"i wanna mow the grass."

Being a toddler is hard. Very hard. Very, very, very hard. Throw a toy lawnmower into the mix and all hell breaks loose. Seriously.

I could expand upon the previous paragraph, but it makes me tired to even think about it. Please enjoy the smiles you see here (preschool yesterday). This is NOT always the case.

I'm going to blame my poor blogging on Adam going to bed at 9:30 and me not having access to the 'puter. Both the girls are down for naps at the moment, so I have a free moment, but the urge to go crash out along with them is too overwhelming. I will cave. And I will enjoy it.

Sleep and I are still not getting along very well, especially at night. It makes my brain hurt and keeps my words trapped in my head.


Above are Charlie Ann, Walker, and Gracen on their big hayride last week. We had a preschool field trip to Ganyard Hill farms, where they got to play with little animals, climb a hay mountain, go through corn and hay mazes and pick their own pumpkin. The daddyman took off of work to go play with us. I'm so happy fall is here!

We just got back from playfightgroup. The three aforepictured sweetnesses are learning social skills these days (very slowly I might add). Again, it's very hard to be a toddler.

Above is the Roo passed out on the Papa at Walker's 3rd birthday celebration. See, she IS still little!!

shat.

I forgot to knock on wood after my last post. Figures.
::
When Amy brought Gracen back from preschool this afternoon, I was most impressed to see that the Boo was still wearing the same pair of pants. This would mean, of course, that we had no potty-related accidents.
::
Prenap talk:

M: I'm so proud of you for going pee and poop in the potty at school!!

G: I no poop in the potty.

M: Oh, you didn't poop today at school?

G: (giggling) I poop in the grass.
::
Another conversation right down the road from our house:

Amy: Walker, you stepped in dog poo.

Walker: That's not dog poop, that's Gracen's!
::
Are you kidding me with this, kids?!?!
::
I sent an email to the teacher, apologizing profusely and offering to go hunt down the pile. She called this evening, trying to contain her laughter. She had been most perplexed trying to figure out how a dog made it on to the playground. Walker wasn't the only casualty. Great. I'm not quite as amused as the rest of the world!!
::
The photograph above is taken from their classroom blog, which is updated daily so the parents get a peek into what happened during the day. I haven't checked today's for fear of something like, "Walker and Archie play with lawnmowers while Gracen takes a dump under the old apple tree." She's going to hate me for this post in about 15 years, but seriously kid. YOU SHAT ON THE PLAYGROUND AFTER I VERY SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU NOT TO!!! Have I mentioned that I hate pottytraining?!

Avery is officially laughing her head off and can blow raspberries. She's a genius. I know.

Wyatt.

Welcome out, Wyatt. We're so happy you're here! And thank you for giving your Mama an easy time on your grand entrance. We love you all!!! I'm thinking we may not be able to wait until spring for a Colorado visit. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have obviously returned to my former blogslacker ways. Sorry for the pause. I could write a grand list of valid excuses, but they can best be summed up as: Gracen and Avery. I think we've finally hit our groove in this family of four business. We may have our moments of chaos, but they're generally shortlived, and we're able to wade through it relatively unscathed. Miss Avery is officially sleeping in her crib these days (okay, we're only on day five and she's sneaked into my bed already tonight, but she had shots today, and I'm feeling sorry for her). I nurse her to sleep, put her in there, and then put her in bed with me when I go to sleep (and yes, I still sleep in her room). I'm a sucker for co-sleeping and the family bed. I believe in it and the security and attachment it fosters. I also believe my sleep is important, and if I actually took the time to get out of bed and nurse her twice a night, I'd lose at least an hour. And considering I don't go to bed until 1-ish and I wake at 7-ish, that hour means a lot. Let me be the first to say that I realize it's incredibly stupid to go to bed that late, especially since Aves goes down at 7:30 and the G at 8:00. Oh, and Adam at 10:00. But frequently I don't get my runs in until after 9:00, so I'm wired on whatever it is that wires one who runs too damn late at night. And also, it's the only time of the day that belongs to me, and only me. I need that time. Often it's spent washing dishes or clothes or scraping an unidentifiable substance from the couch, but it's still my time where nobody needs anything from me. I kinda dig it.

