Really, More Snow?

We're looking at three days of snow showers here, which thankfully will conclude just before a visit from my family. But it doesn't change the fact that we're sitting in several feet of snow already, it's been arctic-ly cold (I believe the lowest wind chill yesterday was -27 degrees.) and the little ones haven't been out of the house except for the briefest of trips to the store or a friend's house. To say that we're going stir-crazy is truly an understatement.

Well, OK, I'm going stir-crazy. Alex would like some time out of the house, and Gabe doesn't care as long as he gets his Craisin fix every day, so maybe it's just me. But I really just want to see the lawn, plant some veggies, and get on with Spring. The baby garlic we've been growing in the kitchen just isn't cutting it, and no amount of begonia flowers (does that thing ever stop blooming?) will cut through the foggy, snowy, ridiculous cold! Hot chocolate schmot chocolate, I want some vodka and tonic weather! Obviously I need to find some greenhouses to take shelter in for a while, because Winter has gone on for long enough.

Yes, I know it's not even February. But the sun is clearly in the sky for, what, a whole minute or two longer every day? Isn't it time it got a wee bit warmer too? Maybe the snow could, oh, I don't know, melt? I'd give my right arm for a warm, rainy day to go puddle jumping with the kids instead of a cold, blowy day of trying not to kill myself of the sheet of ice that is our lower driveway while trying to retrieve the mail that's most likely 90% junk mail. We get it AmEx, you can give us a million different credit cards and maybe even a Caribbean vacation. If you had a permanent Spring credit card, I'd sign up, but you don't, so stop it with the recycling fodder already.

Even the neigh-bors are hiding away now. They've both donned their blankets and determined that it is literally not fit for man or beast out there, so we don't even have the pleasure of watching the horses occasionally roll around in the snow. Or ice-covered snow that's there now. *sigh* Anyway, only Diesel still thinks outside is a good idea, and I'm sure she'd change her mind if she actually escaped.

Anyhoo, it looks like another day stuck inside hoping that the snow won't need to be blown of the driveway (but with the new new super snow blower, might as well) and convincing Alex that not every drink needs to be hot chocolate. Even if we do finally have mini marshmallows. Eh, whatever. Here's Alex sledding with Daddy before we became part of the Arctic Circle.

Bowl of Snow

Tickle Tickle

I Don't Usually Do This, But...

...yesterday Alex asked us what bears eat. I told her they eat berries. And that that's why they're called berries. Jeff thought it was funny, and I'm pretty sure she thought I was serious. Heh. I tried to clear it up, but the wheels were turning and I'm pretty sure she'll believe me for a while.

Willn't

I realized recently that Alex says this instead of won't. Makes sense to her.

Quiet Contemplation on a Snowy Day

Much More Cozy Inside

Gabey Also Suffers During the Blizzard

I think we'll refrain from plopping him in the snow until the wind dies down a bit. Especially since the drifts are already taller than he is.

The Cats Suffer Needlessly During the Blizzard

Poor, poor kitties. I should point out that we do actually have poor, poor kitties that live outside. I discovered that the extra-fabulous black one hangs out under the front porch. Hopefully it's waiting for the snow to die down before it emerges to hunt at the bird feeder today.

Snow Day!

Just for reference, the first picture was taken a while back. Today, no hill in view, and in fact, barely any neighbors in view. Apparently we're due for more heavy snow until at least lunch time. Snow was starting to pile up against the back door, so I imagine that, by the time we get out to clear, it'll be a challenge just to find a way out that we don't have to shovel. Here's the part where I'm grateful we have room in the garage for everything including the snow shovels instead of having to forge a path to the snowed-in shed to get our stuff. And, obviously, that the garage is attached to the house.

To switch topics, because surely there will be more snow pictures and blizzard updates today, apologies to Auntie Lulu and Uncle Adam for the sad excuse for a Skype conversation last night. Clearly Alex was unmotivated, and Gabe was working up to an epic teething fit the likes of which have never been seen or heard before, so it's probably a miracle that they even paid attention at all. We did enjoy seeing Aggie (I swear, Alex thinks her name is Eggie, but anyway) up close, and wish that Diesel had been paying attention enough to swat at her when given the chance. We'll try again some other time.

