Stupid Lake Effect Snow

I try not to use the word "stupid" as much I used to, since it's immediately parroted by the squidlets. However, it's exactly the word I want right now. In fact, "Stupid, stupid, STUPID lake effect snow."

This little outburst is because it looks like lake effect snow is going to prevent my folks from coming down this weekend for my birthday. The same as it prevented them coming down for Cheyenne's birthday. Even though we only live three hours apart, it seems like we hardly ever see each other in the winter, because our little town and the 60 miles north of here are often completely impassable due to snow.

Humph. Now that I've got that little tantrum out of my system... Hard to believe I'm turning 31 and not 13, eh? :-)

We've been having cold weather, though it doesn't get as cold as the Vaughan's farm-- 27 degrees below zero there this morning. Our little house was built back when insulation was optional, so it stays pretty chilly in the house! We've got plenty of sweaters, though, so we are doing fine.

The kids all woke up Wednesday sick-- in different ways. Cheyenne had a very sore throat, Elliott had a persistent cough, and Rilla had a flowing nose. I got halfway through cleaning our house for Wednesday night meeting, and realized that it wasn't a good idea to have people come here with all this illness buzzing around. The Barkleys kindly stepped in and had meeting at their place. Right after we had sorted that out, Elliott came upstairs from where he'd been laying down for his nap and said, "Mommy, I spit." (His euphemism for vomiting.) Sure was glad I wasn't simultaneously cleaning that up and trying to get ready for meeting! He wasn't sick to his stomach, he had just coughed so hard he gagged. It had happened, to a lesser degree, that morning, and Elliott had told me, "I burp Lucky Charms." Charming! Anyway, I took them to the doctors this morning, and Elliott is now on medicine for an ear infection-- all the congestion was making his ears full and causing him to cough.

Tuesday, I had to bid a tearful goodbye to an integral part of our household-- Marilla's swing. I had been thinking that I really HAD to put the swing away, since it is not designed for active 10 month-old babies. That fact was starkly underscored when I heard Marilla crying Tuesday morning during her nap, and went in her room to find her hanging by her ankles from the restraining belt. I am just so deeply grateful she did not really hurt herself. In my defense, she's never showed the slightest inclination to wiggle around in there. On the contrary, the minute you stuck her in there, she shut her eyes and turned her head to snuggle into the attached pillow. A nap-inducer like that wasn't something to give up lightly! After sobbing over my inability to be a good mother, I attacked the swing with my screwdriver and dissassembled it and packed it away for Cotten #3. Since then, though... oh, my, how I miss Rilla's naps! She sleeps for maybe 20 minutes in the crib, versus the 2 hours in the swing. I am hoping desperately that she gets used to the crib, but I have a horrible feeling she'll be one of those obnoxious babies that just never naps! Aagh! So, swing-- bye-bye, we SURE do miss you!

I have two Rubbermaids of stuff I want to get rid of out of my house, and I've decided to try to sell it on eBay. As I was photographing all the things the other day, Cheyenne decided to sell her doll clothes on eBay.

I got to be her official photographer for her photo shoot. Then, of course, Elliott asked for his camera time.

He is adorable, if I do say so myself. I'm worried, though, since my pictures have often been blurry lately. I think I may ask Evan to get my camera cleaned for a birthday present.

This odd child is a living testament to how Daddy likes to relax-- playing the online game of Runescape! After watching Daddy battle dragons in full armor with shield and sword, Cheyenne appeared in this getup and told me she was going to fight dragons. Of course, she found a willing dragon in her little brother. Quite the outfit, Cheyenne! (And quite the messy background. Since Rilla has forsworn napping, I get to hold her most of the day. My house can attest to that.)

Here's another Daddy-legacy. Elliott was playing his first computer game-- Rollercoaster Rush. Since it involved pushing the right arrow button to make the roller coaster go, and clicking on one button to replay it, he could do this himself. No pride in that coy expression!

And another "Take a picture of me, Mummy!" moment. (There, Julie, lots of pictures! :-)

I had an extremely paranoid/neurotic moment this evening-- As I was sitting there thinking, "Evan should definitely be home by now", my cell phone rang. I looked at the screen and it said, "Unavailable." I have never had that come up for caller id on my cell phone. So, of course, the absolute first thing I thought was, "This is the police calling to tell me about Evan's accident and/or death." There was no doubt in my mind. I answered it, and no one was there. That made it somewhat better, but it wasn't until I immediately dialed Evan and talked to him that it was okay. This time has no comparison to last winter, though. It was about half an hour after Evan should have been at work-- a snowy, kind of slippery day, and he was hauling his great big work trailer. The doorbell rang, and I went down to answer it, still in my pajamas. And there was a police officer. I don't think I have ever known such a terrible feeling. I knew she was coming to tell me about Evan. I opened the door, and I can only imagine the look on my face, because she immediately said, "It's okay! We just got a 911 call from your house-- do you have any kids playing with the phone?" The relief was so great, I immediately started bawling-- not little tears on the cheeks-- big, fat, pregnant-lady-in-pajamas, racking sobs. She, of course, thought I was mental, and started to wonder if there was a reason someone had called 911. I finally calmed down enough to assure her that yes, my son had been playing with the phone, and she was welcome to come in and look around. She didn't come in, but as she drove away, she must have really been wondering if I was off my meds! I do think some of it was all the lovely pregnancy hormones surging around in me at the time, but some of it was my overly active imagination-- I could so easily picture how awful that would be!

So, all in all, life is better than if I was a pregnant widow with two small children. And, thanks to Bethaney and Lisa sending me stories and pictures of their lives, I have been thankful this week that A. My children did NOT spread a jar of peanut butter all over their quilts and blankets or B. I do not have a four foot high pile of laundry piled on my sofa and the first-trimester blahs. I'm glad to be me, swingless Marilla and all!