Avery went for her 4 month check today. She was 14 lbs 9.5 oz (75%) and 26 1/2 inches (>97%). She and Gracen are actually pretty close to the same size at this age, which is crazy considering their starting weights (A:9-13 vs. G:7-7). She's rolling all over the place, officially laughing, and just being hopelessly adorable. The girls are constantly interacting now, which is awesome to watch. I think Gracen is beginning to get annoyed with the hair pulling and nose pinching, but she's remaining kind and calm in the face of mild torture. I'm sure she'll be this way when she's 13 as well... Gracen is loving her school more and more. She comes home singing songs we don't know, playing games we had forgotten about, saying hundreds of new words and talking in full conversation. Her teacher Beth has recently become our babysitter as well, which is beyond awesome. After spending time with the G at home and realizing that she really is potty trained at the house, Beth wanted us to start sending her to school sans diaper!! So far so good, though she did drop the pantalones on the playground for a quick pee. What can you say? At least she didn't poop. At this point we're only wearing diapers to sleep, which is very exciting!

Yesterday's chat on the front porch after nap time:

Gracen: Mommy, what's that? (pointing at the ground)

Mama: That's a wood roach.

G: What that mean? Is it a bug?

M: Yes, it's a bug and it likes to irritate your mother along with all his little friends.

G: What it doing?

M: (kicking it) Humm, it looks like it's dead.

G: What dead mean, Mommy?

M: (slightly freaking out and wishing Adam were home) Dead is like it goes to sleep for a long time.

G: Oh, Dacie go to sleep for a h(l)ong time too!

M: Well, this is a different kind of sleep because it doesn't wake back up.

G: Oh, it take a weeew(real) hong nap. It go nite-nite in daytime and Dacie go nite-nite at 8 o'clock. (Diego just discussed nocturnal on his show)

M: Okay. (not sure of where to go from here)

G: (poking it) Why it not wake up. Open da eyes bug. Open da eyes.

M: It can't wake up because it dead. It's little body is there, but what makes him move around is gone now.

G: Huh? What mean, Mommy?

M: Umm, I think it's gone to little bug Heaven to play with other little wood roaches?

G: No, dat's silly. It wake up in a h(l)ittle bit. I give it some water. (and she pours the dogs' water on the poor dead creature)

And then I kicked it off the porch to avoid further questioning. How do you explain death to a 2 year old?! Seriously, I need some advice. I'm pretty sure "little bug heaven" doesn't quite cut it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of our dear friends, Scott Nurkin, is an artist. He and Adam became friends on their first day of kindergarten when their older brothers forced them to fight each other at the bus stop. They've been friends ever since. If you live in the triangle, you're sure to have seen his work, even if you didn't realize it. From restaurants, to building walls, to malls, his murals are everywhere. The man is a genius, and we love him. Recently, I commissioned a portrait of my late father, Ronny McDaniel. All I can say is: Amazing. Simply, amazing. Daddy is hanging by the back(front)door between the kitchen and dining room. While it doesn't actually seem like the best spot to hang a fine piece of art, I find that it's perfect. I see him every time I leave the house and every time I cook, do the laundry, take a dish to the kitchen. It's as if he's returned to my life somehow. And now Gracen, and soon Avery, knows her Grandpa. When we walk out the door, she'll blow him a kiss and say, "Bye Grandpa." It's an awesome thing. Both of my grandfathers passed away before I was born, both of massive heart attacks like my father, and they were always so distant and unreal to me. Thankfully, we now have a daily reminder of this man I love and miss so very much. Thank you, Scott, for giving me my Papa again.

Chopped.

I've recently begun a Facebook addiction, which I'm working to break free of. Something has come to my attention in my Facebooking that required immediate attention. Certain people have started busting out the old photos and "tagging" me, and I've been hit with a realization: I have had the exact same hair since my 13th birthday. (I'll be 31 in a couple of weeks.) And in those nearly two decades, I would guess that my hair has been pulled back in a ponytail or bun at least 97% of the time.


