Happy Papa Day

Annaliese REALLY loves her Papa.


She thinks he's amazing. And very tall.



Better than nursery rhymes.

Caspian (not pictured) doesn't think much yet.

But I am fully confident that both my kids will grow up taking their father for granted.

Which as we all know, means he's doing something right.

Happy Papa day, sweetie! Hard to believe two years ago neither of our bebes were here yet, isn't it?

Holding down the fort.

Since Caspian was born, the weather has turned. It's hot. REALLY hot, even by Mississippi standards. So we've been keeping the AC humming and staying inside, which is a tad frustrating for a housebound-mama, but at least Mom is here... K and I are taking walks every night, after the bebes are settled and the sun has gone down.

It's like a date!

You know, I am crazy about Annaliese, and increasingly enamored with the newest member of our family, but to tell you the truth-- K's my favorite. Always has been. I hope we have lonng, long lives, so we can endure and cherish and savor the family years and then someday live with just each other again.

Until then-- evening walks. Weekend naps. And lots of handholding, to keep us sweet toward each other even when we're seeing every dawn.

New pics:
Annaliese and her brother:
Mom, aka Nonni, meeting her grandson.

Pictures from the weekend.

Long days and nights. Slow times.

Aight Yo.

We actually haven't taken all that many pictures. Mostly because when you have a toddler who dances and sings and stomps her feet, newborns are kinda... tame.

Nonetheless.



Annaliese seems to really like Caspian. She pats his head, kisses him-- even if he's crying his hystierical little lar-lar-lar-- and in general is always climbing up on whatever surface I'm reclining to get at him.




For this we praise her lavishly, and K's been spending lots of father-daughter fun time. Apparently yesterday afternoon they had some great times cleaning off an old brick pathway, K with the shovel and Annaliese manning the hose.

For the last 3 nights Caspian's followed kind of a.. schedule, dare I type it? He cluster feeds in the early evening, then falls asleep swaddled in his bassinet somewhere between 8-10, in which he sleeps like a log until 2am. 2am-4am he eats, poops, looks around, rinse and repeat-- then he drifts back off to sleep with me. We've been moving to the couch at the 2am mark mainly because I like to be nocturnal by myself and not worry about disturbing K.

We then wake up to Annaliese climbing on us at 7 or so.

Definitely newborn hours but my heavens, so much more manageable than Annaliese.

One Week In

I walked around the yard today.

My emotional spirits are good. My physical health is improving. But my heavens, I am bored.

When I surfthe parenting websites, the newborn mom articles are all-- the truth about getting your figure back! Baby blues! Etc.

But what about boredom?

Maybe it's because I'm out of library books, and all my shows are on summer recess, and my brain admittedly don't work so great these days what with the sleep deprivation etc., but right now, my biggest problem is that I am confined to a couch/bed with a newborn draped across my chest pretty much 24/7.

When I'm stronger, I plan to pop him in a sling and do what I can to amuse myself-- walks, housework, etc. but that's not an option right now, thanks to the trusty ole blood loss.

I know that I will look back and curse myself for not enjoying this more. I think I need some really, really good books.

But right now, it feels like I'm just tapping my foot and watching the clock, waiting to get back to my real life.

cross your fingers

Well, so far we have little sense of Caspian's personality because pretty much, he sleeps.

And sleeps.

And sleeps.

He sleeps while nursing, he sleeps while his sister runs her hands all over him and points at his nose, and he sleeps while pooting.

Occasionally he surfaces, stretches both arms up and away from his head, opens a rheumy eye, and gazes around in what looks like bewilderment.

Too complicated for this little dude, he decides, and falls back asleep.

Oh, he cries. He has a particularily hysterical "lar-lar-lar" cry that comes up when he's hungry or being changed or having his heel pricked by the midwife.

Last night we stuffed him full of milk and formula (more on that in a minute) and changed him and swaddled him and laid him down in the woven bassinet Annaliese slept about 3 combined seconds in. We put the bassinet next to the bed and watched him gaze serenely at the ceiling.

