Here's a little video peek at Eliza's first real trick-or-treat. She went along last year but she was pre-walking, confined to the stroller, and didn't get any candy, of course. This is our little jester at the very first house at which we stopped. Incidentally, the lady talking to her and handing out the candy is John-Zachary's kindergarten teacher.

Hope everyone had a happy Halloween. I love this time of year!

My dear eight-year-old (as of today) spent fifteen minutes on the phone with her dad tonight, grilling him on what he does and doesn't like about each of the Presidential and Vice-Presidential candidates. Following that there was an in-depth discussion of the electoral college which culminated in her asking me to go to a specific website he told her about, where she could see a map of all the states which showed their electoral vote tally and which side they're on. She studied this closely until I made her get up to go to bed. During all of this she also professed a desire to watch the results on t.v. on election day and asked to be told the story of the 2000 election again (Robert has regaled her with it at least twice already).

Folks, she does not get this from me. We can thank her Intercollegiate Legislature/Model U.N.-participating, History-minoring father for this bent. Who knows? Maybe I'll be the mother of a Congresswoman or even the President someday.

When your first child is advanced you have trouble fully comprehending the scope of his or her abilities. The talents of that child become your normal and, perhaps, you just don't fully grasp how unusual the child is until a much later date. This happened to me. When Madalyn was a baby and toddler, I had nothing with which to compare her. I hadn't spent much time around kids that age, I didn't spend any time with any friends who had kids the same age, and she just seemed normal to me.

Fast forward six or seven years to the present. I have subsequently had two more children; children whose verbal and cognitive skills run more toward the average, and I finally have gained some perspective. And I'm continually blown away when I realize just how advanced Madalyn was, especially when I look back at her records and compare her, side-by-side, with Eliza when Mad was Eliza's current age.

To share my perspective with you: Eliza will be 18 months old as of Saturday. She has a vocabulary in the range of 15 words, which is completely normal for this age. She has yet to put a phrase together. (JZ, at the same age, had even less words.) I feel as though there is still a lot that goes right over Eliza's head, though it's hard to know since she doesn't have the ability to articulate.

Now, let's compare that to Madalyn at the same age. This information is all factual and is taken from the calendar I kept all through her second year.

17 months, 1 week: Recites "One, two, three" consistently. Counts two chairs. Asks "Where Elmo go?" while watching "Elmo's World."
18 months, 1 day: Starts answering with 'okay' when requesting something ("Juice! Okay!")
18 months, 1 week: Pull up to bank drive-thru window and Madalyn calls out "Cheeseburger! Coke!" Saw a tiny Golden Arches logo on my water cup, pointed and said, "Cheeseburger." Placed stuffed animal and doll on a chair and says, "Wie down. Night-night."
18 months, 2 weeks: Saw miniscule PBS Kids logo mixed in amongst many other logos on a Directv commercial and said, "P-B Kid!"

Reading that, I still can't believe she was only 17/18 months at the time. I can no more imagine Eliza doing any of that right now than I can imagine her driving a car. It just goes to show how much of this stuff is innate and not the work of the parents, loathe as I am to admit it. Who wouldn't like to take credit for turning out an extra-bright child? But if it was our superior parenting skills, we'd have three kids with calendar entries like that. (This is not to say JZ and Eliza aren't bright, either; don't get me wrong. They just don't posess the verbal skills Madalyn has always had.)

Hmm....we can't take credit for their intelligence or their good looks (both of which, apparently, are owed to the genetic crap shoot)....surely there must be something for which we can congratulate ourselves. Must give this more thought.

I was putting some laundry in the wash and JZ was in the bathroom. Eliza was in there with him -- she likes to stand on the step stool, run the water in the sink and "brush her teeth" (suck water out of the brush is more like it). I finished what I was doing and went to find Eliza and, to my horror, there was what appeared to be a mushroom cloud in the bathroom that smelled suspiciously like the Lysol NeutraAir spray I keep in there. And then I saw it: JZ brushing Eliza's hair. Eliza's hair, which was wet and plastered to her skull as she coughed and cried. I swooped in, hollering, and tossed her into the tub, clothes, shoes and all, and started spraying water on her face. Long story short, she appears to be fine, though still smelling vaguely of air freshener.

I, personally, am gobsmacked. My kids do NOT do this kind of stuff. They aren't the kind of kids who, if you leave them alone for a few moments, will have an entire bag of flour strewn about the kitchen, or paintings on the walls done in a fetching shade of red lipstick. They just don't do insane crap like that. It never, in a million years, would've occurred to me that JZ might decide to use a can of Lysol as hairspray. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I can't imagine what he was thinking. Isn't five old enough to know better than that?

On the plus side, I don't think he'll try anything like that again. Never let anyone say that overreacting is entirely bad. I doubt he'll forget that I was really really really displeased anytime soon.

Earlier this evening Madalyn came waltzing out to me and said, "Barack Obama is the first African-American to run for President" and then proceeded to regale me with Obama's life story. She knew his wife's name, the two kids' names, where he grew up, that his mom is white and his dad black, etc. Then I thought, okay, smartypants, let's see how much you really know. So I asked her where he'd been Senator and she knew that, too! Apparently that was the focus of their study this week in ILO (her gifted & talented class). I asked her if they were going to study McCain next week and she said yes, but then she also said, "He was taken prisoner by some mean guys in a war" so they apparently already touched on him a bit. (I'm very pleased with the class, in general, incidentally. This is definitely over and beyond what they study in her regular class.)

I'm just waiting for her to ask me for whom I'm voting so the brainwashing can begin. Surely they make Obama '08 shirts in junior sizes.

Yesterday was Offspring v. 3.0's first day at preschool; the same preschool at which her sister and brother began when they were also one year old. (Yes, they have a class for one-year-olds; yes, they try to teach them things using a loose, flexible lesson plan; no, they don't force them to sit at tiny desks and study. It's a great deal of fun for the kids. If it wasn't, mine wouldn't go there.) 1.0 went there for three years (would've gone four, but she skipped ahead a year) and 2.0 went the full four, graduating last May.

I was expecting, from Eliza, a reaction that fell somewhere in the middle of the other two's. Madalyn, on her first day, barely glanced at us when we said goodbye and walked out the door. John-Zachary, on the other hand, melted down quite spectacularly and it took two-and-a-half years before he quit crying every time we dropped him off. Eliza has cried when I've left her on occasion but then, other times, she hasn't shed a tear. When I worked VBS this year she stayed in the nursery all week. The first day she cried but the second day I opened the nursery door, she walked in, and was fine the rest of the time. Therefore I was expecting a brief period of minor adjustment and then all would be well.

We were first to show up at the classroom yesterday morning. I carried E. in and set her down. She was immediately dazzled by all the toys and started playing right away. The other babies started to arrive soon after that. Usually she is obsessively fascinated by other babies but, for the moment, she was too busy with the toys to give them more than a cursory glance.

I stayed for fifteen or twenty minutes and then got up to go. I fully expected some tears at that point. Eliza had ceased to pay attention to me at that point so I called her name (I don't do the whole 'sneaking out' thing - just a personal choice) and I said, "Bye-bye!" and waved. She stared at me for a beat and then turned and went back to what she'd been doing. I slipped out the door and down the hall, and that was that. The teachers report that she did beautifully - no tears whatsoever for the entire two-and-a-half hours. One teacher also said that Eliza was trying to take care of all the other kids all day. She had to walk away quickly to tend to one of the kids right after she said it, so I didn't get her to elaborate on what exactly Eliza had been doing, but it doesn't surprise me. E. already has a maternal streak and has been baby-oriented since she was old enough to be aware.