So I went to see Jonanthan on Saturday and let him do whatever he pleased. People, I can't even pull in back in a mini-pony if I needed. I actually have to wake up and DO something to it. I haven't cried yet, which is good, but I'm starting to freak out a little bit over the morning bedhead. I mean I've always had bedhead, but it could be remedied in 6 seconds with a flip bun. We'll see how this goes. I guess I had to get a grownup cut eventually. I think maybe the world is considering me an adult now. Jonathan referred to it as "punky." Yes, I'm a punky, grownup, mother of two.

Update on running: I think I don't hate it anymore, which is shocking. I'm starting week five of training, and it is getting easier, though my workouts are getting harder. I am very, very, very slow. I'm not sure that my coach appreciates quite how slow I am, but I suppose it's okay. My goal is to finish the race, not to finish it quickly. I ran for an hour last night and didn't die. Wooo-hoooo!!!

The girls are doing great. Ave is learning more and more everyday and is much more interactive. She just found her feet and is rolling over in both directions. I'm still trying to hamper her development if at all possible--she's just growing too quickly!! Her favorite trick is to pet Gracen's face or pull her hair. Gracie loves to share with her, most of the time. I woke up to Gracen crawling on the bed this morning. She placed Froggy atop Avery's head (which is how Gracen goes to sleep), and says, "Dis is for Avie." And then she left, leaving Froggy behind.

A and Z

hi.

you're cute.

you, too.

love you forever.

letting go...just a little bit.

Dear Gracen,

When I drove off Friday, I saw bubbles floating out of the fence behind Our Playhouse. I knew that you were below them, trying to catch them and possibly eat them. You shed no tears like you did on Wednesday, for which I was grateful. I, on the other hand, did manage a drop or two when I got to the car.

This was a vast improvement over Wednesday's "incident." I had been trying to ease you into the environment by staying and playing for a while. We had the discussion on the car ride of "Mama's leaving to go vacuum the house (you detest vacuuming) while you stay and play with toys and make sand castles and pick apples from the tree." Every couple of minutes, however, you would look up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes, your lips would quiver and you would whisper "No, Mama stay." I could feel the lump forming in my throat. I looked at your teacher and asked, "Is it like pulling off a band aid?" She nodded and mouthed, "Just go ahead." You could sense what was happening and you strapped yourself to me while I was sitting on the miniature chair at the tiny table and began screaming. It was a scream I had never heard from you, full of desperation and utter fear. At this point, the director saw that things were going to get ugly so she came and literally peeled you off of me, one appendage at a time. I kissed your head, told you I loved you, began crying myself and ran like hell. I bulldozed my way through groups of parents chatting, whose kids were gleefully playing alone. All I could get out in the form of an apology was, "That's my baby crying." They smiled and let me pass as I managed to bang Avery's car seat on every available wall and the fence outside. I got in the car and had a full breakdown. It was one of those revival salvation cries that comes from deep in the belly and soul, and you have no real control over your arms or voice. After five minutes or so, I got it together, talked myself out of going and peeping in the window, and drove off. I called your Daddy, trying to feign I had more emotional control than I did. I'm not sure I was very convincing. I then called Amy, who had left a few minutes ahead of me, not in tears. She didn't answer and I didn't bother calling anyone else because I was going into panic mode again as I drove down the highway. I made it to Carrboro, not sure of where to go. Avery and I ended up in the parking lot of the Red Hen for a blowout diaper change, a nursing session, and a phone call from Amy. She managed to get some semblance of control out of me and assured me that all of this was in your best developmental interest and that I'm still a good mother. It took a while. (Thank you, Amy) Aves and I headed over to Weaver Street Market to kill some time while I waited to hear from school. Your Daddy called to let me know school had called the house, but he missed it (he was still working from home due to his unexpected and slightly hilarious Pox situation). I called them back and talked with Sadie, the director. She said she almost cried for me as I was leaving--not a pretty picture, I'm guessing. Apparently, you cried for about three minutes, and then you were perfectly fine and playing. You were having a grand ole time, while I nearly wrecked your sister and myself due to blinding tears.

When I came back to get you after lunch, you didn't see me at first. You were running around laughing and playing. When you finally saw me, you stopped in your tracks, opened your arms as wide as you could and yelled, "Oh, Mama! I miss you!" And then you looked at your teacher grinning and said, "Mama came back." I stopped myself from crying again.

