Full-Fledged Toddler

V learned a week ago to escape from his crib. So, we removed the front gate, and he now has a toddler bed. He also now comes into our room, in the middle of the night, on his own two feet. At least he no longer wakes up the older ones by crying to be let out.

He has also learned how to take off his diapers if they are not covered by pants, and makes known his strong preference that I not put another diaper on him. He is attracted to electric outlets and plugs of any sort. He likes to move furniture. He also can open and close drawers, and likes to move clothes from one to another. He has discovered the laundry chute and thinks it is a good place for his brothers' shoes. He investigates any cup, glass, bowl, or plate left on the dining table - especially if it still contains something that might taste good. He likes to play with the tape dispenser when he finds it. He uses his push-car as a stool to reach the top shelf, where we keep all the interesting things like markers and cameras. He uses the kitchen stool to help himself to bananas and anything else that might be on the counter. One of the things frequently on the counter is our glass coffee carafe. We also tend to leave knives on the counter.

He is Terrifyingly Delightful. His grin lights up the room, and then I wonder if it means I have to go and rescue him, or his brothers, or our things from his power.

A part of his explosion of power is his power over words. His vocabulary is expanding every day, and his eyes light up when we understand what he is saying. Today he learned to say "jehdoh" (Jello).

Today's fortune: "The most important things in life aren't things." With a toddler in the house, that is a good thing.

Morning of the Fourth (Guest Blogger: AD)

Guest Blogger for this post: Articulate Dad:

Challenging. Truly challenging. This is the morning of our fourth day as a family on Parenting on Track™. I've been less than perfect in my progress, but progress it has been. What impressed me most about Vicki's DVD presentation for the first week was that she made a great deal of sense. The program is not focused on the symptoms, but the root causes.

This morning, I was talking with RocketMom, about how at times we have felt at our wits' end: we've tried everything, what more can we do? He's whining again, we've asked him to stop, we've cajoled him, we've begged, we've screamed... we've tried to ignore it, we've modelled a polite voice, we've rewarded him when he's asked nicely... why isn't this working?

But therein lies the problem: we've focused on the symptom. It's not about the symptoms. It's not about the whining. It's about creating an environment and a relationship where whining has little place, where whining (or what have you) are not effective, and atrophy of their own accord. It's as if we've tried to stop an itch by scratching. It may go away... but it may take much longer and cause greater discomfort along the way.

I don't want discomfort. I want my beautiful, wonderful, charming, insightful, delightful, smiling, happy, joyful, amazing, incredible boys. I have sometimes said that parenting is the hardest task I've ever encountered, ever tried. I say it's harder than writing that doctoral dissertation. RocketMom says it's harder than rocket science (and she'd know). But why? Why?

In terms that Vicki Hoefle, Creator of Parenting On Track™, might use, the reason lies in our negotiating our place in the world. By adulthood we've encountered many new situations, new environments, beyond our family of origin. Those family relationships may still be stuck in the patterns of our childhood, but we've been able to negotiate new terms in school, at work, among friends.

But children! Ah.... or rather Aaaarrggghhh! When we bring a baby home, we are confronted with an unfamiliar territory where our shovels fail to break the soil, our rain fails to nourish the roots, the sun fails to penetrate the clouds. And we lose our footing.

So we begin again, finding our places in this alien world, negotiating our roles and our identities with only the vaguest sense of where to begin. Unfortunately, much of that starting place is defined by our odd notions of what is expected of parents, and we lose our way.

So, we begin again, again!

Last night, I headed to bed around 11:30. R was still in the family room playing on the computer. E was apparently asleep on a chair beside him. I didn't set the alarm. I crawled out of bed around 7:15. Normally we leave for R's school around 7:20. It's about a 5 minute drive. First bell rings at 7:28, letting children into the building, the doors are locked when classes begin ten minutes later. I threw on some clothes, headed downstairs, noted R was dressed in the dining room, assumedly eating cereal. I grabbed my keys and wallet from my desk.

