Atomic Tonic

I went back to work when Matilda was 5 months old. I milked my maternity leave for all it was worth and got 5 months. So many women in this country get 3 months. 6 weeks. 3 weeks. It's a crime. I got 5 months and still I was a mess and paniced about pumping (and pumping too soon and not getting results and panicing some more and getting less) and hormonal and emotional and did not want to leave my child at daycare.

I got 5 months home with her and once she did go to daycare, it wasn't full-time. My mother watched her a few days a week and soon it became clear that I could not handle working 40 hours a week an hour (and two train rides) away from her and not ever getting a full night's sleep and trying to pump and getting nothing and then forgetting the nothing in the fridge at work when I sprinted out of there at 5 o'clock to catch a train to catch a train to get home to her by 6ish. So I started working four days a week and still I was a mess. I was getting up at 5:30 to go for a run before I went to work because as much as running in the dark and then traveling an hour to work made me feel like I was running twice every morning, I needed that time.

This time around, I'm not working. I don't have to worry about pumping for a stored supply. I will eventually pump so I can leave Linnea for longer than half an hour, but I don't have to go to an office an hour away from my kids and try to pump enough to feed the younger of the two. I don't have to get up at 5:30 for a run, although I will start doing that soon anyway as I like running in the dark. I like getting my time out of the way.

I don't have to leave Linnea at daycare anytime soon. I don't have to leave Matilda there either, but I am anyway. Now that she's two and I'm tied to a newborn, I'm dropping her off at her old daycare two days a week. Yesterday was her first day back. I'd brought Linnea with me thinking we'd be staying a while until Matilda was comfortable with me leaving. But 10 minutes after we'd gotten there and stocked her cubby and filled the staff in on the Swedish words she uses, I asked Matilda if I could leave her there. She said yes. I said, "Ok. Linnea and I are going to leave. I'll be back later to pick you up. Ok?" Matilda said ok. Bye. And walked over to the kitchen area to play with a plastic donut. So we left. And when I went back to pick her up 8 hours later, she looked at me and asked where Linnea was. "Where Naya?" She was still holding the plastic donut. She hadn't eaten much of the lunch I packed her (she never does), but she had eaten the ice cream and M&Ms they had as a snack. She'd taken a nap. She'd chattered away to everyone and watched the other kids. Girlfriend had a great time. I think she only came with me because I told her I'd be taking her back to Linnea.

At two, Matilda is all about the kids. Big groups of them make her back up a little and watch, but in general, the kid loves kids. She loves boys especially and all her people. At two, she needs the break from me nearly as much as I need the break from her. And I do need the break from her, especially with a newborn to look after as well. (Although having just one child to wrangle yesterday felt like being on vacation. Even after I had to nurse Linnea in the shoe department of Target and then nurse her in the car in the parking lot of Target and then carry her back inside Target to collect the package of diapers that hadn't made it into my cart the first time through.)

When Matilda was 5 months old, leaving her at daycare made me want to cry. It made me itchy and short of breath. I was paniced all the time. Now that she's two, leaving her at daycare feels like the right thing to do. I'll admit I feel like I'm copping out as I'm home. I'm just around the corner from her. I'm wearing house pants and pink crocs. I'm cuddling Linnea in the pouch and writing a post. I've got a stack of things that need to get done. I didn't get enough sleep last night but I have the option of napping with Linnea this afternoon. I'm not at work in an office in pants with buttons or a zipper. I don't feel like my eyes are bleeding. Things feel managable.

Now Matilda doesn't need to be in daycare. But she likes being in daycare and that's more important.

Niclas' birthday is coming up. Matilda and I made a test cake today.

(From The Joy of Cooking, one edition past)

Preheat oven to 325. Using an 8-inch springform pan, rub two tablespoons of softened butter onto the bottom of the pan. Sprinkle with sugar and then with a handful of thinly sliced, lightly toasted almonds. Set aside.

