Timing is Everything

As most people are aware, timing is a very important key to life. When working out the timing of delivering a baby and going to the hospital, everyone is generally happier with the latter occurring before the former. Those who sold their stocks before a certain day in 1929 were much happier than those who sold them after that date. And parents are generally happier when marriage comes before a baby in the baby carriage.

This week, Brandon and I learned what happens when timing doesn't go your way. The Sunday we departed from Missouri, we arose to discover Brandon's brother sleeping in the family room, unhappily nursing an unfortunate mixing bowl. Everyone stayed very clear of the family room, went to church, and then hightailed out of Missouri, thanking our stars that the blow had fallen before we could also become infected.

However, we thanked too soon. Fate caught up with my stomach two hours outside of Omaha, our stop for the night, and our happy reunion with Brandon's older brother, pregnant wife, and four children, was happy for everyone but me. This time I was the pariah, as no pregnant mother of four needs even more chaos introduced into her life.

So after not nearly enough sleep, we woke early and got our infectious selves out of town as Brandon was showing symptoms of the mysterious illness, compounded with sleep deprivation. Sophia joined company with malodorous presents in her diapers in Wyoming, and everyone was ready to throw everyone else out of the car by Little America. As my pediatrician commented the next day when hearing of our drive, 'Wyoming is one endless desert.'

Fifteen and a half hours after leaving Omaha, we limped into Springville (listening to our new CD player which was installed after the old one died eight tracks into Dune), and went to bed. After having both gone through childbirth and driven twenty-one hours in a car with my children, sick, I have decided that I would have rather spent that time giving birth (with an epidural, of course). If I fall asleep during childbirth, no cars are driven off I-80, killing everyone inside.

You Think We Would Have Learned

Three weeks before Sophia was born in May, Brandon, Kathleen, and I took a road trip to Portland. He had the vacation time, and we reasoned that after Sophia was born we wouldn't want to go on a road trip for a long time. I suppose we were right if two months counts as a long time.

We leave on Saturday for Missouri, where Brandon's parents live. Our last road trip was a paltry 12 hours, completely do-able in one day. This time, we're looking at a 2-day 20-hour trip two-thirds of the way across the country. My parents (in North Carolina) actually live closer to Missouri than we do out in Utah. However, with the cost of plane tickets currently we can get Brandon out there by plane for what it costs to get all four of us there by car.

Last year, Kathleen wasn't quite a year when we made The Trek, and she behaved herself quite nicely, sleeping a lot, and staying quiet for most of the right. We have no such hopes this year, as Kathleen is much more vocal, and much more easily bored. What do you do with a 2-year old who doesn't care about movies? I have no desire to read Bill and Pete for 20 hours.

And now Sophia (who is currently screaming herself to sleep) gets to join the mix. Last year we swore that it was the last time we would drive from Utah to Missouri, but we're still here, and still driving. Maybe next year. In Jerusalem.

Reality or Make-Believe?

As a child, I would often become frustrated with my younger siblings' blatant lies. 'But that's not true!' I would protest to my mother when my younger brother would tell some far-fetched story about his pet tiger who ate all of his classmates at church. My mother would patiently remind me that small children often can't tell the difference between reality and make-believe so their stories aren't lying, they're just confusions of reality.

Kathleen is beginning to experience the same sort of confusions. However, as she can't talk and so can't tell stories, she acts out her confusion on inanimate objects.

Several days ago as I was reading on the couch, Kathleen came in from playing outside and dropped something wet on my lap. I looked up to discover her toy pig, dripping and muddy from having rooted around in the dirt outside. I'm not sure where she picked up that pigs root in the mud; I certainly didn't tell her.

A few days following the pig incident, Kathleen brought me the baby carrier so I could put it on her. I told her that if she went and got her baby doll, she could carry it around in the carrier. So Kathleen calmly walked into the kitchen, climbed up onto a chair next to the sink, and drew her wet, dripping baby from the bath it had been having.