7:20, R greets me gleefully, as I left my home office: Daddy, you know today is Monday. Quickly and flatly I retort, with keys in hand: Yes, I'll be waiting in the car. And I left, pulled out of the garage, and waited, listening to the news on NPR. I looked at the clock periodically, vowing to sit it out until 7:38 before I'd head back in, closing my eyes, breathing.

7:36, readying for a possible confrontation, rehearsing: maybe they'll be having that rained-out field day today, you might miss it... you know, honey, the law requires you to be in school for the rest of the year. I honestly don't know what the consequences are if you refuse to go to school: they might not let us homeschool you next year, or they might take you away from us and put you in a foster home. Maybe we could call someone and ask, or go to the school, and ask the principal what would happen.

I open my eyes, to note in my periphery, R heading to the car door, opening it, putting on his seatbelt. I ease off the hand-brake, back out of the drive, and head to his school. 7:39 we pass the now-locked side door, and head to the front, where latecomers can get in. He opens the door. Wha? I... I forgot my folder... [silence]. I forgot my folder... [silence]. He closes the door. I see he's in shorts with sandals, but has a jacket (it's a rainy day again... I hadn't even noticed until now), no backpack. He enters the building.

A good start to the week. We might just get through this, and find define a better world on the other side. Consequences. Responsibility. Love.

Jump-starting my imagination

E: Mommy, I have some eggs benedict for you.
(Shows me a plate full of coins.)
Me: Where did that money come from?
E: It's not money, it's eggs benedict.
Me: Well, then, where did the eggs benedict come from?
E: I just made it.
Me: But where did the ingredients come from?
E: I got them at Ikea.

Oh. Guess it's time to eat some eggs benedict.

Riding the Rapids of Life

Time keeps flowing no matter how I wish for a respite.
I don't write.
I am scattered.
At times I struggle for breath.

I am overwhelmed by a torrent of activities and fundraisers.
Elementary school, preschool, temple, sunday school, art classes, cub scouts, field trips.
Drop offs and pick ups. Never-ending plains of dishes. Mountains of laundry.
The water level rises.

Currents and eddies pull me this way and that. Occasionally I find some respite.

Little things matter. For R, my sensitive one, a host of worries accompany the first loose tooth:
First, "Mommy, I think we should go to the dentist. My tooth hurts. I bit a popsicle stick." Once we explained that he's probably just losing his first baby tooth. "Mommy, I don't think I should eat anything hard until my baby tooth falls out and my new tooth comes in." And tonight, "Mommy, tomorrow, let's google the tooth fairy, to see if she will take a note if I swallow my tooth and still give me a prize."

My dreamer, E, assured me he wanted to go to preschool "all the days as I can". Now that he is enrolled four days a week, I think he misses leisurely mornings with mommy as much as I do. We make up for lost time in the afternoon. "Mommy, this is a magic broomstick that will take us to Mars. Oh - we forgot the map. [pushes imaginary button on wall] Here it is! Now we can go to Mars." And later, "Mommy, let's pretend we're ladybugs and we're climbing up the stems to get the aphids. Now I'm a ladybug with a kitchen. What would you like to eat? I have aphid chicken soup for you. And some ice cream."

Now 9 months old, V is a beautiful, exhausting whirlwind of ups and downs.
He enchants me with his squeals of delight. He calls for mama when is tired or hungry, and melts my heart. He impresses me with his cleverness by heading straight for the cat food when he wants to be picked up. He tosses food on the floor when it's not to his liking - only to change is mind and eat it from the floor before I get to cleaning it up. His top two front teeth have finally broken through, after weeks of teething pain and accompanying sleepless nights. Still, on few nights I get to sleep through until 5 or 6, I wake up startled and worried that I haven't heard from him yet. All too soon, I'm sure, I'll miss his morning snuggles.

