I hate it when I want to begin blog entries with the boring and non-compesentory “I’m sorry I haven’t written a post in way too long - I’ve been busy with work/kids/friends(hahaha!)/exercise/etc and blah blah blah….”

So instead I apologize if you’ve come here one or twice or a zillion times in the past few weeks only to see a picture of my beautiful 4 year old and nothing more - it could be worse though right?

I’ve been composing an entry in my head for days now. I can’t write it during the daytime because of being blocked from shelcor.org at work, and I suppose on a lesser level that it would be unethical to spend time my employer is paying me to do personal business (can I get another hahahahaha!). And now that I sit down at the laptop to write it at 11 o’clock at night I can’t get anything to come out of my brain. Probably because it is too tired and I should go to bed out of it instead of smelling the delicious popcorn that Cory is making me because I told asked him to.

What I’m wanting to tell you about it Elsa. How she says some new words, how she is still climbing but now injuring herself quite a bit (but getting right back up after a minute or two cry), how she loves her sister and how she plays by herself just as well or better than she does with her sister, how she is so cute and wonderful and how much in love we all are with her.

I will do that blog entry someday. Maybe not soon (though hopefully) but it will be done.

For tonight I’m just gonna let you know that out little miss not-quite-one-and-a-half-years-old Elsa has been sick for several days now. On Saturday I thought it was a sore throat and on Monday thought she was getting better but 3am this morning when she woke with a fever I knew it wasn’t either. A quick trip to the doctor this afternoon lets me know it’s an ear infection. Not great but we have antibiotics now so hopefully it won’t be long getting gone.

Okay, that’s the quick update. But someday I will tell you more about her, and in a nice paragraph type descriptive way, not a quick list or rambling sentence as I often tend to do.

Sorry.

Check em out on Flickr!

The birthday party was a success. Merrin is already planning her 5th. While I keep not-so-gently reminding her that she isn’t even actually 4 years old yet.

Her actual birthday is on Wednesday. We are making chili for supper and only blood-related family are coming. Sorry everyone else, our house - and my patience - just isn’t big enough for more than that.

So the big question from the day is “Did the boy come?”

Well, he didn’t.

But we knew beforehand and had prepped Merrin, and it was okay.

Nathan’s mom let me know as soon as she received the invitation that he couldn’t come because he was having surgery the day before and would still be in the hospital on the day of the party.

Sure she was disappointed, but after explaining it to her several dozen times over the course of a couple of days she seemed to understand. Or at least she stopped talking about it so much.

On the day before the party Nathan’s mom had dropped off a gift for her. We brought Nathan’s, and his younger brothers, loot bags to daycare for them today.

On Wednesday, the real birthday, I will be bringing cupcakes to daycare for their snacktime. I don’t know if Nathan will be back at daycare then or not but if he is I’m sure Merrin will make sure that he gets the biggest, and/or the best decorated, cupcake of the lot!

EDIT:
I’d forgotten earlier when I wrote this that I’d wanted to tally up the cost of the party:
$45 Space Rental
$100 Facepainter
$100 Loot Bags, Prizes, Decorations & dishes/cultery
$30 Cake
$48 Pizza
$16 Coffee
$10 Cheese & meat tray
$20 Snacks
=
$370

So I can just imagine how this stuff is gonna gut us in a couple of years.

Merrin had her 4th Birthday Party today, her first real birthday according to her. Shelley rented the room at the Muse Center, we had a face painter, brought fruit trays, “Little Mermaid” cake and twenty of her “closest” friends! Thanks to everyone who turned out.

Here are a few snaps of the event. Enjoy.

Ok, we’re off to try to get two kids into bed that have had WAY TOO MUCH SUGAR AND ACTIVITY for one day. (Meltdown City, population: Shelcor)

Merrin’s Friday afternoon swim lessons are going great. She’s only had three so far as one was cancelled because of the storm last week but I she still looks forward to going to them, so that’s a good sign, right?

After the second class I came home and told Cory that I was thinking to enroll her in private lessons - which I don’t want to because, HELLO, the cost. Merrin’s in a group class so there is 1 instructor for every 3 kids. Of the group Merrin is in she is the most….. enthusiatic - of the lot. While the instructor is in the middle of the pool with one student the other two are buckled in to these seat-thingy on the side of the pool. As you can imagine, Merrin is none too pleased when she is strapped in to the contraption, but she is all out when she isn’t.