On Friday, I left you in the sandbox, picking up shiny things which you were carefully putting into an empty bubble bottle. When I came to pick you up, you were putting apples in a basket. I have absolutely no idea what happened in between, which is very odd. Your Daddy and I have known all the minutia of your life for over two years, and now there's a blank space. And in that space is this whole new independent you that we only hear about. And often, we have no clue what you're saying. It's going to take some adjusting and acceptance from me. You're still my little baby, and I'm having a hard time letting you grow up.

I love you, and I miss you too.

Always, always.

Mama

Tickle, tickle...

the pox.

This will have to be brief, as I'm getting things prepared for the FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!!!!! Adam and I have been talking for the last six months or so about preschool for Gracen. At the time applications were due last spring, we had determined that she just wasn't quite ready. She wasn't talking a whole lot, potty training wasn't a thought, and she was still very needy. Since Avery joined Team Riggsbee, however, it has become increasingly apparent that Gracie is very much in need of some additional stimulation that I'm just not able to give whilst the Roo is attached to my boobage. And Mama needs a little time to clean house. And to blog.

I first tried to get her into Mi Esquilita, a Spanish immersion program, but there is a long wait list and they "might" have an opening by next summer. We finally decided on Our Playhouse Preschool (Wed and Fri half-days), which is further away and much more expensive than we would like. These issues, however, are shadowed by what the school offers. I could expand here, but won't bore you with my enthusiasm. Check out the site to see! And to top it off, Walker Blue will be going there as well! They won't be in the same class, which we were actually glad about. I have a fear of Gracen following him around all day, saying "Walker p(l)ay Dacie," and he'll be off playing with boys and will want nothing to do with her. And she'll go hide in the corner of the playground or under the slide and cry and her little heart will be broken. And I'll get a call that she's devastated, and I'll go pick her up, and she'll say "Walker no nudge (love) Dacie." And then I'll start crying. And then I'll have to call Amy and tell her that her sweet child has broken mine. So, yes, we're happy they're in separate classes. They're technically in the same "classroom," that is separated only by cubbies. She's going to have a cubby!!!!!! And a lunchbox!!!!

I just read in the parent handbook the part about Separation issues. It made me cry. I think I may be the one with the issues. I'm pretty sure Adam would agree.

And speaking of Adam, he's got the Chicken Pox. If I could quit laughing about it, I might just feel sorry for him. Let me add, he had a bad case of the Pox when he was three. It seems you can get it more than once after all.

Bloggerman keeps flipping this picture, even though I've never rotated it this way before. Cock your head 90 degrees to the right and enjoy the fabulousness of the A-Team (Aden, Arne, Amelia, Avery, and Aubrey). Playgroup is at our house this week, and I'm trying to decide if Mimosas are appropriate for a 10AM play date. Your thoughts, ladies?

Yo, Papa. We miss you.

I've spent the last two nights sleeping between these little beauties. Ghi-ghi came and picked us up in Linville after a long weekend with some friends. We'll be spending the week in the mountains with the grandparents, while the Daddyman keeps the home afloat. Gracen is having some serious separation issues from her Daddy. She cried for him for two and a half hours night before last. It was quite pitiful. Normally, I'm able console these types of issues, but she's been permattached to the Papa since Aves appearance, and doesn't like it when he's not around. I don't like it much either.

So here's some fun news for you. Remember that flashy orange double jogger I got some months back? And remember that I claimed to be doing a half marathon by December? Yeah, I wasn't really confident that I'd be following through, but my butt is now officially registered for the Kiawah half marathon, along with Adam, Annie Belle and Sabrina. And I met with my trainer yesterday to get my plan underway. Yes, I have a coach. And he seems to think I'll be able to do this in four months, despite the fact that I hate running and would probably yarf on myself if I ran farther than a mile at this point. I appreciate his confidence, as I have none yet. I'm hoping that if I was able to endure 24 hours (combined time) of labor without pain meds, I should be able to suck it up for a few hours of running.

For your amusement, I'll try to post my weekly schedules as I get them. Go ahead and laugh. Annie and Brina, you may not laugh since you'll be the ones pulling my butt across the finish line.

The Boo and Roo sound asleep. They both snore.
" Hi, Daa-eee. I nudge ooo. I miss oooo."

