Pictures are Deceiving

By the pictures, we had a wonderful weekend away.

There were blue skies and a sparkling lake.

Matt was able to show the girls how daddy rode up the worst road known to man.

They touched his brick for the effort in last years Savageman.

BUT

What the pictures don't show is the fact that Clare was on another tear again this weekend. The three hour drive from Baltimore to Deep Creek alone had us rethinking our weekend plans. By the time early evening rolled around, I was using my phone to see if I could rent a car to drive back home with the girls that very night.

What there are no pictures of is the fact that I was walking, seething with rage over temper-tantrums, small town rental car hours and slow 3G connections on my iPhone, and playing with my phone instead of looking where I was going. Or that I am a clutz and I always look down while walking on uneven terrain.

There are no pictures of my fall down a few rustic, nature preserve stairs, when I insisted I was fine to finish the walk down to Matt's bike drop off, or when my vision went white and I was .this.close. to fainting so I made Matt move road blocks to come pick me up in the car.

There could be pictures of the fact that my right foot is still swollen to about double it's normal size and turning the most delightful shades of purple, black and blue, but it is so grotesque, I will spare you that visual.

There are no pictures of the fact that it meant that I couldn't attend the triathlon the we had driven 3 hours to watch and cheer at. That attitudes did not improve, adults included, in our 2.5 days away.

Honestly, the best part of the weekend? The drive home.

We are headed to Chicago tomorrow. Wish us luck, and maybe send a prayer or two our way.

Blue Skies and Green Fields

We always start off with good intent.

"Let's do something new this weekend! My friend does equestrian stuff, let's take the girls to go watch," Matt said.

The day was beautiful, the weather perfect.

What we fell a little short on though was behavior. Oh my goodness are we going through a phase. And apparently, horses don't like phases. Who knew? I thought we would be outside in a big grassy field with lots of sunshine and fresh air and space for the girls to exhaust themselves.

The folks who participate in these things though had other ideas. No loud noises, no sudden moves, nothing that might spook a tense horse and its owner...... Which, in hindsight makes sense, but at the time. Ugh. It was not quite the day we'd had in mind.

On the other hand, now we an say that we've been.
And in a few more years, it would be a lovely afternoon. 

Except for when the girls start asking about horse back riding lessons.

Summer Thrills

Our town has a carnival that comes this time every year.

It is a week long extravaganza hosted by the fire department, with a firework conclusion. And really, how do you refuse that? Knowing that some portion of the vast amount of money you just bled into the summer night goes to help support the neighbors that protect you. How do you not to drop an extra $5 into the boot at the hot dog stand?
(I may or may not be a little biased on this one.)

So we marched into the sweltering heat to meet with the family of one of Gracie's besties, and bought the all-you-can-ride wrist band. Grace rode with abandon: carousel, train, dragon roller coaster, tilt-a-whirl.

Clare watched with eager eyes, but didn't get to join in on the fun. Until we got to the ferris wheel.
Me go? Mine Mama? Mine, me?

And we went. She and I tucked neatly into a capsule.
It was the beginning of the end.
Now she knew she was allowed to go to, and so she went on her first carnival  ride with Grace.

Quickly followed by a ride all by herself.

I don't think I've seen her that happy in quite awhile.
Well, except for when I make popcorn.

Bittersweet Endings

Clare's birthday was a little bit bittersweet. It marked endings and beginnings, wrapped up into one neat calendar determined package.

Her second birthday marked her ability to join Grace at the Montessori near our house. It is a place where I know she will be nurtured emotionally and academically. She will have the security of her sister and small, comfortable classrooms. She will play in the dirt, sun and rain. She blossom.

But she is no longer with me.

My girls are now 60 minutes away from me instead of 60 seconds. The voices drifting through the windows into my office no longer contain their voices. The distance seems deafening.

Only to me though.

The girls? They are enraptured with their reunited status as sisters 24/7. Instead of lunch time giggles that are disembodied drifts, I am greeted with shouts and giggles and ear to ear grins. I get reports of fresh fruit snacks and play time mud pies.

And honestly, what better celebration of a 2nd birthday is there than a gift of toddler self-actualization?

(And commutes listening to CSPAN instead of Lori Berkner?)

Bad Medicine

This picture was supposed to be part of a completely different post.

One full of glory and self-indulgent satisfaction. Instead, it is part of a story about Bad Medicine.

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We were sick far more days in December than we were healthy. In fact, I'd be surprised if out of the 4 of us, there was more than 4-5 days without headaches, coughing, runny noses or antibiotics. Such is the life with two small children in daycare I suppose, but still. Blah. It was horrible.

All through the month, Clare's teacher, formerly Grace's teacher, kept lecturing me on the healing powers of lemongrass. Specifically the concoction of lemongrass, ginger, lemon and honey. She swore by it as a instantaneous cold remedy*, and who was I to argue. I was the one with the lingering colds.
* She did always slide in that 12-13 hours of sleep was required too. Super. I'll get right on that.

