Her Favorite Color is Yellow

I thought of naming Anna "Sunny." She is loving yellow above all other colors now, so maybe it was an appropriate name to consider. The way her personality is developing, "Sunny" might be a great nickname for her.

Happy St. Urho's Day to the folks out there who know about him! As a 100% Finnish person, it's my duty to spread the Finnish cheer and craziness at all times. Heinäsirkka, heinäsirkka, mene täältä hiiteen!

The kids and I are going to the library soon. Time to refresh my audiobook selections, and it'll be nice to get the kids out of the house.

Anna is looking out the window and waving bye-bye to all the cars that go past.

And she has a new word! "owie"

How cute is that? She's been constipated lately, and it hurts when she poops. She'll run to me, grab her butt and yell "OWIE!!" over and over again. And when she fell down, she started crying and saying "Owie!"

I think it's terribly appropriate that her first two words while living in this house were "Tickle" and "Owie." After all, she does have Ben for a big brother.

Ben's vocabulary is tremendous now. The other day he was eating a piece of pizza. After the first bite, he said, "That's delicious!" I was thunderstruck.

It's really not surprising. I try not to limit the words he's exposed to. When we do the "what word does this letter start?" game while playing in the bathtub with the foam letters, I get creative. I add at least two big words to the list of simple ones each time. "U" "U starts words like umbrella, under, ubiquitous, and uvula. "X" "X starts words like xray, xylophone, and xenophobia." "B" "B starts words like boy, ball, Ben, baby, big, burgeoning, backwards, and bicker." "A" "A starts words like apple, after, antelope, apricot, affection, apathy, and analytical."

Chris gets a big kick out of it. We celebrated our 4-year wedding anniversary yesterday. We had a fantastic date and went to sleep safe in the knowledge of our wonderful relationship that grows deeper and sweeter every day.

When we were leaving for our date last night and getting the kids ready for their own playdate at Katie's house, I glanced at the door and saw the following picture. I shrieked and burst out laughing. Anna decided it would be appropriate to wear our firefighter helmet with her spring jacket. It was the perfect image of our comedic genius, the Amazing Anna Girl.

A Voice from the Past

Am I irrelevant now that I'm not blogging all the time? Does that really matter? Frankly... no. Here's the deal. I'm living offline right now. Some days, I don't even check my email more than once. *gasp*

Rather than work my cute butt off by building up the "Cheryl" brand online, I've retreated back to life with my kids. I'm focusing on quilting and cooking and praying. Chris and I joined the nearby Catholic parish, and we're in the process of becoming confirmed in the faith. It's exciting and thrilling and ultimately fulfilling in unexpected ways.

And oh, the quilting. After finishing Valerie's quilt, I jumped into a quilt to use as my "nap blanket." This one was so much fun to plan. I was able to choose the fabrics that I loved the most. I found a stimulating pattern that would offer a lot of variety with fabric combinations. I think it's beautiful and sweet and cozy-looking. I backed it with flannel in a different color scheme than the front in case I get tired of the patchwork side. I'll post pictures of it once I get the binding done.

While I've been plugging away at that beast, I've had two other quilts "pending." My dear niece Alisha provided me with a pile of fabrics that she liked last summer, full of bugs and butterflies, and I chose a pinwheel design. I was finally done with the pinwheels and able to add sashing and backing. Because of the design, I knew I would have to machine quilt it instead of simply tying it, so I was hesitant to do that on my old machine. The tension never was right no matter what I did, and I didn't want it to look terrible.

An early birthday present landed a new sewing machine on my table, and I've happily been machine quilting every day. Woo-hoo! Other than washing it and double-checking the seams, that one is done just in time for her birthday. I'm so excited.

The other one I was working on was a blue and cream quilt that I had started for Anna but then decided against the baby-ish colors. That turned out really pretty, and I think I'm going to donate it to the church for them to either give to someone or to sell at a crafts table this summer.

Next up is another attempt at a quilt for Anna. I think I have enough fabrics for it, and I think I've finally narrowed down on a pattern I'll use. I want to use the same quilt pattern for both Ben and Anna's quilts, but use different fabrics. So once I pick a pattern, I have to like it a lot.

On the kid front, everything is great. Ben's vocabulary is burgeoning. He's speaking more clearly every day, and he's delightful. Naughty at times, but still sweet and kind as a rule. Rambunctious and curious and cantankerous. A normal three year old. And on Wednesday, he's going to an optometrist because he failed his vision exam. It'll be a new challenge to have a toddler who wears glasses, but I'm thrilled at the new world that is going to open up to him once he can see clearly. I wonder if he'll be able to articulate the difference. And I also wonder if he's going to be responsible enough to take care of them.

Anna is. Well. Dear Anna. Last week she had a stomach virus for three days while we were on a mini-vacay at my mom's house. Vomiting all the time. This is in addition to the runny nose and cough she had for a few weeks. After her tummy settled down, the teething started again. I think there are at least three different teeth coming through right now, including two molars. She's spiking fevers and miserable for most of the day and night, though she's having more and more "happy" hours, which is good. Still, she was very unhappy when she woke from her nap this afternoon, and after a cuddle with Daddy, she fell asleep and has remained asleep. I checked on her, and she's still breathing. :)

Chris is ultra busy at work lately with some new projects he's championing. Hopefully, it'll benefit his career plans. He's also taking two classes right now. And I'm working more than 15 hours a week when he's not working, so we're like two ships passing in the night, often.

I'll leave you with a couple pictures of the latest quilts. Love ya!

