Eldore turned nineteen months on the 19th of June.Read more
Beatrice turned two months on the 4th of June.[Read more…]
The Fire-Thunder King turned eighteen months on the 19th of May.[Read more…]
Can anything spark more joy in the life of a child than a huge pile of something to be shoveled? …Well, it depends on what’s in the pile, I guess, but a pile of rocks is certainly the cause of great excitement. Anselm and Ephraim had already taken shovels to it before I even had breakfast going for the day.[Read more…]
Every time I came out of the door to the Ham House, more of a crowd had gathered on the steps.[Read more…]
Though this post is late, the pictures are not; the words may mostly describe Eldore the almost-eighteen-month-old, but the photographic evidence is of Eldore the newly-seventeen-month-old, almost on the nose.[Read more…]
Beatrice turned one month old yesterday, the fourth of May.
Today I was with her in a store when another shopper asked me how old she was. “She was one month a couple of days ago,” I started, then corrected myself. “No! Yesterday. She was a month old yesterday.” I have not had trouble remembering dates and birthdates before–not at the beginning, at least–but it may be the sixth child that does me in.
When I was pregnant with her, Beatrice used her daylight hours–which I’m sure she didn’t know were daylight hours–to do most of her moving, shaking, and stretching one foot into my stomach so that I couldn’t eat. But she was excessively quiet at night. She never woke me at night. In fact, for all the times I woke at night, uncomfortable, or needing the restroom, or simply beset by insomnia, I rarely felt her move.
She has kept up this habit after birth. Some babies seem to have their days and nights mixed up, sleeping heavily during the day and then refusing to sleep at night. Both Elvie and Eldore had long periods during the night where they would not get settled. Beatrice does the opposite. She is restless during the day, already sensitive to noises and lights. At night she sleeps beautifully. There are drawbacks to both periods of restlessness. It’s tough to be up at night when you’d rather be sleeping, but it’s also rough to have a baby who insists on crying the whole time you’re supposed to be cooking and eating dinner. Fortunately it will not last forever.
She’s smiling now, rarely but unmistakably, not just gassy smiles in her sleep. This morning Jeremy was singing to her, and she worked and worked and finally sang one soft, single hoo back to him. It is the first “talking” sounds she’s made.
She has a tongue tie that we’re having corrected this week, but so far it doesn’t seem to be interfering with her eating or weight gain. She’s gained over two pounds since we came home from the hospital.
We call her Baby-trice, Beada, Beady-Bird, Beady-Butt, Baby B, and Mama. (That last one is Eldore’s contribution.)
She is enthusiastically adored by her siblings–Eldore in particular is rather obsessive. Everybody wants a chance to see her, to hold her, to kiss her (and kiss her and kiss her and kiss her.) The boys harass one another about remembering to wash their hands before coming near her, and fight over who gets to rinse off her pacifier after it’s been rescued from Eldore’s sneaky fingers.
For my part, I haven’t found the energy to get a good routine going for the two of us, which is probably partly why I’m so tired and forgetting month-iversaries. I do intend to document some small shred of postpartum life, but the moments I sit down, I usually have a Baby-trice in the crook of one arm, and she makes it rather difficult to type. 🙂
Eldore turned fifteen months on the nineteenth of February.
As I’m typing, the little man himself is busily darting from one end of the room to the other. He has a washcloth in his hand. He runs this way, then that way, then sits down by the door, then disappears for a second (Mom! Dodo’s in the trash! Clive yells at me.) Then he’s running back near me again, now with one of my hair ties, and he’s trying to fit in on the back of Elvie’s junior chair.
Then he’s got pencils, and I tell Clive to get them from him. Eldore complies willingly, like it’s all part of the game, then goes straight back to drawer where he found them in the first place. “No, Eldore!” He looks at me for a second like I’ve grown another head, then throws himself down to the floor on his belly, stretching his arms in front of him and his feet in the air. He never breaks eye contact when he does this. I’m not entirely sure what the gesture is supposed to communicate.[Read more…]
Ideally each separate facet of the kitchen should probably have its own separate blog post, but at this stage of things (read: pregnancy) it’s easier to just throw everything together in one blog-posty pot, stir frequently, and serve while still warm.[Read more…]