So, thus ended our last first day of preschool. I suppose she could unpleasantly surprise me next week and do a one-eighty and protest being left, but I don't see that happening. Thus far, with my kids, what's happened on the first day has set the tone for the entire year. I couldn't be more pleased, of course. Apparently my girls are both going to turn out to be fairly reasonable in this situation. It figures that The Boy would be the odd one to cause a ruckus.

In closing, how about a picture of our newest school kid? I couldn't pry her pacifier away from her but I figured it was a fair exchange for her not losing her ever-loving mind.

One last bit of trivia: Eliza's outfit loosely coordinates with the outfit Madalyn wore on her first day of preschool. Madalyn's top was the same color as the bottom band on Eliza's shirt, and both girls had the same shade of denim on the bottom (though Madalyn's were shorts and Eliza's was a skirt). Is that weird? I mean, that I did it on purpose? On second thought, don't answer that.

I just turned on Teletubbies for Eliza.

She has been a bit of a pain the past few days -- whiny, complaining, fussy and snot-nosed. When I noticed that there are suddenly quarts of drool pouring out of her mouth (seriously, I had to change her and put a bib on her this morning after she'd soaked the front of her first outfit) it occurred to me to look in her mouth. Sure enough, she's getting ALL FOUR of her canines at once. They are the only teeth she doesn't have yet. Historically, my kids have all been easy teethers -- I didn't even realize she was getting her molars until they were already through. But I guess the quadruple whammy is too much even for her to take. Poor kid.

Anyway, she was crabbing around here a few minutes ago. I woke up this morning with a headache and the whingeing was making my head feel like it was about to explode. So, when I saw Teletubbies on the program guide, I decided to give it a whirl. The show was banned in our house when Mad was little because, at the time, I thought the 'Tubbies were little rainbow-colored anti-Christs. I later relented and JZ watched it occasionally because it was one of the few things at which he'd even look. Eliza is now enthralled, dancing with the 'Tubbies and telling them "Bye-bye" as they disappear. I know it's basically eye candy for toddlers (or, judging by the way Eliza is staring at it, eye crack cocaine is more like it). But, guess what? It's quiet. She's not being a crabapple any more.

Turns out I actually can tolerate this show in small doses. There are a lot more shows that get on my nerves way more than Teletubbies. My grandma actually used to watch it. She thought they were so cute, so I bought her a Tinky Winky doll. :) It reminds me of her, so, while I know I should be horrified that it's on my t.v., I can't bring myself to think it's all bad. After all, if this is the most annoying thing Eliza ever likes, we'll be doing alright.

Barney just came on, though, and you can bet I grabbed for the remote, fast as lightning. I still have some standards, you know.

Five minutes ago Eliza was wearing a diaper and an oversized t-shirt. However, I just looked at her and she's now starkers. I had seen her tugging at her diaper but it took me a moment to remember she'd also been wearing the shirt and had gotten out of it, too. Apparently we have a stripper on our hands. She seems quite pleased with herself and I'm wondering if this is going to become a habit. Neither of the other two kids ever did this. EVER. I was still helping Madalyn undress when she was five!

She's now sitting on the hearth (one would think the tile would be frigid on the nakey butt), trying to put on one of her brother's deck shoes. I suppose I ought to go catch her before she does something on the floor that we'll both regret.

This is probably the extent of my entertainment for the day. Sad, but true.

Mama would be the one with those blues, here; not the kids.

Both Madalyn and John-Zachary have been delivered to their third-grade and kindergarten classrooms, respectively. They were fine. I, not so much. Oh, I'm not in the depths of despair or anything but I will admit to feeling a bit blue. Part of this is due to the plain fact of summer being over. I, as I have often stated, hate the school-year routine. I dislike all the work we have to do every night to be ready for school the next morning. Getting up early is the pits, as is rushing around trying to get ready and get to school on time. Plus I resent being at the mercy of the public school system when it comes to my schedule.

Besides that, though, I am a little sad for another reason. The summer went by so fast and, somehow, it has suddenly struck me how few summers we have left with the kids being little. Sure, on paper it may seem like a lot -- Madalyn isn't even eight yet. But these three months blew by in a flash, and last school year went by very quickly, as well. I have no reason to believe this year won't be the same (especially with the busyness of having all three attending at least part of the time). Before I know it, it will be summer again and that summer, too, will be over in a heartbeat. And so it will continue on down the line until we only have two kids home during the summer....then one....then none. Not to mention that, sure, we may have another nine summers before the first one leaves the nest, but how many more of those will she actually want to spend the entire time with her family? We have very few years left before Madalyn starts branching out and leaving us behind, at least for part of the summer. JZ won't be too far behind.

Ah, but perhaps I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. After all, I'm sitting here, right now, with a small toddler next to me, who's trying to put on a pair of shorts and squawking in frustration because she can't quite figure it out. Just an hour ago I was worrying that JZ would be too bashful to ask his teacher to go to the bathroom when needed. So maybe we've got a little more time than I'm so pessimistically projecting. Still, though, it does remind me that we need to savor each day and not wish our lives away by rushing time to get to some far-off point in the future.

Enough philosophy. How about a couple first-day-of-school pictures?

Yesterday was a momentous day for our Madalyn. Not only did she take her very first shower with no assistance (including shampooing and conditioning her hair), I also taught her to tie her shoelaces.

Now, before any passersby are tempted to email me with something along the lines of, "ZOMG! R u kidding? ur still showering ur 7 yr old?!!1! Srsly" I should call attention to Madalyn's unbelievably thick hair. When pulled into a ponytail the ponytail measures 5" around. Her hair, more often than not, is to her shoulders or below. I've simply never felt she would do a sufficient job washing the products out of her hair, thereby ending up with hair that looked grungier than when she'd gone in; and, really, what's the point in that? Not to mention she'd never shown any particular keenness to handle the job herself. I'd given her tips and had her try to rinse her own hair a few times, with supervision, but she only ever made a half-hearted attempt and I'd give up and take over to finish.

Then came yesterday. I told Madalyn it was time for her bath. She complained about it when I told her to go get started (she can turn the water on and adjust the temp herself). I only meant for her to turn on the tap, sit in the tub and wash her body and then I'd be in to do her hair. But, somehow, we moved from that scenario to her doing an entire shower herself. By the time I went in to check on her she was already doing the conditioner. So, knowing when I've been usurped, I left her to it. And she actually did a decent job. I had to wait until her hair dried to eyeball it and see if it looked clean and it does. She's thoroughly proud of herself and has already asked if she can take another shower today. Ohhh, it's starting already.

So, between the bathing and the shoe-tying, I was feeling a bit redundant this morning. I pointed out the two big steps she'd taken yesterday and said, "Wow, Madalyn, you can get your own food, dress yourself, read to yourself, wash yourself and tie your shoes. You don't need me around any more." Did I then receive hasty reassurances that it just wasn't true? No, I did not. Instead, with the air of someone being very charitable, she pointed out, "Well, Johnny and Eliza still do." Maybe so, but not for much longer, apparently.

I wonder how Miss Independence plans to get to basketball camp tomorrow, now that she's so self-sufficient?

A little late, but here are some pictures from JZ's birthday celebration last month. Enjoy!

Well, it's JZ's birthday, too!

My weird, wild and wacky boy is the big 0-5 today. I celebrated by taking him to the Health Dept. and having his kindergarten shots done. Four of them, two in each arm. He was NOT happy.