Crumble into a large bowl:

7 to 8 ounces almond paste or marzipan

Add and beat until soft and well blended:

6 tbsp. unsalted butter

Gradually add and beat on high speed until lightened in color and texture, 2 to 3 minutes:

2/3 cup sugar

Whisk together, then gradually beat in, for a total of 3 minutes:

3 large eggs
1 tbsp. kirsch or brandy
1/4 tbsp. almond extract

Add in pinches to break up any lumps and beat in:

1/4 tsp. baking powder

Fold in with a spatula:

1/3 cup flour

Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let the cake cool before you remove the sides and flip it over.

Niclas is out of town today and is not returning until late tonight, so Matilda sang "Happy Birthday cake Papa," blew the candles out and ate two pieces without him.

Tomorrow Linnea is one month old. It feels like she's been here simultaneously for 3 days and 3 months. She's outgrowing clothes already. She wakes up about twice a night. Tends to get fussy around 7pm and sometimes again around 4am. She's started pooping once a day, gigantically, blowing through oufits and reaching clear up to the back of her neck, instead of everytime she nurses. Her umbilical cord stump fell off at one week. I don't think it was ready to -- I think her clothing pulled it off -- so the pediatrician swabbed her button with something to dry it out. It's looking healed now but she has yet to have a proper bath or a shower. So far, it's been sponge baths and baby massages on the Safer Bather.

She's been taking a pacifier here and there.

I have mixed feelings about this. Matilda took one for about 2 days when she was wee and screaming which prompted us to find a place online to order replacements for the only one she deemed ok. This time around, the hospital didn't cough up even one pacfier and I didn't ask as I assumed this kid would be using me as a pacifier much the same as Matilda did. But Linnea is a different creature and my milk production doesn't allow for hours of comfort nursing unless it's followed by grunting and spitting up. So when the need to suck comes up, as it often does for the newborns, we've discovered that the pacifiers leftover from Matilda's brush with them are coming in handy. I'm apprehensive about this as I don't look forward to breaking the habit but I have to admit I'm enjoying the time between meals when I get to keep my shirt on.

Her personality so far mimics how she was in utero. While Matilda was all Bruce Lee all the time, both before and after birth, Linnea is a little more Martha Graham, maybe. More apt to organize her stretching out and bending backwards. She enjoys sleeping. Is finally losing her ruddy jaundiced complexion but is still working on the baby acne. The hair on the back of her head is darker than the hair on the front. Her nostrils are perfect triangles. Her (blond) eyelashes get longer everyday. Her hands are long and delicate.

She's a great sleep aid, helping to get Matilda down for naps and bedtime. With Linnea lying next to her, Matilda is out in a quarter of the time it usually takes. If she wakes up and Linnea is no longer on the bed with her or even if she's no longer wedged under her head and is instead lying on the other side of me, there are tears and demands and "I wan taka Naya! I wan taka Naya!" It's sweet but too bad Matilda is only two and we can't use her as a babysitter.

Linnea had her one month check-up yesterday. She's up 1.7 pounds for a total of 8 pounds 8 ounces. She's grown a quarter of an inch and gone up a size in diapers. She's been cleared for her first real bath. Matilda, who tends to wake up around 6:15 but slept till after 7 two days ago and was this morning demanding breakfast by 5:45, was only 7 pounds 8 ounces at two months old. Yesterday it was 7 degrees outside. This morning it was 6. I've had to take my 11 minute miles to the treadmill, but at least its allowed me to run one mile straight through. I've got 3 months to get back in shape for my first 5k since last October. I'm down 5.5 pounds at one month postpartum.

Most nights Matilda goes to sleep in her own bed but by morning, every morning, she's in our bed. Sometimes she brings her "baby Ida" (doll) and her "big taggie" (blanket) and sometimes she comes alone. I prefer it when she brings her doll and blanket as it saves me the trip to get either/or if she decides she needs them later. The last couple of nights she's been in our bed from the start. Niclas was out of town on business for two bedtimes and the only way to get her to sleep and appease Linnea's baby witching hour is to lie down with both of them and nurse Linnea while Matilda settles down to sleep. Last night, while Niclas was home, Matilda demanded I put her down and Linnea, well. Linnea is working on some brain-growth and child is getting cranky. So off to bed with all three of us it was.

