How often are you supposed to sweep and mop your kitchen floor?

Never mind that, how often do you actually do it? I know, it depends on your traffic, size of family, if you have a crawling baby around. But how often do you sweep and mop?

Every day? There's no way I'm going to sweep every day (sorry, Marcia!). Every week at least? Umm, I don't sweep every week.

I sweep when the chunks get annoying or when we have company coming. I just swept because the in-laws are coming to visit tomorrow for New Year's.

It's a good thing they're coming, because it's making us clean. I'll come forward and admit, the last time I swept my floor was right after we made Christmas cookies, around December 5 or 6 or so. I had to sweep then because there were little nonpariel (sp?) things rolling around the floor.

The problem, besides the fact that I dislike cleaning and would rather spend my spare minutes reading a book or magazine or newspaper or just about anything, is that my floor is huge. Our vinyl starts in our broad entryway, extends past the basement door and around the hallway to the half bathroom, runs through the dinette and under the breakfast bar, through the kitchen and into the mudroom to the back door.

It's probably 3/4 of the space on our main level, so at least 500-600 square feet. Maybe that doesn't sound like much, but when you sweep as infrequently as I do, it takes a long time to get that much space clean.

Don't even tell me to do it more often and it'll take less time. Haven't you been paying attention? I'm not a cleaning person!

Sigh.

I'm going to go upstairs and dust now, since both girls are sleeping.

Allie likes to dust. Thank goodness she got that gene from her paternal grandmother. When Greg and I get old, we can go by Allie's house for holidays and everything will be spic and span and spell of lemon polish. Let's see, she's almost 4. I figure I only have about 19 more years of sweeping left.

Merry belated Christmas to everyone!

Greg and I and the girls went shopping, well actually we went exchanging gifts shopping, yesterday. We had to go to five stores and we got an early start so it would be less painful. There were almost no lines and everything went very smoothly. We got some cool stuff to replace the cool stuff that didn't fit or were duplicates.

Claudette, I got white backless slippers to replace my slippers, because all they had in the boot kind were red ones. Pam, Greg got three new shirts/sweaters at Old Navy and they made him very happy. And among other changes, we exchanged Allie's Leappad book for one that features pre-math, so she's very happy.

What's pre-math, anyway? Whatever it is, she's very good at it. Such a smart girl! Allie was even smart enough to open her Christmas gifts from Mom-and-Dad Santa and say that each one was "so cool!" Way to guarantee she'll continue to get gifts!

I'm going to get busy cleaning my incredibly dirty house now. The in-laws are coming in three days and it's going to take us that long to get it presentable.

Happy Birthday, Mom! Today is my mom's birthday and she's, well, I'd better not tell you how old she is. Your birthday cards are in the mail, Mom, if you didn't already get them, and you're getting your present on Tuesday when we arrive for Christmas.

I've been feeling old myself lately. It's mostly my eyes. I notice that I want to turn a light on to read stuff that I would have been perfectly well able to read without additional light in the past. And small print is getting harder to read too. I'd like to put it down to new contact lenses or something, but I think it's age.

And I think I have a permanent line where my face creases on the right side when I smile. Better a smile line/wrinkle than a frown line, but . . .

People still tell me that I don't look my age, but I don't believe them much anymore. I've always been a non-tanner, so I still think that'll help my skin stay younger-looking, but nothing lasts forever. And 40 used to seem so old, after all it's 20 years beyond age 20, but now it doesn't seem that old at all.

My middle sister is turning 40 next spring, and I'll be turning 40 in the summer of the next year. Maybe I'll get lucky and get mono again, like I did when I turned 30. I was so sick I didn't care what age I was. Then again, maybe not so lucky. That sucked. Poor Greg made me a birthday cake and I tried to swallow a bite of it, unsuccessfully.

Maybe I'll just continue to get old and live with it, thanking god that I'm alive.

Am I depressed today? I didn't think so, but now I am! I need to get out of this house!

Greg and I are both sick with colds. This sucks. We both started feeling symptoms last night, and it'll be a miracle if we don't give it to Julia.

I took yesterday afternoon off and I finished my shopping. Then Greg, Allie, and I wrapped all of our gifts for family members last night. There are things under the tree now, (nothing for the girls or Greg, of course) and Allie was worried. "Mommy, Santa won't have any place to put my presents." I reassured her that Santa will make room.