During the first class it seemed to me that each student spent a near equal amount of time with the instructor. But during the second class it seemed like the, needier, students were given more attention. And maybe it should be that way. But Merrin sat at the side of the pool, splashing water and playing with a little rubber ducky in between sadly looking back at me. Twice Merrin’s turn was skipped so the instructor could spend more time with the other two students. I was half expecting her to tell me when the class was over that she didn’t have fun this week, or something along those lines.

But she didn’t, and this past week she was ‘paid back’ as the other two kids weren’t there and Merrin had the instructor all to herself, which needless to say she loved immensely. Merrin. Not the instructor, I’m sure.

As Merrin is in swimming lessons, and therefore the pool, once a week we have been shying away from taking the kids swimming on the weekends every 2nd, or 3rd or at least 4th weekend as I was aiming to do. I’ve been feeling more guilty about that lately as (read: poor old) Elsa doesn’t get to swimming a quarter, or perhaps even an eight, as much as Merrin did when she was her age. I want both kids to grow up used to and liking the water and the crazy-mommy-guilt side of me has lately been feeling that I’m going to ruin Elsa for it by not bringing her to the pool and helping her become more familiar with the water.

I probably shouldn’t worry. But I do.

Yesterday Elsa attempted to eat half a grapefruit. She loves grapefruit and gobbles up the flesh and nearly chokes on the juice trying to slurp it in her as fast as she can. But yesterday she got more grapefruit and grapefruit juice *ON* her than she did *IN* her, because *SHE* attempted to eat half a grapefruit. Refusing any help from me, even angrily throwing on the floor any bits of flesh that I had scooped out in my early attempts to feed it to her. After about 15 minutes of poking at and eviscerating the flesh she did let me have at it to squeeze any remaining bit of juice from it. Which she then poured all over herself when she tipped her head back and the bowl up trying to get it all into her gullet.

So though we normally bathe the kids each night before bed - usually more for routine and consistency than necessity - Elsa had a midday bath and hair wash. Cory spent most of the time with her while she was in the tub, while I was cleaning or tidying or doing something I’m sure that’s just as productive and homely.

Cory called out to me to come and when I got to the bathroom Elsa was lying on her belly in a couple inches of water.

“Show mommy you can swim Elsa” he said, and then she began. She twisted her hips back and forth, half rotating to each side of her body while her short chubby legs flopped her feet around behind her and her arms and hands, stretched out in front of her, splashed the water with all her might.

And her head cocked back, eyes locked on mine, and the biggest kind of grin. She was so proud of herself. And I was proud of her too.

We goaded her into ’swimming’ for us several more times, all of us laughing and cheering her on, and her smiling more widely each time.

I just have to take her swimming again sometime soon.

Tonight we are making the invitations to Merrin’s birthday party next weekend. Cory designed and printed the picture the other day, tonight we are printing the labels with all the party details to put on the back of the pictures.

You’d think all of this would be fairly easy to do.

But if you’d ask Cory, he’d say it is not.

At least the picture is awesome!

Food is important to us. Good food is even more important.

As I begin to type this entry I’m on the phone with Dad talking about eating well. He’s in Labrador and is given all kinds of good food - caribou, char, berries, salmon - and when we’re lucky (and he’s coming to town & has room) we receive the spoils of it too. In the fridge we have caribou jerky that I often nibble on when I’m snacky, caribou salami that is waiting to be paired with mozzarella on our next homemade pizza, and in the freezer a large smoked arctic char that I have to arrange a dinner party for - I can’t justify cooking up that bad boy just for me and Cory, I must invite somebody over to help us enjoy it. Any takers?

When I was pregnant with Merrin I remember wondering if having a baby, and eventually a kid, would mean that we wouldn’t have time to cook anymore. That we’d be relegated to a life of kraft dinner, emergency (frozen) pizza and take-out chinese. Now don’t get me wrong, we enjoy all these selections, just not all that often. Well except for the kids and their kraft dinner - we make about a box a week and save it leftovers to dole out bit by bit as side dishes on nights when they don’t really enjoy much of what we’re eating.

One of my proudest moments of the first day I brought Merrin home from the hospital was that once I walked in the door I went straight to the kitchen to make one of our favourite, and easiest, dishes: sausage, onion, broccoli & tomato stir fried with navy & black beans and rosemary. Although it probably had less to do with my desire to cook and more to do with my body seeking real food after the three day ’shock and awe’ that is hospital food. But I know it had something to do with my need to prove to myself that we could indeed cook real food and eat it as well, even if there was a time and energy sucking baby in the house now.

