Please Sir, can I have some more?

So if you haven't already surmised by my lack of posting, the past 4 weeks have really kicked my ass. Not my butt, my ASS. Yes, internet, I am swearing!

Between the holidays, insane work, sick children, and enough household chores to overwhelm an army of maids, I was literally just trying to stay afloat in my own life. What I really need are some inflatable Life water-wings. Maybe ones that come with a cocktail holder?

In the midst of all of this...surviving, the baby is continuing her mission to become the cutest, baldest, naughtiest eating champion of the world. I'm pretty sure that she holds the number one position with that. She's also considerably augmented her vocabulary, although she calls all dogs "DINAH!!!" and now tells me "YES!" and "Noooooo" which can be helpful at times, but can also be very confusing, because she likes to trick people. (I wonder where she gets that from!?)

Jack's 5th birthday is quickly approaching, and I can't believe that I have a man-child that old. He is Mr. Superlative lately, announcing that everything is either the WORST, or (sweet smile) the best! We hear a lot of fart noises and jokes, most of which don't quite make sense yet, but still make us laugh a lot, because hey, we too are idiots. It's hard to temper the laughing with the parenting, but we're managing so far (although maybe not if you talk to my mother).

Genes

When one of our children does something brilliant, Dan and I try to determine who contributed the genes responsible for it, and invariably do not agree. When the kids do something stupid or annoying, we argue over who's lame genes are responsible for that behavior, and usually end up agreeing way faster than you would imagine. For instance, tonight the baby wanted to get out of her high chair while we were eating dinner, and rather than gesture or communicate clearly that she had had enough wonderful family-togetherness-over-a-meal, she just waved her arms repetitively and made awkward squawking noises for about 20 minutes without faltering until we finally let her out of her TERRIBLE FOOD PRISON.

I commented pretty much that exact sentiment to Dan, who sarcastically remarked that only one other member of this family gets her way by annoying everyone into it.

He must be talking about Dinah.

Fat and Annoying

Sydney is getting...girthy. Her enthusiasm for consuming food is unmatched. UNMATCHED, PEOPLE. She will eat 99% of the foods she is offered, and never tires of packing her little face. This is a quality I greatly appreciate in a child (and a friend). All of this gorging gives her boundless energy, and although she is quite rotund, her skinny arms and legs propel her around my house like a pudgy bullet.

We went out to eat last weekend, and Sydney was ecstatic to be fed both her baby food bits and bits of all of our lunches. She couldn't decide what to focus on in her delighted greed, so she filled both of her fat fists with bits of chicken and bread, and then proceeded to lean down and goose peck (with alarming accuracy) cheerios off of the table with her little lips. Dan and I had to scoot back from the table to laugh. Needless to say, I no longer wear mascara to meals with this child.

She is also disconcertingly preceptive and is quickly learning how to manipulate all of the members of this house...even the dogs. She knows that she can sneak them anything she doesn't want (which isn't much) at the table, and that they will lick her fingers clean should they invariably get covered in cereal and/or mashed vegetables. It has taken her 10 short months to learn that Mommy will laugh at anything, even if you are in the midst of getting in trouble. (I myself am impressed that I managed to hide this fact from her for 10 months.) She likes to pinch me to see how mad I will get, and even tucks her little lips in to make her mouth into a determined line as she tries to sneak those tiny fingers in for a nasty tweak. I have had to resort to pinching her back to get her to stop. I can assure you that she does this deliberately to annoy me--so she fits right in in this crowd.

There are no words.

Finally. There is a word...a word that definitely has new meaning in my life. I have so much to say about my new daughter that I can barely settle on any one thread to explain myself adequately, much less as extensively as I want.

So I will start with this: Sydney Michelle Tarkenton burst into this world at 6:52am on September 30th. She made a swift grand entrance (thankfully!) and it was as easy as I could have hoped for, especially given her stats: 9 lb, 1 oz, 22". I was only in labor for 5 hours and change, and only pushed for 10 minutes! God, you have my sincerest thanks.

She is thus far a magnificent creature who rarely cries, and when she does it is so sheep-like and sweet that it doesn't send me cringing to a heap on the floor like baby Jack's cries did. Instead I can smile and reassure her and she JUST STOPS. I didn't know that they made babies like this. During my entire pregnancy I fervently prayed and hoped that I would be blessed to have a non-colicky child this time; to have a baby that I could coo over and enjoy as opposed to someone who made me flinch and cower with his loud and angry tirades that often lasted over three hours at a time.

Although baby Jack is often maligned in this family, CHILD Jack is so amazing and smart and funny and heartbreakingly cute that he has more than atoned for the mental and emotional reign of terror that he mounted for the first 6 months of his life. He deserves a break after the way that he came into the world--5 days in the NICU, reflux disease, medication, eye-problems, and two new idiot parents. He has earned his stripes.

But this new one...this little, tiny woman-child who grunts like a pig to be fed and sweetly sighs in her sleep as if she's singing her own ongoing lullabye; this tiny bundle of the sweetest smelling fuzz and tender skin who SLEEPS for HOURS at a time; this little extraordinary being is improving my life with her every breath and noise. Her sweet, sweet presence is like a healing balm that rapidly oozes into every crack and fissure that has ever threatened to break my heart. I wonder if there are enough cheesy and sentimental words to explain how I feel about her, how serene and amazing and PLEASANT she is. I feel more than blessed. There are no words.

(PS. I will be sure to come back and read this when she is 13 and surly.)

Inspired

I am 33-weeks pregnant now. NOW. That means 7 more weeks to go. SEVEN MORE. The reason for my conspicuously obvious math is that I am sooooo tired of being pregnant. I have a short torso, so the only place for this baby to go, literally, is out. And apparently in order to balance my hugely protruding belly, my rear has swollen to maintain some sort of equilibrium. Neither of these annexes leaves me feeling anything but bulbous and sore. Rolling over in bed is a hilarious feat not only because of my bizarre shape, that, DESPITE ITS ROTUNDITY, does not roll. I have to oomph over to my side, and hurmph onto my hands and knees and flop down on my other side. Needless to say that this hourly activity all night long does not give me lots of time to rest comfortably, and apparently is starting to affect Dan's sleeping as well. I sincerely do not feel the teensiest bit of guilt over this, because Dan has been snoring FOR YEARS. Face rattling, wake-yourself-up-from-REM-sleep snores that are bewilderingly issued out of his tiny nose.

But...I digress ("MOM! We don't say "butt!"). I saw and read some things today that made me reconsider my whining and remember that I am very thankful to have a pregnancy that has come this far, and been this healthy. I hope that my baby girl continues to grow and eventually make a perfectly-timed, yet hasty exit from my uterus. WITH MINIMAL DAMAGE. I will throw you a sweet-sixteen party for the love of God just don't break anything on your way out. Then we can always compare sweet little you to your bull-in-a-china-shop brother who ruined things for QUITE A WHILE.