Our bed is a queen-size. Our bedroom cannot accommodate a king. There's a mesh-covered bed railing on my side of the bed to ensure that Matilda doesn't fall off. She's got her own pillow. Linnea has a wedge (which apparently at least one nurse deems unsafe, but I have to think that in this situation it's better than not using it). Niclas and I both have second pillows to put between our knees (good for the back, crucial for horizontal nursing). Four in a queen-sized bed is tight. Even though one of us is under 10 pounds, Matilda makes up for it. She sleeps all over the place. Like a pinwheel.

Most times I'm ok with this set-up. Most times I like it as the sight of my older child wrapped around the head of my younger child, children I pushed out of my own body, is better than an actual pile of puppies. The problem with this set-up is if Linnea wakes up at 4am, she wakes up Matilda. If I get up to change or burp Linnea, it's all over. Matilda wakes up and is ready to get up. So most times, if Linnea starts fussing at 4am, I make Niclas get up and tend to her. Most times, this keeps Matilda from waking up. Most times, this keeps my day from starting at 4:30. It's the days that start at 4:30 that make me question this set-up a little.

Before I became a parent, I had no idea how other parents dealt with their sleeping arrangements. I had no idea where kids slept, outside of some general awareness of cribs and toddler beds. I think that the sleeping arrangements of families with small children is the real parenthood secret. It's not the fact that some women poop on the table when they're pushing or how long the sleep deprivation really lasts (years) or how postpartum you go through a mini menopause and sweat for weeks. The real secret is where the kids sleep.

So where do your kids sleep?

Today is Niclas' birthday. Along with the cake his mother made (she's visiting), Matilda and I made some cupcakes.

(From latest edition of The Joy of Cooking)

Preheat oven to 350.

Beat in a medium bowl until smooth:

8 ounces of cream cheese
1/3 cup sugar

Add and beat until smooth:

1 large egg

Stir in:

1 cup chocolate chips

Set that bowl aside. In another bowl, whisk together thoroughly:

1 1/2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt

Add:

1 cup water
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 tbsp. white vinegar
1 tsp. vanilla

Stir with a spatula just until smooth. Fill muffin cups about halfway full of the latter (chocolate) mixture. Place a heaping tablespoon of the cream cheese mixture in the center of each. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the cakey part of a cupcake comes out clean, 20 to 25 minutes.

I'm one tantrum away from selling my toddler to the highest bidder. Her grandmother was just here from Sweden for a week and a half. Matilda was fun and games pretty much the whole time, aside from some bedtime highjinks. That grandmother left last night and her other grandparents swooped in and took her home for the night. My mother dropped her off today and once the dust settled and it was just us, the epic torture of the two-year old meltdown amped up.

She whined. And she whined. And she whined. About dropping her doll and wanting to wear her sipppppppers (I was not stopping her but maybe one of them was not close enough to her foot for her liking). She wanted to eeeeeeat. And then did not eat. And then wanted to eeeeeeat. And then no eating. She wanted her doll -- she dropped it and she wanted it baaaaaaaack -- and it was up to me to get it. She wanted her Lucia headgear (worn below)

and her doll and the dirty striped shirt she pulled out of the laundry. She needed them alllllllllllll and the whining was screaming and she popped tears like party favors. She motored upstairs for her bath and then busted a valve because no, nooooooooo bath. She scratched at the door and yelled for baby Iiiiiiiida (who she already had in a dead grip). Noooooo bath! Babbbby Iiiiiiiida! Sipppppers! Shirrrrrt! Daaaaaat! Noooooooo!

Aaaaaaaaaaaagh!

That last one being me. When she's not cracking glass with her vocal cords, she's terribly sweet and funny and she repeats everything we say. I should stop swearing. She's been going to swim class with Niclas. She has no problem going under. Loves kicking and jumping in. She holds onto Niclas' hands but nearly treads water by herself.

At the end of class this week she had a tantrum when Niclas went to swim some laps in the big pool. Papa! Paaaapa! Paaaaaaaaaapa! Dripping wet popping tears stomping whining for more. More Papa. More pool. More kiiiiiicking! Paaaaaaapa! While I got her dressed and carried her through the Y, straight out to the car and allllll the way home. Paaaaaapa! Paaaaaaaaapa!