As part of her (sporadic) toilet training, Kathleen likes to spend time sitting on the toilet, eating raisins, and reading the Reader's Digest. One of her favorite pictures is two women on the back cover. It frustrates her to no end, however, when neither of the women will eat the raisins she so generously attempts to share with them. I try to explain to her that the women are just pictures and raisins won't go into their mouths, but Kathleen just gives me a look that clearly says 'You have no idea what you're talking about.' She's starting young.

Future Orthodontic Care: $5,000; Sophia Sleeping Through the Night: Priceless

Last Sunday Sophia reached the crucial marker: six weeks. My mother and aunt both refer to the first six weeks as the Dark Ages. Nobody (including oneself) knows whats going on, there's lots of crying, and life is a bit of a mess.

Starting at six weeks, the child starts calming down, sleeping better, and smiling. My mother theorizes that children start smiling at six weeks because otherwise their mother is ready to throw them out. The smile is a life-preserving mechanism.

Sophia has also shown another life-preserving mechanism at the six week marker: thumb sucking. I know parents who pull the thumb out every time their child finds it, or put Tobasco sauce on the offending digit - whatever it takes to preserve future teeth and prevent addictive habits. But future orthodontic care notwithstanding, thumb sucking is a milestone I celebrate. My child can now soothe themself back to sleep. And they're so darn cute when they do it, too.

Which brings us to the best six-week present I could ever receive: uninterrupted sleep. Sunday night Sophia went to sleep at 9 and didn't wake up until 6. This morning it wasn't until 6:30. And that is something that is worth every penny spent on orthodontic care. As my mother says, long term psychiatric care is much more expensive.

Putting the Cart Before the Horse

Yesterday, Kathleen and I went to Wal-Mart. While at Wal-Mart, we made the usual Wal-Mart type purchases: diapers, wipes, cleaning supplies, toiletries. But one item was purchased that had Kathleen uh-uh-uhing her way through the entire store while pulling up her dress: underwear. Pink, polka-dotted, flowered underwear. Not training pants, not pull-ups, but real, no mess-holding capability underwear.

Never mind that Kathleen has never once used the toilet. She had never told us that she has needed to use the toilet. She doesn't even like sitting on the toilet. Nonetheless, she is running around in hot-pink underwear this morning.

I started trying to gradually toilet train her quite awhile ago by sitting her on the toilet. Go to the potty, I told her, and you'll get a treat. She just looked at me, and hopped off the toilet. After several months of no result, I stepped up the incentive by actually bringing a treat to the toilet, as a solid promise of what would be rewarded: a whole chocolate chip. No results. In desperation, I upped the ante: not just a chocolate chip, but an entire Hershey's Kiss. Just for Kathleen. She was excited about the kiss, but still not interested in producing.

So yesterday, we took the plunge at Wal-Mart. Last night after her bath, Kathleen ran all around the house admiring her pink-clad posterior and uttering exclamations of joy. This morning she met me at the door to her room, panties in hand. She only consented to clothing after I informed her that no naked girls were allowed outside.

One and a half hours later after being taken out of her diaper, Kathleen is still dry, but still hasn't used the bathroom either. There's nothing to make one's day more exciting like a 22 month-old running around in panties. Wish me luck.

Kathleen's Further Experiments

Kathleen has discovered recently that, as Sophia's crib is behind our couch, she can view the scenery simply by climbing onto the couch. Sophia being but a small child and rather uninteresting, Kathleen has hit upon other ways to utilize such a prime viewing position. Like a Baal-worshiper making offerings to her idol, Kathleen has begun to cast offerings into the altar of Sophia.

First it was simple things: her doll, blankets, perhaps a book. One might be tempted to think that Kathleen is experiencing empathy; what would Sophia like based on Kathleen's own experience? A few mornings I found another offering: two bulb-suckers. Hmm, not empathy any more. Yesterday was the summer-solstice offering (if only a few days early). Lip gloss, another bulb-sucker, Lansinoh, and an entire crate of diapers. Perhaps Sophia will be appeased.

