And one month later... (and six weeks later...) (and three months later...)

I first started this blog post about three months ago. Somehow, time has elapsed. And no, Jess, the blog isn't sick. It's just a little busy with two kids on its hands.

I'll post more pictures and a few comments later, but now, to comment on the photos I first posted in January...

One of Corrie's first smiles

One of our first outings - to a Saluki basketball game. Note both Calla's pigtails and her pompoms. Corrie was less enthused, but she'll catch Saluki fever eventually.

The two sisters. I love both of their expressions here - Calla's is her standard cheesy grin for the camera, Corrie's says "Woah - if Mom's got the camera, who's got me?!?"

So much more to say, but I'll post this now before another two months go by. I hear a baby chirping on her monitor and off I go...

She's Here!

Welcome to the world, Corinne Louise!

Our Thanksgiving baby was born - with great gratitude - early Saturday morning, all seven pounds, fourteen ounces and twenty and a half inches of her. As far as labors go, this one was not terribly grueling... just under eight hours, with minimal drama. Despite her reluctance to make an appearance, our little Corrie Lou did not need much of a nudge to make a grand entry.

We've been home since Sunday. All's well... Calla's glad to have her little sister here - most of the time. We're a little sleepy, but feeling good, especially since Joe has been attending to our every need, including bringing home a little bit of chocolate for a pick-me-up snack today. Such a good husband.

More later, including more pictures of the sisters. But now, time to attend to my baby. And maybe take another nap.

Ummm... nope, not yet.

Really, I am pregnant. We really are going to have a baby. Soon. Really.

I suspect that Calla's going to start thinking I've just made up all this baby nonsense. We started saying "soon" about two weeks ago, which to a two-year-old is the equivalent of the olden days. So, so long ago.

And so while I suspect you all have much bigger and more exciting things to think about these days (like - remembering to start thawing that frozen turkey or why you didn't get your Christmas lights up last weekend when the weather was so nice), I did want to post this quick update.

Status: Still here. Still pregnant.

Baby has until Friday evening to get her act in gear, or we'll start the process of gently evicting her from her nest.

Now you can go back to thinking about your turkey. To brine or not to brine....

Nope, not yet.

"No, no baby yet" has become my standard greeting on the phone to friends and family.

We're here, still waiting, and while growing in impatience each day, I'm still mostly OK with Baby taking her time. After all, my due date is just Monday, so she's not even late yet. I'm feeling fine, and may even be experiencing a little bit of an energy surge that I've read about (wait, is that a sign of pre-labor, or pre-pre-labor?).

I've decided that my labor-by-design plan would be to start contractions at home in the wee hours of the morning next Wednesday. At a reasonable hour, we calmly call Joe's sister Jeri in Kentucky to let her know that we may not be at home when she and Josh arrive in the afternoon as planned. Then, we take Calla to her regularly scheduled day care, and on the way back, stop by the hospital. Baby is born sometime that afternoon, leaving Joe enough time to make it home for Calla's bedtime before rejoining me in the hospital to stare adoringly at our new baby.

Sounds good, right? Just not sure how to get that plan across to the little girl who's actually in charge of the plan's implementation.

And speaking of little bossy girls... a follow-up to my last post. This morning, Joe suggested to Calla that Mama start up the CD with her favorite song on it. Calla looks seriously at him and then at me, and back to Joe again. "You do it, Daddy. Mama will cry. And then she'll break it."

She can't remember that 13 follows 12, but she clearly recalls my legacy of crying over a jammed CD player. Good times.

Here's to more family memories in the making...

Crazy Pregnant Lady

Still pregnant here, just in case you got excited about a new post.

It's probably worth mentioning, for posterity's sake if nothing else, that this has really been a relatively easy pregnancy for me. OK, the first 15 weeks were fairly miserable, but this time I knew I'd survive. And while pre-eclampsia the first time around put me at a higher risk for it again, there's been so sign so far. Which is not to say that I haven't worried a lot about everything, particularly since the ripe old age of 37 puts me firmly in the "advanced maternal age" category.

In fact, the only thing to materialize that's at all out of the ordinary is really relatively mild. Unless you're me. In the last three weeks, I've developed a "pregnancy tumor" on my lower lip. Completely harmless to baby and to me, except for wounding my vanity. I had one with Calla, although it was relatively subtle and demure, and it went away after she was born. Lucky me, it then came back a while later, slightly less demure and more angry, but a visit to a dermatologist neatly took care of it for good.

Until three weeks ago, when it came back with a vengeance. It started off nice enough, so I didn't feel like a freak of nature in Jess and Ben's wedding pictures. But once the wedding pictures were done, the gloves came off, apparently. It's gone from pea-sized to chick-pea-sized now... and showing no signs of letting up until the baby arrives. My dermatology appointment is already scheduled for post-baby, but if I could figure out a way to get the dermatologist to meet me in the labor and delivery recover room, you can believe I would.

Of course, on top of that all, I'm now approximately 13 months pregnant, getting more uncomfortable by the day. So let's just say, I'm a little on the sensitive side, emotionally speaking. Joe might have different words to describe my moods, but he's smart enough not to express them out loud in my presence.

Anyway. Last night after dinner, Calla started singing a song from our music class. I don't know it well enough, so I wanted to play the CD so we could all sing along. Simple enough plan, except I apparently loaded that CD into the same slot with another CD. Seems to me you shouldn't be able to do that so easily. So, while Joe's grumbling about the CD player being jammed, Calla's jumping and singing and being a rambunctious two-year-old, and Chloe's running around whining and barking. And I'm getting angry and angrier at whomever designed a CD player that so easily allowed one to load two CDs into one slot.

And, by the way, did I mention I'm 13 months pregnant with a fleshy garbanzo bean hanging off my lip?

So, I broke. "I've had it," I yelled. And then promptly broke into tears. Because that's what you do when you're 13 months pregnant.

Joe hugged me (because that's what you do when you have a crazy pregnant wife) and I sat down and breathed. And then the CD player started working again and Chloe got fed and Calla got to sing her song and we all sang and jumped along with her. And all was fine.

Later, as I was putting Calla to sleep, she remembered the incident.

"Mama, you upset?" Yes, I was upset, but I'm happy now.
"You have a rough day?" Well, I guess so.
"I think you have a rough day."

And that was that. Until this morning in the car, rushing as usual to library story time.

"Mama, you cry last night?" Yes, yes, I did. But I'm fine now.
She cocks her head and looks seriously at me. "You cry last night. I think you miss your daddy."

It's no secret that I can get a little anxious about how we'll manage the crazy rhythms of newborn life with the demands and energies of our spunky two-year-old. But then there are those precious moment of grace when I think, OK, maybe it won't be so bad.

And maybe, just maybe, it might even be a little fun.

Oh dear...

...And we were doing so well at this blog thing. Now we've gone and neglected it, dear readers, and it's likely you, like our hummingbirds, have already migrated to some other family blog. Well OK, the hummingbirds may have migrated to another feeder since we neglected that too, but you get my point.

I'll admit I was suffering from the "there's just too much to write so I'll do it tomorrow" procrastination. Joe's trip to Chicago, our trip to Wisconsin, then back to Chicago for Jess and Ben's wedding (so lovely!), then my parents' visit to our home for 5 days. Then Halloween, and then just daily fun and mayhem mixed in between all that. To compensate, I'll throw a few pictures your way...

Calla's party dress for the wedding. It's still hanging in her closet, and she occasionally asks to wear it. I don't know what other occasion we'll have to wear it before she gets too big, so on some random Thursday, I may just have to acquiesce.


Calla at the wedding rehearsal, but it's really emblematic of a pose she struck several times during the week-and-a-half of family fun. She'd run and run and run.... and then collapse. Once, falling asleep during her pre-bedtime diaper change, and then another time, literally falling asleep at the dinner table. Family - gotta love 'em, but sometimes, they can be exhausting, you know?

It was a simply lovely wedding, and fabulous to spend time with so many different parts of our family. Calla and cousin Julia hit it off immediately, once again. It will be fun to watch these two become better cousin-friends as they get older.

Since all the excitement, however, we've gone back to daily life, made all the more exciting by an increasingly independent and spirited two-year-old. So now for a few random anecdotes...

Dinner one night last week was pork tenderloin, made by Joe and the slow cooker. Upon seeing the shredded pork ready for her eating, Calla exclaimed "Hello, chicken! What you doing on my plate?" And then proceeded to eat it up. Perhaps you have to be her parents to find that as funny as we did.

"I need to do it!" is an oft-repeated phrase. While I value her independence and know this is a crucial developmental stage, in practice, it can be tiring and time-consuming. Getting dressed, brushing teeth, pouring cereal, getting into the car seat all take three times as long now and I never quite budget my morning schedule well enough to allow for all the "I can do it!" moments.