Actually, now that I think about it, I don't need a high bidder. I'd take a lowball offer and a bottle of vodka.

I seem to remember either week 6 or week 8 being the height of newborn crankiness. I'm certain I could look this up but I'm too lazy and it's not like knowing is really going to be useful. Linnea is 5 weeks old tomorrow and regardless of where her high point is going to fall, she's on her way. She won't let us put her down anymore. She spent the afternoon sleeping on my chest in the pouch. Asleep but periodically screaming anyway. She managed to keep me up last night till nearly 3 with her nursing and grunting and nursing and poke poke poking. She's in cahoots with her sister as they like to start screaming at the same time. All the time. One screaming kid I can nearly handle. Two of them in stereo make me fantasize about $10 cocktails and a tank full of gas.

I joke but I'm glad I'm on the way out of this phase of my life. The early days of parenthood. The saggy stomach and bloated hands. The fear of night and how little sleep it holds. Nursing too often to drink a whole glass of wine. Not having the luxury of having a few glasses of wine and chancing a hangover. Spending over an hour every night putting kids to bed before I can sit on the couch and unwind. If I get lucky and get to unwind. Sitting on the couch nursing one kid who won't let me put her down while the second kid whines and screams and stomps on the floor in the upstairs bathroom that she wants to eeeeeeeeat! No bath! Eeeeeeeat!

She does not want to eat. She just wants to test us. She is currently testing my will to not throw her out the window.

Went for a run this morning. Three miles. No walking. I'm still slower than usual, but it's progress. According to the scale yesterday, I'm down another half a pound. According to it today, I'm up two. I will feign optimism and go with yesterday's number. I managed to get one of my wedding bands on the other day but wiggled it off last night because it was too tight. I broke down and bought three shirts at Target because my clothes still don't fit and I'm still sick of my maternity clothes.

Pretty sure Linnea has started smiling. Even when it's not gas.

I had the cat put to sleep today. She hadn't eaten in days. Had been barfing clear fluid. She'd spent most of last night sleeping on the dresser in our room. I heard her fall off it sometime around 2. Vet said she had a giant tumor in her stomach. I feel guilty for not taking her in a few days ago. She was really suffering.

She was nearly 16. Her life was pretty good, at least until the kids came along.

Parenthood with a two-year old and a five-week old is like an on/off switch you have no control over. It's ON at 6am when the toddler starts barking orders -- "get up" "downstairs" "want to eat" -- and the baby realizes I'm no longer lying next to her. She wants to nurse and the toddler wants pancakes and then cereal and then yogurt. She drops two pieces of pancake on the floor, directly out of her mouth, won't touch the cereal as soon as I add milk and spills the entire container of yogurt down the leg of her chair and onto the rug. It's ON when I say shit and the toddler says shit. Shit shit shit and the baby is mad. Yelling from the swing because that was not in her plan. It's OFF when Niclas gets up and eats breakfast with the toddler who finally eats and the baby is satisfied and sleepy enough to lounge in her bouncy chair while I take a shower.

It's ON and both kids are screaming. The toddler needs pants but loses it if you try to take her crocs off to put the pants on and the newborn is really pissed that she's currently in the carseat and not being held and how dare you. It's OFF and the toddler is napping in her bed and the newborn is conked out in the swing and you've got two hands free and no one yelling at you. You have time to fold laundry. It's ON and they both wake up at the same time. They're both hungry. So are you. The toddler won't eat, just ask to eat. The baby will eat but she grunts if you walk around too much. She wants you to sit down, stop moving, knock it off already. The toddler wants you to get up. It's ON with a dimmer when the baby will nurse in the pouch and the toddler will help cook dinner.

It's OFF and the toddler is at daycare and the baby has been sleeping for three hours in her carseat. You have time to pin up a few more Taggies for all the friends about to have kids, more kids. We're populating the earth with all these kids and all these kids need Taggies.