Greg took her to see Santa this morning. I asked her what she told him she wanted for Christmas, expecting to hear Bratz dolls (I don't like Bratz dolls and she's too young for them, so please don't get her any if Allie is on your Christmas list). She's been saying Bratz dolls as the one thing she wants this year.

Well, she told Santa she wants an umbrella. I have no idea why. That's the first I've heard of that. Maybe she was nervous?

Christmas is approaching fast and I feel nowhere near ready. Some gifts are purchased, but none are wrapped. Christmas cards aren't happening again this year. We made cookies, which was a blast, but the tree took several days to finish. Greg did our miniscule effort on outdoor lighting (we're the shame of the neighborhood--some take that stuff very seriously around here).

Gee, I only have to finish shopping, wrap everything, clean the house, do laundry, pack everything, buy a savings bond--oh, never mind. It's a Christmas tradition to complain about being behind on your preparations, isn't it?

What I can talk about is my daughter, Allie, yet again. She's been (as her daddy says) a "little fartbucket" lately. She was a pretty stinky girl this weekend, and her daddy asked her, "Allie, what on earth have you been eating?" With a smirk on her face, she drawled, "Bea-ans."

After we finished laughing, I asked her who told her about beans. She said, "Grandma." Thanks for that one, Mom!

Greg has taken the girls Christmas shopping today, so I've been alone in the house for almost two hours now. I went through the bags of presents Greg and I bought last week and found the new stockings we bought for the "4" of us. We had three nice stockings before, but now we have four.

Last year, we found out I was pregnant on December 3, and we talked about having a new baby in the house by this Christmas. Julia likes to look at the Christmas tree lights. Allie likes to lay under the tree. So does Pig, the cat. Maybe we should have a tree in the house year round.

When we found out we were pregnant with Allie, we called everyone and told them immediately. With Julia, I wanted to tell my family in person. So we waited until we saw them, which I think was on December 26 or 27 last year.

My mom's birthday had been December 21, so I told her she had to open her belated birthday present. It was a gift bag with the ultrasound photos of Julia-to-be in it. She reached in and pulled the roll of photos out, but what I didn't anticipate was that Allie would "help" by taking the photos and heading off into the room. I told her to give them back to Grandma, she did, and Mom unrolled the paper to stare at it without comprehension.

I told her, "Those are photos of your next grandchild, Mom." The room erupted as my sisters screamed and grabbed Greg, Allie, and me in hugs. It was a lot of fun, and a very happy day. And now, the result is here and wiggling. And trying to roll over, and talking all the time, and smiling, and giggling.

Time passes so quickly!

Doncha just hate it when you take a couple of days of vacation and then not only have to spend a bunch of crazy time getting things somewhat wrapped up before you leave, but then you spend a bunch of crazy time (including, in my case, working through lunches when you get back) to get kind of even close to being caught up from being gone?

I'm going to stop typing now--Julia is feeling better from her cold, but I laid her on the futon while I started typing this and she just pushed her feet hard and fell onto the floor. Luckily it's probably a smaller distance than if she'd fallen off the couch, but I should know better as a not-for-the-first-time Mom. Greg scooped her up and took her upstairs, so I'm going to reassure myself she's OK. Even though I know she is.

Poor Julia. She's sick for the first time.

On Friday, she went for her four month checkup. She weighs 13 lbs, 4 oz. now, which still doesn't seem like much to me compared to Allie's current weight. She's in the 50th percentile for weight and the 70th percentile for height, so she's still tall! Julia's head circumference is in the 75th percentile, which doesn't surprise me since she has all that superior intellect to house. Yeah, right.

She got three shots, and even though fever can be a side effect of vaccinations, Ask a Nurse says that the cold she came down with yesterday is probably not related.

She's miserable. Her eyes are red and her nose is red (despite lotioned tissues). She cries a lot, so she's got tears going on, her nose is running, and she's drooling the normal amount of baby drool. It's definitely a face only a parent could love.

I hate a baby's first illness. As far as they know, they're never going to feel well again. I'm hoping she'll seem better tomorrow, especially since she's too little to get any decongestant. The nurse said a four-month-old's little liver can't handle it. So we're relying on a tilted mattress and a humidifier in her room, poor thing.

On a happier note, the rest of the family had a wonderful afternoon yesterday making Christmas cookies. It took 3 1/2 hours from making batter to finishing decorating. See the pictures on our website. Flour everywhere! And not just on the three year old!

Sometimes I clearly remember what life was like before we had kids. I could pay attention to my husband for awhile and then bury myself in a stack of magazines or a great book for the rest of the day. I mean the entire day, like 10 hours of reading.

