07 April 2016

37 + 4

I started packing my hospital bag this week.  The teeny tiny newborn diapers (as usual) look impossibly small - like I'm expecting a squirrel to come live with us rather than a tiny human.  I glanced at an online packing list to see if there was anything important I was forgetting to include for my trip to the hospital, but then I remembered that those lists are created by people who do not appear to have actually given birth in a hospital before.  Has anyone ever actually needed a stopwatch or their own washcloths at a hospital birth?

The really important list, that I'm writing myself, is the Steve Instruction List for Labor and Delivery. It includes all of Steve's most important jobs during my labor, such as refraining from talking about ham radio and remembering not to say one single word about how tiring/difficult it is to watch someone give birth to a person who is actually delivering a human being into the world.

Yesterday The Bairn told me that he would like me to get "unfat" and let him see this baby.  We'd all like that, kid.

27 March 2016

Easter 2016

Happy Easter!

Friday we dyed Easter eggs.  This is the first year that this activity lasted longer than 5 minutes.  The following morning, Ellen chose one of her pink eggs to eat for breakfast and chomped straight into it, shell and all.

Yesterday we did Easter baskets after naps.  The Bairn is sporting some super post-nap hair here.  The kids only got one sweet treat in their baskets--a kinder egg for each of them--which they immediately devoured.

This was also the first year I attempted to recreate the bunny cakes we always had growing up.  I made mine with  a carrot cake, though, so the soft cream cheese icing didn't make for a very pretty bunny.  Also I couldn't find jelly beans at the grocery store (!?), so the eyes and nose are wrong, but we chomped that bunny right up.  Delicious.

Today we hunted for Easter eggs in the house and ate our Easter feast.  I pulled the china out and used candles, which is how we demonstrate to the kids that we are having a fancy time.

I threw them into bed almost immediately after supper, both because we ate a bit late and because Fancy Times send them over the edge.

25 March 2016

He's Available if You Want to Be Insulted

The spring ants have arrived.  The kids noticed them last night while they were eating their bedtime snack.  After trying to lure the ants to various locations with his spaghetti (the "snack" could also be called "this perfectly good food you didn't eat at supper"), The Bairn announced that the ants probably came inside because our kitchen is so dirty and full of crumbs.  Then he squeezed my arm and asked me why I'm so squishy.  He's really killing it with the compliments lately.

19 March 2016

Easter Egg Hunt (Or So They Say)

I took the kids to the town Easter egg hunt today.  The plastic eggs were in a roped off area of the park and each child was allowed to find five eggs of a certain color and then turn them in for a treat bag.  The eggs (hundreds of eggs) were just tossed on the ground in a wide open field.  The Bairn found all of his eggs within 30 seconds.  It took Ellen a full minute to find hers.  There were approximately one billion people there, because the hunt wasn't divided into age groups, so it was difficult to find parking and I had to pull a pie out of the oven early to get there on time.  It was pretty much the lamest thing ever, but The Bairn still gave it his full support and reported that it was the best.  He's very enthusiastic about life.

16 March 2016

The Finger Family

Here is Ellen with her 'finger family.'  They drive in a hand car and they are not to be confused with her peanut children who drive in a cheese car at snack time.  I pulled out those goggles yesterday and they were an instant hit.  Today Ellen asked me to put on some music because she was wearing her dancing goggles and needed to let the finger family dance.

09 March 2016

My Wee Artists

Ellen loves to write and draw. Pretty much as soon as she could sit up, she could grasp a pencil and enjoyed doodling. She's just recently started making pictures that are really representational, though. This was her first one. She drew it a few months ago and she says it's "daddy walking." It got smudged when I left it on the counter before hanging it in Steve's office. Every time she goes in to see Steve work, Ellen sees the drawing and says, "Oh, there's Daddy walking."

I love that one recognizable foot.

The Bairn has far less interest in art.  He likes to make big paint messes and "tracks" and scribbles, but this week was the first time I've ever seen him actually try to draw a picture of something.  He sat on my lap at the kitchen table before breakfast and did a whole, fascinating, series.

This one is Someone Smoking.

This is Someone Stealing a Box (Mommy: What's in the box?  The Bairn:  A meat grinder.)

This is Someone Exploding a Building.

He's really keen on vice.

05 March 2016

The Kind of Day It Was

I decided to make tamales this week.  I've been thinking about them since Christmas and then I found an easier-than-usual recipe for them and then on Tuesday I made them.  I've been sick for a week, so I wasn't feeling very well, but I thought a tamale would be just the thing to cheer me up.  As the tamales were steaming, I was trying to use my tablet but it seemed to have given up the ghost.  It only offered me error messages, and I was feeling very frustrated as I turned it on and off and on and off and on and off (my only tactic for reviving it), since I've owned it for less than a year.  My tamales were taking a really long time to steam, so I made some nachos as an appetizer but then I shattered the nacho plate when I dropped the salsa jar with my clumsy pregnant hands.  When Steve entered the kitchen to see what the noise was about, he asked me why the kitchen was full of smoke and I told HIM that it was full of steam and then we realized that all the water had evaporated from my pot and my tamales were being smoked and our expensive pot was burned to total ruination.  The real indignity came after I tried one of the tamales and realized that the masa was rancid, so I couldn't even eat any of the time-wasting, pot-ruining creations.

When The Bairn asked why I was wailing, I explained that I was sick, my tablet was broken*, my pot was ruined, my dinner was inedible, and my plate was broken.  "Well, that's just life, Mom," he said.  It was a very philosophical response from someone who throws a fit when he can't drink out of a red cup.

*Steve fixed the tablet.  He's a good fixer.
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