Well, I should probably venture upstairs and see if anyone's awake or if the chocolate cake (purple icing as requested by Alex) is gone yet.

How Could I Forget?

Just a quick rant. We were at the Ecotarium (our home away from home) the other day, and we were looking at the African animals. To be clear, there are dioramas with taxidermied specimens mixed in with painted representations of other animals that would live with the taxidermied animals in real life. Alex has seen them many times and has a somewhat vague grasp of what's going on. As in, these animals were alive, now they're just stuffed skins to represent the actual animal, to be quite unromantic about it.

Well. Enter the 2 young girls with their father/grandfather. (It's dark in there, and he looked older. Doesn't matter.) These girls had to be at least 10 years old. The first words oout of one of their mouths was, "Oh wow, it's all 3-d in here!". She. Thought. The. Animals. Were. 3-D. Pictures. Seriously??!!??!! Then adult started to explain that they were in fact, real skins. (Having just read a fabulous book about taxidermy, I won't even get started about whether these animal representations were the actual impala, nyala, kudu, and dik dik skins or some other skin made to look like them. But I digress.) So, the brain child of the two says something to the effect of, "Or they could even be dead animals!". Gee, you think? Here I was assuming that the animals that never moved, have glass eyes, a few visible stitches where they've been patched together and who are in glass cases were real, live animals who never eat, drink, moves, breath or blink. Silly me.

I can't even comprehend how this could happen. Are there no field trips to museums any more? Do no parents take their kids to the museum -and- explain what they're looking at? I mean, come on. You don't have to know how to stuff a squirrel to be able to say, "That's a stuffed squirrel." and tell your kid the difference between alive and dead. It's not rocket surgery, parents, grandparents and other "responsible" adults. My three-year old should not be more educated about the fine art of taxidermy than your middle schooler.

Then again, maybe I'm the strange one for teaching my kid about everything I know. Craziness.

So I realized that yesterday's post ended a bit abruptly. There was an epic phone call and some naughty children stuff going on, so there you have it. Lucky to have posted at all.

But I'm happy to report that the rest of yesterday was not quite so harried. Well, OK, it was, but I got stuff done. Laundry, dishes, cleaning, all that usual jazz. But, due to a certain baby escapee who made it to the top of the stairs to pet Diesel instead of staying downstairs like he was supposed to, Operation Unobservant Parent was put into action. The living room and dining room have been fenced in to create a large play area for the Gabester minus cat bowls and stairs, so it was left to me to finish the job in the basement before, say, Diesel decided it would be fun to lead Gabe back down the steps. A skill he neither has nor is interested in acquiring at the moment.

I quickly realized that we were one gate short of a baby safe basement and immediately scooted one of our too many sofa beds in front of the non-landing hallway area leading to the steps. Gabe cannot even remotely climb up on the couch yet, and I reason that, by the time he can, he'll probably be a seasoned veteran of the steps. That's the theory, anyway. The cats, of course, will have an easier time traveling over the couch, especially since I've considerately provided them with a step stool on the backside. So, one exit taken care of.

The second was a bit harder considering the steps and lack of an easy place for a traditional gate, so I was forced to resurrect the fireplace gate. We've decided that, given the fact that we're always in the living room when there's a fire, Gabe is less than likely to burrow his way through the fireplace screen to his doom. Less. So anyway, no gating off the fireplace. Just lots of increasingly frantic warnings to Gabe as he crawls ever closer to the fire culminating in a daring rescue. Repeatedly until the fire goes out or he goes to bed.

Anyway...had I read the instructions and also gotten out the spare parts of the gate, the installation would have been much faster, but as it was, it took me the entire length of his too short (30 minutes, really?!?) nap. But we're gated off, and even Alex has an escape route from the basement (same one as the cats only she'll inevitably be less graceful in her travels over the back of the couch) so I can safely turn my head for more than one second without fear of baby escaping for a quick bruise on the one section of the steps without carpet. The part he always slips and falls on.

