Aoife, Underwhelmed

A few weeks ago we started Aoife with solid food.  I was in no hurry, because breastfeeding is so easy and starting solids just complicates things.  Because then you have to remember to bring food with you when you go places, whereas with breastfeeding you don't have to worry about accidentally leaving your boobs at home.

We began with rice cereal, like "They" say you're supposed to do.  Let's just say that Aoife did not appreciate the flavor.  Or texture.  Or really anything about the rice cereal.  On the contrary, she was angry.  Like, "This is what I've been waiting for?  You have GOT to be @^$#% kidding me."  I gave her a few days to cool down and tried the rice cereal again, this time with a little more breast milk mixed in.  I think she started screaming at me before the spoon even touched her lips.

So then we tried bananas, because what kid doesn't like bananas?  Mine, apparently.  She was much less angry, but no less convinced that we were trying to poison her.  But she continued to be interested in the food that we were eating, so I figured maybe she just wants to be able to do it herself.  When Chris made pancakes this morning, we made a small one just for Aoife so that she'd be able to have her very own breakfast to do with as she liked.  This is what happened.  I thought about adding captions, but they're really not needed.

Yeah.  She's totally giving Chris a dirty look in that last one.

I'm not really sure where to go from here.  We've tried rice cereal, bananas, pears, pancakes, teething biscuits, and avocado on numerous occasions, with breast milk, without breast milk, in varied consistencies, and with different spoons.  Nothing strikes her fancy.  I can't decide if we should risk a throng of PETA picketers in our yard by continuing to beat a dead horse with the bananas, or if I should keep trying new things until I find something that she'll actually swallow.  I don't know.  She's going to need solids eventually though, because as much as I love and support breastfeeding, I will totally not be coming to school to give her a snack on her first day in Kindergarten.

Independence

Yesterday Cormac figured out how to ride his tricycle mostly by himself so, at his insistence and our backs' misgivings, we took the adult-push handlebar off. He practiced riding around our porch and was very proud of himself.

And as it would happen, today was the 4th of July parade in our neighborhood, where kids decorate their bikes and ride around the park. So Cormac rode his bike around the park. Sort of. His trajectory is what I imagine it would be like if I had several tequila shots and tried to ride his trike blindfolded. And maybe even naked. It's hard to say what would happen after several tequila shots. Anyway.

He would get going really fast, then become interested in what people around us were doing and promptly veer off into the grass or someone's heel. Everyone was very understanding, though, as their children were doing essentially the same thing. And all participants got a popsicle for their trouble, so who could complain? Rocket pops make everything better.

My slightly more dependent child did not participate in the parade because she had to nap, but she was properly attired for the Fourth and very cute at that.

Happy Fourth of July!

Crazy

Sooo....two kids is a lot of work. Having that second kid doesn't just double your work, it increases it exponentially. Like, to the 112th power. All of a sudden you go from two-on-one to man-to-man defense. Or even zone when you're by yourself. Because now you have two dependents who are remarkably good at tag-teaming in the needs department. Take nap time, for example. I put Aoife down for a nap, then move on to Cormac. He takes for-freaking-ever to calm down, and by the time I get him somewhat settled Aoife has woken up angry because she has rolled to the other side of the crib and can't get her pacifier and lovey since her arms are pinned to her sides by the darn blanket. So then I get her back to sleep, and by that time Cormac has thrown all the toys out of the bins on his bookshelf and is using them to climb up higher on the bookshelf in order to fling more stuff off.

Or sometimes in the car, Aoife gets annoyed that she's still in her carseat because it's been, like, five whole minutes. So she starts fussing, which annoys Cormac, so he yells, which bugs Aoife so she cries louder, which makes Cormac cry, and so on. The situation deteriorates very rapidly.

And then try traveling with both of them. We did it a few weekends ago when we went to a wedding in Seattle. Thank God my parents were on the same flight with us, because otherwise one of our children would still be lost in the airport, and I would still be knocked out from all the Ativan. Here's the craziest thing, though: we're planning a trip in the beginning of November with just Chris, me, and the kids. To England. I know. We clearly did not have our thinking caps on when we made that decision. But the tickets are already booked, so across the pond we go. But it will be fine as long as no one loses anything too important, like an eye or a limb.

I had originally planned on making this post longer, but I've been working on it for, like, three days now, and I can't really remember what else I wanted to say. Because I have two kids. So I'm just gonna post what I've got, because, hey, it's something, right?

Conversations With Cormac. And Aoife. And Inanimate Objects.

