Fuzzy Love

Fat Fingers

The time has come again when my fingers are too swollen for my wedding rings. I knew it was coming, but postponed taking them off until the last possible moment, when it was almost too late. I've heard that sometimes rings must be cut off fat pregnant hands and, after ten minutes of alternately holding my arm above my head and yanking the hell out of my finger, I was thinking that might be the way to go. But eventually they came off, thank god, and are hidden where Liam will never ever find them (famous last words).

Instead, I'm wearing this beautiful tin? aluminum? creation:

I made it in grade eight metal shop (sorry, that's Canadian for eighth grade) and I must have really gotten into all that filing, as the ring has always about been two sizes too big. I can't seem to part with it either, and now it's finally coming in handy.

As a side note, congratulations to my brother James, who is the assistant coach of the second-ranked college baseball team in Canada: Dalhousie. Yes, that's a part-time (volunteer) job at Dalhousie, and he does it after his real job in the evenings and weekends. Pretty good, eh? (That's Canadian for pretty good, isn't it?, but eh just seems to fit better here).

Another Day...

Let's face facts: I'm getting bigger, I'm getting slower, and I'm getting stupider (only seven more weeks to go). Today I had Liam planted in front of Elmo on tv, so I decide to check my email. Oh, the things that happen while I'm on email. A few minutes later I hear Liam in the (blissfully marker-free) kitchen. This is what he was up to:

That's a whole box of baking soda. He also had out the flour, measuring cups and spoons, butter, and a bowl. Now, he had been asking for a cookie for days, but we didn't have any. Apparently he decided today to take matters into his own hands. The second I came into the room, he asked, "Eggs, Mama? Gook?" (He still doesn't say milk; he says gook.) So what could I do? We made cookies.

The Great Hairstyle Debate

Liam and I had the following conversation the other day:

Liam, picking up a hunk of my hair: Mama, need haircut.
Me: Do you think I need a haircut?
Liam, nodding sadly: Yeth, Mama.

Well, what Liam is forgetting is that, when a new baby is coming, one's hair must first and foremost be low-maintenance. For me that means a pony tail, and I have only recently re-achieved pony tail length. After all, you never know when you will get a shower or when someone is going to drop by unexpectedly. This combination makes a pony tail a necessity. Unfortunately, pony tails present another problem in this household: Liam hates them (at least on me). For the last year I have been unable to put my hair up without him pitching a fit. I know, it is silly for me to allow a two-year-old boy to dictate my hairstyle, but on this issue I have so far given in. Especially when he climbs up on me wherever I am and physically removes the holder from my hair.

So recently I have been trying to put my hair up more and more, in order to prepare Liam for what's going to happen (so many changes...). I've been using a gaudy elastic with a huge orange flower on it, just because it was handy. 1 - It's not like I was going to leave the house like that. 2 - Don't judge. Anyway, here's what happens: Liam does whatever it takes to get his hands on the elastic ("Hair down, Mama"), runs away so I can't see him, and hides the thing, usually in plain sight. Then he comes back and says, "All better." But in the odd case that he does successfully hide the elastic, he's just too sweet. When asked where the flower went, he'll lead me to it every time with a proud "There it is!" Gotta love him.

Overheard in the Bath This Evening

Duck: Hi.
Whale: Hi.
Duck: Whadoing Whale?
Whale: In the water.
Duck: Oh.
Whale: Whadoing Duck?
Duck: In the water too.
Whale: Okay!

More Craaaaazy Nesting

And I've put Mark to work too. Today we (I) decided that we were going to clean out the fridges. We have an additional "beer" fridge in the garage, and it certainly couldn't be left out of the cleaning frenzy I've been on. So Mark took on the beer fridge and I started on the one in the kitchen. After about twenty minutes of washing shelves and inadvertently teaching Liam how to use the spray nozzle in the sink (there will be trouble with that later, I'm sure), I wonder why Mark hasn't come back from the garage. It turned out that Mark didn't need a sink because Mark was cleaning out the garage fridge with a hose. He spread all the shelves out on the front lawn, dragged the hose into the garage, and used the spray nozzle to make quick work out of the whole project. And, he pointed out, he cleaned the garage floor at the same time. Can you even imagine thinking that up? I've got to hand it to him though, it took him half the time to clean a fridge that it took me.

In other news, today I did actually finish those paintings for Liam's room. Here's a picture of the finished products:

They aren't exactly the same as the Pottery Barn Kids ones, but then aren't I allowed a little artistic license when plagiarizing? In the end, I am about 80% happy with them, which is better than I expected. I do wish I had made them bigger (they're 8 X 10"), since they were a lot of trouble and therefore I feel like the end results should be huge. And that train has an awfully dismal background (although it's not quite as dreary as it looks in the photo). But Liam recognizes what they are, which is about all that counts. Now, how long do you think they'll go without getting markered-upon?