Alex had a less productive day, as she had a mystery fever with no other symptoms except extreme sleepiness. She racked up quite a few hours of tv viewing, ate next to nothing (business as usual there) and was shockingly quiet. Hopefully she's bounce back today because we have a play date down the street and then two feet of snow will be here tomorrow.

Some Days Start Better Than Others

This is Others.

Crappy Day Yesterday. Really.

It was actually not all that bad, relatively speaking, but yesterday could have ended better.

Alex and Gabey had a bath, spurred on by an unfortunate losing of balance and crashing into the steps by Gabey. Baths make a great distraction from minor head injuries. (Very minor, for those concern - not even a bump, but more of a tiny abrasion.) So, bath time went down with all the usual hitches - eating the bath toys, slurping up too much water while talking under water, slipping and almost pitching head first out of the tub, throwing bath toys at an undeserving Mommy. All the usual naughtiness. Alex was first out, shortly followed by Gabey because he was attempting to make the bath tub into a jacuzzi and Mommy got nervous. Turns out she should have been more concerned about Number 1 child.

Number 1 had her evening diaper on (Mommy and Daddy have little faith that she'll be out of evening diapers any time soon, but maybe someday, they'll change their mind.) and was sauntering around the house while Mommy was drying, rash creaming, moisturizing, and wrestling her baby octopus into a sleeper suit. Then, Mommy heard Daddy helping Alex close the bathroom door for "some private". Not a good sign.

Generally, when Alex wants "some private" it means she's doing something horrific that she'd rather not let the parents see. Daddy, being mostly too tired or busy to pick up on not so subtle clues like this, had no idea what evil was about to occur. To be honest, Mommy couldn't imagine either.

Well, Alex had pooped. Not believing her body, or perhaps plain not caring, she pooped in her diaper instead of high-tailing it to the bathroom to save us some grief. Doesn't matter. What happened next, though, was of concern. She proceeded to try and clean herself up behind closed doors. Sometimes calling to Mommy despite herself, because deep down, she knew she needed help righting the wrong. Alas, Mommy was too late. I arrived in the bathroom to find Alex with a long streamer of poop-encrusted toilet paper swinging from her left hand, poop smeared on her chest, hands, legs and other regions. Pretty much everywhere, in fact. Including the toilet paper on the roll.

Miraculously, the rest of the bathroom was "clean". I mean, as clean as her dedicated bathroom will ever be. Despite her best efforts to SHAKE OFF THE POOP there was nothing anywhere worth sanitizing off. Nice!

So, the issue was Alex herself. Daddy was put firmly in charge of the haz-mat cleanup, and quickly, a crappy situation was put to rest.

Today in Two Words

Poop everywhere.

The soothing hour is over. 8 ounces, a few bounces, lots of rocking back and forth on the bouncy chair, and four attempts to put him down have finally paid off. He has some serious snuggling dedication, though, so I wasn't sure I'd emerge the victor this morning. As my muscles can attest to, he's gaining some serious weight right now, so it's becoming a bit of a bother to carry him around for an hour not shifting him so I don't alert him to the possibility of being deposited in the dreaded crib.

Speaking of the crib, Alex is determined to continue her favorite game with Gabey - Knock the Baby Over in the Crib. He's getting too tall to properly knock down without braining him on the crib, so yesterday we had to stop the game. Poor, poor Alex will have to knock him over in other places now. But he's been practicing his standing skills, so I'm guessing her days of knocking him over will be coming to an end pretty soon and he can play Knock Over Big Sister.

Yesterday I decided we'd go to the Ecotarium. It was the day before another snow "storm" (Up to 5 inches of snow is a storm? Really?) and I thought it wise to get some infotainment in before we were stuck in the house. We ended up spending 2.5 hours there browsing through all kinds of exciting things. A shocking amount of time considering that usually about an hour is all Alex can stomach without going a little loopy (more about that later) but it was earlier in the afternoon than we typically go, so that must have been the reason why.

She's not nearly so fascinated with everything as I am, and I do find it somewhat mostly frustrating to tour the museum and have about 10 seconds per display unless is has some manipulable component or the capability to blow large quantities of air into little brother's face. That being said, she was almost attentive for a few explanations of different exhibits, so I think we're making progress. Gabe was fascinated by everything, and quiet unless air was blowing in his face.