I miss those days.

I usually make it through the newspaper every day. On Sundays, when it takes me an hour and a half total to read the paper, I'll plant Allie in front of a movie and hope Julia naps so I can read the paper in short segments. It usually takes me all morning to get through it, if not into the afternoon.

Sigh.

Now the books I get all the way through are "Pocahontas" and "Go Dog Go." It's better than nothing, but not much. I'm already looking forward to when my kids can read on their own. Allie is making strides, sounding out letters. I figure it'll be about four more years until I can read as much as I want for leisure again.

I wonder if we should start Julia on flashcards now to speed things up.

Julia had a giggling fit tonight. It was pretty unintentional on my part--I was changing her clothes for bed. She needed to be washed with a warm washcloth around the neck because she was wet with drool or spit-up.

She laughed when I took her arm out of one sleeve and I tickled her, and when I started washing her neck, she got the giggles. I yelled for Greg and Allie to come downstairs from where they were playing on the computer in Allie's room, so they got to hear it too. Julia was giggling and laughing and doing the baby version of guffawing.

It was very cool. Babies are fun.

Greg arrived home today from Baltimore. No more trips until next year.

Shortly after he arrived and after Julia had become somewhat reacquainted with him, Allie woke up from her nap. She came downstairs and I took Julia from Greg's arms so Allie could squeeze him and hug him (which she's been talking about doing for days).

Greg grabbed her in a big hug and the two of them started rolling back and forth on the couch, tickling and laughing. Julia was watching and she immediately started to cry. She thought Allie's screaming was in pain or fear and boy, did she react. We had Allie come over and try to get Julia to smile again, but it took awhile.

I told Greg, just like dogs do sometimes, Julia misinterpreted what she saw as fighting and she reacted. Is it OK that I compared my daughter to a dog?

She doesn't look like a dog. She looks a lot like me when I was a baby. My mom and I went through a bunch of family photos and I've got one photo of me as a baby (with my sisters, of course, curse of being a third child) that looks just like Julia. I don't think my hair was quite as spikey, however!

I've made my husband a happy man. How, you may ask? What wonder of marriage bliss do I have knowledge of? I let him talk me into spending $1300 on a new computer. I hate spending money like that right before Christmas, but I let him talk me into it. He kept complaining about our old computer crashing and I got as tired as he did of him staying up until all hours of the night reloading stuff when it crashed.

So now we have a new Mac G4. It's very futuristic looking. All one box and the CD drive is completely hidden. I'll probably know how to do about three things on it.

Today, the Lees went out to lunch at a local cafe and then we got groceries, and tonight Allie and I made cookies. It would have been a just lovely day if not for the fact that this red-headed waitress at the cafe terrorized Julia. Julia had been peacefully sitting in her carseat while we ate, chewing on her fist and contemplating going to sleep, when this waitress stopped by to say how cute she was.

For some reason, Julia didn't like her and she started to huff and scrunch her face like she was going to cry. So did the waitress leave before she actually got going? No, she stayed standing over Julia, even leaning in to comment on how she looked like she was going to cry.

So she wailed. Even then, the waitress didn't move. Greg tried to rock Julia a little and finally had to put down his sandwich to pick Julia up. She cried and cried. Thanks a lot, red. Julia cried and sobbed and everyone in the restaurant looked over as if to say, who pinched that baby that was so peaceful for the last 20 minutes?

I know. And if she's our waitress next time we're in there--no tip for her!!!

Well, Halloween has come and gone and it keeps getting better every year as Allie gets older. As you probably know, she was a butterfly this year, with elaborate colorful wings and a thankfully-warm jumpsuit.

It was cold and damp, but we did better with trick-or-treaters than last year, when it was very cold. 258 this year vs. 216 last year (that's in 2 hours, folks). I think our all time high was 320 or so. That's a lot of kids begging for candy on our corner.

We had guests again, which we've had for the last three years. It freed Greg and I to both go begging for candy with Allie, so we both got to hear all the neighbors tell us how cute she looked. Yep, she doesn't hear that enough on regular days, so we have to stock up on holidays.

It's raining steadily outside, and that always makes me want to bake cookies. I would be insane to do so, however, since we have a bunch of candy left over, plus Allie's proceeds, plus Greg bought cookies for our visitors (which went uneaten since they brought cookies with them), plus a friend of ours gave Allie cookies in her Halloween bag. That's too much sugar even for me.