Now, before anyone gets the idea that I'm into S&M and my idea of a party is inflicting pain, I have to point out that this was a spur-of-the-moment decision. You see, my lovely daughter (oldest) has recently come down with the creeping crud. It's all over her face and legs. This happened, of course, on Saturday morning, when all doctors worth their salt are out playing golf. So I called first thing this morning and they got her in. I was afraid she was going to need a shot of cortisone but, no, they gave us a script for the oral version. Phew, crisis averted. While we were out, though, my conscience pricked me about my other lovely daughter (small, evil one) being behind on her vaccinations. I didn't really want to put it off any longer because it tends to gnaw at the back of my mind and loom large over my head until I get it done (owing to the fact that I HATE having to take them for shots).

Therefore I decided, while we were out, to just pop over to the Health Dept. (because our pediatrician doesn't vax in his office) and have Eliza stuck. On the way there it occurred to me that JZ was going to need all his kindy shots at some point before registration day at the beginning of August. Now, not only do I hate having to get them shots, but I also loathe going to the Health Dept. to do it. I mean, there's a big notice on the door that says "If you think you have TB ask the nurse for a mask." Hello?!?! And I'm supposed to take my kids and hang around that place where people with God-knows-what come and go? Any chance I have to avoid a trip down there, I take. So I went ahead and ordered up a round of needles for JZ, as well. I didn't tell him until we were walking into the actual room where they were going to do the shots, so he had very little time to worry about it beforehand. He cried, of course, but recovered by the time we got out to the van, especially with the promise of McDonald's following our trip to the pharmacy. (By way of distraction/bribery, I'd already previously promised doctor-phobic Madalyn a shake following her appointment, so we were headed over there anyway.)

So now the unpleasantness is over. Madalyn's had her first dose of oral steroid for the "contact dermatitis" (our best theory is our roving cat dragged home something on his fur that caused it; likely poison ivy oil). JZ is sporting four Batman band-aids. Eliza crashed and burned on the way home and is now in bed, sleeping it off. And I'm nursing a headache which was likely brought on by the stress of all of this going on while I'm trying to get ready to fly the coop on Thursday.

JZ has some presents to open this afternoon, then we may go grab a bite to eat around dinner at the location of his choosing. Then, tonight, he has a party -- but not his. It's the birthday party of a preschool classmate. I'm not sure if today is the boy's actual birthday or whether this was just the best close-by date for them to have the party but I'm tickled that JZ is, in a roundabout way, getting a birthday party on his birthday. However, it also feels a bit strange, like we're leeching off someone else's celebration. There was no reason for me not to let JZ go, though. We didn't have any plans, and it's not like I'm going to show up there with a cake and gifts for JZ and guests of our own. (We had his celebration yesterday, by the way. The five of us went up to Chuck E. Cheese's in the city and did a party there. I had offered to throw him a party here, with his friends, but he chose Chuck E.'s instead.)

All in all, I think the fun/good will outweigh the pooiness of getting shots. And a BIG happy birthday to my Johnny. I don't know what our life would be like without him. Okay, it'd probably be a lot quieter. But definitely not as fun.

I just got back from my conference with Madalyn's Gifted & Talented program teacher. It went as I expected it would, which was something along the lines of, "Blah blah blah frigging genius blah blah blah winning personality" etc. etc. Heh. I also got a bonus comment on how well-groomed and well-dressed she always is, so, hey, proof that all that ironing I do isn't for naught.

Really, though, it was very interesting. Madalyn isn't so big on the details so I have never been sure what all they actually do in the class. The teacher went over all the things on which they've been working and showed me various samples of Madalyn's work. She appears to be doing well with it.

Coincidentally she just, the other day, gave me her third quarter marks for the class, which she had secreted in her desk at school and then forgot. The kids are evaluated and scored on sixteen different skills in the areas of work habits/study skill and cognitive skills. The scores rate their competence and range from 1 (low) to 5 (high). Madalyn scored a 5 in every category. Because I'm completely shameless I can't resist mentioning that, as if that wasn't impressive enough, you should also keep in mind that she is a year younger than the other kids. Dear Madalyn was only supposed to be in first grade this year, according to the local age restrictions, but, you may remember, we started her in kindy a year early. Apparently we were not so far off in our thinking when we did this.

Anyway, I'm very proud of her, as you might imagine. She's a great kid, all around. That child has never given us a bit of trouble and has made parenting sinfully easy. She's smart, she does well in school with minimum effort and no prodding needed from us, she makes good choices and she's got a great personality -- everyone loves her. Yes, I think she's definitely a keeper.

Eliza's too smart for her own good. She knows I'm a soft touch and that all she has to do is holler long enough and I will give in. Over the weekend she gave me trouble a few days in a row with taking her afternoon nap. She'd mess around in her crib a while and then start crying. I'd go in, give her back her paci, make her lie down, only to have it start all over again. Then she would start refusing to even take the pacifier back and I get flustered, like, "Oh no, now what?" and I'd give up and take her out of the crib.

She definitely needs that second nap still, though, so on Saturday when she pulled the same thing I just made sure she had her pacifier in bed with her, went out, shut the door, and didn't go back. She carried on for about five minutes and then plugged her paci in and went to sleep. Now, you can't tell me that child doesn't know exactly what she's doing! The same thing happened just now, for her morning nap. She was in there playing around in the crib and then started crying because she wanted out. I went in here, put her down, covered her up, and tried to give her the pacifier. She smacked my hand away (ohhh, yes, she did) so I just set it down next to her, said, "Night-night" and left. She screeched for a couple minutes, then got her pacifier and went to sleep.

People, I'm being played by a twelve-month-old.

This further reinforces my belief that, once we move her crib out of our room, I will probably be able to get her to start sleeping better by doing this same thing in the middle of the night when she wakes. I haven't tried it yet because it's not going to work with me lying there in full view, a foot-and-a-half away. She knows I'll get up and get her, eventually, because I always have. Plus the older two are usually sleeping in the room with me and I don't want them disturbed. I really think that, when we put her in the other bedroom, it will take just a little work and she'll be maybe even start sleeping all the way through. I think she'll be like JZ -- once she realizes she's not going to get the boob every time she wakes up, she won't bother. Right now, she knows if she keeps it up I will give in, eventually -- plus I think she feeds off the attention.

It would be great if she was sleeping through by the time we go to California. Actually, it would be great if she was sleeping through by the time Vacation Bible School rolls around at the beginning of June, since I have signed up to help and it makes for a looong week, during which I could use a good night's rest every night! Wow, I'm just imagining what this summer would be like with her sleeping through. I think I'd have a lot more patience in dealing with all three of them all day, every day, plus a lot more energy to do fun stuff!

So, it's settled: we are absolutely, definitely, 100% certainly going to move that crib first thing on Friday morning. I know you're thinking, "Why haven't you done it before now you stupid, stupid woman?" The answer is, it's not that easy. Number one, it has no wheels. Number two, even if it did, it's too wide to fit out the bedroom door, which means we have to actually disassemble it (and it was a PAIN IN THE BUTT to put together). Number three, there is physically no way I could do it by myself. You need at least four hands to take it apart so, not being an octopus, that takes me out of the running to accomplish it without Robert's help. Plus there is other furniture that will have to be moved to make room for the crib. We keep saying, every week, "We need to get the crib moved!" and then other stuff comes up and we don't. And this weekend, of course, he was out of commission for anything of that nature. By the end of this week, though, he ought to be back to normal and ready to do a little shuffling. I'm excited. Who knows? By this time next week we may have some drastic improvement to report! (And the polar ice caps could re-freeze, the Buffalo Bills could win a Super Bowl, and there could be world peace).