Life Along Side the Quilting Table

I am in full-fledged quilting mode, spending at least four hours a day at the task. I have beautified my sewing table and laid in a cache of unheard audiobooks. I have more fabric than I know what to do with thanks to too many trips to the fabric store.

I have had many questions as to how I manage to quilt while taking care of the kids. The answer is complicated, but I'll give you a picture to describe it, a picture of words, that is.

My hair is pushed off of my face with a headband, letting me forget for a bit longer that it's been two (or is it three?) days since last I washed it. My shirt, crusty in places from snot and breakfast, tops off a careless outfit that may or may not include jeans, which I consider to be "dressier" than my pajama pants. The children are clothed and fed and washed; I have standards, don't you know.

In the adjacent bedroom, a Little Tykes slide plays host to numerous activities... the conveyor belt of flashcards, a launching pad for trucks, a laundry chute for disheveled children. Duplo blocks are scattered across the hardwood floor. Don't they make such a great sound when dumped from their bin?

After teaching Anna how to safely go down the stairs, she now as free reign of the house. She frequently makes the trek downstairs to grab a sippy cup or a cozy blanket or a shoe. Every once in a while, I move to the floor to sit and reach for her. We cuddle and giggle together, and I will nurse her until boredom moves her elsewhere or sleep overtakes her. Her favorite spot is on my lap, and when I'm just sewing and not brandishing the rotary cutter, I'll often hold her precariously on my lap, my arms reaching around her to hold the fabric steady under the jumping needle. Her joy is letting one of the widgy-gadgets bop up against her outstretched hands as the machine jiggers along.

Ben will sometimes be content to play upstairs or watch TV. Often, however, he goes downstairs where I have mommy radar going, listening for naughty sounds, or, worse, naughty silence. Mostly, he pulls out toys and plays by himself, entertaining himself without my assistance for up to two hours at a time. Sometimes I come downstairs to minor disasters, like washable marker on the floor or a roll of toilet paper in the toilet.

Before snacktime, lunch and naps, clean-up time occurs in at least one zone of the house, and that's when the fun begins. The quilting table is tidied up, and I give the kids my full attention. I try to make clean-up fun. My strokes of genius include putting the end of the slide on a bucket and using the slide to put toys away. It's much more fun to collect them in buckets if you get to push them down a slide. Or maybe I'll put a broom handle on the floor two or three feet away from a bin, and I'll play referee while Ben practices his free throw skills. That one takes longer, but it's more "play" than "chore," so it's definitely worth it.

Slowly but surely, the quilt gets completed without bloodshed, without too many tears, without resentment and regret. I'm in the homestretch with my dear niece Alisha's quilt right now, and I feel overcome with blessings of a magnitude not yet experienced.

From One Thing to Another

First off... I shared this story with Chris today. Heard it on Catholic Radio, got warm fuzzies. I think it's a good lesson to learn.

A momentous occasion occurred today when Chris brought Momma Val's quilt to the post office. I was so glad to pull it out of the dryer this morning and see that all the stitches held, the colors didn't bleed, and it looked cozy. Mission accomplished. Whenever I look at it, I see all the little mistakes I made. I hope they are not as noticeable to Valerie and her sweet little boy.

Here's a picture of the quilt during one of the last stages of completion:

I had started this quilt early last summer at the end of a quilting binge. I started working, my health was "iffy" and life was chaos. I just didn't have the heart for quilting anymore, so I stopped. Unfortunately, that meant that Valerie didn't get her requested quilt in a timely fashion. Oh the guilt that festered. She never bothered me about it, but I didn't forget entirely.

Fast forward to the beginning of this month. We moved our bedroom upstairs, and I decided that I should bring up our six-foot table to put in the extra wide hallway at the top of the stairs. On there, I could put my sewing machine, and I'd even have room for my cutting board. Bingo. I set it up, and the quilting bug happened again.

It didn't take me long to finish her quilt once I started. I had most of the blocks completed or nearly completed. I just had to cut out the white blocks and put it all together. Happiness, thy name is "matching seams."

And now it's done. After the quilt for Alisha, I have four more quilts planned. A nap blanket for me, a quilt each for Anna and Ben, and a quilt for my nephew Gage. Happy times ahead.

On the kid front... Ben's vocabulary is burgeoning still. He's hard to understand at times, but he's trying. He's "using his words" a lot, even if it doesn't do any good because it sounds like gibberish. He can count to ten and can recognize all of the numbers. And he has most of the alphabet down pat, but he won't say it, just points them out and names them when he sees them. Colors are memorized.

His personality is adhesive. He loves stickers. If I give him a sheet of stickers, he will either put them all over his face (including eyelids), decorate a table top (or my laptop) or add them to random pages in his book collection. A couple days ago I went into the living room to turn off the TV quickly before we left to run errands, and I was greeted with the sight of a TV screen covered in stickers. Ah, Ben.

He's acting more interested in what I'm doing, and most of the time, he wants to join in. Kneading bread dough, washing dishes, picking up laundry, washing the table, etc. "Ben try?" I hear that a lot, except when he doesn't want to do something. Then it's "Mama try?"

Anna's infected boil is slowly healing. The infection is gone, but the spot remains. I'm glad the doctor ran labs on the specific bacteria (ostensibly to rule out MRSA) so that we could get a targeted antibiotic. Unfortunately, with antibiotics comes a terrible diaper rash. She's kind of annoyed by that and the two molars that are still halfway out or just under the surface. Intermittently, she's either jolly and rambunctious or she's whiny and clingy.