Gloomy day--I hate fall. I'd almost rather have winter, when you at least get bright snowy days. My favorite time of year is spring, when all the flowers are coming up and everything's turning green. How many days away is that?

No, I haven't dropped off the face of the earth.

My last post was written the day that I went back to work and I haven't felt like I've had any spare time since. I have, of course, but I've likely spent it trying to read the last of the morning paper at 10 p.m.

Things are just fine. Julia has been sleeping through the night like a trooper. She even made the adjustment for daylight savings time without too much trouble. I think one of the greatest gifts an infant of this age can give it's parents is to sleep through the night. It makes parents feel human again to have uninterrupted sleep.

Julia started smiling a few weeks ago and we now consider it official--she's laughing too. Not a lot yet, but that makes it all the more precious when she does it.

The other day, I was sitting in the chair in our bedroom and holding Julia while Allie was jumping on our bed. Allie was jumping and jumping and then crossing her legs and sitting down from a jumping position and I guess Julia thought she looked silly, because suddenly she started laughing. Then Allie and I spent the next five minutes trying to get her to do it again, with only the result that Allie got winded and I got mildly frustrated.

She loves her baths now and her eyes get really wide when you first put her in and when you wet her head. She's not so happy generally when you're dressing her afterwards--I think she gets a little cold despite my best efforts.

Julia is also getting better with her fussy periods in the evening, at least for the last four or five nights. It's wonderful to have a happy baby in the house. She's outgrowing her newborn clothes and getting some wear out of her warmer outfits since it's been so cold.

Allie threw up on me when I left her at daycare yesterday. Gosh, she hasn't done that in at least a couple of years. I can wait another couple of years, personally. We think orange juice is too hard on her stomach in the morning, since she's fine afterwards. This isn't the first time she's thrown up that way.

That's the quick update on my kids. Who knows when I'll write again, but Halloween is tomorrow, so maybe I'll give an update on that soon.

Julia is 10 weeks old today and I went back to work. It was OK. I had enough to do that the morning went really quickly and the afternoon was fine too.

I really wanted a nap at about 2:30, but I got some sugar in my system and I was all right. Julia only got me up once last night, but I had a lot of trouble getting back to sleep afterwards--that old anticipation-of-the-alarm thing. I'll go to bed early tonight and Greg will get up with Julia when she wants to be fed.

I was all right with leaving Julia at daycare for the first time, too. She's been going with me to drop off Allie for weeks, of course, but this time I left her there with her sister. It was definitely easier than when Allie started daycare, for a couple of reasons.

For one, I feel a lot better about Karina, our current provider, than Sherry, who had Allie as an infant. Allie's been going to Karina for months already, so my trust in having Julia with her is obviously unlike that first day leaving Allie with Sherry, who we really didn't know from Adam.

For another, Karina didn't ask me, with a sympathetic voice, how I was doing or if I was OK. That's enough to get me teary-eyed, right there, especially since I think my hormones are still a little screwed up.

I got teary in the car and then I was OK. And I saw both girls at lunch, though Julia was sound asleep in a swing. I'll be visiting them at lunch at least twice a week, for my benefit much more than theirs.

And so we move on to the next stage in our lives, I guess. This is how things will be until Allie starts kindergarten, in two short years.

Last night at about 9:00, Greg was in the basement working on the computer and I was in the living room, feeding Julia and watching TV. Allie had been in bed for 1/2 hour and was supposed to be asleep. She called me and said she couldn't find her dolly. Dolly is a necessity at bedtime. I suspected Dolly had fallen under the bed, so I called Greg to go upstairs and help her (Julia screams if you take her bottle away before she's ready).

Absorbed in my show, I didn't even realize that Greg never came back downstairs. At 9:30, I was going to take a sleeping Julia to her crib when I realized the cat was acting out that no one had remembered to feed her. Her dish is downstairs, so I called down to Greg to feed Pig. No answer. I thought he might have headphones on, so I went downstairs and discovered he wasn't there.

Heading upstairs, I found Greg sound asleep on our bed, with both his bedside light on and the overhead light on. The overhead light is bright! I don't know how he managed to fall asleep. I turned out the overhead light and carried Julia to her crib. She's out--making that little snoring/snurgling noise that babies make when they're happy (full tummy in this case).

I went down to the basement to turn off the computer and noticed when I came back up that Allie was snoring too, which she does occasionally, especially when she's really out of it sleeping.

And then I went back to our room, where my husband was blissfully snoring.

All was at peace in the Lee household.