He was awake for awhile, but quietly, no crying. And then he-- and we-- fell asleep.

I woke at 2:45am on my own.

He was still asleep.

Nearly 5 hours later.

I tried to wake him to feed him, but he wasn't having it. Eventually he woke on his own, got more milk from the aforementioned sources, got reswaddled, and drifted back to sleep in the bed with K. and me.

I would not have believed this possible if it didn't happen to me, and even now, I'm like-- really? Really? Maybe he's sick.

But he's eating, tooting, with good color, so I don't think he is ill.

Knock on wood-- he just came into this world comfortable with sleeping, in a way that has taken Annaliese over a year to achieve... sure, she eventually-- EVENTUALLY-- slept 5 hours at a stretch, when she was 4 months old or so, sometimes. But always she had to be cajoled into sleep. As an infant, we could never-- NEVER-- swaddle her, lay her down, and watch her simply close her eyes and go to sleep.

Amazing. I know he will wake up in the coming weeks, but I am rooting for the night-times to continue.

Now, on the food issue...

I was not prepared to be giving Caspian a bottle. Breatfeeding is the one thing Annaliese and I rocked at: she had no formula at all for 6 weeks, and even then it was just the occasional night-time one so I could sleep a little more.

Maybe it's the blood loss. Maybe it's the fact he weighed a hair under 10 pounds at birth. But whatever the reason, my supply ain't keeping up with the little boy.... he's on the boob all day, keeping me drained, and he's still hungry.

So we're topping him off with formula, and I really, really wish we didn't have to. Hopefully the insane amounts of Mothers' Milk tea and fluids and food that I'm consuming will mean that I catch up with him.

----

I am anxious to be off the couch and into some kind of routine, but all are adamant that I stay off my feet until Wednesday and even then start back very cautiously. The midwife estimates I lost a liter of blood, and I am once again... yellow. K. says I look like a Twilight star. Hence no pictures. But I am taking my pills and supplements and eating like a hog so hopefully my platelets will rebound fast.

It pisses me off that this happened again because I feel that it undermines the actual birth, which-- as much as labor can be-- was great. Quick, easy, normal, and no tearing (woo!) with a ginormous healthy baby at the end. Annaliese was around eating her breakfast in the am, and got shuttled off to the nieghbor's for the intense part. I did not scare her. I put away the dishes and set up her breakfast during contractions. I washed my hair.

And then I proceeded to scare the crap out of the assistant midwife (who was there first, living closer) by almost having the baby with her, while the lead midwife did 80 miles an hour down 315 and arrived about 15 minutes before he was born.

Whatever. I'm alive, I am really thankful that I labored and delivered at home and then got in bed with my new baby, and now I'm looking forward to feeling better and watching this tiny little seedling grow into an actual person.

Baby boy is here!

Wow, so second births really ARE a lot easier. Caspian arrived at 8:45 am; the midwife barely made it, but it's good that she did because I once again bled too much, EMTs were called, etc.

But despite that-- so much better than last time.

We are all doing well. K's taking care of us, Annaliese can't stop kissing her new brother and saying "Ba-BEE" which I didn't even know she could say, and I'm bored with bedrest already but pretty enchanted with the notion that in a few months, when my honking little boy grows up a bit, we're going to have a lot of fun.

As for now: chili and Hulu time, then back on perma-nip duty.

It is May 31st, my due date, and judging by the time, it is highly unlikely I'll be one of the 3% of women who deliver on their "due date."

I am eminently ok with this. K. is less so, mostly because he is ready for his 2-weeks of "paternity leave" (aka vacation/sick days) to begin. And yet somehow, I do not feel guilty.

What I do feel, at this exact moment in time, is calm.

Y'all have probably figured out that I have spent about 100x more mental space thinking about the renovation of our house than the arrival of this child. It's true. My last column in the O-town's newspaper was titled "So This Is Why Second Children Feel Shortchanged" or something like that.