Baby Bee at 32 Weeks

Another two weeks gone by, another appointment. Baby Bee is doing just fine. These appointments are so quick right now (they will get more involved during the last month). It’s just pee in a cup, get weighed, measure blood pressure, listen for the heartbeat, and do you have any questions? The only excitement today was that, instead of the usual almost instant results, it took the doctor about ten seconds to find the baby’s heartbeat. Baby Bee had been kicking me all morning, so I knew she was fine, but that ten seconds was enough time for me to think up some pretty awful things. It’s the nature of the pregnant woman.

Mark couldn’t make this appointment, and I thought about asking someone to watch kiddo for me, but in the end I just took him along. But he was great. When the doctor came into the room, Liam was sitting quietly in a chair with his water bottle on one side, his cup of goldfish on the other, intently reading a book. Perfect child moments like that are so rare, but I imagine that one doctor now thinks: “Wow, that Katherine is the perfect parent.” (Hush, let me dream.)

Back to reality. Or speculation anyway: Baby Bee is probably weighing around four pounds right now and could be about eighteen inches long. Those are nice, big, reassuring numbers, aren’t they? And surprisingly, I’m on track to end this pregancy about five pounds lighter than I did my first one. I have eight weeks to go, which means I should gain eight more pounds: four or so more on the baby, and four or so more on me. But experience tells me that the last month of pregnancy kinda sucks, I’ll want to sit on my butt for much of it, and I’ll want to eat whatever I damn well please. That will blow the pound-a-week scenario out of the water. But it’s nice to think about now. (Hmmm, have you heard that I don’t learn quickly and I’m living in a dream world?)

And some very good news: Mark’s parents are coming to visit for more than two weeks shortly after the baby is born (over Thanksgiving). I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. We tend to go for long times without setting eyes on any family, and this whole having two kids at the same time thing has me worried, and it’s just nice to know that someone else will be around to hug Liam and hold the baby and see that I eat something other than Oreos. You see, in the back of my head I was a bit worried that my in-laws would say, “You know, a few days with a toddler and a newborn are quite enough for us. We’ll just stay the weekend." I have no justification for that worry. Don’t get me wrong, our friends are the most wonderful people around and would happily help out if we needed it. It’s just with friends you really try not to need it. With family you don’t try so hard. ; )

Finally, here's a belly shot. And a glimse into our evening: Liam's unhappy because I wanted to wait ten seconds to pick him up (just wait until that baby shows up), I'm tired and trying to keep my cool, Mark's standing by and taking a picture. Oh, and you can't see that Liam isn't wearing any pants (he keeps taking them off). Mark's comment: "We finally got a shot of Liam's hands on your belly." Yeah, let's go get it framed.

Reading FAO Schwarz

The FAO Schwarz holiday catalog came today and Liam zeroed right in on it. He very quickly clarified to Mark and I: "My book!" and sat down to read it.

Very cute, I thought, our first Christmas catalog excitement. But the FAO Schwarz catalog is a far cry from the Sears Wish Book my brother and I used to dog-ear. I don't think you guys in Canada get this catalog, do you? Well, how about a (real) miniature pony? They aren't available online; you have to call and speak to a personal shopper to get one. Oh, and have $15,000 to spend. Or how about a child-size gas-powered Mercedes? Or a Grand Victorian Mansion for the backyard? My honest-to-god favorite, however, is the Custom Couture kit, which allows your little girl (or special little boy) to consult with a real New York fashion designer to create the garment or her dreams. It's actually a bargain at $800. Of course FAO does sell regular toys, but it's the outrageous items that make reading the catalog a total laugh. Well, not for Liam; he liked it for the beebots. "Big beebots, Mama!"

So I Still Don't Learn Quickly

So yesterday I'm cleaning the kitchen and Liam is standing on a dining room chair wiping the counter top with a damp cloth. I'm thinking it's nice to have company while I'm scrubbing the stove top. But he gets bored of that pretty quickly (who wouldn't?), and starts to investigate inside the cupboards. He finds a marker. One of his own markers, actually, so when he makes off with it to the living room I don't pay much attention. You see, 90% of his markers are the type that only work on the special expensive paper from Crayola, so he can do whatever he wants with them and no one would ever know. But I had forgotten about the other 10% of just washable markers that we'd taken away from him and hidden in the cupboard because he drew all over everything with them. A few minutes later, I checked in on him. He was sitting quietly behind the coffee table with all his duplos, intently working on something. I went back to cleaning. A little while later I discovered what he was really up to:

He didn't strip himself; I did that to clean him up and to give you the full effect. I actually let him stay that way for a while because he was so proud of himself. To celebrate his blueness, he did some jumping on the bed.

Please note that he even colored the bottom of his feet. Last night, I tossed away the blue marker.