I wish you all could see her adorable facial expressions. The "stinkface" with a crinkled nose and pursed lips. The "oh-hi!" where she squats slightly and grins like she's ready to jump for joy at seeing you. The "oh-really" where she raises her barely-there-blond eyebrows and smirks, letting loose a deep-throated chuckle.

That's all I can do for tonight. Hope you all are happy and well.

Ben Turns Three

Chase after me, little boy.
Let's race and see what wonders we can rouse from the ordinary.
Hold my hand and explore this world with me.

Count to ten. Say the alphabet.
What color is this?
Roar! A lion is attacking.
No wait... it's the tickle monster!

Worlds of expression dance across your face.
Anticipation for a trip to the library.
Consternation when you can't find your airplane.
Fury when Anna plays with your train.
Adoration when it's snuggle time.

Say "I"... "I"
"love"... "Yubbs"
"you!" .. "You!"

Last night, Ben asked me if we could put his jacket on the cat so she wouldn't be cold when she got stuck in the attic. "Mama? Cat too cold in attic. Cat put on Ben's jacket so not cold."

I love this boy so much. He's the best tagalong, the best companion in this march through time. My little budd started hip-hop dancing when we started singing "Hark the Herald Angel Sing" at Christmas Eve service.

Two mornings in a row, I've found him sleeping on the couch when I come downstairs in the morning. During the night, he'd snuck out of bed, grabbed a peanut butter cookie from the kitchen, ate half of it and left the remainder on the arm of the couch next to four or five favorite cars, lined up carefully in a row. Twice, this has happened. The stinker.

Ben turns three today. *Sigh*

Bedroom Switch 2008

Anna, Ben and I went from having the stomach flu around Thanksgiving to having colds this week. Ben is on his nebulizer a few times a day, and Anna is constantly dripping copious amounts of snot and very fussy. So of course it's the perfect time to start sleep training again.

Yeah right. We started training her again because her sleep patterns were getting worse and worse, finally to the point where she would pop right back up in her crib when we'd put her down. And then she'd cry forever until she'd either pass out for 30 minutes or so or until I would cuddle her.

Wednesday night, I slept upstairs with her. I slept in the twin bed, and she was in the packnplay. The idea is that she'd still have to go to sleep on her own, but she wouldn't be alone. Didn't work very well. She's had two very difficult nights. So we're taking it to the next level. She'll be sleeping in her crib in a room by herself. And Chris will be doing the Ferber timing. Going in after five minutes to tell her she's loved and should lay down. Then after ten minutes. Then again after fifteen. Etc. Until she falls asleep.

The other side to this, though, is that she's not feeling well. She's sick, and she's tired and cranky and congested. So this mama's heart might bleed too much, and I'll have to take her up into bed with me and keep her there with me all night long. I've eliminated the night feedings, though. That's tough on her.

While I was sleeping upstairs with her Wednesday night, I was thinking about how nice it would be to have our bedroom be upstairs. It's such a big room. 12x19. And we hardly go up there nowadays since Ben is sleeping downstairs now.

I mentioned it to Chris last night, and he jumped at it. At first he wanted to wait until we can paint the rooms to non-nursery colors, but his desire to sleep train Anna came first. Instead of putting her upstairs and leaving her to cry, and having to walk up there all the time to comfort her, we switched bedrooms today. Ben's twin bed is temporarily in the dining room (again) until Anna is sleeping better. Hopefully we'll be able to put it in their bedroom before Christmas. Tonight Chris will be sleeping in the dining room doing the Ferber thing. And I'll have the whole upstairs to myself. Such a luxury. Except I have to get used to not drinking so many fluids around bedtime. It's a long hike down some noisy steps to go potty.

Getting our bed upstairs was a challenge. It's just a queen, but we couldn't get it through the stairwell because of how steep the steps are. We folded the mattress and shoved hard. Very intense workout. The boxspring was a lost cause though. We just can't bend that. So Chris bought some rope, we leaned the two-story ladder against the balcony, and we did the pulley thing to slide the boxspring up the ladder/ramp and up to the second floor. That was quite the ordeal, but we got it done. Phew.

An Imagination Tempered With Toddler-ness

This morning, Ben had a temper tantrum for no less than 30 minutes in our bedroom while Anna and I peacefully ate breakfast in the kitchen. From what I can make out from his shrieks and rants, he was angry that I had changed his diaper on the right side of the bed. Apparently, he wished that it had occurred on the left side, but he hadn't known that until after the change was done. Eventually, he pulled off his pants and his diaper and wouldn't budge from the room until I started the process over again on the left side of the bed.

That crisis conquered, we proceeded on with our day.

While those temper flare-ups (for the stupidest, most asinine reasons ever) happen at least once a day, I'm still bemused by his burst of imagination activity.

Picture this: We're at the breakfast table. He has a PB&J on bread, cut into the shape of a dinosaur (his "roar bread"). I have PB&J on an English Muffin, cut in half. He asks from half of my muffin, announces that it's a lion, and starts the Great War of Dinosaur and Lion at our dining room table. The war raged on in his head as the two parties tackled and fought, shouting toddler-ese obscenities at each other.

Another time, he's narrating the actions of Scoop (of Bob the Builder fame) as he terrorizes a small city of matchbox cars. "Uh-oh! Crash!" as Scoop finally is plunged off of the blanket chest into the abyss below. The trains regularly make runs around the living room of Sodor as they bicker back and forth about Bulgy's errant behavior and Toby's slowness.