And I am over feeling guilty about this.

I spent my entire pregnancy with Annaliese thrilled to meet her. I wanted to know if she would love me, what she would look like, what her first words would be; I wanted to stroke the curve of her cheek and hold her close and kiss the folds of her neck and her arms and her legs.

And then she arrived, and though every anticipated moment and detail I just typed has actually happened or been answered, it was not at all as I had dreamed about when I was rocking in the decorated nursery and sniffing Baby Bee's Shampoo Bar.

I am much more open with this child. I am unwilling to spend the mental headspace trying to figure out when and how he will arrive, where he will sleep, what he will look like and weigh and be like, because it has become clear to me that it does not matter what I would choose. I could Google the night away and the child would still arrive when he is good and ready; he might be a cuddler or a colicky baby or have a shock of bright red hair; I simply don't know, and I won't know until the fullness of time.

The fullness of time. A wonderful phrase that is coming to make more and more sense to me.

Time is something that has changed radically for me since Annaliese's birth. I am still impatient (just ask K.) but I am also more cognizant of the seasons, of how the days keep flowing and circumstances keep shifting until it becomes apparent that yes, it is time for Annaliese to move into her own crib (age 3 months); yes, she is ready to feed herself with her own spoon (9 months); yes, it is time to wean her (11 months); yes, she is ready to leave the house for daycare (13 months); and so on and so forth.

You cannot plot children. (But my Lord, people do try. That's what all those baby books are about: control, a billion-dollar industry. Weight, yes; children, no.)

I am open to being surprised by this child. By the circumstances of his birth, by his nature, by his looks, and by the way we will all keep changing, because my goodness they do not stay the same: something that it takes first-time moms a while to realize. They will not wake every hour forever; they will grow out of needing to be held constantly; they will-- so they tell me-- learn to speak whole sentences, sentences you would not have chosen for them.

But while I have matured enough to resist planning, I do admit to being DEEPLY curious. About how I will tell the story of my son's first summer; about how we will survive, with all that we are doing and want to do.

But for the first time I can say we are ready. Even if the porch trim isn't painted, even if I have yet to plant the *damn* cucumber seedlings... we are now ready, and every day before the little boy gets here will just be an opportunity to savor the final days of being a trinity.

Cranky preggers lady say WHAT?

I don't like to drive, I have a toddler, Mississippi weather is mighty fine 10 months out of the year, and I live two blocks from Main Street.

Throw all those facts in a bag and what you come up with is I tend to walk around town when I'm doing my errands, shopping, etc.

However, of late, every DAMN TIME I'm out at the bank, or taking myself to lunch, or going to the Post Office... someone I know will slow down, lower their window, and say, "You trying to walk that baby out?"

Maybe it's just the 40-week-pregnant talking, but man, it makes me want to stick a fork in someone's eye.

Also irritating: the very existence of a due date. It's Sunday, by the by, but what a RIDICULOUS notion; babies born between 36-42 weeks are considered neither preemies nor "overcooked" as long as their lungs work and their weight is ok; I am having a baby. Soon. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next Saturday. (Personally, I'm rooting for a Sunday or a Tuesday because I like what the nursery rhyme says about kids born on those days.) The odds that the baby will arrive on my due date are so NEGLIGIBLE I don't even like telling people when my "date" is.

Rants aside, I'm well. K's been felled by another throat/sinus/nose thing (God really did a lousy job on his plumbing, I'm nagging him to go to an E-N-T) and Annaliese has been sleeping very, very poorly, but there's banana bread and chili and chicken soup in the chest freezer and K plans to finish the shower on Sunday and the pest control man just told me we don't have any signs of termites.

So we're good. If the baby arrives... family will get a phone call, we'll email everyone we can think of, and K will post an announcement here.

Hopefully this time he'll choose to omit my breast. Because, you know, that was so SUPER-COOL of him the last time.

what...were you waiting on me? UPDATED

Hah! So I forgot to take an after picture of the house to contrast with the before. So that will wait until later on. (*Because I'm a rockstar... I did it! All pics are up!)