Aren't they sweet... Hiking at Linville Falls (The Riggles bunch with Brooke and Lily).
Watching the Olympics.
Taking an ice bath. Adam's a little paranoid about scalding babies. He has no troubles with turning them blue.

Lily Grey (or as G says, "Hay Gay"--we're working on our Ls and Rs). Seriously, could you be any cuter?! You passed your insomnia on to Gracen. Thank you.

the beach.

Conversation with Gracen yesterday:

Mama: Gracen, macaroni and cheese stays inside the bowl, not on the floor (it has been purposefully dropped).

Gracen: Mackie-cheese on floor. Oh noooo. (drops bowl on floor too).

M: Our bowls stay on the table. Please clean up.

G: No thank you Mommy.

M: Gracen, please put the macaroni in the bowl.

G: No, mommy do it.

M: No, mommy didn't make the mess. Gracen did. Please clean up and put the macaroni back in the bowl.

G: Ummmm, no thanks. Mommy pick it up.

M: (voice rising) Now, Gracen. One...

G: Two...

M: No, mommy's counting, not Gracen. If I get to three you're going to time out. One...

G: (holding up fingers to count) Two...Fweee...Four...Eight...

M: (obviously unhappy) Gracen, pick up the flippin' macaroni, NOW.

G: No, mommy do it. Dacie go time out (and she goes and sits in her time out chair).

2 minutes later...

M: Gracen, clean up your mess.

G: Mommy vacuum?

M: (mean-teacher-look)

G: Dacie vacuum?

M: Gracie, mac and cheese is not vacuumable. You must pick it up.

G: Harley eat it?

M: (impressed with her brilliance) Just put the bowl on the table and we'll let the dogs in.

G: Ummmm, no thank you Mommy.

I'm obviously very intimidating.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We just returned from Ocean Isle, and we're not particularly happy about it. We went with our neighbors and had a superb time. They're still on the coast, and Gracen has walked around with Walker's picture all morning saying, "Walker at da beach. Dacie go beach toooo. Make sand castles. Oh no. Where Walker go?" It was wonderful being at the beach with a family living a parallel life. The papas wrangled the big kids in the ocean and on the sand and the mamas took walks on the beach with tiny little legs hanging out of the Ergos. We ate very well, accomplished absolutely nothing, and had a perfect time. Please take us back (we'll take a cage for Gracen's naps next time).

And the newbie went for her 2 month check yesterday. She was 12 lbs 2.5 oz (90%) and 24 3/4 inches long (over 100%). She did have some shots, which Gracen was very sad about. We're following the Dr. Bob (Robert Sears) vaccine schedule, so she didn't get as many as are traditional at 2 months, and she seems to be tolerating them better than Gracen did. She's smiling like crazy, grabbing things (maybe on purpose?), and tracking her sister all over the place. She's also rolled over a couple of times, but I'm trying not to encourage that. I need for her to be little a bit longer;D

Head Shots

Why can't I make a baby with normal hair?!?!?

(left is G, right is A)

Gracie-nola Bars

Gracen has become quite the kitchen helper. Her favorite recipe is, by far, granola bars. We never make them the same way twice, so feel free to take creative license based on what you have in the cabinet or what your toddler feels like dumping. The amounts don't need to be particularly exact, so no worries if your child feels like spooning out a teaspoon of sugar or handful of craisons for a mini taste test.

Today's creation...

Preheat oven to 350 F

Mix together dry ingredients:
2 C. rolled oats
1/2 C. whole wheat flour
1/2 C. wheat bran
1/4 C. flax seeds
1/4 C. chopped pecans
1/4 C. salted sunflower seeds
1/2 C. craisons
1/4 C. shredded coconut
1/4 C. brown sugar
1 tsp (or whatever Gracie shakes) pumpkin pie spice

In another bowl mix:
2 eggs
1/2 C. veggie oil
1/2 C. honey (just observed that if you pour your oil from the measuring cup followed by the honey, the honey slips right out without having to scrape (or lick) out)
1 tsp. vanilla

Pour wet mixture over dry and stir (or mix with hands if your child prefers). Line a 9X13 pan with wax paper, spray with cooking spray or whatever you have, dump mixture onto pan and press to edges.