On the other hand, I am so pleased to report that she is no longer deathly afraid of her little potty. On the contrary, this now figures prominently into an extensive"I need to do it" routine. Typical hygiene process: Announces she needs to use the potty and heads upstairs, regardless if anyone actually heard the announcement. Pulls herself on to the upstairs toilet to turn on the bathroom light. Gets down, pulls down her pants and takes off her own diaper. Hands wet diaper off to mom, or leaves sitting out in some prominent place if mom is not around. Sits on the potty for about 1.5 seconds, producing no output. Stands up, uses way too much toilet paper to wipe down the potty she didn't just use. Flushes paper in toilet, then rechecks to make sure it worked. At this point, pants are around her ankles, no diaper. Uses potty as step stool to begin tooth brushing process, for some reason. Then washes hands.

If no parent was around by this point, we're usually alerted to her routine by the loud, flood-stage water coming from upstairs. Cue fight with Mom about need to put on a new diaper. Cue fight with Mom about need to turn off water in sink. Then Mom thoughtlessly turns off bathroom light on her own, triggering a third tantrum. Repeat an hour later when diaper is wet again.

So all in all, typical two-year-old stuff. Calla's getting increasingly interested in this new baby we keep talking about, still occasionally referencing the baby in her tummy and the baby in daddy's tummy in addition to the one occupying a prominent place in my belly. She's agreed that the baby can sleep in her old crib, we've covered what little babies eat when they're hungry ("special milk") and have now moved on to what we can sing to the baby when we hold her.

Even with all that discussion, I'm sure Calla has no idea what's in store. Frankly, I'm not entirely sure I do either. Regardless, Baby Girl is on her way in about two weeks, more or less. I'd like to commit to another blog post before then, but let's be honest- our recent track record on updates isn't exactly promising. So, we'll post the news here, but likely not much before then.

Stay tuned... more excitement to come!

Summer Recap

Well, our pool has closed. Calla's had her first cold of the season, followed by her annual ear infection. I'm transitioning from my warm weather unfashionable maternity wear to cold weather unfashionable maternity wear. I guess fall has arrived.

In honor of summer's passing, I thought I'd do a quick recap of all the things I meant to blog about this summer, but never quite got around to it. Imagine, if you would, a much longer exposition on each of these blog-worthy items...

Grandma and Grandpa Cheatwood's visit... Just a week or so ago, in fact, they joined us for a wonderful seven days of fun. Fun, despite persistent rainy weather and Calla's aforementioned cold that she nicely shared with Grandma. They were scarcely out of the car in our driveway before Calla insisted she show them her new "big girl bed." Appropriate oohing and aahing commenced. We enjoyed the visit, and the fish of Lake Murphsyboro enjoyed not being caught, even with two outings by Joe and his Dad. Shoot. And I'd been so looking forward to fish for dinner.

Big Girl Room... Completed and now owned by Calla. She only rarely mentions sleeping in the crib these days, and has thankfully gone back to her normal good sleep patterns. Asleep by 7:30 at night, wakes at 7 in the morning. Still takes an hour-and-a-half nap every day. Look at that, I've gone and jinxed it, haven't I? Anyway, there's plenty of space in her play "alcove" for her dolls and purses and books, which really is all she needs. And there's plenty of pink, so it's officially a little girl's room.

Summer Eatin'... Once again, we tried to do our best this summer to eat seasonally and eat locally. We made it to the farmer's market nearly every weekend, but when we couldn't, we found local produce in the grocery store or co-op. Eating seasonally appropriate produce is fun in that it makes us appreciate the fleeting nature of each harvest.... strawberry and blueberry season transitions too quickly to peach season which way too soon was apple season. Still found a sweet watermelon last weekend, but those are probably winding down now too. And not just fruit. We had collard greens and cornbread last night for dinner... a whole mess o' local greens. Which I successfully cooked, to Joe's delight.

The downside to all of this is that when that season is over, it's over. Calla requested strawberries this week and I had to break it to her that strawberry season was done for the year and it was time to be eating apples. She cried: "I miss my strawberries!" I know what she means. Only 4 or 5 months until Florida's strawberry season. Since she's a partial Floridian by birth, perhaps we'll break down then.

Of course, the most local eating was straight from our garden. It was a mildly successful experiment, and we're already noting what we'll change for next year. Green beans and purple-hulled peas were good, but sparse. Bell peppers were also good, despite taking their own sweet time to arrive. Banana peppers were effective reproducers, maybe more than we knew what to do with. Tomatoes were good, although we could have used more. Zucchini were a complete bust. Thankfully, other zucchini gardens were much more fruitful, so I still got to make plenty of zucchini bread, zucchini muffins, chocolate zucchini cake. And still save a few for dinner.

And cold weather spinach is sprouting up now. We have high hopes for some good spinach salads in our future.

Imagination Gone Wild... The most fun this summer has been - as is often the case - watching Calla's latest development. Lately, it's been an imagination extravaganza. Out of nowhere, she'll cup her hands together and announce she has a bear/alligator/whale in her hands, and we'll appropriately shiver with fear. Her babies have been sent to time-out far more than I have been.

Last week, we were walking to our car after a Saluki football game, and noticed that Calla was loudly panting. Joe asked what she was doing. Calla's response: "I'm a dog!" Well, of course you are. Or "Roar!" and she's a dinosaur or maybe another bear. It's a zoo around here.

This will be a busy fall for all of us.... Joe has grants due and a big conference. Calla's busy with school, music, library time and just generally being two. Me, well, I have a little project I've been incubating, due around Thanksgiving. We'll try to keep you posted on all these events this fall.

How 'Bout That?

For posterity's sake, I thought I'd capture a few "Calla-isms" we've been enjoying lately. Using complete sentences is no longer remarkable (except when I stop to think about how we just intuit things like sentence structure and verb endings and pronouns), but she's using a few phrases frequently that still make me laugh.

"You OK, Mama?" [Daddy/Chloe/Baby...]
I'm not sure from whence comes this wellspring of concern, but if I look irritated or am concentrating on a task (opening a jar, for example) or bump an elbow, Calla's instantly asking about my well-being. Likewise, any minor bump or trip she experiences will get a quick "I'm OK!" to reassure us of her well-being. I'm OK. She's OK. We're all OK around here.

".... like Daddy!"
This has become a common phrase ending. Calla likes to emulate her father - be it the way he drinks up the cereal milk straight from the bowl, or how he eats goldfish crackers cupped in his hand, or even just mimicking his hand gestures. She once had the temerity to suggest that I should use the bathroom "like Daddy" and that's when I knew things had gone too far.

"'Scuse me, Lily!" "No, thanks!" "Bless you, Chloe!"
Some of our lessons in politeness have been paying off, apparently. She doesn't always remember to say "please" (except when it's something she really wants), but even the "thank yous" are more frequent. She somehow uses the "no thanks" more, but often at strange times. "Calla, do you need a diaper change?" "No, thanks!" "Calla, it's time to get dressed now." "No, thanks!" I guess one can be ornery and polite at the same time.

"How 'bout that?"
This phrase punctuates the end of many sentences. I couldn't figure out where she picked this one up, until I started listening to me. Guilty. Calla uses it - as I do, I guess - to garner enthusiasm for something she really wants to do.

"We have snack now, how 'bout that?"

"We play outside, how 'bout that?"

Or my favorite, said twice now, from out of nowhere...

"I make a baby, how 'bout that?"

Ummm... In 25 years, let's talk. How about THAT?

Still not winning mother of the year...

Quick story from yesterday...

Calla and I were upstairs, trying to make our way downstairs to dinner, but she clearly wasn't as hungry as I was. I could see her starting to dawdle over an open closet in the hallway and gave the door a nudge so she wouldn't be encouraged to start playing hide-n-seek.

Unfortunately, I hadn't realized her fingers were already playing in the hinges. Ouch.

It was a gentle door nudge and it didn't shut all the way, so no major damage (a la Jessica at that age with fingers stuck in the screen door), but I imagine it still hurt. I kissed and hugged and apologized and felt supremely awful. I knew it wasn't too bad when she asked for her ice pack doggie, because that's more for fun than for actual healing.

Then, through her whining and her tears, she sternly told me: "You hurt me, Mama. You go time-out. You go time-out, Mama."

And so she led me to the time-out corner and instructed me to stay. She wasn't satisfied with my just standing there. I actually had to turn around and face the corner (I don't think we've ever made her stand face-in). Eventually, I was let out and we could go have dinner.

I guess that was fair. At least I got to eat.

When the cat's away...

... the girls will play. Joe left this morning on the train to Chicago for work meetings and then future brother-in-law Ben's bachelor party. Joe will head home Saturday morning, fully rested, I'm sure. Solo parenting days used to be stressful for me, but Calla's at an age now where it's just a little easier to handle the daily ups and downs. Besides, some people do this every day, so three and a half days on my own shouldn't be too much of a stretch.