While driving in the car, I hear voices in the backseat. At a stoplight I turn to look at Cormac.

Cormac: I'm talking to Aoife.

Me: Oh yeah? What's she saying?

Cormac: Ah.

***

Cormac: Hi!

Chris: Hey, Kiddo! What are you coming over here for?

Cormac: I'm coming to eat ice cream!

Chris: Oh, you want some ice cream, huh?

Cormac: Ok!

***

Cormac to his stuffed bunny: No, no. I don't like this. I need some space... Ow! Don't kick! That hurts.

***

I'm taking Morris for a walk with Aoife in the Moby wrap. As I cross the street, I pass a woman who asks, "Is that a little baby in there?"

Me: Yup!

No, I have a ten-pound tumor on my torso that I like to decorate with scarves.

Kites: A Story In Pictures

A few weeks ago, we bought a kite to fly at the park across the street from our house, because it's almost always windy. For some reason, though, every time we planned to go use the kite for the first time, something came up and we had to postpone. But yesterday we finally made it over to the park with said kite in hand... only to find that there was almost no wind to speak of. There was enough of a breeze to get it in the air for a short time, so we made the best of it.

Cormac flying the kite mostly by himself.

A small amount of assistance,

And now on his own.

This is about as high as we got it.

A rainbow in the sky

Short range kite flying

Time to head home.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Although the real celebration with family, corned beef and cabbage, and car bombs is on Saturday, we celebrated on a smaller scale today; everyone wore green, we listened to Irish music all day, and we made colcannon for dinner. Cormac also informed us that he really likes beer, and he would like to drink some, too. I told him he has to be at least eight before he has any beer.

Colcannon is really easy to make, and it's delicious. Here's a recipe. Make sure you use plenty of butter and salt. And if you feel the need, you can add some cooked thick-cut bacon or ham.

Colcannon

1 1/4 pounds (about 2 large) russet (baking) potatoes

3 cups thinly sliced cabbage

1/2 cup milk, scalded

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into bits and softened

Peel the potatoes and cut them into 1-inch pieces. In a saucepan cover the potatoes with salted water and simmer them, covered, for 15 minutes, or until they are tender. While the potatoes are simmering, in a steamer set over boiling water steam the cabbage for 5 minutes, or until it is tender. Drain the potatoes in a colander, force them through a ricer or the medium disk of a food mill into a bowl, and stir in the milk, the butter, the cabbage, and salt and pepper to taste.

Slàinte!

Making Do

What, your kid doesn't sleep in a laundry basket?

Welcome, Little One

Aoife finally decided to join us on February 9, a week late, thus carrying on the family tradition of never being able to get anywhere on time. She decided to follow in her brother's footsteps by arriving at 41 weeks exactly and was pretty much the same size as her brother, at 7 lbs and 20 inches (Cormac was 7 lbs 1 oz, and 19 inches). Actually, Aoife even looked almost exactly like her brother when he was born. When it comes to cooking my babies, I am nothing if not consistent.

The only downside to the similarities between my two children is that I sometimes forget that Aoife is a girl, especially since we dress her in the same clothes that Cormac wore.

Things we have learned about Aoife so far: she is feisty, loud, and has very large feet. She also sleeps quite well at night and is often content to lay by herself and look around at the world during the day.

Welcome to the world, little one.

Go To Sleep

Cormac is currently upstairs refusing to nap. I know he's tired because he fell asleep in the car right before we got home, and his cheeks are rosy, but now he's just throwing stuff over the gate we use to keep him contained in his room. This wouldn't be the end of the world, except that I'm exhausted and overly pregnant and want to nap. I'm trying to be patient with him, but this is what I really want to say:



Remind me again why we're having another one.

Captain Planet; Planet Mo

Cormac has recently discovered that he is tall enough to turn off the light switches around the house. Only off. He hasn't quite made it to on. So we spend a lot of time with most of the lights off. At least we're saving money on electricity, I suppose.

For my part, I have discovered that wearing pants with any sort of a drawstring while you're pregnant is not advisable. Because when you accidentally pull it wrong, which is easy to do when you can't see what you're doing, you create a knot that you can't untie. BECAUSE YOU CAN'T SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING. Especially if the lights are off. At least I'm saving money on laundry.

New Year, New Experience

We celebrated the new year by taking Cormac sledding for the first time, since it also happened to be the first time this season that Denver has seen some actual snow. As expected, he enjoyed himself thoroughly, and he was pretty irritated with us when we declared it was time to leave. Like, full on tantrum irritated. But before that all went down, we had a lot of fun.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Lightning Can Totally Hit The Same Place Twice

You might want to look around for any oncoming storms before standing next to me these days. Because who wants to get struck by lightning around the holidays? In other words, I have not had the greatest of luck these days.