So we all know what I'm reading offline (or you would, if you'd pay attention to my sidebar, you little minxes!) but how about Madalyn, my young bookworm-in-training?

Well, we received our latest Scholastic book order yesterday, and in it was: three Cam Jansen mysteries, four of Judy Blume's Fudge books, two Beverly Cleary Henry and Ribsy books, three Jack Russell: Dog Detective books, Nim's Island (just saw the movie last weekend) and five Poetry for Young People books: Animal Poems, Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, Lewis Carroll and Robert Frost. Think that will keep her busy for a while? The poetry books are probably a bit over her head so I will read those with her, but the rest is all for her own perusal. This is in addition to the six books I got her at the library last week.

I am not sure how many book she has going right now but she appears to have inherited my ability to read multiple books concurrently without becoming confused. There are quite a few lying around the house in varying stages of completion. She went off to school today with her nose stuck in Nim's Island and one of the Jack Russell books in her backpack, "in case I finish" (I doubt she will, as Nim's Island seems to be a pretty involved book and she does have other things to do at school besides free reading).

I keep finding myself, when we're trying to get ready to go somewhere and she's reading instead of moving, on the verge of scolding her about reading, but I always catch myself and stop. If there's anything I can understand, it's reading. I remember being that age and going about with a book tucked under my arm. I remember my books being my friends and companions, not just paper and ink. I would never take that away from her or make her feel self-conscious about reading, or imply she was wasting her time doing it. I plan to support her habit to the best of my abilities. Heck, I may start taking up the books after she lays them down and reading them, myself. It would give us something to talk about and young reader books are probably about all my addled brain can handle nowadays, anyway.

One year ago today, at this time, I was sitting in a bed in the local hospital, having been brought there, by ambulance, hours earlier with the newly-hatched Eliza. I think, at this point, I was still waiting for the trailer park faction occupying the other half of the room to leave -- WHY the woman was being discharged at 10:30 p.m. I have never figured out. Eliza was still in the nursery having her body temperature and blood sugar stabilized. I think it was closer to 11 p.m., possibly a bit after, when they brought her to me.

365 days, thousands of diapers, pathetically few hours of sleep and a million smiles later, here we are: a happy family of five who wouldn't know what to do without our littlest member. I'm so glad she chose us, and she seems to feel the same, for she followed me around all day today proclaiming, "Mama. Mama." repeatedly. She has been making that sound before today but I've never really been sure if she meant me or not. There's no denying it now, though.

Happy birthday, baby Eliza. You've got my heart and all my affection (and my good nights' sleeps, but we'll talk about that some other time).

For your entertainment we now present "The St. Patrick's Day Shirt Through the Years."

March 17, 2001:

March 17, 2004:

March 17, 2008:

(P.S. The bears tried to make a third appearance but she kept chucking them over the side of the chair.)

Keep watching later this month for the sequel, "The Baby's First Birthday Shirt Through the Years."

I went to Johnny's art show at school this morning and saw all his work. Here is a picture of him with his Matisse-inspired paper collage. The name of the piece is "First Sign 101." (He is suddenly obsessed with putting numbers after names. He was reeling off a list of things he was going to name the next Webkinz he gets and every name had some number after it. *shrug*)

Here is his tribute to Georgia O'Keefe:

All told, it was a very good show. The kids worked hard, and learned lots, as evidenced by JZ regaling me, countless times, with the list of artists they'd studied (which included one guy I'd never even heard of before). Who knows; maybe we have the next Picasso on our hands, here, and some day in the future we can look back and say, "Ah, yes, it all started with that preschool art show." Or maybe he'll just be one of those inmates that does really good drawings on the backs of the envelopes he sends to his family members, asking for money. Dude could go either way.

I thought it was supposed to go like this: when you have your first child you make the mistakes. You have the best of intentions but, once the child arrives, you have trouble following through because you hate to see your baby sad, or upset. As you add children, and experience, you come to realize that you aren't going to scar the child for life if you don't pick it up every time it makes a peep. It's easier to put your foot down and nip things in the bud before they become a problem. I thought it was supposed to be that way.....until Eliza was born. Somehow I have done things backward. I had very high standards and very strict rules with Madalyn, and I stuck to them. I knew she wouldn't die from crying and I didn't want to become her pacifier. I wanted her to be self-sufficient, and as early as possible. And it worked, by gum.

When JZ was born I probably relaxed my standards a bit, simply because he had a different personality and what worked for Madalyn wasn't necessarily going to work for him. But I held, determinedly, to much of the plan I'd had the first time around.

But then came Eliza, and I fell apart. I have turned into a giant wuss; a sentimental and emotional mess. I can't stand to hear this baby cry. Even when she's being completely unreasonable and I know there's nothing wrong with her I have this nagging mental image of her somewhere, alone and abandoned, and crying for me, and I can't ignore her. It's almost a visceral reaction; very nearly physically uncomfortable for me to hear. Why is this? Is it age and loss of patience? Exhaustion, causing inability to cope? Or has it really taken me three children to finally bond properly with one as a baby? Don't get me wrong; I do get annoyed when she's up for the third time in two hours at night, wanting me not only to pick her up but nurse her, as well, even though I know she isn't hungry. And sometimes I think, "That's it. I'm putting my foot down tonight. Enough is enough." This lasts an hour, maybe two -- an eternity of getting up every five or ten minutes, laying her back down, returning her pacifier to her, and crossing my fingers. It doesn't work -- it never does -- and she keeps getting up, reaching out her arms to me, and I, eventually, can't bring myself to keep breaking her heart. So I cave in and pick her up, even though I know I'm just enabling her. But she snuggles close to me and her little body relaxes and I think it's not so bad to be wanted.....if only I could be wanted and still get a good night's sleep.

All of this leaves me at an impasse. What to do next? Try to ride it out? I've tried that. I've been trying it for eleven months and what have I to show for it? A nearly-one-year-old baby who is still up every two hours all night long; three on a good night. I am literally impressed and excited when I wake up and realize she's slept three hours because, for us, that's doing really well. But what to do? I can't let her cry it out....I just can't. No matter how tired I am, how fed up I get, or how much I realize that she's just spoiled, I won't be able to stick it out. Do I move her crib into another room? That might help....or it might not. And, if it doesn't, then I not only have to get up every two hours all night long, I have to hike down the hall and sit on the bedroom floor to nurse her. Not much of an improvement, in my opinion. I could night-wean her. That's what made JZ finally start sleeping through the night. I just started sending Robert in to get him every time he woke up. However, I don't have that option for much of the week. I'm the only person available to take care of her. We have attempted to get something done in the few nights he's here but it's just not long enough to permanently change her habits. I am honestly beginning to think that our only relief will come when either, a) I wean her completely or, b) Robert gets a job here and is available to help me implement a plan.

Till then, I am left wondering how I turned into such a soft touch, and why it happened now instead of seven years ago, or five.

Last week I had a chocolate mini-cake from Carl's Jr. I left the plastic tray on the ottoman. Eliza found it.

She was very proud of herself.

She's also a complete cheeseball.

I swear, the other two didn't start giving me these looks till they were about four.

Miss Eliza let go of me and took a couple steps earlier this evening, and then a couple more soon after that. Then the older kids spent the rest of the evening working her to death. They kept standing her up and encouraging her to walk. She ended up taking lots of steps, total. The most she ever did at once was three or four. So she's off to the races, I guess! I had a feeling this was coming. Numerous times lately she has been standing, holding on to something with one hand, and I could see the wheels in her head turning. I could tell she was thinking about letting go and taking off.