And in fact, a few days of quiet isn't all that bad considering we had so much fun this past weekend. Friends from Chicago, Catrina and Chalise visited for four days and we enjoyed every minute. Calla, especially, loved three-year-old Chalise with her big vocabulary and big girl underwear. She's still talking about the visit.

A few pictures from this past weekend...

Playing around at Giant City State Park, where we went for a hike and lunch.

Chalise and Calla finishing up the hike. Big girl Chalise realized they were heading out to the road and parking lot and insisted on holding hands,
because that's what you do in parking lots, of course.

Our hike was followed up by lunch at the lodge. It turned out to be all-you-can eat fried chicken and sides dinner. Finger-lickin' and spoon-lickin' good, in Calla's book. That's my good eatin' girl.

More pictures later this week of Calla's newly decorated Big Girl Room. Joe did a great job of assembling my ideas and Calla's loving her new space. Until then... we'll be playing our version of Girls Gone Wild...which just might involve pizza and playgrounds and Calla's favorite videos.

Take That, Galileo

This must be how myths are born.

During our first diaper change of the morning, Calla looked out the window. "The moon is gone!"

Yes, the moon goes away in the morning.

"The moon was scared. Scared of the clouds. The clouds make a loud noise and scared the moon."

Really. And what sound do clouds make?

She grimaces. High-pitched squeal: "EEEEEEEEE!"

There you have it. A new view of the universe. And a new way to wake the neighbors, noisy clouds.

Quick Update on the State of the World, Homestyle - An Addendum

Night Two in BGB (see below) was an even greater success. No interventions, and she slept all the way until 6:30, her normal wake-up time.

This morning, when I went to her room after being beckoned (love that she still thinks she needs me to get her out of bed - don't plan on disabusing her of that notion), I complimented her on sleeping all the way through the night in her new bed.

Calla: "I'm a grown-up!"

Eee-gad. Is this how high heels and eyeliner starts? When I assured her that she was still a kid, and not a grown-up yet, she queried: "Grown-up soon?"

Oh, baby. I fear it may indeed be a quick trip from big girl bed to kindergarten to junior high to driver's license to college admissions essays to grown-up world. But let's not rush it.

So for now, we'll focus on moving out of those diapers. One step at a time.

Quick Update on the State of the World, Homestyle.

It happened.

Calla slept all night (after two early-evening interventions) in her new "big girl bed." I was a little teary last night at the thought of my little girl sleeping all alone in such a big bed. And then I looked in on her - sleeping with feet at pillow, arms stretched out toward the foot. Clearly, she was owning this bed.

However, napping in big girl bed is still too novel, too fun, too liberating to also be productive. She's now peacefully napping back in the crib. My baby can stay a baby at naptime for a little while longer.

Sniff, sniff.

No, really, it's the Terrific Twos.

For those of you keeping score - it's now four tantrums in the last 24 hours. Two major, two minor.

The one last night was because I insisted - irrationally, I suppose - that Calla come to dinner. Kicking, screaming, prone on the floor. The best part was when Joe walked in from mowing the lawn, she managed to scream out "Daddy, I'm crying!" As if he couldn't tell. Really, quite an impressive show.

Number 2 was at 5:30 this morning, after an unscheduled (but necessary) diaper change. She admitted she was still sleepy, as was I, but only wanted to go back to sleep on blankets on the floor. Again, irrational Mom insisted on the crib. Screaming ensues.

Three and Four were relatively minor, yet still demonstrating good form: insisting on a particular cereal at breakfast that couldn't be found and then later, anger at Joe's refusal to allow her to eat graham crackers for second breakfast.

So, we're taking a break from each other right now. I'm sipping a small cup of half-caf, and Calla's engrossed in Sesame Street.

It's not yet 9:30. I'm still in my pajamas. Three-and-a half hours to nap time. I can make it.

A Worm Encounter

We had rain off and on last week, so Thursday morning after an early morning storm, I suggested we go out for a walk.... "to look for worms." Calla often asks to go out and hunt for worms, whether we've had rain or not, but we rarely find any wiggly worms on our short walks. Plus, she loves any excuse to put on her rain boots.

At last, we found one, wiggling and squirming right in front of our house. I pointed it out to Calla and gave it a gentle poke with a stick, prompting a wormy wiggle. Calla screamed and ran for the yard. It took some convincing, but she eventually joined me by the side of the road and she watched as the worm wiggled one way and then another. After a bit, we nudged it off the road and on to the safety of the grass. "Mama, I scared of worms" was Calla's summary of the experience.

The concept of being scared of something is a relatively new one for Calla, or at least it seems so, by the number of things she has declared as scary recently. The garbage truck grumbling by after the worm incident prompted an immediate "I scared of trucks." Spiders, butterflies, the sound of the suction bathmat being ripped up from the tub - all have been deemed scary at one point (I'm with her on the spider thing). It's hard to know if this is a vocabulary development or a conceptual development, but regardless, she's quick to call something scary, but then equally quick to show an intense fascination in it.

Later over dinner, when describing the worm adventure to Joe, Calla's re-telling had her rescuing the worm and putting him on the grass. She conveniently left out the shrieking part of the story. We'll see what happens with the next worm encounter.

Oh, and just to keep up a theme in recent posts here... Calla informed me that she is not scared of llamas. She has told me, however, that her daddy is scared of them. Poor Joe.

Signs of Summer

No amount of persuasion can convince Calla that llamas aren't running wild in the caves of our Giant City State Park. We've been on this hike twice, winding our way through the giant sandstone blocks that form caves, "streets," and looming bluffs. We go on our walks to look for bugs, birds, and inevitably, llamas. Still haven't seen one yet, but Calla's not giving up.

It's fun to go on walks with Calla these days - as long as we avoid the typical two-year-old tantrum on the way. She walks with such energy: arms pumping, hips swaying, shoulders and torso pushing forward. Running is even more fun to watch. It's not just her legs; her whole body runs. While it's not exactly a graceful stride, the lurching, staggering toddler run is gone.

Also gone is her baby fat of a year ago. All her outdoor play is building her muscles long and lean. Despite our efforts to slather on sun screen ("scum sceem" according to Calla) with SPF 50 to 70, her legs and arms are tanned more than I could ever achieve back in my "laying out" days. It's amazing the transformation that's occurred in just the last six months. Hopefully, she'll always love moving her growing muscles as much as she seems to now. I wonder if she'll eventually adopt the adolescent slump... that "don't look at me" slouch common among 15-year-old girls. I hope not, but perhaps it's inevitable.

Both Calla's legs and mine bear the battle scars of a Southern Illinois summer: mosquito bites. I counted 11 bites on Calla's right leg last week, from shin to ankle. They don't seem to bother her that much, although she will find one to scratch when she's looking for a little sympathy. We'll smear on a little bug bite lotion (doesn't really work that well for me) and she nods reassuringly: "Feel better soon." Joe said that if bug bites were a sign of neglect, we'd be talking to DCFS by now. Thankfully, it's just a sign of a busy outdoors summer.

Still at least one more month of summer left here in Southern Illinois. You can be sure we'll be outside, enjoying as much of it as the bugs allow. And very likely, looking for those wild llamas. They're out there, somewhere.

Playing Church

(More on this past weekend's adventures later, but a quick story first...)

Sitting in bed this morning with Calla and Joe, starting to get our day going. Calla grabs my fist, pumps it up and down vigorously and says "Peace to you!" Then reaches under the pillow for Joe's hand: "Peace to you, Daddy!"

I spend most of my time in church trying to distract Calla (and ultimately, me) from what's going on in church: books, cheerios, juice, crayons, coloring books, "shhhh... use your whisper voice," stickers, more books, emergency raisins, "shhh... that's NOT your whisper voice!" A diaper change or three that lasts the entire sermon. Maybe there's a hymn and part of the liturgy that I notice, but most of it comes and goes and I'm focused elsewhere.

But in spite of all that, she's starting to get it. She sternly told our pew neighbor yesterday that we have to "wait our turn" to go up for communion. She's excited for her chance to "see Pastor" during the children's sermon, even if she gets nothing out of it. And now her latest game of passing the peace.

Sometimes, I forget how much she really notices going on around her.

Peace to you today!

What was it I keep forgetting?

There's something I keep forgetting to write here. Hmmm... Calla's second birthday? Check. Trip to Virginia and DC? Check. Chloe's Big Adventure? Check. Wind Storm 09? Check. Hmmm...

Calla, what is it I keep forgetting?


Ohhh, right. You're going to be a big sister.

So, for anyone who either hasn't seen us lately, hasn't spoken with one of us, or seen us on Facebook (does that leave anyone?), it's official. The name of this blog may need to change to "jandkandbabies" in the future. Around Thanksgiving, to be more specific. And we know that Calla will be a big sister to a little sister, so all the pink clothes get one more wearing.