When my BFF Mary came over last weekend to take Anna's 1-year pictures, Ben wanted to be the star. Contrary to his behavior from his own photo shoot months ago when he refused to acknowledge the camera, he jumped in front of the lens and started hamming it up with various Vogue-ish poses and grins. My boy. Delightful. I love him dearly.

Separation Anxiety

In two weeks, Anna will be one year old. She took her first step on Sunday. Just one step, but it was enough to make me weepy. She's awesome.

But this post is about Ben. My dear Benji Boy. Oh, how I love him. In the last week, however, he has presented us with new challenges in patience and compassion. He's dealing with some very strong separation anxiety issues. If we're getting ready to leave the house to go to the store or go for a walk, he starts to panic that we'll leave without him, and he screams and wails, running for his shoes and his jacket. We try to convince him that we won't leave without him, but every time he turns around and doesn't see one of us in his field of vision, he panics again.

At night, we'll go through our nighttime routine, ending in storytime with Daddy upstairs. Even if he manages to relax and fall asleep, he wakes up or gets out of bed within 30 minutes, realizes that no one is up there with him, and he has a panic attack. One night we brought him back upstairs 10 times before he finally passed out from exhaustion.

This is a typical developmental phase that kids usually go through before second year. Lots of babies have separation anxiety from their parents. It's a matter of learning object permanence. Ben's issue has such a strong emotional component, it breaks our hearts while it frustrates us. When life is happy and peaceful for him, he's affectionate and funny, playful and charming. I'm always wary for something to set him off.

Last night, we let him sleep in bed with us. Normally, this is forbidden. We were desperate, I guess. Neither of us wanted to sleep upstairs with him, and we weren't looking forward to the now commonplace back-to-bed dance that leaves Ben in gulping sobs. We may be pushovers, but we gave in.

The strong-line-parent in me didn't want to. I wanted to be strong and insist that Ben sleep in his own bed at a time that we set. I told myself he was being manipulative, and that this was a test. But the gooey-intuitive mommy in me felt that this just wasn't so. Something is going on in his spirit, something topsy-turvy, and he is just letting us know. Maybe if I hug him closer and give him as much security as I can, we can help him through this phase, and he'll become the independent and easy sleeper that he once was.

Tonight, we're blowing up our air mattress and putting it next to our bed. It's a compromise. He'll be separate, but he'll still be able to see us and hear us if he needs to. Next phase would possibly be to reverse the baby monitor. Can you imagine it? Setting up the video monitor so that he can see our bed and us in it. That might be a silly/crazy idea, but it might work.

In other news, our dear new doggy Molly is in heat. That's kind of messy and gross. She has her spay appointment at the end of next week, so at least this will be the only time she has to go through this. Behavior-wise, she's not awful. She's better with Chris than she is with me. I'm trying to be the alpha dog, and it's not like I feel nervous or passive around her, but it must be evidencing itself somehow, because she doesn't walk well on a leash for me. I'm trying.

Molly Dog

So we got a dog Tuesday night. I've already been experiencing buyer's remorse, but I hear that's normal, especially if you are not normally a dog person. Dang, dogs are a lot of work! We're house training her, so I have to remain hyper-vigilant about her "needs." I suppose this is practice for pottytraining Ben, whenever he decides he's ready.

She's actually a very nice dog. She doesn't bark or whine. She loves the kids. She likes her kennel. She loves me. She can already play fetch, and she's catching on very quickly to Sit. We went for a long walk to the park yesterday, and she got very worn out. I'd pause to let her go potty in a shady spot, and she'd lay down instead, panting.

I named her Molly. It seems to suit her. Unfortunately, Ben can't pronounce it. He calls her "Wah-ee." Ben loves her desperately, and he can even open her kennel to let her out to play (grrr).

I was very burnt out last night from the kids and the dog, and I was ready to give her back, but I've promised myself that I will wait two weeks before making a decision like that.

In other news, Anna is now 11 months old. Isn't that amazing? It seems like just a month ago, I was hugely pregnant with her. And now, she's cruising along furniture, pushing laundry baskets and trucks across the floor while walking behind, and climbing to the top of our Little Tykes slide and scaring the crap out of me. She's sleeping very well at night, though she still wakes up once for a snack and once for a hug and to be tucked back in. I'm sleeping much better.

It's a combination of the better sleep, physical therapy and more frequent T-Tapp exercises, but I graduated from physical therapy yesterday. I don't have to go back! It's been almost two weeks since I had a headache, and my neck feels fine. It's nothing like it was. It feels wonderful to be pain-free again. That was a rough time.

I'm going to try to get back into blogging again. I turned inward for a while, and I didn't want to push anything out onto the page. I didn't want to share; I just wanted to live in the moment. I'm hoping that I'm phasing out of that. We'll see. I'm not going to force it.

Waiting for the next one

I don't know how mothers with chronic illnesses get through life. This sucks. When I'm not feeling ill, I'm waiting for the first twinge of an oncoming migraine in hopes that I'll have time to take my new medicine and head off the evil brain cramp at the pass. My "cue" that one is soon arriving is numbness, and last night I laid awake in bed for fifteen minutes waiting for the brief numbness in my jaw to start traveling to other areas of the body.

My doctor prescribed me Midrin yesterday, for which I am grateful. Luckily, she's the kind of doctor who feels that migraine sufferers have decreased quality of life if they have frequent migraines, and she's very anxious to find the right combination to keep me pain free. Love her for that.