However, for a more detailed tour of the new home, complete with captions: go.

And just so you get a taste...

Change is in the air.

After a week of sun, the wind is up and the clouds are rolling in. Good odds we'll get rained on tomorrow at the market; no matter! The market shall endure! Luckily for me the manager has a tent this year.

K. and I both had no-good very bad days yesterday for various boring reasons: work, a lost wallet, missing Allan wrenches. And then Annaliese wouldn't stay asleep, so we ended up letting her get up at 9 or so: she ran around the living room as her father watched Transporter 3, eating gingerbread and squealing like a maniac.

Parents of the Year, we are.

But:

We spent Wednesday knocking out the kitchen. And we have a 3-day weekend starting tonight. And we found before pics of the house, which astound even me...

so how's this? New House Slideshow will be posted Monday night!

Until then, take it easy.

Pics from the weekend

On Friday, Annaliese looked frickin' adorable.



On Saturday, she did so again. This pic was snapped at the Farmers' Market; it is rapidly becoming one of my favorite things to sit under the manager's tent with K. next to me, watching our curly-headed daughter run around with the local riffraff.

Just kidding. That's a child of our friends', who is a very sweet little boy, though slightly out of sorts in this picture because Annaliese kept trying to snag his stuffed dog.




On Sunday, we went for a family walk. Annaliese rode in the stroller most the way, but we took a detour to the graveyard, hoping to find name inspirations for the new babe. Sadly, "Artemus" (yes, a boy) and "Roy" -- along wth every other name in the damn world-- failed to make the final cut.

However, it turns out the graveyards are great places to let babies wander. Shade, smooth grass, and stuff to climb on.

Today, today

K. and I have been married for 44 months (I had to count on my fingers to figure that out).

Today Annaliese is 16 months and 12 days.

And today is MAY 18TH! WHICH is not at all the "beginning of May" meaning that New Baby is a leisurely 4 or so weeks away! Today is well into the middle of May, which means...

I'm having a baby in like five minutes, since that's approximately how quickly the weeks are passing.

Official due date is May 31st, but come on, Annaliese was EIGHT days late so we're figuring June something-ish.

____

We had an extraordinarily laid-back and pleasant weekend chock-full of friends (Stinkerina came to visit), activities (Music in the Park, Farmers Market, Movie on Main say what?), and family downtime (it didn't rain yesterday. We took a walk. Took a nap. Hung out and burned some more wood.).

But the big news of the weekend is that K's best friend proposed on a HOT AIR BALLOON on his girlfriend's BIRTHDAY (wicked cool move, girls always think birthdays are proposal off-limits) and she ACCEPTED which is WONDERFUL because

1. K's best friend is really fabulous, and also a really good cook, which means the food at his wedding is something that's already crossed my mind

2. The lady in question is so AWESOME that despite being the 4th wheel in all this (best friend's wife) I personally am VERY EXCITED because now we can all go on vacation together and K and N can play (I mean, do manly things, like smoke cigars) and E and I can talk about denim and food and babies and whatever else and despite only seeing her on a few occasions, I am confident that I will enjoy these future vacations, because she really.is.that.cool.

3. Engagements are cause for celebration when the people are so clearly right for each other.

Congratulations, you two. Now post pics already so I can moon over your cutie-pie faces. (UPDATED)

Annaliese, 16 months

A friend took this picture Saturday and I just love it. It looks like Annaliese. This is what she really, truly looks like right now, crazy curls and all.

People ask me if she talks. Sure. She says "woof" (she really likes dogs), "buuuh" (book), "Baba" (Papa), "Mamamamamamama" (I want that cookie-grape-raisin-drink right now), "eyes" (eyes), and "baaa" (ball).

Which is to say, not really.

But she shakes her head no emphatically and nods her head yes; she pulls on my pants leg and reaches both hands up to me, fingers opening and closing in exhortation; she points, says Mmmmmm, nodding vigorously all the while; she babbles and hums and coos and shrieks with frustration.