So far, so good. Baby's moving, I'm getting a little bigger, but nothing that slows anyone down. If she's in a good mood, Calla may - without warning - lift up my shirt to you show you the baby in Mama's tummy. And the one in her tummy as well.

There are moments when I think I can't make it through the rest of the day with my one precious child, let alone two of them. But people do this all the time, so I'm told, so I guess we'll figure it out as we go along, just as we have always done.

OK, now I think we have told all our media outlets. In whatever way we've let you know, thanks for being part of our family's excitement about our latest development.

Enjoying a soft pretzel at a Miner's Game. Nothing to do with a new baby, I just like the photo.

Happy Day, Calla!

Well, it's official: we have a two-year-old. Calla's birthday came and went without incident. A weekend visit from Jeri and Josh, 25 guests, 17 lbs of pulled pork, and a homemade layer cake (lemon) that turned out OK. The only thing that didn't go exactly as planned for our afternoon pool party was the weather - unseasonably chilly for July in southern Illinois. That's fine - we filled the baby pool so only kids had to get wet, passed out bubble bottles, and everyone was entertained.

When it was time to do the whole cake/singing thing, Calla had wandered off in the direction of the baby pool (fully dressed at this point) and was happily splashing away. At first, she was not excited about leaving the pool and was about to launch a minor tantrum, until I said the magic words: "Calla, it's time for birthday cake!"

Her face lights up. "Happy day, Calla? Happy day, Calla!!" And with that, she sprinted to the porch. She knew exactly what was going to happen since we'd watched her friends celebrate birthdays. And she was quite content to be the center of attention for a few moments while we sang to her.

And then there was the cake and ice cream. I realize now how rarely we eat dessert with Calla by how darn excited she was about the ice cream. To this day, if you ask her about her birthday, she's likely to first mention the ice cream.

Just before digging into the ice cream. Note the bedraggled, just fell into a baby pool look she's got going.

And after the ice cream. She eventually ate her cake (well, she ate somebody's cake) after most of her friends left. Ice cream came first. Smart girl.

Being two now means a new class at school (no bibs or sippy cups - thanks for your help, stain stick!), that potty training encouragement has picked up (thanks, Elmo's Potty video!), and that we're starting to think about the transition to a "big girl bed."

At her last doctor's appointment, she measured in at 36.5 inches (97th percentile) tall and 29 lbs (77th percentile). It's increasingly hard to see my baby from two years ago in her face and lanky body.

Hope everyone has a "happy day!"

Again... soon??

Here it is July 1st - nearly halfway through the summer and halfway through the year. It hardly seems possible! We're glad that so far, July has brought much cooler weather than June!

We've recently returned from a whirlwind tour of the Mid-Atlantic. Or at least, all of the Mid-Atlantic that matters to us. We started with a wonderful visit to Joe's sister Joyce and her family in their home just outside of Richmond. We had worked with Calla before we left to learn names: Aunt Joyce, Uncle Tim, Gene, Jason, Jacob and Timmy. She did really well with those new names, but found it so much more fun to put names to new faces when she finally met them all. She was well-loved by her cousins and she loved them right back.

Calla with Gene and Jason

Calla with Jacob and Timmy

Next, after a quick Amtrak ride up to DC, we were with Carrie, Brian and Julia for Julia's baptism. Julia did great - she giggled her way through much of the liturgy. And Julia's so close to walking, which means she has all sorts of new and exciting walking around toys, much to Calla's delight. We also had a chance to visit with our good friends Sally, Mike and big boy Jonah. A short visit with everyone, but so much fun.

Calla and Julia, both wearing their Mexico outfits.

By Monday, when we were driving home from the St. Louis airport, Calla finally had the total meltdown we'd been avoiding all weekend. She'd had her short car nap, polished off her chicken nuggets, and juice was all gone. About 10 minutes from home, she began her ear-piercing screams.

Joe was driving, so I was in charge of distraction. First attempt: "Calla, didn't we have fun with Timmy and Jacob and Gene and Jason and Aunt Joyce and Uncle Tim? Didn't we have fun with Julia and Aunt Carrie and Uncle Brian?"

Sob. Sob. Nods. "Again?" Sob. Back to screaming.

"Again? Of course, we'll see them again. And we'll have fun with them again!"

Sob. Sob. "Again, SOON??!!!" Sob. Back to screaming.

OK. Distraction Attempt #2. "Calla, look - do you know where we are? We're so close to home! Which way do we turn to get home?"

"Nooooooo!!" Screaming intensifies as we make our final turn on to our street. "NOOOOO!!"

So, let's just say that Calla had a great time on our quick trip to Virginia and DC. And that re-entry back to normal life was a little anti-climactic. Not to mention that she continues to wake up on the Eastern time zone. Here's hoping that the new black-out curtains I bought today help us all sleep past 6:00 am.

Thanks, family, for hosting us this past weekend - you're all so special to us and especially to Calla!

Hot Days and Big Steps

Hot, hot, hot. We've had 6+ days now with head indices hovering at or above 100. Calla and I have been living in the pool for the past week, and collapsing at night. It's also been a time of some interesting milestones and developments in the life of our nearly two-year-old. With that in mind, a random Calla update...


Thanks to a garage sale right across the street from us, Calla has a new kitchen in our basement. This has caused some degree of confusion when I've told her to find something in the kitchen, meaning the one with running water, and I find her down stairs, making pasta, soup and coffee. That's basically her culinary repertoire these days, and we tend to eat that with her for whatever meal she's making. Her babies also now drink coffee, and eat soup and pasta, which is surprising given their youth.


It's funny to remember that just a month ago, Calla was leery about getting in the water. She's now a fish with floaties: she can float on her stomach and kick, float on her back, and the biggest development this week was learning to blow bubbles. It's fun because she's much more self-sufficient in the pool now. Don't get me wrong -it's not as if we throw her in the deep end and then sip daquiris pool-side, but it does mean that we don't have to be as completely hands-on with her as we were last summer.

How hot is it? Well, our 40,000 gallon pool now registers 91 degrees. That's after we added water last night to cool it down from a sweltering 93. This sun thing is hot. You'd think somebody would figure out how to harness energy from it one of these days....

Talking and more talking... Calla's starting to figure out how to string together her impressive vocabulary into something resembling sentences. Objects still give her trouble, so sentences come out "Daddy apple eat," but she gets her point across. She's becoming more comfortable using pronouns, particularly "I," as in "I can do it" (we hear that a lot) or "I made it" or "I'll get it."

She's also telling stories more. She still talks about the "noisy trucks" that we saw chipping up wood from the storm over a month ago, but newly added to her story-telling series is: "Bug on window! Fly! Gone!" (Translation: she spotted a big bug on the window. It flew away, and it was gone. Got it?) From that story, she might transition to another window story: "Squirrels. Window. Mama. Bang, bang, bang. Go, go go!" (Translation: Squirrels on the bird-feeder. You figure out the rest.) Or she might tell the story about that one time when there was a bug on her head. What makes it fun is that each time she tells these "stories," they seem new and exciting to her. The truck was noisy! It hurt my ears! Loud truck!

It's supposed to be another scorcher here tomorrow. Hope you're finding ways to stay cool wherever you are.

A Happy Reunion

Yes, it's been over a month. It just kept getting to the point where the more time lapsed, the more there was to share, the harder it was to get motivated to post it all here. But might as well get started...

So, if the biggest event of May 2009 was the derecho/tornadic activity/macro-burst/inland hurricane that tore up Carbondale (and, as we've since learned, over half our roof, which will be replaced thanks to insurance once the roofers get to us in 6 months), then the second biggest event of May 2009 was the Disappearing Dog trick that Chloe pulled two weeks later.

Joe's folks and Jeri and Josh were visiting and Thursday morning, the men folk were going fishing. In all the activity of packing up, loading up fishing rods and coolers, Chloe snuck out of the house. She probably just though she'd figure out how to beg more food out of us, but somehow, no one noticed she was out and we all went back inside or to the lake. Clearly, she figured, she'd have to go elsewhere to beg some food. So, through the yard and over the neighbor's field of mud she went to go look pathetic and hungry somewhere else.

Since mid-morning through mid-afternoon is typically naptime for Chloe, we didn't notice she wasn't snoring inside until after we all returned from our lakeside picnic. After searching the house, and searching all her typical outside hiding spots, we were frantic. So we searched more. We called the neighbors we knew - they went out and searched. We called the police - no Chloe. We left a message for the vacationing animal control officer - no Chloe. By this time, the pound had closed and we wouldn't be able to reach them until noon on Friday. We went to bed thinking we'd seen the last of our snoring, begging, food-obsessed little pug dog.

