Looking Forward.....

Just to bring us all back to reality and what really matters for a moment, I realized I uttered a phrase that was wrong recently.

The phrase went something like "it has been so long since I 've had anything to look forward to".  I have to recant that.  It simply is not true.  In two weeks I have a job to do, and I am looking forward to it very, very much.  I will be spending the weekend with these two little love bugs, and it might be a "job", but it also keeps me going and happy to be alive.  How many jobs can we say that about, people??

I can't wait to add another love bug to this picture, but I have to wait just a little longer.  WHO can look at this and not have something to look forward to??????  Not me.  :D

So we get gussied up to go to bed.  Is that wrong??????  I think not!  We look fabulous!

So while I chafe at waiting to get the house done, I look forward with all my heart to spending time with these two.  I also can't wait to see what Abigail thinks of my "hair look" now, and look how big our Rosie-pose is getting!!!  It's not right, but I can't change it.  It's all I can do to keep up, and it's kept me going for years.  All I need is more of the same, and it's headed right for me.  

Life might be a little messy, but it's also very good.  I forget that sometimes, and I shouldn't.  Let's all try to do better with that one.

The Queen of Darkness

Today I actually got Abigail's hair brushed without tears on her part or mine, and french braided all the way down.

When I was done I turned her around to discover I had missed on strand on each side of her hair that was just hanging down from the top of her head to below her shoulders.  Was my face red.  I asked her to let me re-do it.  I actually begged her, several times, but no, she liked it.  I had had all the time I was going to get with her hair for this day.

So we went uptown and visited some friends and I had to explain that my french braiding skills were suffering.  My hair dresser, kind soul that she is, even said I did a really good job.  I gave myself a C- and explained the problem with tears and wailing (on both sides) that accompanied brushing Abigail's long, beautiful hair out.

What happened next?  My very clever and kind hair dresser said she had a magic brush that did not hurt tangles!!!  She, also having very long and beautiful hair, swore that it just "went over" the tangles without getting stuck, but it got them out.  This magical item is called The Wet Brush and can be gotten at Creative Edge for only $12.  I promptly bought one for Abigail's mother as a Valentine's present.  

Abigail allowed me to take out her braid as soon as we got home and proceeded to brush her OWN hair for 20 minutes, without any tangles or crying or gnashing of teeth or anything.  It was like a miracle!!!

Back home, I settled the girls in the Princess room with the baby happily looking out the window and Abigail arranging stuffed animals in the cradle.  I went into the kitchen to start lunch and just as I was thinking they had been quiet a long time, I heard the door shut.  Any mother will tell you that gives you a bad feeling.  So I go back down the hall, knock and stick my head in.  The scene had changed.  The blind was now down, the baby was still on the bed, now happily pointing a flashlight around and babbling.  I look down at Abigail, and I don't know why I whispered, probably because it was dark?
"What's going on?" I whispered.
Abigail, busily putting on a pair of my boots that come all the way up her little legs, looks up at me with big blue eyes and whispers back , "I'm being the Queen of Darkness."
I look back up, everything seems fine, and I have left water running in the sink in the kitchen, so I whisper "Okay", and shut the door with no more questions.

Back in the kitchen, laughing to myself, I contemplated  who the Queen of Darkness was.  I had no clue whatsoever.  So when I went back to check, it's a girl in a pretty cool get-up, black boots, a sun hat, and a boa in Mardi Gras colors, who rides tigers in the dark, with her friend the bear.  We had watched Brother Bear II the night before.  I decided that in my house, the Queen of Darkness is Abigail Lea, and she is a good person, especially in the dark.

This was the only shot I got--I can't do everything you know. lol

By 6 pm that evening we were both losing our minds, so I went out with her to play in the snow.  Winters are hard with little ones.  People get cabin fever.  We have ample snow, in fact, we got 13 inches last week.  This week we got a bit of freezing rain and a little more snow on top.  Before that, she sunk in up to her knees and she did not like that.  Just as Abigail was discovering that she could now walk across the yard on top of the frozen rain layer, I pointed out the full, orange moon coming up in the sky.  It was magic.  She said it was "the best night EVER."  I had to agree.  The fresh air did us both good.