So upon the decent of our first January colds, she sent me up to the Latino Market minutes away from my work. I stocked up on enough lemongrass, ginger and some superfluous dried lavender flowers to keep in in business for weeks. When I got home on Friday night, I dutifully pulled out my 5 quart soup pot and stuffed it full of the reeds, roots and water. Matt complained that the house smelled like hippies, but I was undeterred. I bragged on Facebook. I was so pleased with my homeopathic therapies and was convinced of the healing effect they would have.

Sunday morning, Clare had dark rings around the bottom of her eyes. Weird. The cold must be wearing her down too, poor baby.

Sunday night, the dark rings had turning into little pink spots with matching accessories on her forehead. WEIRD. Huh, a good night's sleep will make it go away, right?

Monday morning, she looked like this:

HOLY SHIT!!!! She's having an allergic reaction to something. I combed my head to try and think of what she's eaten that's new. Nothing. Absolutely nothing........

But she is a breastfed baby.......

And I drank 2lbs of lemongrass extract on Friday night and Saturday, something she's never had before.......

And OH MY GOD I'M POISONING MY BABY!!!!
(OK, I know it's not poison, but still- she is clawing at her own flesh and her whole body is covered in a horrible rash.)

And the Doctor scratched her head and said she'd never heard of anyone being allergic to lemongrass before, but it definitely looks like an allergic reaction so lets give her some heavy doses of Benadryl and see if it goes away - and by the way - lets look in Grace's ears while she is here why yes, she seems to have another bad ear infection to boot so lets do another round of antibiotics.

But does Grace mind? Not one bit. Because it means she gets to play with the train table for a little bit longer along with getting dum dums pulled out of her ears and Elmo stickers.

24 hours later, Clare seems to have faded back down to her normal peaches-and-cream complexion, as opposed to the giant strawberry she was sporting, and smiling as though nothing had ever happened.

Planting Seeds

I know I am thankful - greatful - for all that I have most every day.

But if I have to choose one thing, my most Thankful thing, it is this:

The snuggles.

They are better than I ever imagined.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Versus

Once your kid comes, people seem to move onto a slightly new topic to thrust their opinions upon you. I know it is just idle chatter, but I still find myself biting my tongue because any correction on my part always falls upon deaf ears.

It is the comparisons. The versus of my children. Physical and emotional- looks, demeanor, appetite, sleep. I know it is go to talk of second children. I find myself talking about it constantly. So here it is, once and for all..... Gracie vs Clare.

~~~Grace @ 8 weeks old ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Clare @ 8 weeks old~~~

Face- MINE. I don't care what you people say. These girls look like me. Sure, they have Matt's mouth, but the major features (face, nose and eye shapes) are all mine. The picture of Clare isn't as dead on, but they have the same shaped face with a pointy little chin, same soon to be bushy eyebrows and same nose- despite my inutero claim that Clare was sporting Matt's profile. They do however both sport Matt's mouth- which is a blessing because I have always lamented my lack of upper lip. You will definitely know they are sisters.
This is where their similarities end though.

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Eyes- Matt and I are both hazel. His are a 50/50 green/gold combination while mine are 80/20 green/brown (they also still change intensity of the green depending on my mood).

*Gracie's eyes have been a deep chocolate brown, with little flecks of green starting to show.

* Clare has bucked both of us and has my dad's blue/grey eyes dead on. They are eerily beautiful.

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Hair-

*Grace was born a little cue ball. She always had just enough hair to let us know she would be Matt's shade of blonde, and this summer she is sporting the beautiful bleach blonde highlights of his Nordic heritage in its full glory.

*Clare this time opted for Matt's dad's shade of brunette (blonde based) as opposed to my dark (red based) shade.

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Sleep- Polar opposites.

*Grace still only rarely sleeps through the night. She needs one of us, preferably Matt, to stay by her side while she falls asleep.

*Clare is out by 8:45 (at the latest) and can snooze, unassisted, for 11 hr stretches easy. Although to accomplish this, she eats for 3 hrs straight before going to bed.

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Food-

*Grace was a battle to breastfeed. The first 6 weeks for such a challenge, but I was so dedicated to the idea of giving her breast milk. I have no idea why it didn't dawn on me to just pump and bottle feed her- chalk it up to inexperience. By the 3 month mark she was starting to get formula supplements and by 7 months she refused breast milk all together.

*Clare is a champ. Hours into this world and she was drinking in the easy, carefree manor I thought the process would be the first time around. At 3 months she has still never had formula. I wonder if I will be able to make it to the 1 yr mark with her...

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Mmmmm .... my babies. So different and so alike at the same time. I keep holding my breath in anticipation for Clare to be able to play with her big sister. I wonder if it will be as beautiful of a sight as I imagine in my head.