In other words, she seldom fails to get her point across. It's like living with a very small mime.

She is more and more her own small person and less and less a spirit tied to my own. She's still a baby, make no mistake, but she has her own soul, the germ of her own interests, and I can foresee decades of delight in watching her make her own way in this world.

What an interesting trip this has been and will be.

A few more pics.

On the mule!


But what she really wanted to do was feed it.



View of the closed-off Main Street this morning (prior to the bands, who played on the tarp-covered truck bed).



Home again home again.

Today Was A Good Day.

I gave up trying to sleep at 5:30am and went to check the weather. It didn't look good, and by 6:30, sheets of rain (7 inches this month already. It's the NINTH.) and hail were coming down.

I pulled on my raincoat and went down to set up. The Market's rain policy is: let it. We'll be there.

And it let up, by 8 or so, and kids rode a cow train, a donkey got patted, a hammered dulcimer was played, and hopefully, some farmers and the MSM Fest vendors made some money.


Annaliese and Papa K. under my "Manager" tent.




A shy turkey egg vendor.



Kids waiting to be whisked around on the cow train.



At the very least, Annaliese had a good time roaming the town, petting kittens, scarfiing down homemade ice cream, and playing horseshoes with her papa.

Sadly, the headlining band and the fireworks got relocated/kiboshed. As I write this, more sheets of rain are pouring down. Everyone pretty much packed up around 5 and went home as yet more severe weather blew east and into the valley.

The band (non-refundable and all) will be playing at the local tavern, which is great except this is Mississippi, where people smoke, and my kid is pretty fried anyhow. The fireworks will be for another night.

And while it would have been great to have the whole day work out as planned, at least we got 8-ish to 5. At least there were kittens, and crawfish in bags, and sack races and ice cream sandwiches and an afternoon of music.

As for the Farmers' Market... unlike the Festival, we don't get just one shot. So we'll be doing it all over again next Saturday.

Good times.

It's been a pleasant couple of days here. K. and I going to bed at the same time; a lunch date at Whole Foods post-midwife-visit; me mowing while K. painted trim and a small bonfire consumed about 1/1000 of the scrap wood littering our backyard.

Shoot, I even made a damn good chicken soup with orzo.

I haven't taken a single snap though, but I will tomorrow. Tomorrow is this.

Not to mention this.

Wish us luck. I am really, really excited. And it's going to be super fun to watch my little girl run around on her own two feet, when last year she was a wee little baby whom I had to nurse periodically in Wilbur's truck. 

Ah, milestones.

This weekend is the first farmers' market of the season. It's going along with a big festival our Main Street Assoication puts on; all very exciting.

In contrast to last year, when the market was brandnew, I already have 7 confirmed vendors for Saturday's market. Considering that produce has yet to really start coming in, considering that last year's first market only had 3 and one was me.... I am really, really pleased.

I get a lot of satisfaction out of running the FM. I don't know why. But it's far and away the favorite thing that I do for this town, even though I'm involved in some pretty cool stuff, like the Movies on Main a bunch of us put on under the association's name (and on its dime).

I won't, however, be trying to sell stuff myself this year. Somehow I think that the combination of bigger market + more infrastructure + newborn = no time to rise at 4 and bake baguettes for $20.

See? I let things slide :)

A fellow preggers lady emailed me this am at 5:45. Like me, she is having #2; like me, she has a little girl.

Big difference is she went in for her planned c-section at 6 or so and by 9:30am, a fellow friend had emailed to say that B. was safe and sound with a baby boy, 7lbs 7ozs.

As labor becomes more and more of a nightly possibility, I admit to some envy. How.. clean, how civilized, to be able to Blackberry on your way to the hospital, to be able to plan and organize and delegate.

In stark contrast: I don't know when (now? In early June? C'est possible...). I don't know what time of day, or what day; whether Annaliese will be at play school, at home, or asleep. I don't know how long it will take or how much it will hurt.