I feel battered physically & emotionally from life's ride these past few months. I still want to finish unpacking, organize, start making little repairs and improvements we've imagined - but I find it impossible to make any headway in the midst of the bedlam created by our beautiful boys. I need to take care of my health but it always takes a backseat to my babies. I don't work, and yet I still struggle for balance.

Milestones pass in the blink of an eye. The current is swift. I often find it hard to sit back and enjoy the ride, but it is always well worth it when I do.

Savoring Summer's End

In the mornings recently, a deliciously cool breeze blows through our bedroom window, reminding me of the cool weather around the corner. By afternoon, the heat sets in, encouraging me to daydream about just which location would be right for a nice shade tree.

The Composer, in his own baby way, has captured this cusp of the seasons; he loves chewing on watermelon rinds and apple cores.

In a furious frenzy to pack in all the fun that we can before school starts, we've been, in the past week, to the museum, the beach, the movies, and apple picking. We sent the Painter off to visit with his grandparents for a few days, allowing me the presence of mind to remember to call the preschool to which I have been interested in sending the Inventor. As a result, I will now be sending two of my babies off to new schools in the next few weeks.

Suddenly summer seems too short.

Washed away.

Too many days drifting, and I start to feel washed away. Need to *do* something, *accomplish* something, have some time for me. I've been alternately cranky and patient with the boys, and with AD. We have had some nice time lying in the back yard looking at the trees & the sky, reading books about alligators, pirates, nutrition - we love the library.

Today I accomplished something - two loads of laundry helped to wash away my day, as well as some weeding. We have some beautiful vining toxic weeds in our garden, that I decided were too hazardous to health of the wee ones, as well as to the other plants in the garden. We also did the requisite shopping in preparation for the school year, although we didn't buy any pants, since R & I couldn't agree on the size. (He insists he should wear his age, which would have him stylishly tripping over the pant legs and wearing them out too soon to pass along. You see the trouble.)

Why does this not feel like enough?

Stained glass class is over for 3 weeks now, and despite best intentions, I have not kept dates with myself to keep working on my own.

I feel ill at ease. In the evening I have become a surfer instead of a drifter, riding the internet waves, speeding away from the discomfort, but not getting anywhere. I search for a cure, but I am not broken. Discomfort is okay. Hunger is okay. Sadness is okay. Anger is okay. I don't need to cure myself for feeling the full spectrum of human emotion. Like all emotions, these also come and go. I am okay.

When I stop the thrill ride and accept my thoughts and feelings for what they are, they lose their power. The swells diminish. The pendulum slows and returns to center. Centered, I carry on.

Drifting away

Like the codas below, I find myself drifting away. I drift where life leads, and spend less and less time in front of the computer. Partly, we moved the computer into the office, leaving it somewhat inaccessible to me while AD is working. More than that, however, I'm just living, as best I can, right now. My life goes from breathtaking to infuriating and back a thousand times a day:

I delight as I watch V gleefully bounce in his jumper, listen to E's imaginative description of the world he lives in, and survey R's increasingly unusual whiteboard art. I sigh when I'm covered in baby poop, again, or find more to clean up from another source. I roll my eyes when I discover the window screen ripped to shreds, and NOT by the cats. Then we go out to the beach for a picnic, and E is disappointed that we can't plant the roasted sunflower seeds I brought with us for a snack. What a beautiful thought, to plant flowers on the beach. V is crawling, like an inchworm, which makes it difficult to keep him from eating sand or other things he shouldn't. He seems to know the difference between baby food and people food, and has decided he deserves the latter. And he is still a "spitter". R seems so mature sometimes, outgrowing childish refusal to utter the name of an animal he doesn't like, then must make a game of everything to take twice as long keep from getting bored. And E ... well, "no" is the first two letters of his middle name. In our house, we get "terrible threes".