You've all heard of Corelle dishes, right? When I was in my early teens, my family got their first Corelle and my sisters and I would sometimes amuse ourselves by intentionally dropping it on the floor as we did the dishes. Corelle isn't supposed to break.

Yeah, right.

At some point in time, someone gave Greg and I something on a medium-size, white Corelle plate and we never gave the plate back. On Friday night, I tried to pull two of our everyday stoneware plates out of the cupboard and I didn't realize the Corelle plate was on top of the stack. It, and a small stoneware plate, fell on the counter and broke.

The stoneware plate broke in half. The Corelle plate shattered into thousands of pieces, shards and chunks and glass dust. It took me two seconds to clean up the broken stoneware plate and it took Greg and I a good half hour to clean up the Corelle.

If we owned any more of the stuff, it would be gone from this household. Damn that Corelle. Damn it all.

It was an unusually productive Sunday around the Lee residence today. Not so much for me--I just bathed and fed Julia, kept Allie occupied, and made my way through a stack of filing/paid bills/statements/artwork from Allie/receipts/photographs that dated back to November.

It was my husband who was productive. He scraped the wood trim around our garage door, where the paint had started peeling probably last year. Our house was only built six years or so ago, but this trim was looking bad, and it turns out some of it was actually rotten. He dug out the bad stuff, put in wood filler, sanded, and painted. Then he tackled our front porch, where our lower rail has something growing in it that's rotting it for sure. Same remedy.

He also replaced the peeling house numbers on our mailbox (something Pizza Hut drivers will thank him for) and painted the board where our deck attaches to the house. That last project has been waiting to be done since 1999, when we built the deck.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I certainly could have taken care of these projects if I was a little more motivated. I'm just really glad they're done. Good for Gregory.

On another subject, Julia is really growing fast now. She is so alert and good at following movement. She coos whole phrases in babytalk instead of just brief sounds. And she even feels different in my arms, like a baby instead of a newborn--parents and grandparents would know what I mean by that. She's not so floppy, not so light, different. Growing up already.

I know, I know. She's two months old and I've got another 22 years (if we're lucky) before she's out of the house. I'm just conscious that this is the last time I'm going to get to go through this process. And no, I've never, ever considered having a third baby. I just want to appreciate every one of these moments with her (and continuing moments with Allie), and yet I know that's not even remotely possible.

I really hate going to the dentist. You probably wouldn't guess that, since I schedule appointments every six months and submit myself to the whole cleaning procedure, but I do.

I've had more than my fair share of lifetime procedures, I think. A good number of fillings as a kid, a root canal, bleaching, an implant, a crown, another root canal (this one emergency, while I was pregnant with Julia) and now another crown today.

My implant took two years of procedures. I had throbbing pain (on a tooth that had earlier been root canaled and bleached) and ended up getting the tooth pulled. So I had to wear a partial (you know, a retainer-like thing with a fake tooth on it) while I had a bone graft, threads carved into the bone of my upper jaw, the installation of a healing collar through the gum, a cover thing installed, and then a fake tooth put on. I know some people spend years with braces, but this sucked just as much as I understand those do.

Today, with this crown, I felt like the dentist was drilling right through to my brain. He did four impressions too; god, I hate that gunk. I gagged so badly on the third set that he had to start over and I ended up with little bits of hardened impression stuff all over my mouth, including stuck to the roof of my mouth (which I discovered in the parking lot). Gross, yuck, ick.

I have to go back in three weeks to get the final crown put on. Any volunteers to go in my place? Pretty please?

If you bother to read this thing regularly, you might remember me talking about cleaning our mudroom and how many coats we own. Well, I counted today and we own 31 (not including some of Allie's that are now packed away for Julia). That's ridiculous, since you really only wear one at a time. I tackled cleaning the closet in the mudroom today and got two bags ready for St. Vincent de Paul's of just coats. When I was a kid, I got some of my coats from St. Vinnie's, so that's where they're going and I hope they keep somebody appreciative warm (and dry; there's a rain slicker or two in there).

Cleaning the mudroom closet had a spillover effect--I got rid of a whole ton of vases from under the kitchen sink (when was the last time you cleaned under there?) and made some space in our pantry as well. My dear husband is a real sweetie about buying me flowers, so the vase situation had really gotten out of hand. Now we have room for all the Swiffer cloths we own. If you haven't tried Swiffer (or as Greg says for some strange reason, Swifter), you need to give it a go.