I don't think she had ever gotten to play in the snow in the dark before, and she happily climbed a 5 foot high pile of snow next to the driveway and slid down the other side until she was tired.  God bless children who get tired in about a half hour.

After that, a warm bubble bath and a movie she went to sleep early.  I did not plan it.  I was just going with the flow.  I realized that I had adjusted back to the schedule of "being home", where there is no set schedule, just a lot of frantic movement and the bare necessities getting "done".  I decided to enjoy it as much as I could because it would be gone before I knew it.  I watched her sleep, as I have since she was 3 weeks old, and marveled at how she has grown so fast.  I thought about all the things she won't remember that I will never forget.  I told her that she was going to be going through a lot of changes, and I would still love her through them all.  Even the snotty, eye rolling teenage stage and the rebellious years that would follow.  She was sure she would never act that way, but I know better.

I had forgotten how hectic, hard, and rewarding it was to have little kids all the time.  I had forgotten a lot of things.

I know it was harder on their mom mentally than it was on me physically.  I also know that for me, at least, it was worth it.

Tomorrow they go home, and life will go back to normal around here, minus most of the magic.  Time to get back to real life.  Children last such a very short time.  It's a shame you have to raise a few before you realize how fast time really does go.

On the upside of things, though, I am ready to be a grandma for real.

Luckily, I have the room all ready to go.  We will be adding another one in June.  That's right!!!

I have a grand DAUGHTER on the way.  

Men, Women, and the Importance of Your "Hair look"

Advice on life from a 5 year old.   I hear you laughing, but you might be surprised on how good that advice can be.  

I had my two pretend grand babies this week.  24-7 for 9 days.  All these days were good, full, hilarious and exhausting.

One night Abigail decided to comb my hair before bed.  Combing Abigail's hair is always full of drama.  Her hair is very long, and beautiful, and she does NOT like it if you have to work out tangles.  My hair, on the other hand, is very fine and not too long, and she was amazed at how easy it was to comb.

So picture the scene, we are both in fuzzy pajama's, I am sitting on my bed, facing my dresser mirror, and she is standing behind me, combing out my hair, bouncing occasionally, and we are talking to each other in the mirror.  Why?  Because I can't turn my head.  It's a thing with her.  Abigail has rules, and they will be followed.

Once she got into the rhythm, she seemed to channel a hair-dresser, and she started telling me that in order to get a boy to love me and marry me, I needed to have a good "hair look".  

This made me roar with laughter, and liking that response, she really got into the role.

She has a lot of dramatic flair, and she immediately flashed her eyes at me and said "THAT's why that man (she didn't specify, and I was unsure if I had a role also or she was really talking about me) mar-wied some other girl, because he didn't like your HAIR look!" 

(Nodding her head wisely and making eye contact)

I laughed even harder and moved my head, which she immediately righted to her own satisfaction once again)

"You're hair should be long and beautiful, and then boys will fall in love with you all the time, because they will like you're HAIR look." (Making sure I had absorbed this nugget--I had).  "That's why boys fall in love and want to mar-wie me all the time, because my hair is long and beautiful."  Taking a moment to focus on her own hair and stroke it, staring into the mirror.

"But, but, what if I don't want to be married?" I asked.

Incredulous look, as if she was wondering about my intelligence, shaking her head, with furrowed brow, "Well, you need to find a husband to protect you, because it's your job to take care of the children, and us (meaning her and Rose), and the dogs and everything." She waved her arms around to indicate everything, as if I needed reminding---which I did not. "And so you need a man to PROTECT you."