And that's just the boys. AD's mom visited us last week, so we took her to visit the city and the lake and the state fair, we had a family dinner, and a date (woowee! first adults-only movie at the theater since ???), and a couple nice evenings getting to know the neighbors. Busy, yes, but not too busy to hear that AD will be much busier soon. As will we all. First grade starts for R in just three weeks.

In the midst of this wonder, this exhaustion, this joy, this laundry, this aching body, I sometimes think about writing, but life goes too fast and the moment passes me by, leaving only these remnants as evidence that I have a brain:

Titles for Almost Posts:

Suddenly six months (about V)

First Tooth (now second)

One Year Ago (what started our move)

Where I've been and where I'm going

Art Glass (work in progress)

and without a title, pictures pictures pictures.

Sometimes I worry about not "getting anything done", when we don't manage to get out of the house all day, but what's the point? I make a goal to get out of the house the next day and see how it goes. I can only be where I am.

Right now, I am not much here. I could worry about that, but I think I'll just take things day by day and see how it goes. I invite you to do the same.

Potty party

Only parents of toddlers will appreciate this:

E went and pooped in the potty all by himself today - on time, and without any prompting, help, or parental involvement of any sort.

Hooray!

The List

Another day done, the list not so.

I played with V and cuddled him,
but didn't write about his six month milestones.

I wiped his nose,
but didn't call the pediatrician to schedule his six month checkup.

I nursed him,
but didn't clean the pump parts so I could store some milk for the next time I am gone.

I carried my phone with me all day,
but didn't call my friend who is expecting her fourth son to soon make his debut.

I brought the clean clothes to the living room,
but didn't fold them.

I went for a walk with E, and took him to the park,
but I didn't call for more information on a potential preschool for the fall.

I picked up R from summer school,
but didn't find out who his first grade teacher will be in the fall,
nor what school supplies he might need.

I made lunch,
but not the potato salad I have been thinking about.

In my head I made my list,
then let it drift away like the clouds in the sky.
.

Ten Minutes

Prompted by Jena, here I go:

Feeling exhausted, don't really know why. Too much sugar today? Or perhaps it's the punctuation after the unusually restful previous two days while E was visiting his grandparents and there were only two (humans) under four feet in the house (and two felines).

Feeling untethered, craving connection, but too tired to write, just surfing instead, visiting all you wonderful people, but almost too tired to leave comments, being voyeureuse, lurking instead. Why not get off, at least connect with the one other human in this house who is conscious?

Feeling a bit stressed I suppose. Vacation is supposed to be happy and fun. I suddenly realized that our laid back trip is coming up very soon, and no plans have been made, or at least they haven't been finalized. One must make plans, right? And charge up the portable movie player for the drive. And bring the tent. And get someone to care for the cats. And we'll only be gone 5 days and staying at the family cottage, but still ...

I am still making progress. The work room is getting more organized. Soon, I may actually be able to work in there, to cut some glass, make some progress on my project. But it feels good even just to put a few more things in order.

V is delightful at five months, eating sweet potatoes, rice cereal, and pears, playing in his jumperoo, on his baby gym, and sometimes, still, only wanting to be held. He has started to delight in baths, only an inch or so of warm water in the tub, sitting (with help) or lying down, splashing, cooing, giggling, and squealing with delight. His delight is my delight.

Didn't succeed in not editing this post, but at least I didn't edit it much.

I've been wanting to say, though, and haven't figured out how to change my profile quite the way I want it, that I go by rocketmom here, but my name is really Cheryl.

Progress

We decided that we've had enough of trying to coerce E. to go use the potty when he evidently needs to, or might need to, only to have no success, followed by a dirty diaper 5 minutes later. So, we decided, it's time to put the whole process in his hands. If he asks, we'll change him, or go with him to the bathroom. Today ... he wore the same sopping wet diaper from the time he woke up, through the morning when it became dirty, and into the afternoon. Finally, at nap time (which we have re-instituted, as it is difficult to get to bed on time with the late summer light), he asked for a change. Progress!

At my stained glass class tonight, I continued working on building a lampshade. I cut 32 usable pieces tonight. Progress!