Friday morning, I placed a "lost dog" ad in the paper. We made fliers and littered the neighborhood. And we waited. At 12:01 pm, Joe called the pound. Yes, someone had reported finding a lost black pug dog. No, she wasn't at the pound. But here's the number... which Joe immediately called. It was the local Chinese restaurant, which caused a bit of confusion on both ends of the phone. Eventually, Joe talked to the restaurant's owner who confirmed that yes, he had a hungry black pug dog in his car. "She eats a lot, right?" Right. That's our Chloe.

Ten minutes later, Joe was home with our Chloe. She had spent the night in that car since the restaurant owner (who lives behind us and a few houses down - so close!) had two other big dogs who did not play nicely with Chloe. She seemed happy to see us, although had likely been fed in Dalmatian proportions and perhaps was wistful that we didn't see fit to continue the trend.

All told, she'd been gone about 26 hours, and our house was too quiet during that time. She irritates me constantly, but take her away, and I became a tearful mess. It took me a whole 36 hours before I started yelling at her for snatching food from Calla - that's how much I missed her.

So, all in all, a happy ending. Oh, and one more detail - the Chinese restaurant's name? Happy Reunion. And so it was.

"Lights no work"

First, let me reassure you that we're OK. I'm sure you all have been terribly worried about us what with all the news you heard about our tornados/inland hurricane/bad thunderstorms last Friday, right? I mean, it's an official declared disaster area here. I personally never saw the CNN news trucks, but I'm sure you saw their extensive coverage? Interviews with survivors on NPR? Lengthy newspaper articles with harrowing pictures? What? Really? Nothing?

Oh well. It all just feeds that Southern Illinois insecurity complex we have going here. Don't even get me started on how much attention Chicago gets at our expense.

But it was scary. We'd had really bad thunderstorms starting late Thursday night, with hail and torrential rain. Storms continued late Friday morning, just after Calla and I had returned from a stroller walk home from playgroup. We waited out that storm, and then went to a friend's house for lunch. I was trying to cajole Calla out the door (so many fun toys at everyone else's house) when Joe called to warn me that another storm front was on the way in. We were about 5 minutes away from home, and while I thought about staying put, figured we had time to make it home. Good decision, as it turns out. I was just putting Calla down for a nap around 1:30 or so when the tornado sirens went off. We headed to the basement with Chloe and Lily following close behind. Just then the power went off and the emergency weather radio went silent. I still didn't think it sounded too bad, which helped me stay calm, which helped Calla think this was all just a fun diversion from naptime. When we emerged 20 minutes later, I could see it was pretty bad outside. And that was just our neighborhood.

Trees were down everywhere. Big pines trees snapped in half like asparagus. Huge 100-year old Oak trees, completed uprooted. Power lines down, roads impassable. The tree-lined street where we'd had lunch was littered with trees and power poles. Fortunately, other than a cedar tree in our front yard that splintered and fell on our forsythia, we had no damage at all. It was a little embarassing in fact, when neighbor John had trees lining his garage and roof, and Ed across the street had his backyard covered in downed trees.

Closer to town was even worse. The University was hit hard. The next community to the east of us was also really torn up. In the end, it looks like the storm (a climatologist spouse of a friend of mine called it a "derrecho"?? - haven't yet googled to see what that means) cut a 20 mile path from west to east and we just happened to be in its path. Some "tornadic activity" was involved, we're hearing now, although true climateologists apparently scoff at the original diagnosis of an "inland hurricane." I happen to like that description the best - makes us sound exotic.

Our biggest damage was the loss of our freezer and fridge for 5 days. We invited a neighbor family, who also happened to be our pastor and family, over for dinner Friday night to eat as much grilled meat as we could manage. We were lucky to have a gas stove, which kept dining options open. But unfortunately, an electric hot water heater, which helped us realize how optional regular showering really is.

Calla never really cared. We probably spent more time outside, which she loved. Her lack of interest in TV paid off, so I never had to explain why I couldn't summon up Elmo. Most often, the simple explanation of "the lights don't work" sufficed for her. She'd nod knowingly, shake her head and repeat "lights no work."

So, yesterday, after 5 days and 1.5 hours, the power truck stopped me just as Calla and I were setting off on a walk. I could have kissed the grizzly man who said we should go back home and see if our lights were working. We followed behind as the truck drove slowly up our street, parade style. Neighbors ran out of their house, waving and yelling thanks to the utility workers. We waved back and joined in the excitement when we got home and saw the garage light on. Well, I was excited. Calla was just mad that her stroller walk was cut short. All things considered, she liked it better when the "lights no work."

Calla Update

I realized that what with my postings on gardens and baby owls (one egg hatched - still waiting for the rest, FYI), I haven't updated you on 22-month old Calla's latest tricks.

"Kiss You"
We've gotten to that stage where a well-placed kiss from Mom or Dad will heal most bumps and falls. Typically, by the time Calla finds us, she's already forgotten what she hurt, and will usually offer an out-turned palm for a kiss with the request "Kiss you!" Yesterday, she scuffed her toe on the rug while we were playing. Apparently, it was not nearly enough discomfort to warrant a kiss from mom, so she said "kiss you" to herself and brought her toe to her own lips. Mwah. All better.

Back on the Potty Train
We had started the whole potty thing a while ago, but after (what I thought were) some early successes, Calla seemed to be terrified of her... ummm... outputs. I only had to mention "potty" and she'd lunge for my neck, protesting tearfully. So, this week, I was pleasantly surprised when she suggested a sit on the potty. We read a book or two, maybe sing a song, and generally have a potty party. Maybe someday, something will happen there again.

"ABCs! ABCs!"
Calla's latest favorite song is the Alphabet song. She can sing it all the way through on her own, if you allow a loose interpretation of "L-M-N-O-P." I had assumed she didn't really understand what she was singing about, until she started pointing out letters on t-shirts and signs - not the correct letters, mind you, but just calling them all "ABCs." Still, I thought that was impressive, and then this week, she pointed at the first letter on my "Quality Chick" t-shirt and announced "Q!" Can't identify any other letter, yet, and I'm baffled how she became so interested in one of the more obscure members of the whole 26, but there it is -she knows her Qs.

"Ashes, ashes"
Along with singing her ABCs, one of Calla's other favorite past-times these days is running around in a circle, singing "Ashes, ashes!" If there's anyone around to hold her hand, she'll do the whole "Ring around the Rosy" game with glee, but has just as much fun running in circles by herself - that is, until she gets too dizzy and collapses, laughing.

So, here we are - 22 months old, quickly moving in on two years old with all that brings: swift transitions from great joy to profound sorrow to bitter anger. And then back to joy again. At the end of the day, she collapses and so do I. We're not always friends throughout the day, but every morning brings another chance to try to get it right once again. Thankfully, forgiveness comes easy with toddlers!

As if we needed further proof...

Yes, Calla is doomed to a life of nerd-dom. Whether it's by her own choosing or by default, there's no escape. For one, I'm already out of touch with what's hip with the toddler set. Apparently, there's some show on some channel - Yo Gabba Gabba - ?!?! As far as I can tell, it's a big hit with Calla's peers, but I couldn't begin to tell you what the title even means. She's going to show up at Pre-K and realize how out of touch her parents are and what a disservice we have done to her.

And then there's her parents' latest internet interest. Bird watching on-line. Seriously. It's on the Cornell Ornithology web site. In particular, we're (maybe it's just me) possibly a little too fascinated with the nesting Barn Owl. I mean, she's sitting on a clutch of five eggs and they're about to hatch! Any day now! If you watch long enough in the evening, you might get to see a little barn owl loving and then Papa Owl treats Mama Owl to a nice, delicious rat. Must see TV? Get out of my way.

So you all have been warned. If you care about Calla and want to see her grow up with any kind of pop culture savoir-faire, you might need to take it upon yourself. In the meantime, you can find me watching for baby owls. Oooh. Might be hatching right now...

Weekend Update

After yesterday's long overdue post, I thought I'd try to keep things up with a few notes on our busy weekend. First, know that when I say "busy," I really mean that Joe was running around trying to do the many things on his list, and I was running after Calla. Calla was just running. She does that.

First thing on Joe's to-do list for this weekend was to install our pool fence. We have a concrete block fence around the outside perimeter of the pool, but that doesn't separate the pool from the porch or the walkway. We needed a complete fence around the border of the actual pool to keep a certain someone from exercising her independence. Joe found a place online where you can order the fence and rent the concrete drill and accessories for the installation. After a few minor missteps in the beginning, he got it all figured out and the fence is now in. Just in time, because we're opening the pool the first week of May. Y'all come down!