It all started Thursday evening when I managed to sprain my ankle by walking around my car. No obstacles in my way. I wasn't carrying anything. Just walking. And as I was laying on the pavement I had three thoughts, in this order: 1) I can feel my ankle swelling under my hand. This is not going to be good; 2) Come on, endorphins! Kick in!; 3) I can't even take any ibuprofen. Damn. Once the endorphins kicked in I was able to hobble inside and grab a bag of ice, which did not do much to decrease the swelling. My ankle looked like a flesh-colored orange. Eewww. So I had to stay home from work the next day because, you know, a nurse in a wheelchair doesn't inspire much confidence.

Then Sunday morning I was gently awakened by my son yakking all over me. My thoughts: 1) Oh great, now we have a stomach bug in our house; 2) Poor little guy; 3) Why does it always have to be all over me? I'm all for saving the furniture, but seriously. So I tempted fate by taking Cormac in the bathtub with me, but all that happened was that he felt better, and I smelled better. Success. And although he was low energy, he didn't yak for the rest of the day so I figured we were in the clear. And by Sunday night my ankle was feeling fairly OK, in that I could walk on it and a sock fit over it, so I figured no problem for going to work the next day. Hah.

I woke up Monday morning feeling rather nauseous, and I was like, really? Because I'm totally in my third trimester and this should be loooong gone by now. And then the diarrhea hit. You probably didn't want to know that, but we are all about full disclosure at this blog. It was way too late to call in at work, and after I yakked I felt a lot better, so I went on my way. At work I drank some water, and while I didn't feel top notch, I figured I could rally and maybe eat a granola bar or something. I went and saw my patient (don't worry, I am neurotic about washing my hands at work) and got the day going. But then that water started to feel not-so-good in my stomach.

And then I was back in the bathroom hugging the toilet. It's never fun to yak, but especially not so when it's not your own bathroom. Although to be honest with you, the bathroom at work is probably way cleaner than my bathroom anyway. Again, you probably didn't want to know that.

That's when the contractions started. Every three minutes. I didn't say anything about them at first, but when you work in Labor & Delivery people are very attuned to these sorts of things. They peer-pressured me into going down the the OB Screening Room to get it checked out. Honestly, it's probably good that they did, because I'm terrible about going to the doctor appropriately. Example: I was pretty sure Cormac had an ear infection, but I decided to wait a couple days to see if it would get better on its own. It didn't. He ended up on antibiotics anyway. (In my defense, the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that antibiotics not be prescribed right away because the majority of ear infections clear up on their own).

Anyway, I hadn't been able to keep anything down for about 12 hours, so I figured I was just dehydrated and that if I could just get some IV fluids in me, the contractions would stop. So I went down to the screening room where they hooked me up to the monitors (to watch baby and contractions) and started an IV. It was the first time I had ever been hooked up to the fetal monitors, and let me just say that I cannot imagine laboring while hooked up to those; they are majorly uncomfortable. I'm really glad I'm having a home birth. Plus the beds were more like dentist chairs, so trying to get comfortable was impossible.

After the first liter of saline went in, the contractions were still coming every three minutes. And as much as I didn't want to have any medicine, 32 weeks was waaaay to early for this baby to be coming so I got some terbutaline. It's really effective at stopping contractions, but it also makes you feel like you just snorted three lines of cocaine. Not that I would know, I just assume. So the contractions petered out while I got another liter of fluid and felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest, and baby had a dance party.

My cervix wasn't dilated at all, so I was sent home with strict instructions to come back if I had any more contractions. And I haven't for the past 24 hours. Recently I've even been able to keep down some Gatorade, two pieces of toast, and some chicken broth with noodles. Rock on. Heck, maybe this will slow down the ridiculous weight gain.

So both my stomach and ankle are on the mend, and I'm hoping I've used up any bad Karma for the next few months. But really, as long as Baby Fozzy is OK, I'm a happy Momma.

Cookie Monsters

Every year around this time, we get together with my family and spend a day making a massive amount of cookies. Then we split them up between all of us and enjoy them the rest of the holiday season. Depending on how fast you eat them. And being pregnant this year might have a serious effect on the cookie disappearance rate.

Cormac had fun cutting out cookies in the shape of Christmas trees, stars, and Santas, and just dropping random lumps of dough on the cookie sheet. Because as long as it tastes good, who cares what it looks like, right? Especially if you're gonna put frosting on them anyway.