We saw fossils, rocks, played with water, air of course, sounds, puzzles, puppets, display buttons, a train, and even tempted a snake to try and eat us all whole. From the other side of the glass, of course, because even at 19 pounds, Gabe would be an attractive meal for the boa.

Then, meltdown occurred as it always does. This time, Alex was "starving to death" and needed to eat all of Gabey's Cheerios. However, they were being recklessly scattered all over the supposedly food-free floor of the museum, so chaos was not far away as Mommy decided enough was enough and feeding time was over. Much screaming ensued, followed my hurried application of coats and admonishments. Into the bitter cold, we retreated to the car, munching Cheerios and scattering a few for the birds on the way. (Almost forgot - feeding time began because Gabe was in the stroller and started looking for Cheerios in his cup holder. He's too smart.)

Order was restored thanks largely to nap time in the car, which ended abruptly in the garage at home. And...back to a less than exciting day at home. Today, hopefully there's a play date in our future, but maybe just some snow and lots of nagging about the extreme need for hot chocolate because it's so cold and snowy, combined with lots of begging about not keeping clothes on because it's too hot.

The impossible has happened. After the debacle of teething unrest, Gabey has actually slept through the night for the first time in who can remember how long. In fact, it's after 7 A.M. and I can still hear his little sleepy baby breathing. He's definitely considering his waking up options, but for now, he's giving me a break.

So, now I'm contemplating the fate of big cardboard boxes. The basement has been graced with a new couch and love-seat, but the sofa beds still loom large, now in the dark end of the basement. Along with the tent, crawling tube, Alex's table and chairs, the play kitchen, three toy boxes, a doll house, two farms, two castles, a basketball net, shopping cart, puzzle basket, and slide, not to mention puppet theater with -most- of its puppets, it's getting a wee bit crowded.

Like her love for all her things, the love for the cardboard boxes - one from Gabe's big boy car seat and the other from the slide - waxes and wanes from day to day. My instinct to recycle is starting to get the better of me, though. She probably won't notice the loss of her impromptu cave, and Gabey won't miss the boxes, especially since he's hesitant to go into them. So maybe, just maybe, they'll disappear some time soon. I mean, let's face it, of the cats don't use them, why do we have them?

In any case, a more pressing need right now is the need to de-Christmas the house. I've got replacement lights glaring at me just above my recently cleaned desk, and Alex's Christmas tree drives me crazy every time I go into her room. Most everything else is put away, and the big tree is waiting on the deck to be deposited somewhere more appropriate like the compost pile. Maybe before the next "storm" (One to two inches of snow is a storm? Am I missing something here? Clearly I must be...) I'll get around to dragging the tree somewhere less conspicuous. But for now, it's 17 degrees outside, and my hair is wet. Best not to venture out right now.

Teething Rage

How had I forgotten the true horror of teething? The countless hours spent with Alex jamming my numbing-gel-globbed fingers in her mouth, the gallons of ibuprofen, the sleepless nights spent tossing and turning on her bedroom floor so I could be a heartbeat away from soothing her tortured self back to sleep before she woke up Jeff? The utter frustration of not really being able to do a darn thing to help her feel better because the only relief from teething is teeth!?! Oh yeah, that's all coming back to me now.

Gabey popped out his first four teeth with relative ease. Sure there was fussing and a few interrupted nights. But now, it's regular nightly intervals of agony, screaming, crying, wriggling, writhing, temper tantrums and sleeplessness. Us and him. It's seriously ridiculous how painful and disruptive teething is. Someone should really do something about that.

For one, the makers of infant pain relief medication should have a foolproof way to deliver the goods. I'm fairly certain that babies, at least our baby, do not like the taste of grape ibuprofen. Ever. Especially not when they're half asleep and in terrible pain. Gabe has mastered the fine art of spitting out most (all?) of his ibuprofen. Just to spite us. And I'm fairly certain he's noticed it in his bottle too.

Speaking of bottles, don't we have gum-soothing technology for bottles yet? Say, a cooling nipple with gum massaging capabilities. I mean, there are butt wipe warmers, so why not teething nipples? I'd gladly pay a small fortune for a teething nipple.