In between fence post drillings, Joe took a break to go with us to the Southern Illinois Irish Festival at our local park. It was a big to-do, especially considering I had never really understood this area to be all that Irish. But apparently, that doesn't really matter. There was Irish dancing, music, arts and culture. And corn dogs and nachos and all that other good fest food. We played with Calla and then sat down and listened to some music. Calla seemed to enjoy the music - she watched the musicians, danced in the aisle for a while, and then after about 10 minutes, crawled into her stroller and announced "All done!" For a 21 month old, not a bad outing.

We came home and one of us took a nap (well, maybe two of us) and another of our trio finished installing the pool fence, poor guy. When that was finished, he couldn't have any dinner until he had mowed most of the lawn. Calla and I splashed water in the baby pool and paraded her baby in a stroller up and down our drive way.

Today, I went to church while Joe and Calla had a father-daughter bonding time at Lowes, buying dirt and plants and all other good things. Joe finished mowing the lawn, installed a new ceiling fan in Calla's room and after dinner, dug out another 4 x 4 foot garden plot for a tomato plant and a few banana peppers. Impressive, isn't he?

Calla fell into bed tonight exhausted. We're working her hard outside these days - what with the babies needing to be walked in their stroller and the flowers needing to be watered (usually, she just ends up watering herself, but we try). At this point, it looks like she'll have perpetually skinned knees all summer since she just can't remember to pick her feet up when she runs down her sloped and uneven driveway. She's getting tougher about it, and after the initial pain goes away, she's a little proud of her "owies." In fact, she'll gladly lift up her pants legs to show you her scabs and tell you all about it.

Weather report shows that we're due for a little rain this week, and it wouldn't be all that bad to have an excuse to cross off a few of our inside to-dos after our busy weekend. Here's hoping you have a good and productive week, too!

Spring flings

So much going on! After what felt like weeks of rain, the sun has appeared and it's finally really spring. We're spending as much time outside as possible, which thrills Calla, until inevitably, it's time to go back inside.

We celebrated Easter with Josh and Jeri. Since they left right after church on Sunday, our big Easter dinner with them was on Saturday, at a local state park. Josh and Joe fished, Calla threw sticks in the lake, and Jeri and I tried to keep Calla from throwing herself in the lake. At the end of our afternoon there, Joe caught a nice big large-mouth bass. Josh and Calla were impressed.



Joe ended up throwing her back, since she appeared to have a belly full of roe. Calla still talks about "big fish" when she sees this picture.

Sunday morning, we had our last of Calla's three Easter Egg hunts. Josh was a good Easter bunny, and by hunt #3, Calla had figured this game out. She loved that these eggs were filled with goldfish crackers, cheerios and just a few m&ms. So much better than that silly chocolate that was in her other eggs (which I've just now polished away).

In other news, we've had a set-back in our garden. Nearly all of our home-grown seedlings just didn't make it. Probably due to a combination of factors, such as a lack of a good greenhouse space, perhaps poor plant nutrition, and maybe some parental negligence. Joe's plan now is to buy seedlings and just pretend we grew them from seed. You'll keep our secret, right?

And my really sad news - a death in our avian family. We had a nest of robins in our back porch rafters. The nest was situated so that mama robin and I could see each other through our kitchen window and I watched her feed her babies, with their demanding, gaping mouths. One morning this week, we came down and the nest was on the ground, with no sign of babies or parents. I had hoped that maybe the babies were big enough to fly. Or that mom and dad had relocated them safely to another nest. When I proposed these theories to Joe, he looked at me with that tender face you might use with a child whose sick dog has just been taken "to the farm." Sure, maybe that's what happened.

This theory seemed more and more unlikely when he pointed out some blood stains on the porch and found a few little bird... parts... on the ground. New theory - nest fell down during the night and a nasty neighborhood cat surprised them by squeezing through our fence. I'm just a little heart-sick over my intersection with the cruelty of nature. Sure, we still have our many finches. But they don't greet me over my morning coffee.

So, that's what's been going on in our lives. Lots of outside adventures. Here's hoping good weather finds you enjoying all the best of spring.

Spring has sprung (for now)

A little update now on the natural habitat at the Cheatwood/Sime estate. We're fortunate to inherit the work of the previous owners who planted and landscaped beautifully. And then they abandoned their work for the year the house sat empty, so we've had some pruning and editing to do. We did much last fall (with my mother's help), and have been enjoying seeing what pops up now that spring appears to have arrived.

You can see our front yard below. What you can't see are the crazy vines that used to drape over the side porch, on your left (Calla's right). I initially loved them because they gave a curb-side perception of New Orleans meets The Secret Garden. But those dang vines were a hideout for all sorts of bugs and just started to look really messy once the romance wore off. So we (Joe) tore them down and have planted (again, Joe) climbing roses. They should be really lovely, once they actually start to climb.



The same vines were covering the front trellis, and while Joe chopped out their roots on either side (and replaced them with young grape vines), we couldn't actually pull all the old vines down because they had been claimed by a House Finch nest and by the time we decided to nix the vines, the eggs had been laid. It's a good nesting spot - the front porch is a nice wind break and those vines are really thick and provide a good base. We've all had a few scares when we walk outside without much warning and Mr. or Mrs. Finch dive-bombs us in their urgent attempt to get out of the way. Tragedy still struck during a particularly strong wind storm last week when we saw egg remnants on the ground but Mrs. Finch continued to nest sit. Looks like the eggs have hatched since there are now little fur balls in the nest, although they're awfully quiet. Calla was never that quiet in her first week.

And then just today, we saw a new nest positioned just slightly lower than the Finch nest. With a little research, we think this is for another Finch nest whose owners decided to make our dying vines a multi-unit building. Why you'd want to move next door to a family with multiple newborns is beyond me.


We have a third Finch couple on our back porch who chose to build a nest in our porch rafters. Here again, they were trendsetters since Ms. Robin (she seems to be a single mom-to-be) moved to a next door rafter. No signs of Finch or Robin babies yet, but we're hoping they're as quiet as our front yard Finch family, since these would be closer to our bedroom window.

Meanwhile, bulbs are blooming, the forsythia is golden (except for the forsythia which we perhaps over pruned last fall. It was really asking for it.) and our yard is awash in dandelions and some other purple-flowered weed. We're trying to be green in our lawn care, so have resisted poison approaches so far. Instead, Joe put down some kind of organic fertilizer that had, among other natural yummies, chicken poop. We hope the few blades of grass still left love chicken poop. And that the dandelions don't.

Calla, tenderly examining the delicate daffodil. Actually, she was about to molest it and strip it of all petals. She's not exactly dainty with living things. She's already killed a fledgling broccoli and tomato plant germinating in our guest bedroom. Too bad, too, since she loves tomatoes and likes broccoli. Otherwise, our vegetable garden is going strong, all thanks to Joe. Though I keep saying the spinach looks like blades of grass (would be nice looking grass, too, ironically), he promises me that it will turn into salad eventually. We have lettuce and mustard greens popping out and the carrots just showed themselves. The warmer veggies (tomatoes, the remaining broccoli, peppers, etc.) will go in later this spring. If we can keep Calla out of the guest bedroom.

And although today was glorious (I'm ignoring the part about Calla's first-ever day without a nap - that wasn't so glorious), we're told there's a chance of snow (!) on Monday. So we'll cover our little garden with a sheet, and I'll bring in my flowers (pansies, which apparently are pansies about frost) and potted cilantro for the night until it's safe again. We're learning as we're going here, but don't want to be undone this early in the game.

You'll undoubtedly get more garden reports as the season goes on. And if you live close, you might even find zucchini on your door step. Here's hoping you're experiencing spring too, at least occasionally between the snow and rain and sleet and storms.

Maternal Imperfections

So, this morning, I'm at the kitchen sink, scrubbing away at the caked-on mud on Calla's shoes after her unauthorized romp through her dad's fledgling vegetable garden last night. I was feeling a little self-righteous, complimenting myself on my attention to this detail since it would have been the day care floors that would be getting all dirty today and not even my own. Clearly, I was one of the good moms, the mom who took the time to take care of the little details.

And then, after exchanging morning pleasantries at drop-off, what's the first thing Calla's favorite teacher, Ms Michelle says? "Calla! You have your shoes on the wrong feet!"

Aah yes. It's the little details.

Desperately Seeking Yogurt?

Our little gourmand is growing up. Calla's vocabulary seems to grow daily, and much of it deals with food. She's getting harder to placate with whatever I happen to have in the fridge and instead has definite favorites. Top on her list lately would be raisins, goldfish crackers, tomatoes, cheese and yogurt.

When she gets it in her head that she wants a particular snack, she starts off with a little whine.... "Yogurt? Yogurt?" - as if to say, hey mom - maybe a little yogurt? If yogurt doesn't immediately materialize, the whining will escalate quickly. The lower lip sticks out and wobbles a little. A few tears may glisten in her eyes as she cries plaintively "Yogurt?" Yogurt?" And again, if yogurt then isn't presented - say, because we're in the car for example - we quickly move into the panic stage... "Yogurt! Yogurt! Yoooog-uuuurrrrt!" This is screamed in the tone you might use, for example, if your favorite pet was being pulled out of your arms. It's rather heart-breaking.