I pushed enough piles and boxes out of the middle of the living room that I could vacuum. I even vacuumed the hairy stairs. Progress!

R. had his first day of summer school - he's taking phys. ed. Summer school gym class is much cheaper than camp ... and we are *finally* getting him out to interact with his peers. Progress!

We'll take it day by day.

A Critique of My Habits

Umpteen Habits of Highly Ineffectual People

Sometimes I think this should be the subtitle for a book about my life. Surely it's more than seven, in any case. It's summer! I've got plenty of ideas about where to take the boys, ways to entertain and educate ourselves, but we rarely manage to get out the door. And tomorrow, summer school already starts. Before I know it first grade will be here.

So what are these habits that keep us home and bring out my inner critic?

1. Reading. I love to read. I just devoured Three Cups of Tea in the course of two days. How, you might ask, could I do that with three boys at home? Well, I must admit I wasn't very attentive to the family for a few days, and I got less sleep than usual, as well. I found the book to be very compelling. At least it compelled me to finish reading quickly! What a treat to read about someone who is really making a difference in the world, one community at a time. Perhaps it will even compel me to get off my ... couch and make a difference myself.

2. Letting the boys lead. They want to play a game, pretend to be chefs, read some books, play outside, chase each other around the house, and, oh yes, the littlest one wants to nurse, it seems all day long lately. I imagine he's teething, because I like to have a reason for everything.

3. Trying to organize the house. We were functional after about a week of unpacking, but we still have probably a dozen left, in varying degrees emptiness, and it will still be a while before all of our things find a good place in our home. Some progress, though - the second fridge and some of our empty boxes were picked up by a willing new owner on Friday. And the walls of the basement rec/play/entertainment/family room are painted. The second couch has been moved downstairs. The CD's and DVD's are on their shelf. Now, just one more box at a time ...

4. Wandering around the echo chambers in my head. I keep telling myself the same things over and over again, but for some reason I wander back to listen again anyway.

Not really much here for the critic to pick on.

Well, I thought the reading days were a bit unbalanced. I would have liked to see more time spent with the boys.

I did that yesterday.

You should also be making more progress organizing the house.

That was the day before yesterday.

You're not taking any time for yourself or being creative.

Art class is on Monday, and who do you think the reading days were for?

You spend too much time rehashing the same situations and ideas in your head. You think about journal entries and then repeat them multitudes of times until you either write or forget. You start blog posts in your head and they are on endless loop, too.

You got me there. So if my hands are free, I'll write instead of listening to the echoes in my head. But it doesn't really hurt anyone.

I won, I won! I knew you needed to improve.

Nobody's perfect, but I'm the best me you'll ever meet.

You can go now. I don't have anything else for you to review.

Baby Daze

Now I remember
that what goes in must come out-
Sweet potato poop.

Looking up

Good things also happened this week.

The maple trees have leafed out and while our lilac is not the color I imagined, it is still delightfully fragrant.






We finally made it to the craft store on Monday, for materials to create this token of our love.


We visited the library and brought back as many books as we could carry - about cats, dogs, tigers, a Tiger that wields a club, volcanoes, and more.

I enrolled in an art class to start in a few weeks, if at least one other student will join. I enrolled the Painter in a summer ceramics class as well. He is wait-listed.

I found a pediatrician and arranged well visits for The Painter & The Composer.

An appointment has also been scheduled for us to tour the neighborhood school at which The Painter is enrolled for the fall.


The boxes in the living room have been moved or emptied, their contents still partially strewn about.

Aimless wandering this week has apparently taken us where we need to be.

At my brother's house today, sitting in the warm afternoon sun, with my family around me, my grandmother asked me, "So are you glad you moved?"

My answer is an unqualified yes. I am in the right place. It may not always be easy, but it is where I am supposed to be right now.

Read here about something else that was up and came down to much applause.

Tough Day Wandering

You can read why, below.

