I just spent the past two hours putting together a yummy chicken soup. It smelled really good. All the vegetables were just right, so I added the noodles. Ten minutes later all of the juice has boiled out of the soup and it's all burnt and nasty and sticking to the bottom of the pan. So, basically eight dollars down the drain. I swear I'm going to just start eating out. This is depressing.

I have had a few very blah days. I’m extra tired and extra short tempered. Jonas has been my personal tornado, ripping up the house and making a lot of noise. He is such a boy. In many ways I have given birth to my little brother. He pokes and climbs all over me. He blows raspberries in my face and licks my arm just to be weird. I didn’t like it when I was growing up and it isn’t all that exciting now either.

In many ways I feel very trapped by Jonas right now. He is so boisterous that he is hard to take places. His fits are long and loud. He can also just about outrun me, so he is very good at getting away from me.

About a week ago I took the kids to Barnes & Noble. Jonas was standing two feet from me when he looked at me, said “be right back,” and took off down the stacks. I had Maggie in the baby carrier so I couldn’t move as fast as I usually do. I thought he went back to the DVDs ( he had just finished throwing a fit over an insanely overpriced Mickey Mouse DVD, so it was a good guess), but he wasn’t there. A salesgirl asked me if I was looking for anything in particular and I said, “Yes, a little boy with a green shirt and khaki shorts.” So she helped me search from him.

I tried very hard not to worry. After about two minutes and a full lap around the store they did a Code Adam and all of the employees dropped what they were doing and looked for him. It took five minutes, my panic level rising every second he was missing, before an employee found him in the women’s restroom.

As soon as they got him back to me another lady, sixty-ish, greying hair, purple tweed jacket, came out of the bathroom and chewed me out because Jonas had been peeking under the stalls. I apologized for him and she just went on and on. I finally said, “He’s two, ma’am.” After a few more remarks about me watching my child, ( I was watching him! I watched him run away while I was too slow to catch him!) Then departed. Many other mother’s saw this exchange and said things to the effect of “ignore her, she’s crazy,” But it still stung.

On the up side, if he was busy peeking under stalls (probably looking for me) he wasn’t being abused by some creepy person.

Anyway, I now hesitate to take him anywhere. It is driving him and me crazy.

Each of my children have a special lullaby that I sing to them. I didn’t really plan what their songs would be, they just came about naturally. Jonas’ song that I sing him is “Baby, Now That I’ve Found You”. It isn’t really a lullaby, or even a song for an infant, but the lyrics fit so well, “Baby, now that I’ve found you, I’ll build my world around you, I need you so. . .Baby, baby, when first we met, I knew in this heart of mine, you were someone I couldn’t forget.” There is nothing like your first child, when you are so newly thrust into motherhood, to change you, to make you completely revamp your life and re-prioritize. With Jonas, my life went in an instant from being all about me to being all about him. And I mean that in the best sense. Motherhood didn’t cause a loss of self- just a discovery of a new, better self, like suddenly reaching Nirvana. Everything that mattered became clear. I build my world around my family because I really don’t think it gets any better than this.

Maggie’s song is “Baby, Let Me Take You Dreaming,” from the old musical The Court Jester. (If you haven’t seen this movie, well, that’s a shame. It is completely hilarious and wonderful in every way. Go watch it. Seriously, stop reading this entry and go watch it right now. Come back later.) This song is an actual lullaby, sung to the infant king. It is very beautiful and soothing, (In the movie Danny Kaye sings it.) Some of the lyrics go as follows, “and someday, when you go dreaming, when you’re very old, when your crown is rich with rubies, diamonds laid in gold, none will shine as bright, as the stars we find, tonight.” The song focuses so much on how this particular moment, through the rain watching the stars, is so perfect and wonderful. That is how I feel with Maggie. I am not in a hurry for her to grow up. With Jonas I was so achievement oriented, when will he sit up, when will he run, etc. With Maggie, I just cherish every moment. I know this is where I want to be. This is the sweetest part of life. I don’t want her to rush to get big. I want her as she is now; I know it will slip away much too quickly.

Jonas has his Daddy's eyelashes. They are unreal. Chris' are even thicker.