I had to admit she made a good point.  She would not hear any argument about my having guns to protect myself either.  "That's not the same.  That's for in case you HAVE to protect yourself."

I choose to go along and take the advice, because this was getting better and better as the moments went by.

I pointed out that one thing I hated worse than anything in life was cleaning the bathroom.  She thought I was getting off topic and so I mentioned that ALL boys pee on the floor a little bit right in front of the stool, and I hate cleaning it up.

This stopped her for a few minutes.  "ALL boys pee on the floor???"  She did not want to accept this.

"Yep." I confirmed.  Forewarned is forearmed is my motto, and I don't believe in sugar coating the most basic facts of life.

"Well", making a brushing away move with her hands, "I will find you one who doesn't pee on the floor."

More laughter from me.

We compromised, with me telling her she would never find such a man, but if she could find one who would just clean it up, we would have a deal.

BIG mistake.  This sent her into channeling the most ancient of all female spirits, you know, the one who just sticks to the facts and will hear no argument for "modern theory"?  Do you now know this spirit?  It doesn't matter: she knows you.  In fact, she changed your diapers.

She shook her head back and forth, almost sadly, and explained to me that "It's your job to clean, and keep the house nice, and cook and take care of the children, so he can protect you, because being a mother is the most important job in the world."

Ah.  I had it now: "So, I grow my hair to be long and beautiful, like your's, a man will like my hair look, marry me, and protect me, and I will always have to clean the bathroom."

Nodding happily, brushing my hair once again, "Yes, that's right........ and you're hair is getting much longer."

So there you have it, folks, the sure path to love and protection.

It's all about the "hair look".

I don't know why we keep trying to make it so hard.  

Do you?

You can always just ask you're own grandmother, but the advice will probably be the same and you will not get as thorough of a comb out. 

By appointment only, we have bathroom's to clean. :D

We finally meet Adriana Rose!

On the day she was born, I got up at 4 am and headed to Columbia to meet her mother and her friend at the hospital.  The stars looked like diamonds in a soft black sky, and Venus was shining down like a spotlight in the eastern sky.  I even drove right to the hospital and found the main admission desk without any trouble, which is kind of a big deal.  I always leave myself enough time to make a few mistakes, but there was no need for that on this day.

They broke her mother's water at 7 am and she was very explicit and clear with her Dr. and nurses that she would not be having an epidural.  Her exact words were "nothing to do with my spine", accompanied by hand actions that mimicked the shape of a spine.  The Dr. and nurses were very supportive, and the nurse even got excited that she would get to see a natural birth.  Isn't that the craziest thing you ever heard?  Unless you are over the age of 40 it probably is not, and we are poorer for it, in my opinion.  I have high hopes that "natural birth" will be making a big comeback, as out-of-favor as it has fallen. 

The next 3 hours we spent walking very fast for 40 minutes, followed by 20 minutes  on the monitors.  I was seriously impressed with how fast that girl could walk!  She even bounced with every step she took and did stairs!  I admit she lost me on the stairs.  I was winded after about three flights up and down a couple of times.  Plus, I admit the friend and I were trying to talk.  We were quickly left behind, and I told the young girls to carry on.  I would just be right there when they came back down. We went through 3 rounds of walking for 40 minutes and resting for 20 before that girl slowed down and the labor picked up.  Once she started stopping for the contractions and random nurses started asking if we might need a wheelchair (which she always refused) I knew we were getting into the thick of it.  (also, it was the most intense workout I have had since I picked up all the riffraff from the roof.  My legs are still sore-but in a good way now.  The first couple of days I felt like I had been hit by a train.  Or maybe just laid 50 feet of train track single-handedly.)

One determined mama!

