chins!

As if it needed to be said, because it doesn't, Tova is amazing. Today marks her 2-month birthday, with that comes the 2-month well-baby visit.

She weighed 11lbs and 8oz! I couldn't believe it. I haven't been able to find the records from the other kids' well-visits, but I think she's the biggest of them all. Isn't that nuts? She was born the smallest but has done some big-time catch-up. Her length was 23-inches, which didn't surprise me because she's been busting her toes out of the one piece jammies. Anyway, for what it's worth, she's in the 70th% for both height and weight. Fairly impressive for someone coming from a family of shorties and the like.

Last night Tova was less barky when she coughed, though when we got to the Puppy Mill she put on a good show for the pediatrician with all her hacking and barking and snot flying and sneezing. Then she ejected a massive amount of green, mucusy poo which promptly got sent to the lab to look for blood. I kind of suspect that the poos have been green and mucusy because she's swallowing all her green boogies and it just happens to be coming out in the wash. After that she was given the oral polio vaccine and 3-other leg massacring vaccines that near about made me faint when the medical assistant pounded them into Miss Growy Pants' leggies. Oh me, oh my. Tough times for this mommy.

Well, enough with baby dook and shot horror stories.

Baby Annike is a spectacular example of Viking prowess, as well. Lars and I attended her parent-teacher conference and it was said, in not so many words (so it's a good thing I can read between the lines), that Annike is the cutest and smartest student in the whole school. Her abilities far surpass those of other 3-year olds, no surprise there, and her adorableness is exceedingly exceeding. Now isn't that just something? Oh, and her teacher said she's a really good dancer.

Happenings . . .

Not much entertaining bloggable stuff of late so here's just some of the day-to-day bits.

Punk rocker Annike 3-1/2 and Jack 4.

1) In reviewing the music for Grandma Mariette/Meme's funeral, Petra proceeded to dance the Macarena to Finlandia.

2) Newborns don't blow their noses, even if you ask nicely. Instead, you have to be poised at the ready with a tissue for the moment that they sneeze and act quickly. If you don't swipe the snot stream promptly and with vigor then the boogie blob will be snorffled back in with her next breath.

3) It wasn't me! While breastfeeding, Baby Tova doesn't have the sense to unlatch during a sneeze which causes everyone to gawk at Mommy like I just cut the cheese.

4) Tova has unofficial croup. To be official croup one must be at least 6-months of age and as she is only 8-weeks and 4-days she couldn't possibly have the real deal. She sounds like a barking seal in the middle of the night (after night, after night . . . ) and she has lost her "voice" so now sounds like a wee little froggy.

5) Soren has finally connected with a boy in his class. We're so thrilled that we plan to adopt him and his cute Irish family and pay all their expenses.

6) Annike is still the baby of the family.

7) After much effort, yesterday Petra was finally able to do a front walk-over unassisted. She was so thrilled and feeling so confident right after that she did a perfect front-mill circle on the bars for the first time ever and then for good measure she went ahead and did a round-off back handspring -- the first time she'd been able to put that sequence together. Petra and Coach Lalo exchanged whoops, hive-fives and a good-old-fashioned throw-the-7-year-old-who-is-the-size-of-a-five-year-old-up-in-the-air-trick. With a bit more time, she'll be able to do those skills consistently. Also in a bit more time, Lalo won't be able to toss her 5-feet in the air because the kid is going to start growing one of these days.

8) I'm typing this one handed because I have a phobia of my baby not being held. My triceps are quivering.

9) We are about to embark on our first ever family of 6 plane flight/leaving the state trip. It gets better, since flights to the west-side of Michigan are double the expense we're going to fly to Chicago then rent a mini-van and drive to the G-Rap. I'm not sure how my little monkeys will tolerate such a long day, poor fellas. Fortunately for them, Grandpa Lee is going to take over on Monday while Tova, Lars and I are at the funeral. This is especially a relief because Petra has a funeral/old people phobia.

10) I'm wracked with guilt. It recently dawned on me that every time I birth a baby, Lars and I lose a grandparent. As such, we've placed a moratorium on child-bearing in an effort to extend the lives of our remaining family elders. Grandpa Wendell, Grandpa John and Grandma Dot: don't worry, we've got your back.

Au Revoir Ma Chere Grandemere

Mariette Bruckert

You died tonight at in your bed, in Michigan. I was getting Annike in her jammies when I found out, that's why I didn't cry for you right away. Lars and I decided we would tell the kids in the morning, Petra will have a hard time. I thought I felt you leave us when we were sitting down for dinner tonight, I told Petra that I couldn't talk about you anymore because my throat kept closing up. Yes, I believe that is when you died, I felt it. Isn't it odd we were reflecting about you at that moment? After I tucked my babies in then I stopped holding my breath, that's when you crept inside of me and then tucked yourself into my heart. Now with each beat, you pulse through me. You are filling up my form with feelings and thoughts of you. Some of them hurt a little so I have to let those out in my tears, but most of it I am trying to keep inside of me.

I'm sad that I moved so far away from you so that at the end I wasn't part of your mind anymore. I feel regrettable about the day I last said good-bye, my last good-bye to you. You knew me then, though less than before. I knew I was saying good-bye forever and ever even though you wouldn't pass away for another 19-months. I cried so hard that it made Grandpa cry, of course, he knew why I was crying.