In the meantime, until I start forgetting the hellish pain, I'm still more likely wake up an hour early so I can start drinking coffee and taking tylenol to avoid a migraine. In time, I should relax and stop sitting on the edge of my seat waiting.

I had a headache last night when Ben made another run for the highway (not really, we're not near a highway). I thought he was just standing at the side door looking outside until I heard Anna screaming. She was outside on the porch, stuck between the door and the jamb. When Ben opened the door and ran, she tried following him. He ran down the graveled alley (how did that not hurt his delicate feet?) and I followed in my slow, tenuous way.

I'm not usually a spanker, but last night he needed an extra reminder.

In happy news, ecstatic news, thrilling news, my sister is giving birth to her daughter Mya tomorrow morning in a planned c-section. Such a happy occasion. Good luck, Jolene! The first six weeks are the hardest.

Ben Screams Ice Cream

What an exciting night for my family.

After a nice bike ride to the park, we drove to Dairy Queen to buy some blizzards for the Children's Miracle Network. Ben eschewed the hot dog we bought him (probably because I put relish on it), so he was stuck watching me spoon a peanut butter cup blizzard into Anna's hungry mouth.

We stopped at Walgreens on the way home so Chris could buy a pregnancy test (it was negative - long story), and I sat in the back seat with the kids. Ben asked for the spoon I was holding.

"Mama. Poon. Ben."

So I gave him the spoon with a little ice cream on it.

"Mama. I-keem. Ben. Peeeez."

I handed him the cup.

He played with it a little, sticking the spoon in and out of the semi-frozen delight. Eventually, he had the nerve to daub a spot of ice cream on his lower lip. He licked it off tentatively. Next, a miniscule dot on his outstretched tongue.

He looked at me and said, "Um. Mama. Um!"

And so the demolishing of my blizzard began. I was happy to hand it over to him.

Our son has been an anomaly in the world of children. Since he started solid food, we've offered him ice cream when we've indulged. Though we snuck in a few bites when he was very young, when he became old enough to recognize it, he refused. Absolutely refused. He'd start crying at the mention of it.

It's been two years of cajoling him. We've offered every time as a joke, rolling our eyes at his emphatic, "NO!" And now he loves it. Now our boy is normal.

Side story. Chris was lactose intolerant until he was five. When his parents got the go-ahead to give him dairy, they naturally offered him a taste of ice cream. He was an *extremely* picky eater, and he refused. Eventually, his parents pinned him to the ground and forced the ice cream into his mouth. He ate it easily after the first taste.

We tried that with Ben, but he became so freaked out, we relented. He has had a couple of tastes that way, and that might be why he's held out so long – he's associated it with the claustrophobia and the forcing.

We are so relieved that the boycott is over. Now we get to introduce him to the wonderful world of icy treats. Yay!

Boyhood Bliss By Blizzard

Playground Workout

We're slowly climbing back on the horse. No more excuses. We are starting with working out again. At least we aren't starting back near our beginning weight. I don't know. I'm too scared to climb on the scale. I'm going to wait until I can feel a change again, til my pants feel looser.

We went to the Y to workout Friday and Saturday mornings. Yesterday, I biked the kids to the park. Instead of sitting in the grass with Anna, I made up playground workout routine I thought you'd find amusing.

It's a simple playground. A slide/jungle gym with monkey bars. A detached steel swing set.

First, while Anna was sitting in the swing, I worked my arms and back by putting my feet near the base of one of the swing set's legs, feeling my arms take up the weight as my center of gravity shifted. I then pulled my body towards the pole, keeping my pecs tight and feeling my back flex, my biceps bulge. As many reps as it took to make my arms ache. Then, just to prove to my body that I was in charge, I did another set, this time just one arm at a time.

Next, I walked lunges back and forth along the length of the playground as Anna sat and ate grass. After that, I did deep squats in front of the park bench, concentrating on my breathing, feeling my heart rate skyrocket and the sweat start to build on the small of my back.

For triceps, I used the low ladder bars under the end of the monkey bars, just perfect for holding onto while I pressed my lower body towards the ground then raised up again, feeling the strain in my triceps and back, the tightening in my abs.

For calves, I used the first step of the jungle gym. Countless sets of calf raises, alternating legs near the end for maximum effort, the other foot curled around the pulsing calf muscle of the active leg.

Abs were next, on the grass. I twisted and contracted up and to the side, standard crunches, feeling the bulk of leftover baby flap being pushed back and forth on top of the straining ab muscles. Ben came over and joined me, and I transitioned to some stretches and lengthening exercises, some that Ben demonstrated first, exercises he had learned from Baby Gym at the Y.

For fun, I raced him back and forth next to the playground, doing jumping jacks and toe-touches at each end. This was difficult for me, because I have yet to find a nursing sports bra that can control my bountiful glory. Luckily, we were alone at the playground, and my audience was only my children.

After I was done, I felt invigorated and motivated, not only because I had given my body a decent workout, but also because I had shown my impressionable children that we should always take advantage of opportunities to exercise and be in the moment and feel our bodies move.

I was going to go back to the park with Chris and the kids, but luckily, it started storming, so you will all miss out on my beet-red, sweating face and thick, trunk-like limbs, showing nothing of the rippling muscles underneath.

A Plate of BenAnna Cake

Oh Anna Kathryn of my heart. I know I write odes to you at each passing month milestone, but I'm so full of moments lately that I want to capture in snapshots of the heart, I just had to put some down on the page.