My favorite cookies are are the Coconut-Cranberry Chews. They are little balls of cranberry-orange-coconut-butter deliciousness. The recipe is from Sunset magazine. I usually double the recipe because I don't mess around when it comes to these cookies. The resulting dough barely fit in my professional grade Kitchenaide mixer, but that actually turned out to be a good thing because then I got to thoroughly sample the dough. And there are no eggs in this recipe, so thorough sampling is actually encouraged.

Coconut-Cranberry Chews

Ingredients

• About 1 1/2 cups (3/4 lb.) butter or margarine, at room temperature
• 2 cups sugar
• 1 tablespoon grated orange peel
• 2 teaspoons vanilla
• 3 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 cups dried cranberries
• 1 1/2 cups sweetened flaked dried coconut

Preparation

1. In a large bowl, with a mixer on medium speed, beat 1 1/2 cups butter, sugar, orange peel, and vanilla until smooth.

2. In a medium bowl, mix flour, baking powder, and salt. Add to butter mixture, stir to mix, then beat on low speed until dough comes together, about 5 minutes. Mix in cranberries and coconut.

3. Shape dough into 1-inch balls and place about 2 inches apart on buttered 12- by 15-inch baking sheets.

4. Bake in a 350° regular or convection oven until cookie edges just begin to brown, 8 to 11 minutes (shorter baking time will yield a chewier cookie; longer baking time will yield a crispier cookie). If baking two sheets at once in one oven, switch their positions halfway through baking. Let cookies cool on sheets for 5 minutes, then use a wide spatula to transfer to racks to cool completely

The well-meaning people at Sunset included the nutritional information for each cookie, which I have chosen not to publish here for obvious reasons. Just enjoy the cookies.

Here is a photo of our work (notice Cormac in the background):

Conversations With Cormac

At the Bronco's game today:

Me: Look, Cormac! What are they doing down on the field?

Cormac: Sleeping.

Chris: Yup, one of the teams is sleeping.

After the game:

Me: What should we make for dinner?

Cormac: Like, umm, food.

A little later:

Me: What do you want for dinner, Cormac?

Cormac: Food.

Me: What kind of food?

Cormac: Umm, dinner food.

So helpful.

Thankful

This Thanksgiving, Cormac ate his weight in cranberry sauce. Seriously.

We finally scaled back our Thanksgiving plans this year, which made it a far more enjoyable day. Both Chris's family and mine live in Denver, and every year we have always gone to both dinners. Which does have its good points: you get two Thanksgiving dinners, and you get to celebrate with both families. On the other hand, you can't really enjoy either dinner because you know you have to go eat another one, or you're really full from the previous one. And you can't spend as much time as you'd like with either family. Plus, now that we have a kid, we have to plan around nap time. Actually, I feel like life should be planned around nap time, no matter if you have kids or not. But that's neither here nor there.

So this year we celebrated with Chris's family. It was nice and small, only eight people total. Unfortunately, we didn't end up with any leftovers, but it was because the food was that good. Luckily, my parents always make enough for three times the actual number of guests, so we ended up with some Thanksgiving leftovers. And let's be honest, it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without leftovers, because why would you only want to stuff yourself once, when you could do it several more times over the next few days?

I am thankful for a wonderful husband and son who never fail to make me laugh; that we will be adding to our little family in a few short months; that we still have a few months before the chaos in our house increases by 247%; that I have a fabulous new job working with pregnant mama's and sweet little babies; and that we have a roof over our heads and food in the pantry.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Aloha!

We just got back from a really wonderful trip to Hawaii. We stayed on the island of Kauai, which is my favorite because it's like Colorado in Hawaii. You have mountains, canyons, and lots of outdoorsy things to do, plus gorgeous beaches and weather to die for. There's too much to write about here, so I'm just gonna let the pictures do most of the talking.

Halloween!

This was Cormac's first year trick-or-treating. Last year, we walked around and looked at the decorations and costumes in our neighborhood, but we didn't do any trick-or-treating because no one in the house needed any candy. Not that anyone needed any candy this year, but we figured Cormac would actually understand the concept of trick-or-treating, and he might even have fun.

I originally planned to do maybe five houses, because that's how long I thought Cormac's attention span would last, but he quickly made it clear that we would be doing as many houses as possible, thank you very much. At first, he was a bit reluctant to go up to someone's door and say, "Trick-or-treat!" The first attempt involved a lot of "No." But then when he got that first piece of candy, something clicked in his brain, and he was hooked. We heard a lot of "Again!" after that.