Eliza just turned 10 months yesterday, so she beat Madalyn for first steps by a full month and JZ by three months. I have always said that E. would walk earlier than the other two. She's one determined little individual. Mad also started out more slowly. I had to stand her up and then coax her to take some steps. It took her like a week before she actually let go and walked on her own. Eliza started doing that right away. I have a feeling she's going to be tearing around here like a maniac by next week! The girl is a force of nature.

No crucifixes needed; dear Eliza could ward off vampires tonight on the strength of her breath alone.

We ate lunch at the Cheesecake Factory today and Eliza had one heck of a good time. First she had some sourdough bread and some dark brown bread that was possibly pumpernickel. Then the appetizers came and she sampled Robert's calamari. Nothing major; just a few tentacles. Next the salads were delivered and Eliza helped herself to Robert's Caesar. Lettuce doesn't gum up well so she sucked off all the dressing and ejected the greens. Then Robert gave her one of the giant croutons from the salad and she went to town on that for the longest time, sucking all the dressing out of it and whittling it away to half its former size.

I got broccoli cheese soup with my lunch. It had some sort of peppers in it, as the cheese tasted Mexican. I offered her some and she loved it. She insisted on taking the spoon and wouldn't be parted with it, objecting vociferously when I tried to remove it. Since she was still wearing her silk dress (it was after we'd had her picture taken) I didn't want to let her spoon feed herself so I dipped some bread in the soup and she was happy with that, and allowed me to take back the spoon. And, okay, in the interest of full disclosure I will admit that she also had some pumpkin cheesecake. Her reaction to that was priceless. I think if she could've gotten up and danced a jig on the table, she would have.

When we got home I kept catching whiffs of garlic breath and thought it was Robert exhaling in my direction. After a while I realized it was coming from my child, which is not exactly something you'd expect from an eight-month-old. That's Eliza for you, though. She doesn't want any of that bland, pureed crap, She'll take an order of seafood with its limbs still attached and a salad that would make Dracula quail in fear, and put some stank on it. And what will be worse than her breath tonight? Why, her diaper tomorrow, of course! Too bad I'll be in the city picking up my new laptop and will miss all the fun!

First things first: look! New pictures of the wee one!

Now that's out of the way....Madalyn's party is now but a memory so it's time to chronicle the event.

The shindig was scheduled to begin at 5 p.m. Of course we kept with our family tradition of leaving way too much stuff for the last minute so we were running around like maniacs all day long (I still had towel on my head from my shower when guest started arriving). I about worked poor Robert to death but we did manage to get everything, decorating included, done before anyone arrived and that's more than I can say for her party last year.

Th theme was "Movie Night". I borrowed 12 folding chairs from our church and we set them up in rows in our living room, in front of the telly. I had a "red carpet" runner that I ran down the center "aisle". Out front, at the curb, I had a sign in the lawn that said "Celebrity Parking, Tonight Only" and then I tied red and black balloons to the porch railings. Inside I had door curtains that said "Movie Night" at the top and had reels of film, tickets and stars hanging from them, one on each door leading out of the living room. We had various cardboard cutouts on the wall and a banner that said "Hollywood" on the mantel.

In the kitchen I covered our table and put a Movie Night centerpiece and silver star confetti on it and used that to hold the matching plates and napkins. Then we set up our counter as a snack bar. We had different kinds of soda and cups with lids and straws. For food we popped popcorn and put it in red and white popcorn bags. We had a variety pack of candy bars, a variety pack of single-serving Pringles and a huge bag of Skittles. When someone wanted Skittles we used a small ladle to scoop some into little black plastic top hats. I bought play money and gave each kid a $5 bill. Everything at the snack bar was $1 each and they'd pay for however many things they got and we'd give them change. We did cupcakes (cream-filled chocolate with buttercream icing) instead of a cake.

For the first part of the party everyone just ran around and had fun playing in Madalyn's room and outside. Our electric keyboard, which sits on a step in the sun room, was a hit. (You never know what's going to interest kids!) In all my running around that morning I had forgotten one key element -- the movie! -- so Robert went out to get it, and pick up the pizzas, just as kids started to arrive. I meant to call ahead for the pizzas but got sidetracked and didn't so he had to order them and wait for them there. I worried that it might make us run long (the party was due to end at 8:00) but it actually worked out well. He got back, they ate and got done just about the time we needed to start the movie.

The movie was "Meet the Robinsons". We chose this because it was just released on DVD last week and it wasn't in the theater here that long so we figured most kids wouldn't have seen it. What I didn't count on was the distraction factor. You put all those kids together in a house full of toys they've never seen before and they are going to have a hard time concentrating on a movie. I don't think there was any kid who watched more than 30 minutes, total, of the film. There were two or three sitting and watching it at any given time but then they'd wander off and be replaced by some others. The important thing, though, is that everyone was enjoying him/herself, so I wasn't too fussed about it.

Toward the end of the movie we did presents and then handed out cupcakes and goody bags just as parents were starting to arrive. We had told Madalyn that she could ask her good friend from school to stay over. She and her sister both wanted to stay and I said it was okay so Madalyn had her first sleepover! Madalyn and her friend passed out about 12:15.

We ended up having 11 kids total (counting Madalyn and JZ). It was a good number. They ranged in age from 4-9. There were two different factions -- friends she knows from her class at school and friends we know from church or preschool days. The school classmates all know each other, of course, and then the church/preschool kids all know each other so there was no one that was odd man out because they didn't know anyone. There was one boy who came and then a little girl from JZ's preschool class so he was happy, too, because he had people to play with.

Madalyn had a great time and I'm thrilled that it seemed to be a resounding success. After her party last year (when only two of ten invited girls showed up) I was a little gun-shy but I think I had the right idea this year about inviting people whose parents I know. Last year we invited mostly kids from her class, none of whose parents I knew and I just don't think they were motivated to make the effort to come.

For her actual birthday, on Sunday, we kept it low-key. Her friends weren't picked up till after noon. Then we opened presents and Robert took her and JZ to his dad's house to eat. About 5:00 I went to pick up a cake and took it over there. I don't think Robert and I could have survived much more than that after all the work we put in on the party.

If anyone would like to see pictures (they are mostly of the decorations) you may find some here.

JZ: Hee hee! I'm holding the baby!

Eliza: Mother, I'd like to take a moment to point out to you that you have entrusted my body and my well-being to a child who will literally stand on top of an object he is supposed to be locating and scream, "I DON'T SEE IT!" despite your continued strenuous efforts to convey to him that it's right under your feet, John-Zachary, just look down! DOWN, DAMMIT! Also I am not entirely convinced that he doesn't forget his own name from time to time. Please rectify this situation AT ONCE or I may be forced to contact the authorities. Or Grandma.

Grab a napkin and some butter because this baby is positively edible! I'm not sure whether to start at the tummy or the chubby little drumsticks.

Nom nom nom nom......

How does she do it? And why?

Eliza went to sleep at about 8:45. It took me over an hour to get her to do so even though she'd not napped since 3 p.m. By the time I went to bed at 11:00 she'd been up at least three times. I thought I was doing so well, going to bed at a time that's pretty early for me. But she woke up as soon as I got comfortable and would not stay asleep in her crib. I would get her back to sleep with the pacifier but she'd wake up within ten or fifteen minutes. This went on till well after midnight, when I brought her into my bed. My memory is hazy after that but I think she slept a whopping hour-and-a-half and then woke up at 3:00.

It's now 4:48 and she's been awake ever since.