I looked at you last week and was startled by how long you've gotten. At your six-month checkup, I figured it was a fluke, a temporary state. A tall Mathis baby? Both your dad and I are 5'4". Ben has been small since his birth. He still seems at least six inches shorter than the other kids his age. But you are stretching out, all arms and legs. A gymnast and a ballerina, maybe a track star.

You are easing out of babyhood, and through the misty tears and smiles, I see shades of a little girl peeking through the veil. The special smiles for your brother, the look of incredulity when we don't give you what you want. The pure joy and exhilaration when you see us after an absence. The concentration across your whole body as you examine the mardi gras beads every day, and the graham crackers, and the sippy cup. Like you are going to work every day, studying your world, turning it around and over, learning what it's all about. I'm honored by the hugs and kisses you bestow on me, my magical, flailing girl of light.

And, dear Ben, my little gentleman. I've often contemplated your transformation during your two-year-old days. When before you would trundle around the world, mute and smiling, grunting and pointing to get your point across, now you startle us by clasping your hands together and saying "Peeeez! Mama. Peeez! Getti!", a plaintive look on your face as you let us know exactly what you want for dinner. With language, you've come alive. Now you narrate what you are doing with your choo-choos, you call out points of interest that you can see from the backseat of the car, and you tell us that you are drinking yellow juice out of Ben's sippy cup. You let us know when Anna is crying, when your diaper is uncomfortable, when a toe hurts.

Today at the park while I was doing my playground workout, you joined me, showing me the stretches you learned at the baby gymnastics program at the YMCA, reaching to the sky, hiding the turtle, actually talking me through the movements. It's hard to describe how this change makes me feel. I've always been your mommy, and I've always loved every part of you. We are still your parents, and you are still our tagalong, but now that we see and hear you notice everything around you, it feels like you are a real person, less a baby to cart around and talk excitedly to. Now you do the talking.

My children. My heart. My bits of wonder and effervescent joy. My silver lining.

Reunions and Memories Made

Last weekend we had the pleasure of traveling to a relatively remote area of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Twin Lakes. For the American history of my Finnish relatives and ancestors (okay, maybe just the last two generations), we've gathered on the shores of the Twin Lakes campground to eat and play.

We did it again on Saturday. My dad's side of the family, but just his sisters and their families and our family. Pasties in the enclosure. Too many delicious desserts.

Ben played by the water with his cousin Brice, but often just by himself because when you get a 2-year-old boy together with a bunch of rocks and some water, he's self-sufficient.

Chris threw a ball back and forth with some people, then just with himself. Later, he attempted to teach me how to throw a football properly. It didn't work, but the next day, I realized it was quite the biceps workout.

Anna sat in her stroller, then in the grass and dirt, eating said dirt with gusto.

My boys played in the playground area, and Chris showed Ben what the digger is all about. I relaxed on the swing with Anna Dumpling. My nephews threw footballs at each other, and Ben was the monkey in the middle.

Ben throwing the rocks. He did this for an hour.

I seem to have a lot of pictures of Anna in the stroller. Here's another one.

Daddy the Digger dumps sand on Ben's feet.

The monkey in the middle of two bigger monkeys.

I loved collecting skipping stones for my nephew Chaz. Simple pleasures.

Once Upon Ben's Potty

This is the kind of post I won't be cross-posting to my community-based blog Red Pens in Wausau, which is hosted at Citizen Wausau. My audience there is not composed of mommy bloggers or my family, so they probably don't want to hear a blow-by-blow of my haphazard potty training adventures with Benji Boy.

But you do. :)

It all started last week Wednesday evening while Chris was at class. I was home alone with the kids, and Ben was tearing around the house (as usual), finding mischief where he could. At one point, he asked me if he could sit on the potty.

I said, "Sure! I'll blow bubbles in your face while you sit!"

He sat there for what felt like an hour, but was probably only 20 minutes. He produced nothing, but while he sat, I talked to him about how Anna has to wear a diaper because she's a baby, but Ben is a big boy, and he has a choice. He can go pee pee on the potty instead of wearing a diaper, and then he'll get to wear big boy underpants just like Daddy. It's the time-honored method of gentle pressure.

After he got off of the potty, we went into the bedroom to get a diaper on, but at the last moment, he squirmed and got down and said, "No boop-boop [diaper]!" And he ran around the house without the protective covering of a diaper.

Over the next two hours, we went into the bathroom periodically to sit on the potty and blow bubbles. I brought out a wooden dining room chair to put in the living room so he could watch TV without making me almost have a heart attack in fear that he would go pee-pee on my couches. No pee-pee was made anywhere. Not on the floor, not in the potty. He waited until he had a diaper on and was in his jammies. That's okay.

The next day, I made a big production of buying a Bob the Builder foam toilet insert so he would have a more comfortable perch on the seat. He was so excited about that; we spent at least three total hours on Thursday in the bathroom. When I tired of blowing bubbles, I squirted foam shaving cream into his hands, on his bare legs, etc. (followed immediately by bathtime). Still, no pee-pee was made. That's okay.

Friday evening, the no-diaper tradition was carried out at Ben's request. Sunday as well, though I was smart today. In addition to the foam toilet seat in the bathroom, I brought his little potty into the living room and sat him in front of videos he hasn't seen in a while. I even served him lunch on the potty. Still, no pee-pee was made.

I'll be patient. It's not like I'm actively trying to potty train the kid. I was waiting until he was more verbal, more aware. I know some children are potty trained sooner, but Ben never seemed interested, and every time I would cajole him or ask him about the potty, he would freak out and run away in terror, sometimes running into the bathroom to slam the lid down to make his position on the matter quite clear.