Instead of our shared sadness bringing us together, we somehow seemed to be pushing eachother's button's all day. Or rather, it seemed that the Painter, who was ever so close to Mira ("I like her best because she's the sweetest kitty") was provoking the rest of us. And, we were all cranky from lack of sleep last night. Completely understandable, but not what I would have wanted. Shouldn't we have banded together, had many big group hugs, been indulgent, done something creative? Shouldn't we have been more understanding that the one who protested that he loved her the most was, at least, hurting as much as the rest of us, and having not been through this before, in need of extra care himself? What about extra care for ourselves? Some of that ... but mostly the day felt like wandering aimlessly.

In the light of today, I feel again like I am wandering aimlessly. What are my goals? What is my purpose in being here? How can I find time for myself? We seem to have drifted from one thing to another this week, in this homeschooling experiment of ours. Several days with outings ended up with cranky mommy.

Am I crazy to attempt these things myself anyway? I don't easily ask for help, because I rarely really need it. I am strong and self-sufficient, am I not? I crave connection, but I rarely reach out. Here I am in my own little world, some days not even letting in the three little boys for whom I am constant companion, gofer, waitress, maid, playmate, milk factory. I want to be strong; how could it really be difficult, this thing that I am doing, raising my boys in a new city, homeschooling, potty-training, nursing.

And where is AD? Gladly busy with his business, things are moving, much interest ... but we get much less of his attention than we are accustomed to. And much more. Here we are all cooped up together in this house, with the basement playroom/entertainment room still not complete, no tv to lean on as a crutch - don't like to use it anyway, but sometimes crutches are very helpful! And I say to myself, here is my plan, get out everyday, get out in the morning, but I sometimes feel like I am dragging a mammoth behind me - I can't move until I get some help from the mammoth. How many times can I ask them to go get their shoes? And where should we go? We've been to the zoo and the nature center and the library. We've been to the playground down the street and to the one near the beach. We've been for bike rides and walks. We've been shopping, but that has its own dangers.

It would be really nice to get the stack of boxes out of the living room and the extra refrigerator out of the garage. I suppose we could just move the boxes to another room ...

Grieving in my own way, nothing seems to be right. Perhaps that is how the Painter felt all day, too.

My day

It was a gloriously warm spring day. I managed to get V to take a nap and the older boys to put their shoes on, and proceeded to head outdoors to enjoy the weather.

I put the new wheel on the wheel-barrow, and raked up the remnants of last week's weeding. I pulled at the overgrown grass along the fence. I opened a few boxes in the garage to find bike helmets, patio chair cushions, and (!) gardening tools. Hooray! More tools means more ways to putter in the garden! The rose bush (forest) on the side of the house has been substantially pruned ... but the nice thing about pruning is that you're never done.

At first the boys were happy to entertain themselves. Later, I just wanted to do what I wanted to do! Sorry, I'm not playing a game now. Why don't you play together? Several hours later, all hot, thirsty, hungry, and tired, they were cranky and the baby was waking up. So I finally put an end to my gardening. In addition to cranky boys for the afternoon, I suspect we all (at least I) got a bit of a sunburn (bad mommy!) but the price was worth it. I feel renewed.

Bike ride

R was very sweet to me this afternoon after we returned from our walk/bike ride. He brought me two glasses of water, offered to bring me snacks, and kept suggesting that I have some coffee. You see, he wanted his happy mommy back, instead of the screaming banshee I had become as he decided to walk his bike across the busy street near our house in such a manner that in comparison a snail would have been a reckless speed demon. I guess walking his bike the way I had showed him was not interesting enough, or at any rate, wasn't his idea and therefore not worth undertaking. In any case, I calmly explained (feeling much better after reaching the safety of a confined space) that while coffee might help a "you-woke-me-too-early-in-the-morning" cranky mommy feel better, it probably would not be quite the right thing for a "the-baby-was-crying-for-twenty-minutes, the-traffic-was-crazy, and you-were-trying-to-get-run-over" overstimulated mommy. Snuggling and playing with the youngest manipulator of my heartstrings helped to cure my mood.