It's not just dozing off and then waking, either. It's complete and total wakefulness; "talking" and playing with her hands and rolling around as though it's noon and not 4 a.m. Sometimes she will grasp my arm or hand and look like she's trying to nod off but that lasts about two minutes and then she perks up again.

There is NO way to account for this. Things, ALL things, are exactly as they were last week when she was sleeping three hours at a time and only taking fifteen minutes to put to bed.

I am just so sick of this. I don't know how long I can continue to function. There is nothing I can do about it, either. I mean, just look at her pattern from last night. Going to bed earlier wouldn't even help me because she's up every thirty damned minutes.

I just want someone to tell me how it's medically possible for a five-month-old to get by on what probably equals five or six hours of sleep a night. She's going to have big, purple shadows under her eyes later on this morning and probably end up taking a three-hour nap, which is what she did yesterday. So if she's so tired then why the hell can't she sleep at night?? I simply do not understand what causes her to stay awake for hours in the middle of the night or why she can't manage more than an hour's sleep at a time. She MUST be tired. I think it's safe to say she's not some kind of superhuman who just doesn't need to sleep. So there is something that is making her behave like this. What is it, and why can't I figure it out?

I wish sleep wasn't so important. I feel like the world's biggest whiner for harping on and on about the subject. But consider that many not-so-nice military organizations have used sleep-deprivation as a means of torture and a way to "break" captives, and also consider that studies show that sleep-deprived people are as dangerous on the highway as drunk drivers. Our culture in this country looks down on the need for sleep as a weakness but the fact is it's a basic human necessity for sanity and health. That's why it's such a big deal. I'm not some spoiled, pampered princess who had a baby and is complaining about not getting nine solid hours. I am getting maybe five hours of sleep a night, if I'm lucky, and that is punctuated by wakings as often as every thirty minutes. NOT good. Right now I can barely type without reversing letters and skipping words and such. I only came out to the living room because I had no idea what else to do. Eliza wasn't crying; she was lying there playing with a blanket, so I left. It's now gone quiet in there so maybe she's gone back to sleep. I guess I should head back in. I've got a whole two hours before I have to be up to get the kids ready for school.

Insert clever parting statement here.

Can't....type.....baby.....trying.....to.....kill me........

Okay, I think I can marshal enough energy to complain for a few momentitos. So. After last night's entry Miss Eliza ended up waking a total of at least 10 times for the night. Then, to drive the final nail into my coffin, she awoke at 5 a.m. and refused to go back to sleep at all after that. *sigh*

On the positive side she's still really, really cute. It's a good thing, too, because that's all that's standing between her and eBay.

Eliza has been asleep for 2.5 hours and has been up at least four times already. We may on the verge of setting a new record tonight, folks. How exciting! All those people with normal babies are missing out on the fun, by golly.

This has been me, the exhausted one, reporting to you from my bed of pain. I'd write more but my three functioning brain cells have locked up.

Yesterday I finally reached the end of my patience with people calling JZ a girl (he gets this a lot). I took him for a hair cut. NOT happy about it but I think we managed to find a style that looks boyish but retains some of the length. I can live with it, anyway. This is as short as I'll go, though. Society, with its narrow-minded ideas of what little boys should look like? Can bite me.

A.k.a. "Chuck E. Cheese's."

Today was my darling son's fourth birthday (seriously? How did this happen?) Ever since he learned to talk he has been on about going to Chuck E. Cheese's. The nearest one is in the city and Robert and I have never been inclined to waste a meal eating there when we've been in the neighborhood so we hadn't indulged him as yet. When I decided we were going to forgo a party this year I came up with the idea of coming up here and doing a little party, just the five of us, at Chuck E. Cheese's. He has also been asking me continually since our Tulsa trip last month, "When are we going to go to the hotel again?" so we decided to make it an overnight trip. Now we're here at the AmeriSuites; Eliza and I safely ensconced in our room and Robert and the older two down at the pool.

Prior to Chuck E.'s we made a visit to the Sam Noble Museum of Natural History at OU. We'd been before but it had been over a year so the kids didn't have much recollection of the previous visit. They loved it! Johnny, who is slightly obsessed with the movie "Night at the Museum", was thrilled to see "Rexie" in the dinosaur display area. It was actually an Allosaurus and not a T-Rex but we didn't tell him that!

The party was at 4:00 and it went well. We got pizza and an appetizer platter and cake. Chuck E. himself came out and put on a show. Then JZ opened his gifts, which were all a hit. Robert and the kids then spent another hour-and-a-half after that spending all the tokens which had come with our birthday package while I spent most of the time hanging out in the van with Eliza (believe me, it was preferable to simmering any longer in that flashing, blinking, pinging, child-infested hell).

Incidentally, everyone to whom I'd mentioned Chuck's had warned me that the food stunk but, and maybe this is just because I was starving, I didn't think it was too bad. Keep in mind, though, that I am a fan of crappy pizza - I actually like Domino's. But Robert didn't think it was too bad, either. It's not like we'll be driving along in the city next time we come up and suddenly say, "Gosh, I'm in the mood for some Chuck E. Cheese's!" but it wasn't terrible. I wasn't sorry I wasted being hungry eating there, let's put it that way. So perhaps, in the future, we can be talked into going there again. It will have to be a while down the road, though. I need time to recover.

I have to give props to Eliza, too. She saved the full meltdown mode until we were actually in the car, heading for the hotel. She was running on fumes and I fully expected her to fall apart as soon as we got in the restaurant. She held it together admirably, though. I wish I could say the same for the birthday boy, who had a screaming hissy fit in the hotel room about wearing his floaty over his bathing suit. Eliza was going, full-bore, by this time, as well. I'm sure the people in the rooms on either side of us were thrilled to bits that we'd arrived. We got the floaty crisis sorted out, though, and the three of them took off for the pool, and I got Eliza to sleep very easily (though she's already woken up once, about forty minutes after she went down, which I'm hoping is not a portent of things to come tonight).

All in all I think Johnny had a great birthday. Madalyn had fun, Eliza wasn't a total terror, and Robert and I found everything fairly tolerable so I think the day was a success all around.

It's not the best quality or the greatest cinematography but it's still cute. I'll try to do better next time.

Eliza amuses herself.

(Make sure you have your volume turned up.)

The day I had yesterday, people. Holy crap.

About 1 a.m. yesterday Eliza woke up after having gone to bed normally and sleeping about 3 hours (also normal range). Usually I nurse her back to sleep and pop her in bed and that's the last I hear of her for a couple more hours. Well, this time she started crying right away, so we were on to round two of nursing to sleep and putting back to bed. Didn't work. It continued to not work allllllll night long. And then continued allllll day long. She was one unhappy camper. She did take a couple short-ish naps earlier in the day but mostly it was cry, cry, cry, fall asleep at the breast and begin rooting frantically when she lost it (normally she might do this once or twice but then stays asleep after a while). Finally she even quit being soothed by nursing and was crying no matter what I did. It would range anywhere from a low-level whine to an all-out scream. She was not running a fever, from what I could tell, but I thought there had to be some explanation for all of this as it most definitely was not normal. Finally, in desperation, I called the pediatrician....at 4:00....on a Friday. I was told to take her to Quick Care at the ER so off we went.

"Fast" forward (ha.) to FOUR HOURS LATER. Robert had gotten home from work and came to the hospital to pick up the older two kids so it was just me and Eliza there. She had calmed down some once we got there and had actually dozed off on my lap a few times and now I was feeling pretty silly. She did kick up again once the doctor came around so he got to hear her, at least. After speaking (brusquely) with me he slapped a diagnosis of colic on her, "colic" being code for "I have no idea why this baby is crying but I will gladly charge you $300 for your visit." We were given a prescription for an anti-spasmodic and sent merrily on our way.