Now that I'm no longer working, maybe the extra home time will induce a potty-training-perfect boredom, and the potty play will be the most fun thing EVER.

We watch "Once Upon a Potty" at least once a day, and we sing and dance along to the accompanying song. Thank you, youtube.

I recently made the new rule that I will not blow bubbles again until *after* he has put his pee-pee in the potty. I don't know if that will help, but I know I am very sick of blowing so many bubbles. Besides, it covers the bathroom in a fine film of soap, and that's just icky.

What's your potty training story? Are you scared of it (like I am)?

Nana Update: After her consultation with the surgeon in Madison last Wednesday, she has good news to report. The surgeon doesn't think that she'll necessarily need another surgery. He says that the muscle isn't completely severed. If it was, her eyeball would have flipped all the way back, with nothing to hold it steady while she looks forward. He suspects that with healing, her eye will recuperate and either heal itself back together or it will accommodate the weakness. She'll be reevaluated in six weeks with an MRI in Madison. Until then, she has no restrictions, and she reports that her vision is getting better every day. We think we got our miracle!

Quiet Now Please

It's a quiet night here at the Mathis house. Chris is at class. Anna is eating something she found in the corner. Ben is tearing around the house with his huge Tonka truck, pausing to come get a kiss for his owwies after he crashes too hard into something. Yes. Quiet.

This is my last week of employment. Bittersweet, but not as bitter as it was leaving the first time. I know what I'm getting into (and out of), and I have a full life without work. I have projects on the back burner (Val's quilt, painting the living room) that I haven't had a moment to work on much this summer. And time away from the kids is rarely happy.

My mother is okay. Thanks for asking. She meets with a couple more doctors in Madison on Wednesday, and we're all expecting a miracle. The surgeon up here was unable to reattach the muscle to her eye, but we have a positive outlook on it. Once this is fixed, we'll have so much to celebrate, because the blessing will be even sweeter because it will be a miracle in our lives.

Anna continues to struggle with daycare. I wish it were like it usually is, where babies scream and cry when the parent leaves, but minutes later is fine. She really did cry the whole afternoon... wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep. Totally breaks my heart. She'll be there all Wednesday. Positive spin #2. Without my mother having an injury, we wouldn't have this opportunity to get Anna over her stranger anxiety. After Wednesday morning, I have no doubt that she will be cured, and will love playing with other kids even when Mama isn't there. The last time, she was marginally better than before. Though she wouldn't eat, she did sit in the exersaucer and watch the other kids.

This coming weekend, we'll be traveling to the UP of Michigan to visit with my dad's side of the family at a reunion at Twin Lakes Campground, the site of so many of my childhood memories. The rocky beach, the playground, the trees, the boat rides. I'm not looking forward to the hours in the car, but the rest will make it worth it.

Thursday morning, Chris and I are participating in a one-mile fun run at work. I will do it mainly for the possibility of prizes, but the exercise will be nice, and just to prove to myself (and others) that I can do stuff like this now.

I told Ben the other day that life wouldn't be such a struggle if he went potty on the toilet instead of in a diaper. Last night, he asked, in his way, to sit on the potty. So we sat there, and I blew bubbles in his face. This morning, I bought a smaller foam potty insert for him (Bob the Builder), and he's sat on it frequently today. Lord, give me patience to blow so many bubbles. He hasn't produced anything yet, but I'm glad he's interested in it finally. Maybe once I'm done working, we'll do a potty boot camp. I have no idea.

Anna's black eye has followed the usual course of black eyes. What had first presented as a bruise above her eye on her temple has traveled down her brow and now rests on her eyelid with some shadowing underneath her eye as well. I'm so impatient for it to go away. It's rather embarrassing, and it detracts from her sparkle and charm, though she's still the cutest baby I've ever seen.

Did I tell you the tree in the backyard is finally gone? During ChalkFest, Chris and a bunch of guys from work were here with a couple of chainsaws. They didn't hurt anybody, and the tree came down. Unfortunately, now we have a backyard full of brush and logs since they didn't have time to haul anything away to the local yard waste site. I'm hoping that will get taken care of this week. I saved some of the big chunks of trunk for Ben to use as an obstacle course and generally as things to climb on. I've seen shows on TV where they've put huge boulders in the backyard for that purpose, and it seemed like the natural thing to do.

Our little family went for a bike ride together last week. Chris mapped out a 5.5-mile route on the north side of town, and off we went. It was lovely and fine until we found some hills, some gradual (those are killer), some steep and kind of scary. At least now we know that we should drive the new routes first just in case. We had to walk up a couple of the hills, and we were drenched in sweat when we got home, but we were pleased with our accomplishment. We are a family of vim, vigor and vitality, and we are not couch potatoes. We do stuff like ride bikes in the evenings and walk to parks.

How is your week starting out?

Ruffling

The wind took ownership of my hair, and I nuzzled Anna's bald little head, savoring her warmth, relishing her soft skin, her barely-there strawberry blonde hair.

My own hair flipped and flew, twisted and tangled as we soared over Lake Winnebago.

Crazy hair, swept and swirled. Crazy soul, ruffled by the wind, shaken by the speed.

I felt the same freedom I felt when I was younger and enjoying boat rides, but now with a new weight as my worried heart lurched with each bump that, in my wild imagination, could send Ben flying overboard. Another new weight was perched on my lap. My daughter snuggled awkwardly against me in her life jacket, her eyes squeezed tight against the wind.