Curiosity Smothered the Baby

As with all small children, Kathleen is alternately fascinated and completely oblivious to her new little sister. Kathleen's obliviousness doesn't bother me, and her fascination should, but unfortunately for Sophia, it doesn't either.

To Sophia's occasional discomfort and possible future endangerment, Kathleen's fascination is not one of tenderness and care for her new sister, but one of experiment. We should have been forewarned when I found her one day knocking the head of her doll against her crib rail. Kathleen's first object of interest was Sophia's eyes, then her hands and arms (arms aren't supposed to be wrenched like that). After those grew old, Kathleen moved to experiments of force. She discovered that Sophia's swing won't support two people, that Sophia's carseat doesn't have enough room for the both of them without squishing Sophia's legs, and that her little sister is heavier that at first it would appear. Today Sophia received experimentation at the hands of a pillow, and her skull got tested for driveability by Kathleen's Charger.

A good mother would immediately stop Kathleen's science experiments, but what if Kathleen turns out to be the next Marie Curie? Being a bad mother, I favor watching to see what Kathleen thinks up next. It's much more amusing than just stepping in to stop the fun.

Why Women Consent to Having More than One Child

Growing up, my mother always told me that the reason families have more than one child is because of selective memory. Brandon agrees; he says that if it were up to the males, they'd have one, realize it wasn't worth it to have another one, and stop.

Having now produced two, I am inclined to believe my mother. With Sophia only two and a half weeks old, one would think that the memories of being pregnant and giving birth would be fresh, fading only with time. However, I think that a hormone is administered at the hospital that fades everything previous to going home after the birth to a shadowy memory, never to be thought of again. Yes, I vaguely remember something about being overly large and uncomfortable, but you will have to ask Brandon for the details. He still remembers.

In addition to amnesia, having a new baby also dulls one's sensitivity to lack of sleep. Sure I woke up at 12:30, 3:45, 4:15, 4:45, 5:30, and 6:30 this morning, but hey, clearly the sleep deprivation isn't keeping me from doing laundry, reading Kathleen untold number of books (half from memory), and writing this post. Well, I can't make much claim for the post.

But, as with the memory of pregnancy fading, the memory of having a new baby will fade also, only to be remembered all too well by my husband. However, as he is not the one who will do it all over again, his memories won't make much of a difference.

Kathleen's New Ride

Recently, Kathleen acquired her first car. Being a classic kind of girl, she (well, actually I did, because it had a hood that opened) opted for an apple green Dodge Charger. We're not sure about the horsepower because the engine is black plastic. It does, however have four wheels that roll marvelously over just about any surface.

Kathleen has been taking a lot of road trips recently: out into the garden (the car got washed after that one), over the dishwasher vent (it's very bumpy), on the bricks outside our front window, on the bookshelf, my leg, her leg, the window, various chairs, books, and most recently, Sophia's head.

Not only does it roll marvelously, it also fits into Kathleen's other new possession: her Princess purse. The purse doesn't roll, but it does light up. She is now equipped with what every female needs: a car, a purse, and somewhere to go.

Grandma Withdrawal

As a child, as with any child, I enjoyed visiting (and being visited by), my grandmother. I never realized, however, that grandmas are addictive substances. My mother flew out to Springville shortly after Sophia's birth to come help. She had come out with Kathleen's birth also, but the addictive property wasn't manifest yet.

With grandma's visit, Kathleen enjoyed another adult in the house, one that read her books, took her on walks, and visited the park with her. Kathleen enjoyed an unprecedented amount of attention. She was in heaven.

Grandma, however, left Monday afternoon. Kathleen manifested no outward signs of withdrawal until Tuesday afternoon. Most marked was an increase in whining and requests for books being read to her. As of this afternoon, the withdrawal is starting to wear off, but only slightly. Bill and Pete has been read three times and requested many more. Even Sophia is feeling it, taking much shorted naps and fussing more. I now know why my mother was always sad with her mother's departure.