E. was actually good for the half hour it took till we got home; quiet as a mouse. I got her to sleep with no problems at 9:00.....but then she awoke at 9:30 and all hell broke loose again. On an average night she can be counted on 90% of the time not to wake up again (for several hours, I mean) once I get her to sleep for the night. The rare times she does wake up all I do is go nurse her down again and that's the end of it. Well, last night she refused. Every time she turned loose she'd immediately rouse and start rooting. Eventually we devolved into crying and not wanting to nurse at all. This is when I handed her to Robert and said, quote, "I have HAD IT!" He hustled her off to the sun room and I folded some (massive amounts of) laundry. By the time I was done he had her quiet, rocking her in her car seat. I went to lie down on the bed, meaning only to rest a minute until she started crying again and then take her. Two hours later I opened my eyes and Robert was bringing her to me.

Unfortunately we had the same results with my trying to get her back to sleep in her bed this time. After lots of crying Robert took her again around 1 a.m. and told me to go back to sleep, which I did. I knew nothing more until he brought her to me at 5 a.m. (5 a.m., folks! Now THAT is a great husband for you!) I am not sure what all she did in the four hours he had her. I think she may have slept some in her bouncy chair because I found it turned on with a blanket sitting on it. My poor, dear husband is still asleep, however, so I haven't been able to ask.

Anyway, Eliza was finally so tired that I nursed her down, popped her in her bed (with great trepidation, I might add) and she stayed asleep for a little over two hours. When she woke up I got her back to sleep and back to bed for another two hours. At 9:30 I got her back to sleep yet again, this time leaving her in our bed and stealing away.

Y'all, I do NOT know what to make of this. Yes, she has been a little stuffy-nosed since last weekend but it's never bothered her to where she didn't/couldn't sleep before. When she woke at 7:30 I could tell she was REALLY congested so I did the saline-and-suction thing (which she was thrilled to bits about) and then was able to get her to sleep after that. But she was not congested like that yesterday so that isn't the explanation for the craziness. I really don't believe the colic diagnosis; at least not in the sense that it's colic related to intestinal issues. I have never heard of a 9-week-old baby developing colic when she hadn't had it before. Her digestive system is supposed to be getting more mature, not more sensitive. But, you know, they see a baby with no fever who's crying and who isn't injured and they don't have any incentive to look any further into it. Oh, by the way, I gave her some of the medication as soon as we got home and, as you can see, it didn't do a thing for her.

Of course, I'm freaking out about the whole thing. As is my wont when one of the kids has a bad day I walk around thinking, "Oh my God, what if they are like this FOREVER??" as though alien body snatchers might come in the night and take over. But that won't happen, right? I mean, a baby wouldn't just change, literally overnight this much, permanently, right? It has to be just a temporary discomfort and she'll go back to normal when it's gone. So then the paranoia sets in: "What if it's a serious medical condition and it takes us a long time to sort it out?" I am dreading the thought of her waking up again right now because I don't know who I'm going to get. Will it be Normal Baby, who, in retrospect, I now realize isn't that difficult to deal with, or will it be I-Hate-the-World Baby? I don't know if I can take another day like yesterday. I am trying to be optimistic and look to the fact that she has been sleeping well since about 5 a.m. but that could just be because she finally reached the point of exhaustion where she couldn't keep it up any longer. In other words, perhaps she is only recharging for the day ahead. *gulp*

At any rate, I went through a very long period of feeling very sorry for myself last night. I'm feeling a bit better this morning; sleep does wonders for one's attitude. It's hard not to be pessimistic when you're running on a ninety minutes' sleep. Still, though, sometimes it seems like the cosmic universe is out to smack me down. I have told people numerous times that whenever I mention to any of my friends that Eliza is behaving a specific way (usually when I'm reporting an improvement) she immediately does a complete 180 and regresses to doing worse again. I am sure people think I'm exaggerating but I'm not. The night before this happened? I had posted a long update about E. on the forums I visit, telling about how much better she was doing and how I expected she'd keep improving, and how the Amby bed seemed to be helping some. I had refrained from saying anything about how she was doing for TWO WEEKS prior to this, for fear of "jinxing". When I finally do say something, it all falls apart. As usual.

Well, I'm being paged from the bedroom, so off I go to get her. I wonder who she'll be today. Send positive thoughts my way!

My son has fallen victim to a marketing blitz; been seduced by a clever ad campaign. He's fallen hook, line and sinker to the promise of improved living via these products. But it's not the latest video game or the newest hot toy that has grabbed his attention.

It's yogurt.

And we aren't talking about kid-themed yogurt, even. We're talking digestive-tract-regulating yogurt. Activia, to be exact. A while back they came out with their first commercial which featured two women and a parrot. The parrot was a minor player and, obviously, considering the product, was not meant as a gimmick to draw in young children, but it had that effect on him, anyway. I'm pretty sure the bird, and the jingle, are what grabbed his attention. He asked for Activia the next time we were at the grocery store and has been happily eating it ever since. He's thrilled whenever one of us brings some home for him.

Also sucking him in with its ads is another yogurt product, DanActive smoothies. Different from Activia, these claim to contain an ingredient that boosts the immune system. I am not sure what exactly appealed to JZ about this ad; there's no jingle and no animals featured in the commercial. It's just people talking about "L casei immunitas" -- certainly nothing that's meant to play to a three-year-old. The closest I can figure is he associates it with Activia somehow. He has referred to them as "Activia smoothies."

All things considered, I can't really complain. Of all the marketing for him to buy into I am glad it's a food item and not some unnecessary or inappropriate toy. Even better, it's not some junk food or fast food -- it's healthy. There are a lot worse things with which he could become obsessed.

Now if I could just get him hooked on the Dyson commercials so I could buy one as a gift for him and teach him to vacuum the house.....

Eliza is not doing very well at night right now. She had a few decent nights in a row and I got excited that she was starting to establish a routine. But then, Saturday night, everything went downhill and has been horrible ever since. Basically we are talking up every 30-60 minutes all night long, with maybe a 90-minute block or two hours if I'm lucky. She's asleep right now (8:30 p.m.) and I'm stressing out over it because the more she sleeps now the less likely she is to sleep well tonight -- if there was any chance of that to begin with.

What's bumming me out is I want to enjoy my time with her right now. She won't be this little for long and it's my last shot. But I'm finding that, instead of snuggling in and relaxing, I am sitting here dreading tonight, instead. If she was sleeping decently at night I wouldn't begrudge her the sleep she's getting right now. I'd love to just settle in on the couch with some dessert and one of my t.v. shows and hold her while she snoozed. But it's hard for me to do that when I know what's coming later.

I think maybe if Eliza was my only child it wouldn't be so bad because I wouldn't have anything to do during the day but sleep when she slept and get caught up. But I have two other kids to take care of so I have to keep going and going whether I am exhausted or not. Heck, I think even if this was Friday or Saturday night and Robert was home I wouldn't be as stressed out because I'd have help and I wouldn't have anything looming over my head tomorrow. But my parents are leaving at 4 a.m. to head home and Robert is gone until tomorrow night so it's all me in the morning doing the entire pre-school routine, dropping off, picking up, then taking Madalyn to her first t-ball practice.

