Christmas now? christmas not?

Gifting.  It's one of my truly favorite things to do for holidays.  But I'm past the buying of an item in order to have something to give.  If it's not applicable, interesting, or something I think the person will really enjoy, I just don't see the point.  Do I really need to gift more stuff to people that I'm certain have too much stuff already?  Because really what happens with the item that I thought would have some meaning...it's lost in all the rest of the stuff.  Christmas is hard when there's not enough money to buy a lot of stuff, mostly 'cause we've been so very conditioned to associate the season with shopping rather than giving.  I recently heard someone remark that his new daughter-in-law typically spends upwards of $4k for holiday shopping.  Wow.  But then right now, $100 is too much and $100k isn't enough.  I find myself looking for, finding, and defining more meaning in this year's celebration.  This has been catalyzed by having children.  With the First Born's first Christmas, the re-birth of the new year, solstice, etc. began to have weight to them.  Now that we are enjoying and learning a new philosophy with Mile Hi Church of Religious Science things are more and more meaningful.  The senior minister said recently that birth of the christ child represents the birth of highest consciousness within ourselves, and the manger is our heart.  Call it Buddha-self, Christ consciousness, walking with Tao, it's all Truth, the Golden Thread that binds all walks of faith.

Anyway, this has been a year of growth, learning, and deepening our relationships---especially now since we're staying 'round here in Denver area!  Such a relief to know that we're not leaving, the stress of possibly re-establishing community is gone.  But then the flip side is that I now must be comfortable with reality of real grown-up friendships where people have seen my imperfections, and like me anyway.  So my gifts this year are less monetary, less stuff, and more of the intangible.  The things that I learn, that I might pass them on to my girls; my experience, strength and hope that I might share with others, that just might help someone some how.  I truly do live in abundance and I am so grateful.

Baby E

She wrings her hands and her toes when really upset, she already has tears.  Sucks her right thumb and fiddles her ear when drifting to sleep.  She has a tooth now, and trembles with excitement when being fed.  With her first bites, squeals and exclamations were so exuberant I thought she might choke.  Uses fat fingers to attempt Happy Puffs o's into her open drooling mouth, succeeds almost half the time.  She sits, she sways, rocks, and planks; she seems totally content on her back holding her feet, not quite crawling, though certainly on the verge, I might describe her as nonchalant about very idea. 

Her chubby legs and feet barely fit the "12 month" size socks we picked up, the polka-dots stretch to ovals.  That sweet-sweet face sleeping soundly in the bed as I sneak from under-covers to have a few moments of my own before the day begins.  The fussing at night as been barely bearable, as I'm trying not to bring her to bed, and not to nurse her between 10p and 5a.  In the morning she looks at me bright-eyed, as if to deny that siren-wail baby ever existed.  She's attached, and that's good though it makes my getting moment's peace a lot less likely.  Her scrunched-nose scowl 'n' wiggle-sway keeps us giggling, a sure sign of a pleased baby here. 

Oh, how we love the baby-love.

Road Trip

Captain Read-Every-Sign-Aloud-and-Comment-on-the-Obvious resumed his position of most honorable drive master.  Co-Captain/Navigator Designate Milk-Maker-Baby-Soother-Child-Distractor (wo)manned the co-pilot seat.  Then the Gigglesisters piled in the back seat, and we're off to grandparents house.

When she was 1.5 years Miss Monkey weathered the trip to Texas for grandparents visit with a video player, and by the time we arrived she was zombified.  This year we did it old school, no video.  Books on tape, music, coloring, staring out the window, giggling with the baby girl, and a view finder click-click-clicking away.  It's a 13.5 hour trip (~778 miles), we left at 3:30 am MST putting the girls in the car in hopes that they would sleep for a few hours before the day began, it worked mostly.  One tank later we stop for breakfast somewhere in New Mexico, then it's on the road again.  I estimate it was about 10am or so before we heard the first "Are we there yet?" plaintively from the back seat.  "No, it's a loooong drive to Gramma's & Grandpa's house.  Remember we looked on the map, and talked about how long the drive would be?  All day, remember?  Well, we're about half way there now."  

