The Day Before Company Arrives
Today is the day before the staff dinner here at my house.
That explains the following things.
Babygirl woke up with a runny nose, the kind that triumphs over the tissue box. Why? Of all days, today? My agenda included cleaning, laundry, food shopping, decorating, cooking . . . not nose-wiping.
While putting up decorations tonight, suddenly my husband realized that YoungestBoy was crying somewhere in the house. He said to the older boys, "Tell him to be quiet! The baby is sleeping!"
They couldn't find him, so my husband went upstairs. He immediately returned, saying, "He wants to talk to you." I abandoned the Christmas lights and went upstairs to find YoungestBoy with tears on his face, perched on the toilet. He said with true concern, "I just need to know. Is it normal for pee to come out of your b*tt?"
He's had an upset tummy today. Enough said. I did not laugh at his distress because I am a compassionate mother, a gentle mother. But, oh boy, that was funny.
About an hour later, I heard, "MOM!" Then again. "MOM!" Unmistakable voice of my angel, Babygirl. I trudged upstairs, abandoning the Christmas decorations yet again. Her light was on (she can reach the switch from her crib). She looked so cute with her hair all tousled. It was 9:24 p.m. She said, "I want to go downstairs." I told her it was still nighttime and I sat and rocked her for ten minutes. She asked again to go downstairs, but I reminded her again that it wasn't morning and put her to bed. She's been quiet ever since.
Please, God. Please. Ler her sleep all night.
A bit later, when I investigated an unplugged lamp, I found a spot of kitty piddle on my new carpet.
We got the Christmas tree up. For the first time ever--miracles never cease--my husband actually helped assemble it, so it went up fairly quickly. I was a Christmas tree purist in my pre-children days. We always had a real tree, and sometimes even a live tree which we planted in the yard after Christmas. All that ended the Christmas I got pregnant. I was seven months pregnant with YoungestBoy and I said, "No way am I going to put up a real tree this year." I remembered the year before when we dragged the tree--one we picked out and cut down ourselves--into the house. The melting snow dripped into my eyes, because I am always the lucky one to put it into the stand and to struggle to straighten it. The needles were sharp and disappeared into the carpet after Christmas, only to poke through our socks into our tender feet months later.
So, now we have a fake tree. I buy a Yankee candle for the scent and call it Christmas. Good enough.
Tomorrow, we'll stay home from church so Babygirl doesn't infect all the other babies in the nursery. I will be cooking most of the day and mopping for a little aerobic exercise amidst the calories.
Best of all, in twenty-four hours this will all be over. My house will be ready for Christmas and I will have leftover peanut butter pie. I hope.
That explains the following things.
Babygirl woke up with a runny nose, the kind that triumphs over the tissue box. Why? Of all days, today? My agenda included cleaning, laundry, food shopping, decorating, cooking . . . not nose-wiping.
While putting up decorations tonight, suddenly my husband realized that YoungestBoy was crying somewhere in the house. He said to the older boys, "Tell him to be quiet! The baby is sleeping!"
They couldn't find him, so my husband went upstairs. He immediately returned, saying, "He wants to talk to you." I abandoned the Christmas lights and went upstairs to find YoungestBoy with tears on his face, perched on the toilet. He said with true concern, "I just need to know. Is it normal for pee to come out of your b*tt?"
He's had an upset tummy today. Enough said. I did not laugh at his distress because I am a compassionate mother, a gentle mother. But, oh boy, that was funny.
About an hour later, I heard, "MOM!" Then again. "MOM!" Unmistakable voice of my angel, Babygirl. I trudged upstairs, abandoning the Christmas decorations yet again. Her light was on (she can reach the switch from her crib). She looked so cute with her hair all tousled. It was 9:24 p.m. She said, "I want to go downstairs." I told her it was still nighttime and I sat and rocked her for ten minutes. She asked again to go downstairs, but I reminded her again that it wasn't morning and put her to bed. She's been quiet ever since.
Please, God. Please. Ler her sleep all night.
A bit later, when I investigated an unplugged lamp, I found a spot of kitty piddle on my new carpet.
We got the Christmas tree up. For the first time ever--miracles never cease--my husband actually helped assemble it, so it went up fairly quickly. I was a Christmas tree purist in my pre-children days. We always had a real tree, and sometimes even a live tree which we planted in the yard after Christmas. All that ended the Christmas I got pregnant. I was seven months pregnant with YoungestBoy and I said, "No way am I going to put up a real tree this year." I remembered the year before when we dragged the tree--one we picked out and cut down ourselves--into the house. The melting snow dripped into my eyes, because I am always the lucky one to put it into the stand and to struggle to straighten it. The needles were sharp and disappeared into the carpet after Christmas, only to poke through our socks into our tender feet months later.
So, now we have a fake tree. I buy a Yankee candle for the scent and call it Christmas. Good enough.
Tomorrow, we'll stay home from church so Babygirl doesn't infect all the other babies in the nursery. I will be cooking most of the day and mopping for a little aerobic exercise amidst the calories.
Best of all, in twenty-four hours this will all be over. My house will be ready for Christmas and I will have leftover peanut butter pie. I hope.
posted by Melodee at Saturday, December 04, 2004
1 Comments:
Funny, I always had a fake tree UNTIL I had a child. Since then it's been real trees every year.
Good luck with the entertaining. I'm sure it will be lovely. :)
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