Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Kindergarten Baby*

So, Margaret started kindergarten.

It doesn't seem like much of a change -- she's actually going to less school per day than she was last year -- but it's emotionally different.  She looks so big when she goes into the big brick building with her oversize backpack.  I think I can see her growing every day.

Ellie misses her something terrible, and her school doesn't start until September 9, so things are a little rough at the moment.  But Margaret is having the best time ever, and Ellie is slowly coming to terms with the fact that she isn't five, and she doesn't get to go to kindergarten.  It's been a tough transition for her, though.  We went to the playground the first day Margaret was in school, and Ellie lay under the bench I was sitting on and moaned about how she didn't know what she could do, and none of my suggestions were interesting to her.  It was very sad.

But Margaret likes kindergarten, so that's good.

*We've been reading Ramona the Pest as a cautionary tale, so the "kindergarten baby" insult is on my mind.

The Agony

Ellie went to the zoo yesterday, and as a special treat, she got her face painted.  She wanted me to take a picture of it, so I was so involved when we began to discuss her need for a bath.  The penny dropped that a bath might remove her face-painting as I took the pictures.  You can see this realization skittering across her face.

The point should be made that I agreed to give her a bath without washing her face, but she rubbed a wet hand across her cheeks and destroyed the butterfly all on her own.  So I'm not a cruel, face-painting-destroying person.  Nor do I take pictures of children who are suffering.  I mean, I do, but only because I was already taking pictures when I apparently shattered her world.

She recovered, eventually.

She's THAT child

So Margaret started playing soccer this week, and because I am a good mother who reads the guidelines about equipment requirements, we went and bought cleats and socks and shinguards.

She wanted pink.




I mean, there's nothing wrong with pink, but it is a bit much to have to buy pink shinguards that no one is going to see because of the mandatory socks (pink, in this case) over them.

But I got them, because she should get to pick what she wants, within reason, and the pink is just barely within the bounds of reason.

Isn't she cute?

Anyway, practice yesterday was canceled because of the rain (there was rain, lots of rain), but on Saturday, she had her first practice, and it was interesting.

She picked flowers off the field and came over to bring them to me.  She hugged me.  She stopped playing to yell that she loved me.  She was, in other words, that kid.  I have failed as a soccer mom.  I will do better with Ellie, I promise.

Dianthus Barbatus

We have not suddenly become a botany blog,* but dianthus barbatus is the official name of the Sweet William plant, and I have a habit (which I need to break) of calling him Sweet William.

Because he is sweet.  Look at this.

See?  Very sweet.  And also William.

*Though here is a very cute picture of William in the garden, which is like being a garden blog, right?

I am a bad mother

It's been four weeks since my last blog post.  I feel bad, but also part of the reason that it has been so long is that I have not had time to sit with my computer and both hands in the last four weeks.

Will continues to grow and sleep well; he's big on eating as well, which is part of the reason my lap has not been unoccupied at any point recently.

He's also spending some time bonding with his father, learning to watch the Cardinals games whenever possible.  Sometimes he even watches with his father.

Another exciting innovation is that he is taking bottles.  Honestly, he likes food no matter how he gets it, so there was no trouble introducing it.  But it does mean that I can get a little more done.  After I've pumped.  Which takes longer than feeding the baby.  This is a highly inefficient system, but it is facilitating my being at work right now blogging about being at home.*

Anyway, things are going well.  I'm back at work(ish), and so this space should have more going up in it, because I'll have some time alone with my computer.

Friday, July 24, 2015

Will continues to do well.  We had his 2 week checkup, and it turns out that he has grown 2 inches since birth (in length, not girth; they didn't measure girth, and it might have grown 2 inches as well).  He's gained a pound as well.  We need not worry about him.

He spends most of his evenings eating constantly.

During the days, he sleeps, eats, or is mauled by his sisters.

Great fun is had by all.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

The Sleepy Baby

Perhaps I didn't record it on this blog at the time, because I tend to try to present a carefully curated and rosy view of parenthood that doesn't involve admitting that I'm about to have a nervous breakdown, but Margaret's first few weeks of life were very stressful and sleep-deprived, and I was pretty certain that I wasn't going to be able to hack this parenting thing.  She didn't like being put down, and she didn't like being swaddled, but she really didn't like not being swaddled.  I went to bed at 7 and left Leo holding her on the couch until she grudgingly gave up and went to sleep, and then she was up every 2 hours or so to eat.

When Ellie was a week old, I asked the pediatrician if there was something wrong with her, because she slept so much.  When she told me that that was normal, I thought that I should have a retroactive discussion about Margaret's lack of sleep.

Will, it appears, is more to Ellie's way of thinking than Margaret's.  He's a good little sleeper, both at night (I've gotten at least a 4-hour stretch out of him every night since he was a week old, and he's pushing 5 and a half some nights), and during the day.  He seems to have decided to have two alert periods, one in the morning and one in the evening, with a lot of high-quality napping in between.  Of course, during both of his awake periods, he seems to feel the need to graze, so there are a couple of hours at each end of the day when I am pinned to the couch.  We will see how that works out.  I feel that other people may think they need things from me from here on out.

One of the nice things about Will is how good he is at relaxing.  It's like we have a boneless baby sometimes.