It's ON and the toddler is home demanding to eat as she didn't eat at daycare and the baby is ready to nurse for four hours straight. An hour into that, the toddler needs a bath. She's recently decided she hates baths unless one of us gets in with her. If I get in with her, the baby screams in Niclas' arms because she was not done nursing. If Niclas gets in the bath, it's ON for him but I get to sit on the couch with the baby and then it's ON with a dimmer.

When it's OFF I think I can handle it. When it's ON I can't imagine how it is when it's OFF.

(No idea where this recipe came from. It's chock full of lemon flavor, though.)

Made it for Linnea's first party today.

CAKE:
1/2 pound unsalted butter at room temp
2 cups granulated sugar
4 extra large eggs at room temp
1/3 cup grated lemon zest (6 to 8 lemons)
3 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
3/4 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

GLAZE:
2 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted
3 1/2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

CAKE: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease, flour and line bottom of two 8 1/2 x 4 1/4 x 2 1/2 inch loaf pans with parchment paper.

Cream butter and 2 cups granulated sugar in bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, for about 5 minutes, or until light and fluffy. With mixer on medium, add eggs, one at a time, and lemon zest.

Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a bowl. In another bowl, combine 1/4 cup lemon juice, buttermilk and vanilla. Add flour and buttermilk mixtures alternately to the batter, beginning and ending with flour. Divide batter evenly between the pans, smooth the tops, and bake 45 minutes to 1 hour, until cake tester or toothpick comes out clean.

SYRUP: Combine 1/2 cup granulated sugar and 1/2 cup lemon juice in small saucepan; cook over low heat until sugar dissolves.

When cakes are done, let them cool for 10 minutes, then invert them onto a rack set over a tray, and spoon the lemon syrup over the cakes. Allow cakes to cool completely.

GLAZE: Combine the confectioners' sugar and lemon juice in a bowl, mixing with a wire whisk til smooth. Pour over top of cakes and allow glaze to drizzle down sides.

A week ago one of the "mommy bloggers" everyone reads, whether they're willing to admit it or not, posted about her toddler and his eating habits. She posted a list of the 5 things he ate right up until she wrote them down at which point he threw #3 on the list at her head. I commented on that blog saying my toddler will eat anything save beans, provided she's actually hungry. I said I don't care if my toddler doesn't eat for three days. I know she won't stave and she will, eventually, eat.

Oh, how the cocky stings.

The two year old is making me CRAZY with the food. Not because she will only eat 6 items or because she refused to eat before sunset. She is making me crazy because she is constantly. asking. to. eat. and then will not eat what I give her. Even if it's what she asked for. It doesn't matter what I serve her, outside of chocolate which she'd happily eat for breakfast. 9 times out of 10 these days she wants to eat eat eat. And then pushes the food away the second I place it in front of her. "Here Mama. Take this. Don't want this." Rejects the pizza and the apple and the pasta. The cheese omelette I made specifically for her even though she just ate half of the omelette I made for myself and requested more. More mama! And then no eating. Won't eat the pancakes she was sure she wanted. The pancakes I made at 6:30 in the morning from batter I made from scratch at 6:30 in the morning. Not interested after convincing me she was, in fact, interested.

I am sick of making food only to throw it away. I'm also lazy. I don't want to spend an hour offering cereal and banana and left-overs from dinner and cheese sandwiches only to throw it all down the disposal and wash more dishes.

I'm trying something new today. After first serving her pasta and sauce with a side of corn and fruit salad (she didn't eat any of it, 'natch), I'm trying a trick I've heard of from other mothers, possibly even another commenter on the aforementioned blog. I put a muffin tin of snacks on her table. I'm not serving her anything else until dinner. I am lazy and she has burned me many times already.

The muffin tin caught her eye today, at least. She ate something.

I'm not banking on this working tomorrow, however.

Last October I sat next to the mother of two young children at a friend's wedding. She told me that our second kid, the one I was still carrying, was going to be my kid. She said I'd be the only one capable of calming her down. It wasn't so much that I didn't believe her, but every situation is different. I didn't think much of the conversation at the time but the last few days I've been realizing she was right. Linnea is my kid. She's Niclas' too, but at six weeks today, she wants me to hold her all the time. She yelled for the duration of my shower this morning, all while Niclas held her. She stopped as soon as I took her back. She wants to sleep nose to nipple with me at night (which is awkward but not nearly as bad as what Matilda wanted at her age, which was to nurse while she slept. All night).