All I do know is that in planning a natural home birth, I am setting up my support systems (midwives, K., a friend to come over and watch Annaliese if need be) so that I can be fully available to birth this new baby. And that's about all I have control over.

I'm a planner. An organizer. A delegator (just ask K.). So this when-it-happens, it-happens approach doesn't come all that easily.

And as I waddle around town, wondering how many markets I'll be around for before maternity leave, I'm not sure why I pick this way, except I have a basic distrust of gadgetry, choosing french presses over coffee pots and knives over food processors.

Wouldn't it be nice to be more CLEARLY right sometimes?

View from our porch at dawn:



View from our porch of K's and my bedroom (guess who's sleeping, and ignore the crazy fabric, I'm making proper curtains soon)


View of my most adorable daughter in her rocking chair and the Dog That Shall Not Be Named


I think K. had a lot of fun with Annaliese yesterday. She sat on his lap and handed him pieces of wood as he installed a missing pane of glass; she straddled his hip as he worked on the shower; she sat on his lap (with ear plugs in) as he mowed the safe flat parts of the yard. periodically, she'd pull a plug out and chuck it, and then they would halt, get off the lawnmower, and look for the bright orange earplug together.

Then, after working together happily all evening and spending a pleasant half-hour looking through old photos, K. and I went to bed and had an hour-long argument about me occasionally giving Annaliese the honey-coated spoon that I've just used to put honey in my tea, or on my cereal, or whathaveyou.

The man who sat on the couch eating cinnamon doughnuts not a half-hour earlier finds that unacceptable.

Anyhow.

Happy Thursday, all. We've got a good friend coming to spend the weekend with us, and here's hoping that they can figure out how to get the Merc's ac working, or at least more than 1.5 windows to roll down.

ah, blogging. How I've missed you.

It is a mystery to me where the hours and days go. But go they sure do.

We are more-or-less moved in; K's 3-day-5-night illness has meant that not too much else has happened, other than we had a lot of fights about how I treat him when he's sick.

I am at the wake-multiple-times-a-night uncomfortable stage of pregnancy (month 8! woo! next visit the midwife gives me a birth kit!) and Annaliese has had an ear infection, a 12-hour-fever, and has currently moved onto a chesty cough, as well as two molars pushing their way through, so the past ten days has been a bit worriesome as a mother (Me, four a.m.: what if she has meningitis? If she does, then her legs will hurt. Okay, go into the nursery and move her legs. Even though she's asleep. Is anyone else kind of anxious in the wee hours?) But as always, I reassure myself that if she's going number 2 and eating, we're probably okay. And at those two activities, Annaliese excels.

But other than the faint stink of dead animal wafting over from the rental house next door (I think something is under their foundation) and the fact that Dido is now gone more than she's home, due to 1. her hatred of our family 2. her love of our neighbors and 3. her escape-artist tendencies, all is well.

Pics later.

Taking It Easy Playing House

Somehow I forgot that after K. does a big push, he collapses. He's in bed right now, where he will be all day.

That's okay. He deserves it.

In the meantime, I'm writing a grant that's due on Monday for the farmers' market of our town (which I manage). That and the mountains of things left to do inside and out is keeping me busy.




But not so busy that the Adirondack chairs haven't been hit up. There's been a few naps in the sunny bedroom; a few tussles with Annaliese on the daybed; quite a few soaks in the claw foot tub.



Turns out you never grow out of playing house.

We're In.

Annaliese and her Papa on Easter morning, last Sunday.




Annaliese grabbing a catnap on the bare floor in our old house, yesterday afternoon.



And me about five minutes ago, in our new house.

Full gallery here.

p.s. We also have our new phone number. Email me (!) and I'll send it to you.

