A Few More Christmas Notes

I thought of a few more things about Christmas this year - those behaviors or words that become seasonal habits. They make us smile each time they occur and then are forgotten until the next time. Since this season is quickly passing on, and new habits will surely form and these will be long forgotten and outgrown by next year, I wanted to write a few down before they slip away.

The Audrey-isms of Christmas 2010:

Audrey's Christmas List (as dictated by her father):

1. Trumpet or something loud
2. Puzzles
3. Balls
4. A car (to replace a Santa car that was left on the floor and, ahem, stepped on)
5. Kitchen food, plates, and cups (for her play kitchen)
6. Pass to the zoo
7. New pajamas - fuzzy and purple
8. Crayons
9. More legos
10. Movies

(Santa did not bring a trumpet. This has been mentioned several times since Christmas).

While Audrey's favorite songs to listen to this season have been Frosty the Snowman and The Chipmunk Song, her favorite song to sing has been Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer. Her version goes a little like this:

"...then one froggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say, 'Rudolph with your nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?' Then how the reindeer loved him, as they shouted off with glee..."

She's also a big fan of the wise men, whom she refers to as the "present-ers". I'm hoping that next year she'll provide us with a few presents herself in the way of more Audrey-isms. Until then, we'll daydream about froggy Christmas Eves to come.

How We Get By

I am rarely asked the question "how do you do it all?" This leads me to believe that most of you (clever, clever readers) have figured out that I'm not doing it all. My house and car could use a thorough cleaning, our laundry is piling up, the blog hasn't been touched in days, and the idea of juggling some other nine-to-five in tandem with this mothering thing gives me a bit of a stress headache. So, just what are we doing, and how are we getting by, you ask? This week, my camera reminded me of how, daily, we get by - toddler-style:

Sunday

Audrey's first day of Sunday School. She came into my room carrying an orange and red skirt and a purple fleece, her outfit of choice. It didn't look bad together. Had it not been in the high eighties, I would have told her to put it on and we'd be on our way. Afraid she'd pass out from heat exhaustion, I told her to go choose a dress from her closet. She reappeared in a pretty floral one with a lace edge. We zipped through the other stages of Audrey-out-the-door readiness and began heading out the door. "I have the skirt on under my dress," she said with a smile. Perfect. Now get in the car. On time arrival for her first day of Sunday School - what can I say, that Jesus can perform miracles. (On a side note, this picture better captures her "first day of school" better than any other I've taken.)

Monday (I think)

I would love to tell you I'm one of those together mothers who rises hours before her children, pounds out a workout, showers, and tosses in some laundry before the kids stir in their bedsheets. I would also love to tell you that on one of her many mulch-digging expeditions, Audrey unearthed a hidden fortune that she's designated as mine to pay for a housekeeper. Neither are true. I value my sleep, which leads me to sleep in until I hear the children begin stirring in their bedsheets, which leads to me find creative ways to shower later - like Audrey creating q-tip art on the bathroom tile while Nathan takes his nap (not on the bathroom tile). Note: these q-tips have since been deemed for "creative use" only.

Tuesday

Audrey getting by after her father handed her a very large, very green (very suspicious to a toddler, but reminiscent of The Very Hungary Caterpillar to her mother) caterpillar he found in the yard. How does one conquer that sort of atypical, you're-not-a-warm-and-fuzzy-woolly-worm fear? Easy. Stick the poor sod in some Tupperware and handle him with scrap paper (until Dad comes to his rescue and transports him to the garden where he will search to eat through "one piece of chocolate cake, one ice-cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake, and one slice of watermelon," but come up short and settle for a few droopy basil leaves).

Wednesday

How do you keep your infant from crawling into the dishwasher and landing on the silverware you've asked your toddler to unload? Ask your toddler to hurry so you can close the door to keep her brother safe. She'll improvise and dump all the silverware into her Lego box. Effective. Unconventional, but effective.

Wednesday, still

How Audrey attempts to sneak out of the house with no pants. She pulls on two shirts, slipping the neckline of one around her waist. When called out on her trick, she puts her hands through the arm holes, "No Mom, they're pockets." The perfect accessory for a shirt skirt? Striped shoes. On the wrong feet.

You guessed it - Wednesday

How to rig a celebration, just because you want cake. Tell your dad it's your friend, Kitty's, birthday. Have him take you to the store for cupcakes (what mom envisioned would be a box mix). Tell him that what cats really like is German Chocolate Cake with a tub of chocolate ice cream and chocolate syrup topping. Who knew? Crazy cats. Wake up the next day and tell everyone it's Turtle's birthday. Hmm...

I did not pick up my camera today to capture Audrey using her toys to pick up other toys, therefore turning cleaning up into some sort of game. What can I say, I just can't get around to everything. But we sure are getting by.

How We're Doing

Audrey spent the days prior to Nathan's birth safely tucked away at my parents' house, so we (thinking he'd come a few days early like his sister) would be able to head the opposite direction to the hospital at a moment's notice. Nathan is clearly not his sister. He has his own clock, and a few days early was not on his agenda. So Audrey waited (wondering why we hadn't come to pick her up yet), we waited, and Nathan waited, until we found ourselves at the doctor's office on his due date performing a stress test to make sure everything was coming along just fine.

As we sat for the stress test (during which I had 5-6 contractions, of which I felt one), we found out about the holiday birthing schedule (if delivering on the 22nd or 23rd, proceed to Hospital A to be delivered by Doctor C; if the 24th or 26th, proceed to Hospital B to be delivered by Doctor D; and if we hit lucky 25, the hospital and doctor would change depending on the time of day). Meanwhile, Audrey was busy putting a pair of pajamas on a doll. The doll properly dressed for a nap, she informed my mother, "Her belly hurts. That baby has been in there too long." Apparently, we were all on the same page. Wishing to avoid a holiday game of musical doctors/hospitals, and taking into account that mild contractions had already started, we decided to book a room at the hospital and have a baby.

The plan was to break my water at the hospital and induce using pitocin. I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm a bit of a chicken. I could put a brave face on it and tell you that the thought of chemically inducing a baby gives me pause. What it actually does is make me tear up in the car and wish I were the type of person who thinks to carry Kleenex. Epidurals scare me even more. Aside from my trust issues involving complete strangers, enormous needles, and their proximity to my spine, I have a sensitivity to anesthesia. And while an epidural and anesthesia are not the same thing, I have a funny feeling that the two of us might not mix.

My feelings must have leaked out through my face. My doctor broke my water at seven, but said she'd wait a couple hours to see how I progressed before starting pitocin. Nathan did the rest. Apparently, once he decides to make an appearance, the boy makes an appearance. So in just over three hours, before pitocin or an epidural could be administered, before my doctor could get back to the hospital to deliver him, and almost before the nurse could say, "You have to get your wife back to the bed," he was here. I love this boy.

And now we're home, recovering nicely (which seems to happen pretty quickly with such a short labor). As for Audrey, aside from some initial disagreements concerning his name - apparently, she informed the guests at a Christmas party that we were naming him Wilbur and later carried on a fairly heated argument (on her side) about it with her aunt - she's handling the big sister role with gusto. Every once in a while we have to stop her from trying to do too much - from squeezing too tight. But the excess of love she has for him, well, it's what you hope for any sibling. The top picture may say it best. I turned from hanging up my coat to find him branded a "special person." Yes, I think we're going to do just fine.

~As for Wilbur, we finally convinced Audrey to call her brother Nathan (or "Naphin," as she pronounces it) after telling her she could name a doll she received for Christmas Wilbur. As for what she called the second doll she received? Charlotte, of course.