Eventually, the yogurt (or raisins, or cheese, or crack-cracks (goldfish) shows up, and all's right with the world. Until the next snack time. Of course, what's really funny is that all of these favorites are relatively healthy - she doesn't actually like any of that bad stuff, like cookies or ice cream. So I really have few reasons to deprive her of her food loves except that I just can't always move fast enough.

Last night at dinner, we were having left-over pizza and as I reached for my third (fifth?) piece, Calla declared "Mama pizza eat." We think that might be one of her first three-word phrases. And of course, it was to call me out on my over-eating. Nothing gets by her.

Have a good week - and happy eating!

Oh dear. We did it again.

I'm just under the wire in a month-long lapse in this blog. Sorry about that. So much going on, most of which had to do with preparing for, living out, or unpacking from our week-long vacation in Mexico. It was a great trip, and we're grateful for my folks for their hospitality, and for Carrie & Brian, Jess & Ben, Eithne and Kim for all joining us. And we're especially grateful for all the people in the rows behind and in front of us on our various planes. Calla's not exactly a silent traveler, and she's not shy about voicing her displeasure. There was some kicking of seats, a little bit of squealing at times, and an occasional shreak or twelve. We all survived and my bruises have now nearly healed.


Calla and Joe enjoying the pool at the Sime Hacienda. Calla did OK in the pool, eventually loving it so much that she wanted to stay in despite blue lips and a full-body shiver.


Posing on the Terrace. Calla loved having the run of the place, pushing her baby in a stroller all over the house and playing in Grandma and Grandpa's bathroom - she loved their big tub, and apparently her baby did too considering the number of times Baby was given a bath.

A few highlights from our trip...

* Calla and her cousin Julia, who she now calls "Dewy." Julia was even more interactive than the last time we saw her, so the two cousins could play on the blanket together and listen to stories. Near the end of the visit, Calla made sure to let Carrie and Brian know when Julia needed a diaper change: "Dewy wet." "Dewy poop. Stinky!" I'm not sure how they're managing without Calla the Diaper Genie now that they're home.

* Calla and her grandfather. In previous visits, Calla took her time warming to my dad, but this time, she just took to him right away. "Boppa" was her name for him. She'd go the door looking into the garage and watch him puttering, trying to get his attention..."Boppa? Boppa?"

* Calla and her grandmother. They went on walks around the block, stopping to talk to the dogs they met. Calla acted as if she'd never met a dog before - it was the talk of her day. Somewhere in Mexico, Calla conformed to standard dog speak - dogs now say "Woof" instead of "Foof." It's more likely that she won't fail kindergarten now, but I'm still a little sad that we left our "foof" in Mexico.

There's more to share, but I'll try to do it in little snippets this coming week. Sorry for the lapse - hope we haven't lost you all in our down-time!

More indoctrination

Couldn't resist posting this photo. No one will believe me, but it's completely unstaged. Calla sat down in her little chair, picked up some of her favorite reading material, and started reading to her baby. At first, the magazine was upside down, but she actually righted it, which I'm sure proves she'll be a great reader.


Two other recent victories... two honest-to-pete incidents on the tiny pink potty. Wahoo! Both times were more of an accident than anything else, and I think Calla was horrified by what happened, but Joe and I appropriately whooped and hollered. Hopefully, she hasn't been permanently scarred. Last Sunday at church, Calla and I had to scamper out quickly during the sermon because she started to insistently repeat (with an increasing sense of urgency) "wet...wet....wet... WET...WET...WET!" I got the point. The whole congregation got the point.

We're just grateful she doesn't have any other - ahem - diaper vocabulary.

Alien Encounter

Further proof my daughter may indeed be an alien: Afternoon snack today was an embarassment of culinary riches... avocados, a bite of leftover chocolate birthday cake (baked from scratch by Joe), and a tiny preview of dinner - glazed ham. What was on the snack menu that inspired a temper tantrum when gone? Chocolate cake, right? No. Didn't even finish the cake. All she wanted was more ham. More, more, more. At some point I was tempted to say - "No more ham until you finish your cake."

Who is this child?

A Good Saturday

Such a good day. It started well, as weekend mornings often do, with breakfast prepared by Chef Joe. Blueberry buttermilk pancakes. Yum. Then, since I'm still under the weather with, depending on the day, strep throat/flu/sinus infection/or a boring cold, I went back to bed for a nap. It wasn't exactly uninterrupted since Calla visited at least twice, but I still enjoyed the chance to have my eyes closed for at least an hour.

After my nap, Joe went outside to put up his new - get this- bat house and "plant" his morel (mushroom) habitat. Yes, just a few more steps into turning our .8 acres into a true jungle wildlife preserve. Meanwhile, Calla and I stayed inside and tried a new activity - Baking with Mama. We measured out flour, sugar, salt, stirred it all up, mashed a few over-ripe bananas, and stuck it in the oven. Mostly I mixed, mashed, and prepared. Calla had her own little bowl of baking ingredients that she occasionally tasted, drooled into (you would too if you were perpetually teething) and then slowly sifted over Chloe. But it was fun, and I think she actually can link our morning activities with the yummy snack she had in the afternoon. Probably not, but I'll pretend.




After lunch and Calla's nap, we headed to the SIU arena for our second SIU women's basketball game. We tried it once before and it was a rousing success. Calla's fascinated by the crowd (small, so lots of room for a toddler to walk up and down the aisles), the pep band, the cheerleaders, and most of all, the roving Saluki mascot. "Dog...dog....dog" she keeps repeating as soon as she sees the tall, long-eared brown dog (Brown Dawg in Saluki speak). She points to him, waves, and wants to know where the dog is at all times. She's brave, until Dawg gets about 20 feet away. Then she clutches at my neck and repeats "No..no..no..no..no..no." When Dawg gets the approved distance away, Calla's back at her job of Dawg spotter. "Dog? Dog? Dog? Dog?"

We came back home from the game (Salukis won!) and my dinner of chickpea patties with an onion chutney (new recipe, Whole Foods cookbook) actually turned out fairly good.

All in all, a good day for all of us. Here's hoping tomorrow turns out to be as much fun!

Snow Days

So, after shaking our head at all that snow and ice blanketing the upper midwest, it finally hit us here in southern Illinois last week. And it brought everything to a standstill. While we laughed about it, it's true that these communities just aren't prepared to deal with 3 inches of ice topped by 5-6 inches of snow. So we hunkered down and enjoyed our little snow day retreats.

The following pics are from after the first day of mostly sleet and ice. Joe went out and bought a little sled which really traveled well on the ice. We finally found a use for the bear snowsuit given to us by Grandma Cheatwood last year. A little snug, perhaps, but it worked. Calla's requested wearing her "Bee" suit several times since, even on a 45-degree day last weekend.




A new vocabulary milestone: "MINE." Not sure where she picked this one up, but it's always accompanied by clutching some dearly loved item to her chest... babies, books, bathtoys.... tomatoes. Coincidentally, this new word has shown up around the same time as the return of temper tantrums, sometimes as often as three times a day. Lovely. And, of course, it's always my fault... made her come inside when her little hands are freezing. Refused to allow her to eat her weight in wheat thins. Forced her to take her pajamas off before we left the house. You know, typical bad mother stuff.

And a funny habit that's even more pronounced now.... ever since she was a tiny babe, I tried to do baby massage on her, but she'd have none of it. The least I could do was massage a little bit of lotion into her legs. I kept this up and it became more important when she started creeping/crawling and her legs were dry and callousy. Now, it's a vital part of her bedtime routine. She pulls out the boppy pillow (now called her "lotion pillow"), picks out her choice of two baby-friendly lotions, nestles into the boppy and holds aloft her bare leg, ready for her leg massage. I'm guessing my daughter will be a big fan of pedicures in the future.

For now, we're both under the weather. Calla has a cold that's progressed to a cough and general lethargy. Hopefully, the worst has passed. I'm feeling less than 100% now, which is to be expected given my role this past weekend as mucus manager. No big deal. Could be worse. Joe could be sick, too.

Hope you all are healthy, warm and up for the challenge of another six weeks of winter!

Alien Invasion

So dinner tonight was my version of stir-fry (not so authentic, but soy sauce was used, so close enough), not particularly to Calla's liking since it didn't contain a) pasta, b)cheese, or c) tomatoes. Looking across the table, she did see something she approved. Pointing at the bowl of stir-fry, she asked "broccolic?"

That's right. My child identified, reasonably articulated, and requested broccoli. She didn't gag on it, didn't let it sit on her plate until it was cold. She asked for broccoli and then she ate it. Willingly.