The swing is becoming less reliable as a nap location. More often than not she wakes up before 10 minutes have passed and yells for me to pick her up again. She'll still sleep in the carseat, sometimes for hours, but she tends to put up a fight at the start now.

I have no idea how I'd be surviving Linnea's babyhood (and Matilda's toddlerhood) without this pouch. I guess I'd make it through but I'd be starving and the laundry would never get folded. With Linnea in the pouch, I can do some of the cooking and I can wipe off the counters. Unloading the dishwasher is out as the angles are just too awkward, especially when she burrows into my armpit, as is loading the washing machine.

I can't remember how old Matilda was when we got this pouch but I know we had it by the time we went to Sweden when she was 5 months. She slept through 4 countries, 3 airports and countless afternoons in it. Before I got too pregnant to use it with her, she spent many an "uppee uppee uppee" type afternoon in it. She hung out on my hip while I cooked, her toddler legs dangling around my knees. Now, Linnea spends nearly all her time in it when she's not nursing and sometimes when she is nursing.

Me me me

If Linnea is six weeks old, I'm six weeks postpartum. Down another 1/2 a pound which is pathetic and I don't believe it as I've been eating too many cookies.

As the weight drips away, the sagging is becoming more apparent. This is unfortunate. The muffin top is very unfortunate. I'm glad I can't see myself walking away these days. I have to avert my eyes when the sun casts my shadow on runs. On paper, the runs are getting better. Bit longer, touch faster. Got some minor shin splints for my troubles. But I'm stuffing myself into my old running clothes and I can feel things jiggling. I am so impatient for this body

to change back to this body.

I'm all alone. I'm sitting on the couch with the laptop and a Tivoed episode of Lost (for noise mostly as I hardly pay attention to TV anymore and Lost lost me ages ago and I might have seen this episode before, actually) and I'm alone in the room. Both kids are asleep in our bed with a pillow between them to protect Linnea from Matilda's tossing and rolling. Niclas is working in the room next to them so he can keep an ear out.

I'm alone in the room. I'm eating the easter bunny I bought Matilda weeks ago thinking I could convince myself to forget it was in the house. I'd forgotten until now, alone in the room with my arms free and my shirt on and the house in relative order for tomorrow.

The dishes are washed, the toys are picked up and my coffee is ready to go, but there's laundry to be folded. There's always laundry to be folded, however, and I'm putting this batch off to sit on the couch alone. The folding of this load doesn't matter as much as the washing did. This load contains this dress

which Matilda hardly takes off long enough to be washed. (She didn't wear it today but started asking for it before bedtime. I told her we had to wash it but she could wear it all day tomorrow. She helped me put it in the washing machine. It was important to get it into the dryer. She will be asking for it as soon as we get downstairs tomorrow morning.)

I haven't been alone on the couch with the TV and the internet and things wrapped up at the end of the day since Linnea was born.

I saw the OB I used for my pregnancy with Matilda this weekend. She told me the new girl working at her front desk has six kids and that's why she hired her. Figured anyone who could manage six childred would be on top of whatever her job could throw at her. I'm not ready for six kids. I've got two and I think we're doing ok but I spend all my time organizing and cleaning and planning weekly menus (oh yes, yes I am) and mapping out how to get to the bank or the post office and making sure Matilda's snack tray is stocked and ready to go the night before

so I can pull it out in the morning and put a stop to the "eat eat eat eat" chant and have a cup of coffee in the relative peace of a nursing infant. (The trays are working and the joy is spreading.) I'm busy distracting one kid while the other eats and then distracting that kid while the first one eats. I'm pulling out playdoh and starting dinner at 2 so it's ready when Matilda starts asking for it at 5.

I'm busy trying to catch all the things Linnea is doing. The grabbing and grunting and kicking and smiles.