Bake for 25 minutes, more or less depending on your oven.

After baking, gently slide from pan onto cooling rack. Slice with pizza cutter while still slightly warm.

You'll thank me for this, as will your kiddies!!

notes to my girls...yes, i'm a copycat.

Gracen,

You are lying in bed crying at the moment. You have a scratch on your elbow from a couple of days ago, which is feeling absolutely fine. I made the mistake of taking notice of it when I put you down for your nap, and now, through tears and walls, you are explaining to me how you need some ice and a towel to make it feel better since it hurts soooo bad. You learned the ice trick when you recently stuck your index finger into a freshly poured bowl of cream of wheat, and now any heat (lukewarm included) or tiny scratches or bumps are getting a passionate plea for ice therapy. I will not cave, though I'm sure all of your points are completely valid.

Since I started this blog almost two years ago, I've been planning on writing you notes to help us remember these phases of our lives. Obviously, until now, I have not done so. I've been reading various friends' and professionals' blog letters to their kids, and I'm always so moved. And then I think to myself, Damn, I really need to start writing you letters. Today I read a monthly letter from my friend Courtney (who is due any second now) to her daughter Charlie. After making me cry, it really got me thinking back to those last weeks with you before Aves. I spent a lot of time worrying about letting go of the security of our little world that we've had here together for two years. I worried that I would never be able to love another person the way I loved you, worried that you'd hate me and your daddy for rocking your world with another little life, worried that you'd want nothing to do with your sister, worried that I'd miss "us" so badly that I wouldn't be able to appreciate what our life was to become, worried that I wouldn't know what the hell I was doing.

But you, my sweet girl, have made this the most perfect phase of my life. Yes, I'm exhausted and sometimes cranky, but I'm also completely happy. You barely even seemed to notice that our world turned upside down with Avery's arrival. You just accepted her presence, and you love her completely. You give her pacies when she needs them, you sing her lullabies when she cries, you hug her and kiss her whenever you can. You don't like for strangers to hold her, often saying, "No, Avey back Mommy!" And you point very dramatically, so they know just where I am. And though I never thought possible, I love you even more now than I did back then in the midst of my worries.

You are hopelessly hilarious, even through (and often because of) your temper tantrums. You have a very specific sense of order and routine. Your daddy, for example, is not allowed to sit in Mama's seat at the dinner table without you falling apart and begging for him to move one seat over and vise versa. You separate your Kashi cereal into alike pieces and make little rows of them before eating them. You finally like to eat. It has taken 2 years and the emergence of peanut butter in your life. You have potty trained yourself in the last couple of weeks, with your parents doing nothing but leaving your diaper off and bathroom door open. You usually wash your hands without being asked. We went on a hike last weekend, and you let us know that you wanted to go pee-pee. So you squatted, rather gracefully, in the middle of the trail and proceeded to take a grand poo. You were so proud. And this weekend while at your Mimi and Papa Jim's while playing with your cousins, I looked across the yard at you and there you were with diaper off, pants at your ankles, squatting and peeing. You did not even ask for help. Yes, my little love, you absolutely rock.

Love,
Mama

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Avery,

You, my little Roo, are asleep in your crib. In your almost seven weeks of life, this is your third time there. During the day, you sleep pressed against me in your carrier, though we've been having occasional snoozes in your chair. At night you sleep beside me, nuzzled to my side. You don't wake for your feedings. You wiggle and grunt, and I feed you through partial sleep. This is the most well-rested I have been in nearly a year. At some point, you are going to have to move out into your room, or at least into a co-sleeper, but right now, I'm just still busy soaking you up, and I'm not ready to let go of the closeness.

I still can't believe you're almost seven weeks old. But at the same time, I've already forgotten what life was like before you. And any irrational fears about my ability to equally love two children were thrown out the window the second they put your plump little body into my arms. I can still stare at you for hours and tear up with happiness. You have made our family complete, and I can't wait to watch you grow.

I wrote out your birth story weeks ago, but had the misfortune of having it erased. Stupid technology. I will work on it again and soon, before I start to forget the details.