So, last night was particularly horror-filled. Gabey woke at 8:50. He didn't want to eat, didn't need a diaper change, didn't want to go back to sleep. For two hours I (and sometimes Jeff) wrestled with him, squishing his tiny head on our chests to sooth him and make him, brutally force him if you will, to sleep. And sleep he did. On our chests. The second I put my hand around his body to ease him into the crib, he woke up. Screaming. I put him back on my chest, and the silence was just as deafening. Away from me = scream. With me = snore. This went on for, I repeat, two hours. TWO HOURS. Honestly, I've said it before and I'll say it again, shaken baby syndome makes more sense to me now.

But he did finally go back to sleep. After threats of doom from us, lots of numbing gel, a mystery amount of ibuprofen (definitely lass than he needed or is recommended for babies of his particular girth.) and a few sweet snuggles once the realization hit me that he might actually, after two long hours, go to sleep.

The thought had crossed my mind to just go to sleep with him so we'd all get a little rest. (Except me, because practically speaking, a baby sleeping with you is not the recipe for sound sleep.) But several things prevented me from doing this:

1. The oft-spoken-of possibility that he'd really like it. Nothing would be worse for us than a child who wanted to sleep with us every night. There's just no way.

2. He probably wouldn't really like it. Had I slept upright in the bouncy chair, he'd have slept with me all night. However, I don't sleep sitting up, and he doesn't sleep on me when I lay down, so there ya go.

3. I wasn't falling asleep anyway. Too much rage. Had I managed to fall asleep and he woke up later (like, 5 minutes after I finally fell asleep, probably) I would have sleepily strangled him so I could go back to sleep.

Anyway, turns out, all he needed was 2 hours of snuggling peppered with intermittent cursing to lull him back to sleep, so it was all good. I finally returned to bed around 11:00. Said something or other to Jeff about what a naughty baby (or something more colorful?) we have, and turned out the lights. Five minutes later, Jeff was snoring, and I was wide awake, still seething with teething rage. And the rage that Diesel was on Jeff's pillow, threatening to come over for a snuggle with me too. But a punch to Jeff's leg and a threatening poke to Diesel later, I finally drifted to sleep. To be awoken what seems like moments later by the alarm. I hid under the covers while Jeff oozed his was around getting ready for work (Thanks for the coffee, Sweetie!!!) and drifted into semi-consciousness until Gabe woke at 6:00.

He got a bottle, threats of instant death if he didn't go back to sleep so Mommy could have breakfast with lots of coffee and a shower, and a quick snuggle and back rub to settle him back to sleep. Starting now, the day has begun anew, with caffeine-fueled blogging and clean hair. Cheerios have made me cheery, and the sun has finally risen while the son has not yet. I expect to hear the elephant-like thumpings of Alex on her way down to ask me "What's going on?" instead of "Good morning." and it's off to the races again.

Back to poking gums to see if those teeth are there yet. Only 16 more teeth to go...

New Couches!

Now all I have to do is get a laptop so I can recline and post at the same time...

Conversation of the Day

Me: "Alex, what did you make?" (Referencing the pipe-cleaner sculpture she just made.)
Alex: "Oh, something you wouldn't understand."

Christmas Redux

I've been a true slacker in the blogging department, so I'll take these few quiet moments I've snagged this morning to rehash Christmas break as quickly as possible. I know the Gabester will be up momentarily (teething is a horrible thing) so here goes.

Daddy was home for the last three weeks. Yay! Alex was the barnacle to his hull. She followed him like the adoring hero worshiper that she is, and he mostly loved it, except when he didn't. Gabe was my barnacle, mostly because he's teething and because I feed him the good stuff.

The kids got lots of toys and lots of attention. Especially from Grammy, Grampy, Auntie Lulu and Uncle Adam. Movies were watched, games were "played", cookies were eaten (even an unauthorized sugar cookie scrap for Gabey) and everyone is now over-tired and over-spoiled.

So, back to the real world for us. Gabe is awake (barely) so I should get to making him hos favorite banana cereal with a kiss of pink apple sauce. Then it's another day of watching him almost stand by himself and wrestling Alex and her bugs inside the comforter cover.