Then about an hour later, "Are we there YET?" suddenly we are entertained with, "I think you took a wrong turn, Papa.  We should be there by now."  Later interspersed with "When do we eat? I think we should stop at a restaurant."  This continues on into the afternoon, watching the miles and tiny towns roll away.  Eventually, sometime mid-afternoon, I think she surrendered to the car.  It's hard to teach a new person how to sleep in the car, too.  When I was little we took our favorite pillow and blanket and made a bed as best we could, elbowing each other out of the way, to be comfortable enough to sleep.  The more we slept the faster the trip went.  The First Born would have none of this sleeping in the car, I think she just couldn't get comfortable or she wasn't tired enough.  Baby E did great up until the last couple of hours when she had obviously had enough.  I spent that time twisted part-way 'round so she could have a hand to toy with, my guess, to know that she wasn't trapped back there without us.  On our way home---post refreshments and visit with Maui-Amarillo transplant buddies---the baby was fed, diapered, jammied and ready for "bed".  The bigger one fell asleep on cue for bedtime and stay asleep until we were almost to Denver, when, for whatever reason, she was wiiide awake at 11pm.  Miss Chatty-Chatskins, the content of which we understood very little, most of it was dream-conscious gibberish I think, and something about Chuck-E-Cheese.  She almost had a fit when I told her she had to go to bed immediately upon our arrival home.  Gone are the days when we could nurse our babies while the husbands drove, and kids calling dibs on the way-back seat could stretch out for the cruise.

We made it, in good time, and enjoyed our visits with everyone immensely.  Gratefully enjoying every moment.  Happy Thanksgiving.

p.s. when the family joke has become to comment on the "funny lookin' dawgs" in the vast cattle fields of Texas, it's best to surrender to the silliness.

Workout? what workout?

I haven't rooted to the couch, that's something at least.

There were at least 6 weeks there when Baby E arrived that for obvious reasons I merely concentrated on sleeping when I could and recovering from the endurance challenge that is the last trimester or so of pregnancy culminating in the extreme endurance of labor.

After the okay from Doc I did workouts here and there when I could, and still there were snags in my plans.

I can't workout if my breasts are or will become engorged---that's uncomfortable. So timing my workouts post-nursing, and hopefully while baby is sleeping is key.  Add to that I must time my workouts according to my nutrition and availability of some one to keep eyes on the offspring and it gets tricky, GloboGym won't take any infants in childcare < 6 months.  When Miss Monkey has a bike again, she can ride while I jog  Baby E in the Burley.  But without a bike trailer I'm trapped on the trainer or spin bike.

I got into such great habits of eating while training for the 1/2IM and I kept up that metabolism with swimming & walking while preggers (besides the mega-munchies to feed that baby), which means that I have to eat before a workout (and sometimes during) otherwise I bonk.  So there were the times that The Man came home early-ish I could've headed to the gym but I was hongree, and if I stay to eat I end up putting kiddo to bed, then had to nurse the baby again before bed, and suddenly it's 9pm and I'm wasted tired and just want to sleep.  Wake up next day, after a baby feeding or two in the night, and repeat...oh, and 4 hours or less of sleep in a shift.

Then there's moving, and the big pause with Miss M, and moving again.  Makes for even less time, and less schedule to operate with.  I did get yoga in, a little strength training, and more run than bike, no swimming tho'...and that little bit probably kept me sane with a Little Girl that was acting out and a sweet -sweet demanding infant.  Social obligations aside, just getting baby n' kiddo into some semblance of schedule proved impossible, and only just now have we settled into a routine in the new place.  Finally!

Hope beyond hope that AquaPiglet (thank you, TriAya!) has settled into a 6ish to 4ish sleep, then we nurse early, she goes back down, and I head out to do something until Loving Husband departs for his fantabulous VP position.  If there's time later in the day for more, then we're golden, it'll develop just as it should, I've faith.

Shopping races for next season, and looking forward to getting back into the rhythm.

Humorista

Miss Monkey, other than the self explanatory slap-stick silliness.

Situation 1:  

Papa singing in the kitchen, loudly, operatically, about chicken soup or ramen noodles.  She trots to her room specifically to dig out a kazoo-like ocarina shaped tooter, pokes her head around the door and "ttoooooots" into his song.  She grins, we laugh.

Situation 2:  

Sitting around a table, the two of them are facing me. I'm relaying the events of the morning, visiting fabulous neighbors, etc.  The Man says, "oh, you have something on your face...a smudge of something."

"What?  I do?" says I.

"Yeah," says he.

 "Really?  'cause that would suck, I mean, I would swear that if I really had something on my face then one of the moms would have said something to me....Miss Monkey, do I have anything on my face?"

Small pause, as she considers, then without prompting of any kind, with poker face, "Yeah, you do!"

"Whaaat???"

And as he couldn't handle it anymore, my loving husband bursts out laughing, as does Fiona.  Ganging up on me already.

Situation 3:

The other evening, returning home, the first born notices my husband wearing my Broncos cap (yes a bit embarrassing at this point considering their latest games).  She's been experimenting with our given names lately, and we repeatedly ask her to call us Mama and Papa or Dadah(her concoction of Papa & Daddy).  So, here he comes wearing my cap.  "Mama, Gary's wearing your hat!  Mama, GARY is wearing your Broncos hat! MAMA, GARY IS WEARING YOUR BRONCOS HAT!"

From the other room I hear, "Please! call me Papa, I really prefer it when you call me Papa!"

Back in the kitchen, "Ada! Papa's wearing your hat!" too smart, and too too funny.