You have recently started to smile. They are still infrequent, but powerful when they're there. And I think you have dimples. You stare at your sister more than anyone, and my hope is that you'll love her the way I love my big sis and little bro. You have started tapering off on your evening crying spells for which we are thankful. It's so hard to hear you be so miserable, especially when we can do nothing to help. You are eating well, but spitting up often, and I wonder how you are possibly going to grow when I have three ounces of curdled breast milk rolling down my back or into my cleavage. But you do grow. At your one month check, you were 11 lbs 2 oz and 24 inches long. You're not even on their growth charts! And though you are technically ginormous for your age, you still seem so small and completely perfect. I love you so much.

Love,

Mama

i smell like soured milk.

This will have to be a post of pictures, as I'm just now getting a free moment to myself (it's 11:52 PM), and my brain is a big bowl of undifferentiated nothingness.

The family headed to Weaverville last weekend. Here's the Roo in her favorite position, overlooking Ghi-ghi and Pop's home site on Reynolds Mountain.Mama, the packhorse. I spend way too many of my days like this. And I wonder why my back still hurts...

Aunt Belle and Baby Aves being cute together.

Belle and baby getting their snooze on.

Cuz Sabrina, Ghigh, Avery, Belle and Mama

Belle and Gracen picking blackberries at Dry Ridge.We were quite lucky to be in Weaverville to attend our dear friend Kelli's wedding reception. She and her husband Joe were married on the beach in Savannah in May. Kelli is a phenomenal seamstress and made her wedding gown pictured above. It was a traditional German gown and BEAUTIFUL.

Gracen is teaching her buddy Lily Grey how to suck ketchup off of chick(soy) nuggets.
Hello, cuteness.
Goobers.

AAAs R 2 B BFs 4-Ever

These three little A-named ladies were all born within three weeks of each other and will undoubtedly be spending much time together in the coming years. Newest to the world is Miss Amelia Grace (left) and is daughter of Rachel and Edward. She's exactly a week younger than Avery. Sweet Aubrey is in the middle. It's hard to believe she was even smaller than Amelia just a few weeks ago. Avery Roo is on the right, showing off her legs due to an explosive poo a few minutes earlier. This shot is from our playgroup last week. Not pictured are Walker, Gracie, Charlie, and Charlie's soon-to-be sibling. Good times and good people.

We're having a blast around here. Gracen is still handling the transition of familial growth fabulously. She has her moments, but I've found if I can just throw in as many extra hugs and carries before she asks for them, she's less likely to ask at inopportune times. We've probably watched more TV than should be allowed lately, but we'll be banning it altogether shortly (or perhaps save it for the weekends). I'm in the process of setting us a more organized daily schedule that will be including some Montessori-based homeschooling. Though I am highly annoyed by scheduling, I know that I work better and am more effective under those restrictions. And I have to find a way to get everything done from taking care of and teaching Gracen, to housecleaning, to blogging, and to Avery.

Oh, sweet Avery.

As relatively easy as Avery is as a baby, she really is only so because the umbilical cord was never really severed, thus the nickname "Roo." This child is physically attached to me at ALL times. Periodically, I am able to pass her off to another, if she's in a very deep sleep or has a very full belly. Otherwise, she's strapped in the Ergo while I try to continue parenting Big G. With the exception of the first night in the NICU, she has slept next to me in direct contact every night since. If I dare move her four inches away to escape the heat, she wakes and fusses until she is back in place. As sweet as the closeness is, all day and all night, I am beginning to feel a need for some separation. It would be nice to go to the grocer alone, gym alone, wash dishes alone, pee alone...

Napping peacefully (was removed from Ergo five minutes before pic was taken)...

Sister comes to visit and wakes me up...

Something is wrong...I'm not attached...

And the universe starts to crumble...

(back in Ergo 30 seconds later)

Aves and her Ghi-ghi. She slept there for two whole hours!! Please come back, Ghigh.

Pops and Ghi-ghi came to visit this past weekend. Gracen had a fabulous time bossing them around. Hopefully, we'll see you later tonight!

Aunt Hannah and her boyfriend Kelvin came to meet Avery the other night. (We like this boy!) Sadly, Hannah was sick right after Avery's arrival, so she's been staying away to prevent contamination. Gracias. It's a shame because the girl has mad skillz at getting babies to sleep and I could have used her babybounce many times before now!