Memories. Their first boat ride. Gage's and Ben's blonde heads in a row as they sat side by side, enjoying the ride together. A pair of rapscallion toddlers, braving the wild world together. Taylor, the experienced older sister and cousin, hovering with the care and attention that makes me smile every time I remember.

Then and Now

The top two pictures are of Ben and Chris. The bottom two are of Anna and Chris. I'm completely flabbergasted that they look so alike. They are so different to me. When someone says, "Wow, she looks a lot like Ben!" I think, "Wow, you are freaking crazy!" But I guess they have a point. I just can't see it because I'm too close. I know what a gentle jokester Ben was at this age, and what a spitfire Anna is, living so close to the edge of so many emotions.

Chris loves them the same. He nuzzled Ben just as much as he cuddles Anna. His little babies. His growing children. I know he's scared of disappointing them, of disappointing me, of them growing up too soon. He thrives on family time, and when he has to leave us (especially when we're all happy), he keens with longing. I can see it on his face as he reaches in for one more hug, one more kiss, one more tickle.

Looking at these pictures of Ben then as Anna is now is such a mind-mess. It reasserts the concept that Anna, in a blink, will be a toddler. A 2.5yo scrambling onto Mommy and Daddy's bed to watch a favorite movie, asking for cookies and chocolate milk, running up to my legs to hug me fiercely after an absence. I'm dizzy at the idea, but I'm so looking forward to it. *I wonder what she'll be like.*

The Universe is Heavy Tonight

It might be the dull layer of chest cold that is hovering over me. It might be the oppressive humidity that sticks to your skin like watermelon juice. It might be the melodramatic, beautiful music I'm listening to on iTunes (Damien Rice). The mania of a little boy discovering the sprinkler for the first time this summer has mellowed into a quiet heaviness.

Nothing is ever really easy. You know the saying that goes something like, "True love shouldn't be hard"? I've never bought that. If your relationship is so easy that it never feels like an effort, you are incredibly special. I've never had an "easy" relationship because of this dang monologue that is always going on in my head. This absolutely singular "me" that remains nestled under the mommy-ness and the wife-ness sometimes tries to briefly forget the happy commitments that make my life secure.

My life is not in turmoil. My marriage is solid. We appreciate each other every day, I express my gratitude for his awesomeness every day. I revel in his adoration like settling into a warm, cozy featherbed on a winter's night.

Still, the universe is heavy tonight.

Let's lift the mood a bit. We started Anna on a course of gentian violet last night. That awful purple/blue dye that stains everything. The nystatin is a pain in the butt. I'm a dedicated, attentive mother, but I have a hard time remembering to give her a dose four times a day for two weeks. So instead of going through another course of the sticky goo, I decided I'd rather deal with the Purple Monster for four days. It's cute.

Anna is doing well in her new sleeping area in the dining room. She seems comfortable in there, and she's been sleeping soundly. She still wakes every couple of hours, but she's able to fall back asleep with some butt pats from Chris. Last night, she had a harder time getting to sleep after our night feeding, but I think that was an anomoly in our new system and was probably due to the humidity.

I was playing laptop games in the dining room tonight after I put Anna down. She wasn't sound asleep yet, and it seemed to comfort her that she could see me nearby as she drifted off. Ben came into the room a couple of times to see me. On the third time, he noticed Anna sleeping in the crib.

"Shhhh," he whispered to me with wide eyes.

With a smile, he started pushing his little chair over to the crib so he could climb up and peek in at her. It was a charming idea, but very detrimental to the continuity of Anna's sleep, so I stopped him, but I was delighted. "Shhh." He's never said that before.

When the weather cools off this weekend, Chris and I are going for a marathon stroller walk. He borrowed some discman speakers from a friend, and we're going to listen to an audiobook as we walk. We're hoping it will be good incentive to walk longer than we normally do, and to walk more often to hear the story. Our first trek will be three miles.

I Scream

Curious note: Ben absolutely refuses to eat ice cream. Like many toddlers, he shakes his head no and turns his face away when we offer him something (unless he recognizes it as cheese). We have even, get this, tried to sneak it in his mouth when he's not looking. We figure once he gets a taste, he won't say no anymore. Nope. He wants nothing to do with it.

Hi. My name is Cheryl. I’m addicted to ice cream.

I don’t think I realized it until last Saturday when I talked myself out of cutting back. Earlier in the day, my husband and I had agreed that we will no longer have ice cream every evening. Instead, we will save the frosty treat for Wednesday afternoons when we walk to the ice cream parlor near work. We shook on it.

Yeah. That didn’t last long. Knowing that I wouldn’t have ice cream that day made me crave it all the more. I yearned. I ached. I needed. Within hours, I had devised a scheme to convince my husband that we should amend our previous resolution.

“It’s too hard to just quit cold turkey. We should start tapering off, say every other day for a couple weeks, then every third day, etc. We could have ice cream tonight, and then again on Monday, and then on our date on Wednesday.”

After a great deal of eye rolling, he acquiesced.

Our weight has stabilized at a forty-pound loss since January. We exercise occasionally, and overall, we eat better. I can only guess that the weight would keep dropping off if we would just stop eating the ice cream.

Chris loves chocolate, I favor simple vanilla. If it’s an option, we both love mint chocolate chip. What’s your favorite flavor? Where do you get your icy indulgences? If it’s not ice cream, what is your guilty pleasure?