Maggie's are coming in nicely too. I am hoping Chris' genes win over mine here. Nothing is wrong with my eyelashes, per se, but when you could have lashes like Daddy's. . .why not?

When my mother met Chris for the first time she took one look at him and said, "My grandbabies are going to have those eyelashes!"

So there you go, reason #236 why I married him. So my babies would have those eyelashes!

I caught Jonas’ bug.

This is the most violent stomach flu I have had in years. Chris was very lucky and his commanding officer gave him the night off of work so he could stay home and take care of the kids. I was truly in no condition to be chasing children. I have been pretty much glued to the porcelain throne for the better part of the past twenty-four hours. I was too sick to read or watch a movie or think and too busy throwing up to sleep. Chris brought me Gatorade and I seriously considered just dumping it straight down the potty because, one way or another, it was going to be there in a matter of minutes anyway. I now understand why Jonas kept laying down on the floor and refusing to get up when I offered him a cozy place in bed or on the couch. That would have required movement, and that was, quite frankly, too much to ask.

About sixteen hours into the ordeal I had stopped throwing up and felt that I should try to get something in me. Chris was all the way downstairs, so I summoned what little strength I had and cried out, "Chris!"

"Yeah?"

"Jellllllllllo!"

So he brought me some Jello. I thanked him and then said, "I never thought I'd be desperately crying out for Jello."

"Well, I'm just glad you cried it to me, honey."

See, folks. That's love. It's not about flowers or candle lit dinners. It's about who's gonna bring you Jello when you are puking and you smell nasty. It's about seeing the other person looking absolutely disgusting and caring. Until you are holding your wife's hair back when she pukes, you haven't truly demonstrated your undying devotion. (Coincidently, I prefer to puke alone, and Chris knows that, so after the first few times of holding my hair back he now just waits outside the door with a drink to offer me when I am finished retching. I love this man.)

The good thing about this bug is that it is short. A mere twenty-four hours later I am mostly ok. My stomach is still twisting itself into knots and I feel better laying down, but all in all, it is a dramatic improvement. Maggie is still healthy; for that I am grateful.

Me: Did you pour the juice on the floor?
Jonas: NO.
Me: You didn't make the puddle over there?
Jonas: No.
Me: Did you dump the juice out of your sippy cup onto the floor over there?
Jonas: No.
Me: Are you lying to me?
Jonas: Yes.
Me: Well, go clean up the juice!

6:00pm- Mother puts meatloaf in the oven and peels potatoes, sits down to the computer to feed Infant and surf blogs.

6:50 pm- Child complains that his tummy hurts. Mother looks for owies and finds nothing. Figures it couldn’t have gotten hurt too badly as there are no marks.

6:56pm- Child complains again. Really bright mother realizes that pain must be coming from the inside. Mother has brief, horrific fantasy about appendix rupturing, snaps back into reality, tells child to go sit down and watch his movie, maybe he’ll feel better. Child stays by Mother’s side.

7:00pm- Child cries out, then vomits spectacularly onto dining room floor. Mother cleans up Child, gets Child a drink, cleans up floor, washes her hands, wonders if people with rupturing appendixes vomit.

7:08pm-Mother opens oven to find that she forgot to take the Saran wrap off of the dish prior to inserting into 325 degree oven. Thankfully Saran wrap shrinks to the sides. Mother speculates that meatloaf is probably still good.

7:09pm- Child vomits drink onto kitchen floor. Mother cleans up Child, gets Child a drink, cleans up floor, washes her hands, prays that Infant doesn’t get sick.

7:21pm- Mother piles several clean blankets onto couch where child wants to sit. She has concocted a plan where she only has to move one or two blankets if Child vomits on couch, and there will still be more blankies underneath.

7:30pm- Mother realizes that she is burning dinner, starts to remove dinner from oven when Child starts to gag. Mother flips the oven off and runs to the living room with a plastic bucket. Child successfully pukes into the bucket. Yea, Mother, yea Child. Mother gets Child a drink and washes hands.

7:45pm- Mother eats dinner, Child is not interested, for obvious reasons.