Mama Bell

So it turns out that when you wake up on a Saturday morning and check your email and find that you owe AT&T $427 because the international calling plan you THOUGHT you'd signed up for didn't go through and so you've been charged $3.68 a minute instead of 9 cents, so you call them and plead and say but I've been a customer for 2+ years, always paid on time, and I really truly thought I'd signed up for your worldwide value plan, and then when they refuse to help you out, get pissy and then say, well fine, then go ahead and disconnect me because I will NOT be paying nearly $200 for a single less-than-an-hour phone call to my sister...

they will.

Even though it's the weekend.

New phone and wireless at the new house this weekend. Expect Easter pictures (Annaliese looked ad-ORABLE) as well as new house pictures.

Sunday again?

Well.

This spring is flying. Last week, three people asked me my due date and upon hearing May 31st, remarked something like-- well, that's not too much longer!

At which point my hands fly in the air and I say no, it has to be forever away. There's too much to do.

Despite my waving hands I'm nearly 32 weeks pregnant. Out of 40. And I've begun to slow down a lot; I sleep like I've been hit on the head and dropped into a well, I really, really dislike picking things up (a big disadvantage in my house), and when I push myself too hard, leg cramps, headaches, and contractions ensue.

So I'm trying to achieve some kind of balance between the gardening fiend-new house mania-toddler mama and the need to take care of the new bebe. There are daily naps. Vitamins. Healthy food. Lots of water.

All of which mean I can keep doing about 1/20th of K.'s workload...

The floors are nearly done.

That sentence doesn't reflect the several stages of sanding, wood puttying, painting with a roller AND a brush, and four-- mmhmm, FOUR, coats of polyurethane per room.

He's over there right now, in fact, poly-ing away.

What's really fun is to see K. stand on the front porch when cars go by. He waves at them all, and the man is a Vermonter-- not a sociable waver like most southerners. He points out he has to wave because everyone's cars are slowing to look at the house.

It's come a long way...

In other news, my father sent Annaliese a ginormous playhouse. The huge plastic kind with a slide and a little door and enough room inside for at least four little girls to play house. There's a stove with burners, a cabinet, a cordless phone on the wall...

K. assembled it in about an hour last week (because he's a genius, would have taken me the rest of my life) and it's a big hit. Especially the slide. She's got a system worked out and gets herself up the two levels, sits at the top, and slides down with a huge grin on her face.

I never would have bought one but it sure is nice to see her having such a good time.

Lastly, I think Annaliese has chicken pox.

This is less momentous than I remember: she's been vaccinated, and so if she does indeed have it, it's really, really mild. Like a scattering of red bumps that don't seem to itch on her trunk and a few big ones under her chin. But she's had a cough and runny nose and has been sleeping super-hard with a low-grade fever, all of which are symptoms. And a kid in her daycare came down with it week before last (incubation time? 12 days. Mmmhmm).

So I'm about 80% sure that's what's going on.

She's eating like a champ and happy as a little clam though, so I'm just making her miso and tea and letting her rest whenever she seems tired and giving her Motrin at night. (UPDATE: Maybe not? The bumps haven't changed and aren't like sores at all, more like a rash? I don't know-- why did I think mothers know?)

The weather's been fantastic, though I'm waiting to put my tomatoes in until this cold front passes through-- supposed to get to 30 degrees Mon and Tues nights, quite a change from the balmy 70s high and 50s low we've been enjoying. Spring and fall really are superb down here. The wisteria is blooming, wild purple clumps hanging from the trees all over the place. And azaleas and redbud and dogwood and all sorts of pretties.

So that's the news! Next Sunday's post will be the last from this house. The Sunday after I'll be waking up in my sunny white southern-facing bedroom, in the house we own free and clear* thanks to K's thriftiness and what we called my dowry.

(*Sort of. We are so frickin' broke right now. The only pictures I took this week were of stuff I'm selling on Ebay. And we totally opened one of those interest-free-for-six-months Home Depot cards to help us through the renovation/cash crunch time. If we pay a dime of interest come October, you all have permission to kick me in the ass... man I hate debt).

So Happy Sunday all! Sorry about the pictures... I'll do better next week.