When Merrin was old enough to stand on a stool at the kitchen counter we began trying to incorporate her into our food preparation process. She enjoyed it for a while, maybe close to a year, and then her focus was sucked away by movies and toys and a baby sister. Every now and again she still wants to help in the kitchen, but more often than not she prefers to cook us food - or make us tea - with her wooden stove, metal pots and plastic food. I am proud of her when she does want to help us with the real food though, and happy because usually it means she will eat more, or be more adventurous in trying new food.

Tonight Elsa was inducted into the food preparation ritual. She is about at the same as now as Merrin was when she started standing on the stool, leaning against the counter. And we started Elsa off on the same things we did with Merrin - fresh mushrooms, the brush to get any dirt off, a cheese platter knife to cut them. Elsa loved it, and was a pro. At the cutting anyway, she had little interest in brushing them. Although she did brush a nearby lemon. Elsa’s mushroom cutting technique was to pull the stalk off, or at least most of it, then jam the cheese knife where the stalk used to be until it came through the cap on the other side, and finally to twist the cap and knife, one in each hand, until the mushroom broke in half. Or 1/4 & 3/4. Or at least broke into more than one piece somehow.

She was so proud of herself. And I was sure to tell her what an awesome job she did while I took the massacred mushrooms and finely chopped them for the the orzo risotto we were making. On a side note, I find that totally funny, because it’s risotto made with orzo, or Orzotto - hahaha! Okay, I guess it’s just me. Anyway….

Merrin, wondering what her sister was doing up on HER stool in the kitchen, also wanted to join in and help. So while Elsa and I stirred the broth into the orzo on the stovetop I had Merrin doing the most important risotto making job of all - preparing the flavour agents. Merrin’s job was to grate the lemon zest and Parmigiano-Reggiano. Which she did fairly well, though not nearly as well as she did in sneaking bits of the cheese with every couple of turns of the grater.

We had a great time preparing supper, and an even better time eating it. Even though Merrin would not even try the risotto, at least Elsa lapped it up. Oh, and that the kids had Cory’s leftover ’superbowl’ chicken nuggets instead of the juicy local pork chops with cranberry glaze that we did. And don’t even mention the asparagus. Every now and again Merrin will eat a top of one, and Elsa will mash some into her mouth though I’m not really certain how much makes it down into her stomach - tonight they were having no part in eating asparagus.

Oh well, you can lead a horse to water…..

I’ve bitched and moaned and bitched some more……

And now here you have it folks…..

Merely a month (and a bit) late….

pictures from our christmas….

Thank you Cory!

Have I mentioned before that Elsa likes to climb. Yes. I’m sure I have.

She is trying to get on top of everything. For months she’s been climbing on the couch, and off again. Thanks to the ‘mates bed’ frame on Merrin’s bed Elsa’s really close to getting up there on her own, without the aid of one of the two stepping stools we now have to hide while Elsa is awake.

A couple of weeks ago she found her way on top of the coffee table. Today I watched her over and over again get on top of it by merely using her protuding baby belly as a fulcrum to leverage herself up.

Today while I was putting supper together - lentil loaf I made last night and warmed up today, with cucumber & red pepper on the side - I heard her at the kitchen table. When I had a second I turned around and she was standing on top of one of the narrow benches we use as chairs.

Also today, once she was finished smashing her lentil loaf into nearly everything except her mouth, she climbed up on one of the dining room table chairs. She didn’t stand in it, just sat. Presumably to attempt to see our view of the table during supper.

But at least it was a more successful dining room chair attempt than yesterday.

My cousin Lori, who grew up in Ottawa but now lives near Truro, was in town on business. She is newly pregnant, just entering her second trimester. This is her first pregnancy and the last time I saw her I was just entering my second trimester of my first pregnancy. Weird, huh.

Anyway amidst all the baby talk and the hopefully not so lame nor unsolicited parenthood advice Elsa decided to try to climb one of the dining room chairs. But she attempted to scale it from the back. Naturally she didn’t get very far before falling flat on her back, and then the chair falling on top of her. And then she cried and cried and screamed and cried some more for a couple of minutes.

Thankfully she scared herself more than she hurt herself - nothing a couple minutes of mommy cuddle and rocking time followed by jumping & dancing in mommy’s arms time couldn’t fix.

As for how much psychological damage we did to Lori, well, I’m not sure about that.

*As in, Sir Edmund