That brings us to about an hour ago. Liam is playing quietly and I go to check my email. A few minutes later (five? maybe 10?), I check on him. He's standing on the kitchen counters with the same cupboard open and he's found another marker: a permanent marker. A thick, black, permanent marker. And he's done this:

I think I had a little heart attack or a stroke of some kind because I still don't feel right. I tried a few random cleaning products on it and those marks were not budging. Luckily, in the time it took to Google "remove permanent marker counter tops," I focused in on the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. Thank god for the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. Those marks are 100% gone now.

So thanks to the invisible markers I got to avoid teaching Liam not to draw on things, even though eventually Liam was bound to get his hands on something that leaves a mark. And that, my friends, is the moral of today's entry.

Liam Meets Thomas

I don't think Liam could have dreamed up a better day if he tried (unless, maybe, we had dropped in on the zoo...). That, folks, is the "real" Thomas the Tank Engine, in person, and he took us for a ride yesterday. In case you aren't up on Thomas, he's books, he's a tv show, and he's all those little wooden train sets you see set up at Toys R Us. Liam loves trains, and therefore Liam loves Thomas. When the Day Out With Thomas Celebration Tour (oh yes) came to Colorado, of course we were there.

The day started with a twenty-minute ride on Thomas's train. Here's Liam, waiting impatiently for the train to go. Notice that this whole business is very serious.

Okay, well, one smile.

But mostly he was very serious while looking around.

It all took place at the Colorado Railroad Museum, which we didn't know existed (okay, we had kind of heard of it, but didn't really care). But what a great place for Liam! They have all sorts of train cars: engines, boxcars, cabooses, that Liam had seen in books and even has in his train set, but has never gotten very close to in real life.

You never know how these events for little kids are going to be, but this one was done very well. We had to park far away but took a nice cushy shuttle bus (with tvs in it playing - guess what - Thomas) to the front door. Lots of the trains were open to the public, so Liam got to pull a bell and investigate coal cars and touch everything. This, by the way, was a total surprise to Liam, as he assumed he wouldn't be allowed to touch the trains ("Stop! Dontouch!"). We told him it was okay, but he still asked most of the time: "Touch it?"

There was even a fire truck there that Liam got to drive, he got a free fire hat ("clang clang hat"), saw some miniature trains, and had a hobo lunch all wrapped up in a red bandanna on the end of a stick. Does it get any better? Oh yes. Throw in a little petting zoo, a sing-a-long, Thomas-shaped balloons, and a lot of space to run around and you've got toddler heaven.

To top the day off, before dinner Liam was allowed to use up the rest of my blue acrylic paint (I keep mixing up too much) that he has been desperate to get his hands on. He created three monochromatic paintings in highly-protective gear. Yup, that's his hobo bandanna.

So we've got one happy little guy here. He's been talking about the trains all day.

A Sweet Kids Story

Last week, our niece Emily (almost 9) and nephew Oliver (6), who live up in Ottawa, were watching the news about Katrina on television and decided to do something to help the victims all by themselves. Their dad, Mark's brother Sean, wrote us the following:

After dinner we went to Loeb and the children bought 3 cans of lemonade for the sale – more on that later- using their own money. That night they set out to make plans and posters for the sale. With a little assistance from mom and dad, the sign changed from lemonade to lemonaid.

Very early Monday morning the children wanted to know when they could start the sale.  With some persuasion we were able to put it off until coffee and tea were had and the temperature had risen beyond 10 degrees. Also by this time the children decided that 100% of the proceeds should go to Katrina relief! Several new signs were made and the first batch of lemonade was prepared.

The sale was officially open around 10:00. Patrons walked and biked to the table.  The kids were in business. Over the next two hours sales were steady, but the entrepreneurs looked a little tired by noon. Then arrived Emma, Hannah and Adam, three of Emily and Oliver’s friends, and Second Avenue neighbors.

All of a sudden the philanthropic fever spread. They all went to their own piggy banks and wallets to purchase lemonade and to make donations as well. Then they brought their own juice to add to the sale. Then mom Heather made cookies, Emma offered sketches for sale and the day went on.

At about 4:00 pm Oliver (age 6) informed me they had almost raised $100. The he came back and informed me it was $116.11. This peaked my curiosity. Yes, in the six hours these five committed children worked together to raise over $120.

What did we learn on Monday? While buying lemonade the children should have read the labels more carefully. A few patrons must have been surprised to drink Grapefruit juice.  It was very kind of them not to request a refund. Children can make a real difference with a small idea, a little commitment, and a big heart. Finally, we all were reminded that the community is a great place for our children to live and learn.

Is that great or what? If the letter sounds a bit formal, it's because it was written (and published) in their local paper. If only we had a recent picture of those kids to show you....(are you taking the hint Sean? Heather?).