Bottom line, though, is that no matter what the following day holds, it is really difficult right now. I'm exhausted, sad about my parents leaving, sad about Robert going back to work and at a loss as to why Eliza's schedule is so backwards. I already do everything "they" say to help your baby get its days and nights sorted out. For all I know it could be something else; something I'm totally missing. And how long will it go on? That's what's eating at me. I know it won't go on forever but it could go on for months and months and I don't know how well I will hold up if that happens. After all the fuss about me wanting her to hurry up and get here I feel like a jerk complaining at all. I mean, it's not like I didn't know I was going to lose sleep after she got here. I just didn't expect quite this much upheaval. JZ was a lousy sleeper but even he was good for a few hours at a time. I am completely befuddled by this every 30-60 minutes business. The only thing I can hope is that she has been going through a growth spurt. Also in the days since things went bad she was nursing a ton during the daytime. Today, though, she seems to have cut back a little so maybe.....just maybe it was a growth spurt that is now winding down.

Whatever it is I just hope it passes quickly so I can enjoy my girl more. I want to enjoy this stage instead of hoping she'll hurry and grow past it.

Last Monday, at the doctor's office, Eliza was down to 6 lbs., 9 oz. -- an entire pound down from her birth weight. She had to go back today for a quick check to make sure she isn't getting jaundiced (she's not) and she was weighed again. She is now 8 lbs. -- up a pound-and-a-half in one week!

I guess I can add milk production to the short list of things at which I excel.

Oh yes, and she's up to 19 3/4" long (was 19" at birth). She is now, at two weeks old, "only" two inches shorter than Madalyn was at birth.

Not only did Eliza have a great night last night (four hours of sleep in a row! In her own bed!) she also wore her first Gymboree outfit ever today, along with her first pair of shoes (Robeez).

Click for details.....

Why is it necessary for me to have to articulate concepts like, "Don't lick the cat"? I mean, honestly, isn't that the sort of thing that should go without saying? What is with these people??

One of the things in life that isn't fair is that we have, for the most part, no recollection of what it was like to be three years old. Sure, we may have little snatches of remembrance here and there, but no real recall of our motivations, our thought processes, etc. It's really too bad because I'm sure the memories would come in handy when we became adults and wound up with three-year-olds of our own.

John-Zachary, for example, has recently decided to become potty trained. Now, we'd been working on it for several months and he had the #1 aspect down pretty well although accidents (around the house) were a pretty regular occurrence. #2 was the problem. What it boiled down to is that if he disappeared from the room for more than ten seconds it was a guarantee that you'd find him with an unpleasant surprise in his undies. We tried bribing, begging, cajoling, praising, threatening dire consequences, stickers -- you name it, we tried it. He wasn't having it. I even completely lost my sh*t one night (no pun intended) and, in hormonal flux, broke down bawling after he'd done it yet again. He was horrified to see me cry but even that didn't convince him to try to make it to the potty the next day. We basically entered a holding pattern. I didn't think it wise to revert to diapers/Pull-Ups again since he had made progress in the #1 department, and yet I had no idea what else I could possibly try as he seemed determined not to respond to anything -- positive, negative or in between.

Therefore you can imagine my surprise when it suddenly clicked one day a couple weeks ago, out of the blue and for no apparent reason. We were not trying anything new. Things were status quo, and yet, one morning, instead of disappearing into the other room to do his illicit business he, instead, hung around the living room acting oddly. I asked him if he had to go and, instead of the usual denial, he owned up to it. I sent him off to the bathroom and, lo and behold, the desired results were performed. I heaped on the praise but was privately dubious, as he'd done it a couple times in the past but then gone right back to his old ways the next time. However, the next day he allowed me to see he needed to go and, again, I sent him to the potty where he took care of business like a pro. Two days later he started telling us when he had to go instead of us having to ask. 14 days later he hasn't had a single alfresco toilet incident (the #1 accidents have also ceased) and I think it's safe to say he's nailed it. Which leads me back around to my original thought -- what on earth finally convinced him to cooperate? It certainly wasn't anything I did; it was purely within his own squirrelly little mind. What finally clicked? If I knew I could write a book and make millions.

Now, I guess, we move on to the next step: convincing him he no longer gets a piece of candy every time he performs. If anyone has any ideas how to wean him off that, I'm all ears. Because, you know, that could cause some awkward and embarrassing situations if he's still expecting a Tootsie Pop for pooping when he's a teenager.

I just had to post this picture, taken not thirty minutes ago.

Baby! And everything's fine! No horns or cloven hooves, so I'd consider it a victory,already.

Okay, okay....I know more than that. We will be buying crib bedding in......

Six years ago today I was in the hospital giving birth to the monster baby (9 lbs., 1 oz.; 21-3/4" long).

I'm never particularly sentimental about my kids getting older and especially not with Madalyn. Due to her amazing size and her maturity she's always seemed older than she was, making her birthdays rather anti-climactic. Instead of, "I can't believe she's turning X" it's more like, "I can't believe she's only just now turning X" because she's seemed that age (or older) for a couple years already. So you won't find me sniffling about her being the big oh-six today. It feels like she's been with us much longer, our pre-kid days being but a distant, fuzzy memory anymore.

We are having a party at the local family fun center this afternoon. Laser tag will be played, pizza will be consumed, and all the kids who are smart enough to show up will be taking home an enormous haul of party favors which cost an obscene amount of money per child. Perhaps I will post a picture later of the set of favors each child gets. Probably I should refrain from providing visuals and be embarrassed at being so elaborate in overcompensating for the fact that we didn't give her a party last year. Whatever. I'll figure it all out later.

The theme of the party is "Pink Poodles in Paris" and everything is bedecked accordingly. Poodles and Eiffel Towers abound. The sad thing is I think I'm as excited about it as she is. We've had this theme picked out for about a year-and-a-half now and I'm glad we finally get to do it.

The presents are in order, as well. The major item is a FIsher-Price kids' digital camera, which I'm hoping will be a hit. She's also getting a computer game, books, a board game, a card game, Moon Sand and a Leapster game. I steered clear of toys as we have more than we know what to do with, 75% of which don't get played with regularly, as it is.

All in all, it's shaping up to be a good day for celebrating this girl who came along and changed our lives for the better.

It's a common subject of discussion between mothers how one's own children can be so vastly different from one another. I know why children who share the same gene pool, the same environment, and the same parentage turn out to be entirely different people -- it's nature's way of keeping their parents from getting becoming too self-satisfied with their own parenting skills.

You have your first child, you do things a certain way because you are convinced it's the best way, and things turn out pretty well. You begin to get a bit big-headed about it, thinking, "Behold! See what I and my superior parenting skills have wrought!" Then, inevitably, child #2 comes along and those unrivaled credentials do not produce anything close to the same results. Mother and Father are humbled, Child #1 continues to behave beautifully, as she would've naturally done even if she'd been raised by a pack of wolves, and Child #2 wreaks havoc and runs everyone ragged. It's the natural order of things.

Not that I know from experience, or anything.

It had been hanging on by a thread for a week, she too chicken to let anyone remove it and Mama too squeamish to really press the issue. Of late, it had begun sticking out at odd angles, giving the impression that the child should be appearing shoeless, wearing overalls, with a straw sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

But today we are pleased to announce its departure, thanks to a lunchtime hotdog. Whereabouts of tooth are unknown, which isn't all bad as it saves the Tooth Fairy a trip (the dumb broad is clean out of cash right now, anyway).

I just spent twenty minutes putting a full face of makeup on MY FIVE-YEAR-OLD.

Tonight is her dance recital and I know, I know....the makeup is to make their faces stand out when they are on stage since the audience is far away and it's harder to see. Still, though, I can't help but have issues with it.

Yesterd