As my parents will attest, this does not resemble any of my childhood dinner table experiences. Perhaps there was some mix up in the hospital. Maybe she's getting sick. And maybe Carbondale is the place where the aliens really are launching their invasion and they're beginning with the babies. I can think of no other reasonable explanation for this phenomenon.

18 months and counting

Since we're coming up on the big 18th (month) birthday, I thought I'd capture Calla's latest developmental milestones, as I see them.

Calla as Naturalist
Loves those birds. Loves the squirrels. Since she hasn't actually seen the deer who bed down in our cypress needles late at night, that's about the extent of Calla's nature encounters. She has recently branched out into new animal sound territories, however. For a long time, she thought the animal kingdom was divided into those who barked (or, "Foof!" as we say at our house) and those who meowed ("Mow" as in Chairman). Recently, though, she's allowed for horses to neigh and cows to moo. Hasn't actually witnessed a neighing horse or a mooing cow, so perhaps we'll have to try to make that happen when it's warmer.

Calla as Theologian
Calla loves her Little Lutheran magazine. Loves it. The July/August 08 issue gets read 2-3 times a night. The Christmas issue, now tucked away, had a poem about Christmas bells with the last two lines "Christ is born - Hooray! Hooray!" We read that poem six, seven, eight times in a row on the ride to Lexington. For a while afterwards, all I had to say was "Christ is born!" And Calla would throw up her hands and say "Hooray! Hooray!"

Tonight, lifting up all Calla's 26 pounds, I groaned "oh man." Calla answered, reverently, "Amen." As Joe would say, the indoctrination has started.

Calla as Anatomist
Nose. Mouth. Ears. Belly Button. Teeth. Eyes. You got 'em, Calla wants to point at them. The latest is "knees," which can range from hip to ankle on Calla. I've occasionally walked into Calla's room in the morning and after making sure I know her diaper is wet, she'll start in on the anatomy lesson. Nose. Ears. Teeth. The advice at our house is if you hear "EYES, " it's time to duck and cover because you've got a pointer coming straight to your corneas.

Calla the Gourmand
"Is she a picky eater?" asked the pediatrician at our last visit. Well. Not exactly. Pasta, tomatoes, avocados, applesauce are among her favorites, but if those aren't dominant on her plate, she'll really eat anything. Broccoli, peas, green beans, spinach (if chopped and mixed with pasta and tomatoes). Last night, she gobbled down couscous, broccoli and broiled salmon. At a play group last week, I served pasta salad. Other moms served small platefuls to their children who quietly ate a little and then got up to play. Calla got a huge bowl-ful, and sitting at her tot-sized table and chair, started scarfing away. 10 minutes later, all the other kids were playing. Calla's still sitting there, with a firm grip on her bowl, eating away. Hardly blinking and not taking her hand off her bowl lest a rambunctious child or Chloe knock it over. Nope, not a picky eater.

Calla the Nurturer
Loves those babies. Three dolls now, four if we include the "night night" doll. They need to be blanketed, strollered, fed, night-nighted, and occasionally scolded. The other baby who is a continual focus of loving is cousin Baby Julia. See, we made the mistake months ago of showing Calla how we can look at pictures on the web, including those of Baby Julia. Now, that's a popular past-time for Calla. She no longer wants to look at pictures of anyone else (except for maybe cousin Josh) and now only videos suffice. Baby Julia eating applesauce is the absolute favorite. Unfortunately, the Gormans don't post new videos all that frequently. Why? You got me. I think it has to do with a lack of family loyalty. I mean, for the love of pete, please, please Carrie and Brian... just turn on that camera and stick Julia in front of it. Even Bob might do the trick. If it could go on for 3 or 4 or 12 minutes, I might be able to fold some laundry.

Calla the Talker
Too many words to count and it grows daily. New words include "sit" and "fall." Sit, because she loves to sit in chairs and will frequently request being positioned in places she can't climb. Fall, because if I forget to remind Calla to sit carefully and not fall, she will repeat "fall, fall, fall" until I remind her about gravity and its implications. Not entirely sure it helps, but it's important to her that I say it apparently.

That's the snapshot. 26 pounds, 33 3/4 inches tall. 11 teeth and still not really enough hair for barrettes. She's a hoot, a stinker, one smart cookie, and our beautiful girl. It keeps getting better and better!

Right here. Right now.

There are days when I think wistfully back to my full-time work life. How I went to meetings where people listened to me. How I traveled places and people wanted to hear me speak. How I made decisions every day, important ones, ones that made a difference. And how there were people in cubes next door with whom I shared a sarcastic comment or a coffee/diet coke break.

And there are days when all I can think about is the to-do list I created. Like yesterday, when my house was still reeling from the combination play group/book group launch (6 moms, 8 kids) on Thursday (thanks, Catrina, for the idea!). And breakfast dishes were still sitting out and laundry was piling up. And there was that pesky portion of my address book who never received our Christmas card, and I now have to figure out how to turn our Merry Christmas! picture into a Happy New Year! card. Not to mention a tantalizingly nearly finished cross-word puzzle if I could just remember whether the shorthand style is called "Cregg" or "Clegg" (FYI - Gregg).

But then Calla woke up just 50 minutes into her nap and clearly was still tired. Usually, I can get her to lie back down, but that wasn't working. So, my options are a) just get her up and deal with a cranky and tired child, or b) take her into our bed and lie down with her. I suspect that sleep experts would find a better third option, and say that my option B is only encouraging Calla to wake up from naps early, but she takes good naps at day care, and I haven't heard that Ms. Michelle curls up in Calla's cot for that to happen. The other downside to option B is that then I'm trapped, missing out on my precious naptime to-do list completion, since Calla's favorite nap-with-mama position is lying directly on top of me.

But that's what I did, fortunately with a good book close at hand. And as I lay there, with Calla's head nestled near my collarbone and one arm launched protectively across my neck, listening to her deep breathing and baby snores, I realized that for all the meetings I was missing, the trips I wasn't taking, the items not being checked off my to-do list, there just wasn't anywhere else that I wanted to be at that moment.

She woke up after about an hour. We played a rousing game of peek-a-boo, listened to bird songs, and went down for a snack of goldfish crackers, diluted orange juice and, because mom was in a benevolent mood, a few vanilla wafers.

Life at home isn't all warm fuzzy moments. I still miss working, and doing important things that can be measured and applauded. I miss coffee breaks, across-the-cube-jokes, and the sense of accomplishment after a good day. And after being ignored by dog, cat, and child, I'm not always in a vanilla wafer place. But yesterday, during our nap time, life was good and I was just where I was supposed to be.

Not in the Owner's Manual

You'd think I'd know better. After hearing all the sleep horror stories of a few of Calla's toddler peers, I told one mom (with a hint of pride - what did the greeks say about hubris?) this morning that Calla takes one hour-and-a-half nap each day and then sleeps 11.5 to 12 hours at night.

And then naptime came. She alternated between shrieking and then playing quietly with her doll in her crib - the latter just long enough to lull me into thinking she was napping. And then - bam! There would start the shrieks again. On and off for two hours. Just when I was about to admit defeat, I peaked in, and she was sound asleep. No idea what this will do to our typical 7 pm bedtime schedule. And if she's not asleep by 7, I'll get no parenting help from Joe since the Florida-Oklahoma game is on tonight and I've already been warned where his focus will be.

So far, that's how I'd sum up the parenting adventure: Just when we think we've got it all figured out, Calla shows us who's really running the show.

Happy new year!

We rang in the new year in Lexington, with Joe's sister Jeri and Calla's beloved cousin Josh. My gauge these days for the success of a visit is based on Calla's sleep pattern - did she or didn't she? And, I'm pleased to say that the visit was indeed a good one. We sat around, played games, ate well, and yes, slept straight through the night (2 out of 3 isn't too bad). And enjoyed being family, which is the best part.

Calla's love for her babies and their accoutrement has not dimmed - and in fact grew, thanks to the addition of a play bottle and sippy cup given to her by Josh and Jeri. She wakes up in the morning and one of her first words to me (after she's made sure I know she has a wet diaper) is "Baby?" So much for going back to bed with mom.


Joe and I will experience a "first" tonight - a non-family evening baby sitter. We're actually going out to dinner somewhere without a child and diaper bag. It seems like an easy job for this eager teenager from church since Calla will already be in bed before we leave. Except that I told that to Carrie when we were in DC and then to Jeri during her last visit... and both times Calla woke up an hour after we left. She never does that when we're home, but she must sense we've left the ranch. So we'll see how it goes tonight. I'm hoping we make it all the way through our dinner before the phone call comes. Maybe we should start with dessert.

Here's wishing you all a happy and healthy start to the new year. We're excited to see what 2009 brings for our family - and hoping that it brings some of you to Carbondale this year!