I'm making faces at her and rubbing her soft round head. I'm talking to her when she's nursing to see her raise an eyebrow, kick a leg straight out and pop her seal on my nipple. I'm trying to include Matilda in all this. Reminding her to be gentle with the baby. Sitting with her so she can hold her sister. Not get headbutted in the process.

I asked the OB, who has four kids herself, if it gets easier. She walked me through her mornings. By 6:30, she's done two loads of laundry, served three cups of tea at two different temperatures, one cup of coffee and four breakfasts in three shifts. So no. It doesn't get easier. Being alone in a room becomes slightly less novel but I gather the laundry never lets up.

When I got pregnant with Linnea I decided I wasn't going to buy any maternity clothes. My due date with her was one week after my due date with Matilda was, two years previous. It was my last pregnancy. I figured I would use the same maternity clothes and hold off buying new clothes until the pregnancy was over and the weight was gone.

I didn't live up to it. Over the last year, I bought one maternity shirt ($6), two pairs of lounge/sleepwear when my stomach got so big even the largest of my maternity clothes rode up or fell down ($40), two pairs of knock-off Crocs when my feet got so uncomfortable the ugly started to look good ($20), and then a handful of non-maternity-but-hide-the-muffin-top shirts once the baby was out but the weight was certainly not ($50).

In the last year, I've spent just over $100 on clothing for myself. I've still got 20 pounds to lose. I'm nowhere near being able to buy clothing for myself. I'm grumpy and puffy and fat. Spring is around the corner. I need to spend. Spending is mental Spring Cleaning. I can't spend on myself because I can hardly look at my body in a mirror nevermind try pants on it.

So I spent on the kids. I bought some Baby Legs for both of them knowing that Matilda wouldn't let me put them on her and Linnea wouldn't have a choice.

So far, Matilda won't let me put them on her. Linnea doesn't have a choice.

I also bought a lighter weight pouch. Linnea is certainly putting in the hours in the fleece one and I don't see that changing anytime soon. This summer we go to Sweden. The first time we took Matilda to Sweden, she spent roughly 85% of her time in the pouch. Linnea will be the same age for her first trip to Sweden that Matilda was on her first trip.

The pouch is almost like buying new clothes for myself.

Up!

A lot last night. For good since 6am. Half a pound. Highest weekly mileage to 16.

...Eh. I got nothing folks.

I'll forget the faces Linnea makes when she's nursing. I'll forget how her legs dangle over my side and she kicks them out like she's starting her engine. I'll forget that she raises one eyebrow when I interrupt her dinner to talk to her. I'll forget how she waves her fists like she's knocking on a door.

I'll forget but I don't want to.

I'll forget how she rolls her head back and to the side when she stretches her back and how she kneads my stomach and the tops of my thighs with her feet when we're lying in bed. I'll forget how outrageous her smiles are. How easily they come to her. I'll forget the weight of her. I'll forget the cry she makes when she's really hungry and hears my voice. I'll forget how much it sounds like she's being stuck with a pin. How it sounds like she's in so much pain. How did she learn such a noise?

I'll forget that Matilda has been reading books to us at night. That she repeats after me "I know a rhino. We like to take tea. I have two sugars," "...two sugars," and she holds up two fingers, "and rhino takes three." "...takes three." I'll forget that she tells me she only wants two. I'll forget that she holds up the book she's reading so I can see the pictures and how she sneaks the word "libary" onto most pages. I'll forget that she wants to "take Naya" all the time. That she wants to burp her. I'll forget that she's been running around the house eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches this week and she wants to watch E.T. - "E.T. go home" - and I'll forget that this is the week she really figured out how to get her clothes on herself. Underpants, tops, pants.

I'll forget but I don't want to.

I'll forget how she puts her "baby Ida" between her legs so she can jump on her trampoline using both hands to hold on. I'll forget how she's been using wet wipes to clean up. Her face and the couch and the tub and how she holds her palm at the edge of the tub so she can catch what the wet wipe brushes off. I'll forget that she wants to bring the wet wipe to bed, along with "baby Ida" and two books and the baby monitor. I'll forget that she needs chapstick and to drink water before she can sleep and she needs to get both "all by self."

I'll forget but I don't want to.