twinkle toes and fairy dust

There are little sparklies everywhere. While some may be inclined to suggest that this is simply my brain on irregular sleeping patterns, it is actually the result of two small girls and their Nana, having a good time making snowflakes that sparkle. And having such a good time in fact, that glitter has been scattered to every corner of my small and humble abode. The carpet is alive with hidden gems. As is the couch, the chairs, the kitchen table, the baby's hair, the mom's face, the dad's face and the bodies of the other three children. It gives a kind of nether-world charm to the events of the moment.

The bummer is that although we have all of this fairy dust around, no one has shown a hint of being able to fly about the house and out the windows with ease. This has nothing to do with the fact that all of our windows except for one are screened. We just aren't able to get off the ground. It's not a lack of faith, at least on the kids part. Why shouldn't they fly?

Well, actually, everyone is pretty good at the moment at flying off the handle. Why is this? My children all have a sudden desire to return to an infantile state, one that does not include any of the charming moments of their younger years, as soon as a new sibling enters the house. We have had our fair share this past week of tears and outbursts, talking-back and outright tantrums that have scared the one year-old, but led him to experiment with that kind of flailing show himself. Fortunately he is a happy child and tantrums do not become him and so we laugh at him and he will usually laugh back after a moment.

It's not an easy thing, this growing up. And even though you are the same age as you were the day before the new baby was born (give a day or two or three) your place in the family somehow shifts and everybody has to adjust. So we're thick into the adjusting phase. I think the key is this: we just have to let things be where they are, and let the fairy dust sparkle where it's at.

there's a check list

In between midnight feedings and daytime catnaps it occurs to me that in one month I am moving across the country.

I have a list of major life events, most of them my own, that are coming together to impose themselves on me all within about an 8 week time period. Things like having a baby. Check. That's been taken care of. Or packing up the house. For that we're waiting for the moving guy to come and give us an estimate on cost, after which we can schedule a time to move our stuff, which will then allow us to book airfare for six people, hopefully at a semi-reasonable price and hopefully all together in two rows, instead of scattered through out the plane, for the sake of the other passengers.

Once that is taken care of, we will find ourselves in Utah, crowding my parents basement just in time for one sister to return home from her mission and another sister's wedding. Then we will look to buy a house, a minivan, and eventually a real live piano that I can play carols on at Christmas time. Also Ben will jump into his new position and try and prepare for the classes he'll be teaching at the same time as helping me take care of the above.

It sounds kind of fun, huh? It certainly has the potential to be overwhelming, but I think I've hit a nice little patch of oblivious denial where I look around at the green, green trees, turn on the air conditioners to help contain the creeping humidity, watch my mom wrestle the girls out the door to the park, hold my sweet little baby and think, this has real potential for crazy, but life is good.

always a good time...

There's a log they like you to fill out in the hospital when you've had a baby. You're supposed to write down time and length of feedings and how many diapers you've changed and what the content of those diapers were. I actually didn't do it because a) no one told me to, b) by the time they did tell me I had a day left but then they didn't leave me a pen, and c) it was my fourth baby and I felt pretty well qualified to decide whether or not she was eating enough and if her digestive system was dealing with said eating appropriately without having to keep track of it on paper.

Also, the title of the paper was the Daily Feeding Dairy. I am pretty sure they meant diary and not dairy, but as I am breastfeeding I became a little suspicious that either some hospital secretary was having a little fun at a lactating mother's expense, or that the subconscious power of suggestion was just too great...

The funniest thing someone said to me was while taking my blood pressure as I was just waking up from a nap. "You know who you look like? That girl on Full House. You know that girl? What's her name? Stephanie? I just about did a double take!"

Okay, if you scroll down a bit to an earlier post you'll find a picture of me from my wedding day. Even though you can't see my whole face, you can get a pretty clear idea that Stephanie Tanner (age 10 in that show?) and I don't really share much of a resemblance.

And my favorite set of question/responses was this:
"So, is this your first?"
"No, fourth."
"Fourth??"
"Yes, fourth."

Last but not least was the television controller lady who lets you have a day of free daytime television and Seinfeld reruns before she comes in 24 hours later and says that the remainder of your visit will cost you. I had enough of my faculties in tact to say no thank you. She literally locked up the T.V., it took two keys, and then all that was available to me were the hospital channels, informing me of their great menu selection. She left with a grumpy look on her face. And so I read Pride and Prejudice instead.