Now I am trying, you see, trying to have some perspective, I don't want your whole existence to be about the saddest part of you -- your death. I want you to know that I love you. I want you to know that I'm lucky to have had you. I want you to know that I cherish the unique history that you passed on to me, the one that makes me just a little bit different from others. I want you to know that I'll think of you often for a period of time and then after a while I'll think of you less often as the days pass, but I will still love you the same. I want you to know that it hurts me to say this but I'll tell you anyway: I was relieved when you passed, but only because you deserve better. I want you to know that when I was little, you were the most glamorous person in the world with perfect hair and pink lip-stick and big sedans and a certain je ne sais quoi when it came to dollhouse furniture. I want you to know that I'm smiling at this moment thinking about my wedding day when Lars' dad was trying to teach you how to do The YMCA on the dance floor with all our college buddies, you were 76-1/2 years old. That's a really big smile Grandma!

When I can talk about you again without crying so hard, then I will tell my children all about their Meme. After I'm done telling them, then I'll plug my i-Pod into the computer and find a certain Village People number and then we'll all do the YMCA in your honor. Okay?

Grands bisous a toi! Comme je t'aime.

Ta grandfille,

Kelly

PS - I always loved your Christmas cookies.

Here you are with Grandpa Wendell and my 3-little guys, we were at Grandpa's office in the Federal Building. It was Mothers' Day 2006.

Do you remember when you first met Annike (05/2005), your great-granddaughter?

THANATOPSIS
by: William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878)

O him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And healing sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart;--
Go forth, under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around--
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air--
Comes a still voice--Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more
In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist
Thy image. Earth, that nourish'd thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again,
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go
To mix for ever with the elements,
To be a brother to the insensible rock,
And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world--with kings,
The powerful of the earth--the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribb'd and ancient as the sun,--the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods; rivers that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks
That make the meadows green; and, pour'd round all,
Old Ocean's grey and melancholy waste,--
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom.--Take the wings
Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon and hears no sound
Save his own dashings--yet the dead are there:
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep--the dead reign there alone.
So shalt thou rest: and what if thou withdraw
In silence from the living, and no friend
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one as before will chase
His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glides away, the sons of men,
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron and maid,
The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man--
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side
By those who in their turn shall follow them.

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Jump!

Trampoline!

It takes up half our yard but it is very fun. Bubba and Gramma got it for the kids for Christmas, we set it up on Sunday which is why I haven't blogged in a while. Well, that and I came down with mastitis and have been trying to manage it without antibiotics so I feel absolutely awful. Fortunately, Miss Pookie Pie is breastfeeding every 95-minutes and my mom and step-dad are here to help so I think we're going to pull through.

More of the good stuff when I'm pretty sure Righty isn't going to drop off my body and when I can wake up in the morning without a fever. Until then!

Link

I knew it would make me so mad but I checked it anyway. The way my brother put it to me, "in order to learn which of your neighbors to avoid."

http://www.eightmaps.com/

Dirt Devil Maggie and More From Crazy Kelly

Laying in the dirt this morning, feels about 78 degrees and sunny.

Life's Little Way of Letting You Know You're Alive, Well, and a Whole Lot Crazy

1. You feel the baby kicking inside your uterus . . . you know, the uterus that delivered her 6-1/2 weeks ago.
2. At 12:55 this morning the police are pounding on your front door because the emergency break on your 12-year old VW doesn't always hold and your car rolled backward out of your driveway and down the steep hill that you live on. Nothing like watching your husband chase a hatchback down the road in his underwear at 1:00 am. Ha! Ha ha ha ha! Oooh, it was worth waking up in the middle of the night just to see that, never mind I couldn't get back to sleep. Completely worth it.
3. You're relieved when your doggy gets to the baby puke before you do, that way you don't have to clean it up. Gag. I know, but so true.
4. You haven't told your husband that your hemoglobin is up to 10.0 mg/dcl yet because he was feeling so sorry for you back when it was less than 8.0. In our relationship, feeling sorry for one's wife = being nice to one's wife. You don't honestly expect me to give up tender loving care, even if it originates from solid pity . . . do ya?
5. You're a little bummed out that you've been given the green light to drive again (the chauffeuring bit was working out quite nicely, TYVM).
6. Your Michigan accent has gotten stronger since moving to California, plus you find yourself throwing in Minnesota-isms ("oh for Pete!") and some Yiddish slang just to keep your new California friends guessing.
7. It's tempting to chew on your dinky-fatso baby's gushy cheeks.
8. You're still terrified of the Ear Man, that pesky fellow who chases you through your sleep night after night trying to remove your ears from your Earthly form. He may or may not be something from your imagination, he's been around such a long time now that you aren't really sure if he's really real or just sort-of real. Just in case, you make sure that your own children's ears are well-hidden when they sleep. As for your husband's ears, well that'll be his own problem when they're snipped off his head by the Ear Man and shipped off to God knows where . . . he just wouldn't listen.
9. You know that the aforementioned Ear Man bit makes you sound like a complete lunatic and you just laugh and don't even consider deleting it.
10. You're considering taking on a 3rd job after maternity leave despite wracking your brains three times daily for ways in which to join up with The Cult of Stay-At-Home Mommies. When I say 'Cult' I didn't mean the bad kind of cult that puts cyanide in Kool-Aid so that you can go chasing after aliens flying around on comets shaped like pelicans, I meant the good kind . . . you know, cause the cult thing usually works out really well for most people. Don't want anyone to think I'm being negative or snooty.