The only slight problem was that he kept trying to go in people's houses. I had to go in after him a few times. Apparently if someone gives you candy, that means you can walk right on into their house. We're probably gonna have to work on that, otherwise this kid is gonna get himself abducted.

I wasn't able to take any pictures on Halloween night, because Cormac was waaaaay too excited by all the costumes and decorations and pumpkins and candy candy candy to be bothered to hold still for a picture. But he put on his costume the next day so I was able to snap a few. He even humored me by pretending to fly around the porch.

Happy Autumn!

Today was the last day of the farmers' market in our neighborhood, which meant that it was also the day of the annual pumpkin patch. Every time you spend a certain amount at each of the vendors' tents, you get tickets, and then you use those tickets to "buy" pumpkins. We got a few with our breakfast of biscuits and gravy from the biscuit bus, and then one more because Fozzy decided he/she wanted a cinnamon roll. We got two from Gramps, and a very nice lady gave us two more because she decided Cormac looked like he needed some pumpkins (even though he had his finger up his nose at the time. Or perhaps because of it).

Here are some pictures of our morning:

A Little Taste Of Our Day

I set Cormac's breakfast plate down in front of him this morning.

Cormac: Mud!

Me: That's peanut butter toast, buddy.

Cormac: Mud!

Me: I like the way you think, though.

***

Other than the peanut butter toast for breakfast, Cormac's menu for the day revolved around cheese. I really didn't intend for it to be that way, but it's just sort of how the day's meals turned out. Snack was a piece of string cheese eaten on our way to the zoo. Lunch was a grilled cheese sandwich at the zoo. Grilled cheese is my go-to meal for Cormac when we're out and about because I know he'll eat it even though he may be distracted by Birds flying! or Bee bzzzz! or Baby crying! At this point, it did occur to me that there had already been a lot of cheese involved in the day, but there was still a lot of time left to add some other food groups.

His afternoon snack was part of a graham cracker, so that was good, but then dinner was cauliflower smothered in......cheese. Cormac gobbled it right up, which I found interesting because I've made roasted cauliflower a few times lately (we have a plethora of cauliflower these days thanks to our CSA), and Cormac doesn't seem to be a fan. Personally, I think roasting is just about one of the most delicious things one can do with cauliflower, but apparently Cormac doesn't agree with me. You should try it though; just toss cauliflower florets with olive oil and sea salt and roast at 425 degrees until it starts to turn golden. The best part is the little crispy bits.

I feel like I should have a problem with all the cheese consumed today, but I really don't. Cheese has protein and calcium. And, hey, it got Cormac to eat cauliflower. Plus, cheese is delicious. We should all eat more cheese.

Alarm Clock

We recently switched Cormac out of his crib and into a twin bed. Not necessarily because he was ready, but because Babies R Us was having a trade-in sale for cribs (bring your old, used one in, and we'll give you 25% off a new one). And since our old crib was apparently a death trap (read: dropside crib), we decided to take advantage of the sale. I mean, Cormac survived, but he's scrappy and has no fear. And he slept with us for the first six months of his life, which is likely what this next baby is going to do anyway, but still. Death Trap.

The transition was fairly smooth, especially considering that we did absolutely no prep work beforehand. Mostly it was, "Oh! Look! A big-boy bed!" And when Cormac discovered that he could jump around more wildly on this one, he never looked back.

The first few mornings, he didn't realize that he wasn't confined to his bed, and would lay there and moan until we came to get him. But then a little light went on in his head, and at 6:30 one morning we heard: click, pitter-patter-pitter-patter, "Oh wow! Hi, Momma! Hi, Daddy!" I'm not sure why the realization of freedom had to coincide with an hour-earlier wake up time, but sometimes the universe is cruel that way.

Then one night I had gotten up to pee for the third time, when I thought I heard a little voice outside our room. I looked out in the hallway, but there was no one there. A glance toward Cormac's room told me his door was open and his room was empty. Huh. And then I heard the sound of little feet on hardwood floor, and I realized that Cormac had gone downstairs. By himself. At 2:00 in the morning.

I came downstairs to find him holding his stuffed rabbit while looking at a book and drinking some water. Like you do at 2:00 am. It took awhile to convince him that it was, in fact, night-night time, but eventually he went back to sleep in his big-boy bed, and I went back to sleep in my pillow-infested bed. Only to be woken up at 6:30 am by, "HI!"

We are currently reconfiguring the baby gate layout.