8:00pm- Child asks to watch “Pider.” Mother puts the Spiderman cartoons on. Mother goes up to Child’s bedroom to put clean sheets on the bed, and piles six more blankets on top of that, hoping to employ same strategy as couch strategy.

8:45pm- Mother puts child to bed, reads stories, says prayers, encourages Child to throw up in the bucket, please.

8:51pm- Child vomits on bed. Mother removes top two blankies and replaces the pillow. Is silently pleased that her plan worked, as Child is comfortable in bed within a minute.

8:54pm- Mother starts a load of laundry and washes hands. Prays that Infant does not catch this, gets Child a drink.

9:00pm- House is a disaster. Kitchen is gross. Mother is tired and doesn’t care. Mother leaves note for Father to please deal with mess if he happens to come home on break. Mother does manage to put away leftover meatloaf.

9:30pm- Mother goes to bed with Infant. Infant immediately asks to be fed. Mother lays awake praying that the rest of the Family, especially Infant, won’t catch this. Mother pleads with God to please, please, please make the breastmilk work. Infant is finished eating. Mother tries to sleep.

10:00pm- Mother is still awake, contemplating how a baby could possibly get antibodies from breastmilk for an illness that her mother hadn’t had yet. Mother prays that she gets sick first for the sake of keeping Infant healthy.

10:10pm- Mother realizes that she could just be carrier of the virus and build immunities that way. Mother edits prayer to, “please keep Infant healthy and only let me get sick if You really have to, otherwise just make me a carrier so Infant doesn’t get sick.”

10:15pm- Mother realizes she must be insane to be praying to get sick. Mercifully falls asleep.

2:43am- Child is standing by Mother’s bed moaning. Mother sits up and child vomits all over Mother’s legs and the floor. Mother tries not to be grossed out. Mother gets Child a drink, cleans up floor with a dirty t-shirt, washes her hands, prays that Infant doesn’t get sick.

2:54am- Mother is reading bedtime stories to child, again. Child asks for another drink. Mother finds note from Father downstairs stating that he didn’t get any breaks last night. Child is asleep before Mother gets back upstairs with drink.

2:55am- Mother goes back to sleep.

3:10am- Infant wakes up hungry. Mother feeds the her.

6:08am- Infant wakes up hungry again. Mother feeds her, and remembers that her allergy clinic appointment is at 9:00 am. Mother goes back to sleep.

6:46am- Child is crying by Mother’s bed again. Mother leaps out of bed and leads Child to the toilet. “Remember when I was pregnant with Maggie and I puked in the toilet all of the time?” Child retches in response. “This is the best place to puke, that’s it, get it all out, get all the yuck out, you can do it, keep going. . .” Mother feels a bit funny giving a motivational speech for vomiting. Oh well. Mother washes her hands.

7:00am- Mother has Child parked in front of the TV with his blankets and the bucket and switched the laundry. Mother goes back upstairs and feeds Infant.

7:30am- Mother realizes there is no possible way she can get herself out the door for her appointment without Father’s assistance. Mother wakes sleep deprived Father. Father answers the call to duty.

7:45am-Father takes over. Child vomits more. Father cleans up, gets Child a drink, and Mother hopes he washed his hands.

8:30am- Mother leaves with Infant to go to her appointment and pick up more Pedialyte and children’s Tylenol. Child is upset because he can’t go with. Mother promises a treat from the store.

8:31am-12:10pm- Father runs the show. Child vomits at least twice more, then sleeps for a few hours. Father cleans the house. Father rocks.

12:15pm- Mother and Infant arrive home. Mother gives Child new Spiderman action figure and Incredibles book. Child is so elated he vomits. Mother boils Infant's pacifiers.

1:00pm- Child has sudden burst of energy, runs around with Spiderman toy.

1:45pm- Child looks ok. Mother sits down to the computer. Mother thinks she should have bought Spiderman toy yesterday.

2:00pm- Child asks for food. Mother gives him saltine crackers.

2:15pm- Child vomits up food.

3:00pm- Child still sick. Mother must get off computer and attend to her mothering duties. Please pray that Infant doesn’t get sick.