Once she quit the walking she just sat on the edge of the bed, not wanting to be touched and not really moving.  I worked on her breathing, which she said helped a little, and she did eat a Popsicle at one point but she wanted no ice chips and did not even hurl any verbal abuse.  At one point she started to cry out, and then stopped herself.  I told her there was nothing wrong with making a little noise, and that she certainly would not upset anybody there by doing that.  She just grinned.  Grinned and bore it.  What a woman!  Don't get me wrong, she was in pain, and at a certain point panic started winning.  She agreed to what the Dr. termed a "baby dose" of Nubane, (no clue how to spell that one-sorry) which would knock the pain down a little and would wear off within about an hour.  It turned out to be exactly what she needed to get her over the hump of what would turn out to be her last hour of labor.  Reading it, it sounds like her "last hour of labor" was a small thing, but believe me, it is no small thing.  It's one of the scariest, longest, hardest hours anyone ever lives through.  My best advice is to never mention any one's last hour of labor lightly, or as if it's almost over, unless you want to be kicked in the stomach (at the very least).  Just in case you ever find yourself in that position, being in labor is to live from one moment to the next, and each one seems never-ending.

By that time she had gone from a dilation of 4 to 7 and it was time to call Daddy to come!  I left to meet Daddy and get Abigail, who was very excited to be a big sister!  I was very excited too.  I wish I had video of Daddy coming through the hospital doors.  He was stepping lively with a car seat under one arm and an eager 4 year old angel attached to the other.  Clearly, this was a man on a mission.  Abigail and I headed to the cafeteria to have a Popsicle.   We had no more gotten them opened and taken a bite than Daddy called and announced "7 lbs., 4 oz., 20" long" in the most proud and pleased voice I've ever heard.  "Oh!  We are right downstairs in the cafeteria!", I said.  He said "Come on up!"  And we did.

One perfect baby girl

Abigail was not getting rid of her Popsicle, but to hold it took both hands.  I tried to just drive her down the halls with my hand on her back. I freely admit she didn't walk fast enough for me, so I just picked her up, Popsicle and all.  Some Dr. behind us heard me tell her I loved her and he came up even with us and remarked "I'd say!  Carrying that big girl around!"  I just smiled and said "She has just become a big sister and this is probably one of the last times I ever will carry her."  He looked at her, looked at me, his eyes kind of teared up a little, and then he said, "Well, carry on."  So I did, Popsicle, angel and all.

When we got to the room, the baby was nursing.  Abigail was not too happy about that, she wanted to hold her right away, but she was content to sit next to her mother and stroke her sister's soft skin.  They did all the newborn testing right in the room a little while after that.  I was so happy to have the chance to actually check out a newborn, up close and personal.  When my own babies were born they were whisked away from me. Just across the room, but I didn't get to see anything.  I held Abigail and explained what the white, waxy coating was, why there was a little dried blood on the baby, and -------the umbilical cord.  Abigail was VERY ALARMED that something was wrong!  So I explained that she had had one just like that when she was born.  So had Mommy, and I, and, well, everyone who had ever been born.

"No, honey, your baby sister's inside will NOT leak out of that thing on her stomach...."

It wasn't too long until we left for the evening to spend it watching Disney movies and making frozen pizzas and pre-made cookie dough.  My own Beautiful Redhead came with us and it was pure heaven.

The next morning, when I was doing my hair under the close scrutiny of Abigail, she looked at me with those big blue eyes and pronounced "You have Dora hair."  Dang if I don't!  LOL   4 year old's have such clarity and honesty, who could ever resist them?  Want to know what's going on?  Ask a 4 year old, but only if you really want to know.

The next day Abigail got to hold her baby sister, and shortly after that, the entire family was able to go home.

Two happy sisters!

Their first good look at one another.  Alone at last!  There are things I need to you to know!!

Let's roll, folks.  I got all dressed up and everything.........

Everyone is doing very well.  Her mother reports that Abigail firmly announces "It's my turn" every time anyone holds the baby, and that "baby sister" has quickly replaced "Mommy" as the center of Abigail's world.

............................Told ya!

Mission accomplished.  Note "Dora hair" ;D