In other news, our sweet little kitty Mira is not doing well - eating less and less, and becoming less and less active. Her meow has shrunk with her body, to the point that it is barely audible. We are giving her the best loving care we can - medication, fluids, sponge-baths, and lots of snuggle time.

Fresh Perspective

I am trying to remember to see life in front of me. Sometimes I need to mix up my routine or my schedule or my furniture or my blog to gain a fresh perspective. The header is a picture I took of some of the tulips on the south side of the house.

Walking down the stairs today, I realized I have already become accustomed to this house. I no longer notice all the details on a regular basis, but today, I saw the leaf detail at the ends of the stairway window curtain rod, and the sticker posing as stained glass on our front door.

I realize that I often would rather be in my own world than trying to keep the boys out of trouble, and keep them fed, and happy and learning. Sometimes I just want to get the laundry done, and other times I really want a break, but those moments that I am really *with* the boys are some of the best times of the day.

I also realize I think I need to give all three of the boys all of my attention all of the time. But they will be okay when I don't. It is okay to do the laundry, or rest, and it is okay if they don't get equal time.

I realize that I have been highly critical of myself since we decided to homeschool R for the remainder of the year. But, I have been reading. Today I realize I don't have to be a teacher. I am a mother. Helping with chores is learning. Playing games is learning. Reading books is learning. I am learning, as well. Together, we are finding our way.

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all moms out there, even if I am a few days late.

So I'm tired of always calling my boys by such formal monikers. From now on I will use their first initials instead, or at least interchangeably.

Got items from my "wish list" from the boys. Last week R asked if I had a wish list. I said I did, in my head, and told him the two things I could think of at the moment. So, I received a new wallet and this book from the boys, and bath and body goodies from AD. I also received, one day late, a handmade ceramic heart with a butterfly engraved in it from R. Artwork, or paperweight? I'm not really sure, but I imagine I will cherish it for years to come.

Later we headed out to Grandma's house. True to her word, my grandmother refused to call V by his given name. His middle name was given to honor her late husband, but rather than being happy, or appreciative, or any of the emotions we might have expected, she instead, in the guise of AD's birthday card in January, (before V was born), indicated her displeasure with our choice for his first name, by suggesting that we call him by "any other name". She told my parents she would only call him "baby", and she made good on that promise. Oh well, we can't please everybody.

Ironically, Grandma told me on Sunday that she always liked the name Annalee for a girl, but didn't give it to either of her daughters because of criticism from her mother-in-law.

Also saw mom again, who loves every minute she gets to play with said baby, dad, who spent a good part of the day running around the backyard with the older two, and my aunts, uncle, brother, and sister-in-law. A nice family gathering, with all the advantages (e.g. people to entertain the boys) and disadvantages (e.g. people getting on your nerves). We lucked out in arriving after most of the housework was complete.

So I managed to journal/post every day for three days in a row ... now that I've taken care of missing a few days, I don't have to stress about it, and can take it as it comes. This is for me.

Shopping

The mall was crowded today, at least in relative terms. That is to say, on weekdays it seems almost deserted, and today there was a healthy crowd buying last-minute mother's day gifts. (We, of course, were part of the crowd.) Temporary vendors in the centers of the mallways added to the crowd. Some stands were bustling, while at others, the people tending the tables may as well not have been there, for all the attention passers-by gave them. Indeed, some of them seemed to be elsewhere even as they sat staring.

Later, at a bookstore outside the mall, I bought some juice-flavored sugar water and sat down to nurse V. I looked for a secluded spot in the bookstore cafe, and wondered if I would be harassed for feeding my baby, as had recently occured at a "super"-store not far away. We both finished our snack uneventfully, and I laughed as I passed by this book while looking for the rest of the family.