Julia has been sleeping all morning. She's starting to eat more at a time and I think that her new formula must have triptophan in it. Yet another consequence of being a second baby--she's not getting Enfamil anymore, she's drinking Parent's Choice (the Wal-Mart brand). Poor child doesn't get all Pampers diapers like her sister either, half the time she's in Huggies.

Well, at least she's been wearing some of the new outfits people were kind enough to give us now that it's cold. She looks adorable, of course, and not at all like her sister did at that age, if you ask me. Unlike Allie, who still doesn't look like either Greg or I, I think Julia looks like me as a baby. Aren't genetics weird? Repeating an appearance in a new person?

She did it!

Julia slept through the night last night for the first time. Yay! Yay! She was wiggling and making noises when we tried to put her in her crib at the end of our evening, so I fed her one more time starting at 10:15. She fell asleep about 10:30 and didn't wake up until 6:45 this morning. I am very happy.

My happiness is tempered somewhat by the fact that this could just be an aberration because of the doctor visit and shots yesterday wearing her out. We'll know soon, I guess. And you can't help but compare--Allie slept through the night for the first time at 3 weeks and was doing it very reliably by 3 months. Please keep your fingers crossed for me and Greg.

Speaking of Allie, just because Julia didn't get fed in the middle of the night doesn't mean I got to sleep peacefully. Allie had three instances last night where she woke up from a bad dream and kept calling my name until I went to her. I just hand her a tissue to wipe her eyes (she's always crying), tell her to lay down, and cover her up before going back to bed. Hey, I'll take that anytime over spending a good half hour feeding and burping a baby. It's a lot harder to get back to sleep yourself.

Congratulations on your anniversary, Dwayne and Raquel!

I took Allie to tumbling class tonight. It's just her fourth half-hour class, but she already is doing better than the first night (which is when I last took her), especially at things like the stretching exercises they do at the start. I can't help laughing at her, though. She still waves at me, or whoever is her attending parent, about every third minute, and if I happen to not see her, she calls me to notice and wave back.

She's gotten better at waiting her turn without asking every other minute when it's going to be her turn. That skill should stand her in good stead when she gets to school. I think her favorite part is the trampoline--well, sorry, little girl. We ain't getting one for home. Too dangerous at almost any age. Your mom has seen too many TV news programs about nasty injuries.

On another subject, a huge congratulations to Dwayne and Raquel, who are having a baby girl. I still don't know when, though, because Dwayne has never written me back with an answer to my due date question. I am thrilled for them. Babies rock (no puns, please). And now I must be off to get mine into her crib. She's sleeping peacefully on the couch (don't nag me by e-mail, she can't even begin to roll off yet). Pleasant dreams to you all.

I took Julia to the doctor for her two-month checkup today on what is her two-month birthday. She's tall! Who'd a thunk it. She's in the 90th percentile of babies her age for height but only the 50th percentile for weight. Julia now weighs 10 lbs., 9 oz. Hard to believe some babies weigh that much at birth (like my father-in-law, for instance).

Julia also had to get three shots. I guess that's better than Allie, who had to get four shots at this age. They've come up with some new and improved vaccine that combines something or other, so now "just" three shots. I remember when Allie got these, I spent at least a few minutes going over the vaccine information sheets, checking what the side effects could be and informing myself on what she had gotten.

Today, I don't even know what Julia got (I was changing a poopy diaper while the nurse was telling me) and I'm not planning on reading the sheets unless she's acting weird. Yet another of the "disadvantages" of being a second baby. At least she gets the advantage of parents who are a lot calmer about anything odd she does.

As long as Julia doesn't get sick, she doesn't have to go back to the doctor until she's four months old now (when she'll get three more shots). Kids these days get 21 shots before the age of two, believe it or not.

Allie did go back to the doctor before she turned four months old--she was in daycare for a grand total of two weeks before she got sick for the first time. Julia should be better off that way--our current daycare just has Allie and our provider's own 7-month-old son. Julia gets to start going there next week Wednesday, my first day back at work. Not looking forward to it, needless to say.

Today is Monday and the first day in 10 that I haven't been with Allie for a majority of the day. Last week our daycare provider was on vacation, so I had both girls at home alone with me for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. It's too bad, because the days went just fine, but I don't think I'm cut out to be a stay-at-home mom.

I wanted to be able to read something for 10 minutes or 30 minutes or spend half an hour on the computer and I couldn't do that, at least not without having Allie watch way too much TV. I think things will be different when Allie and Julia can play together, but right now, Mommy is Allie's primary playmate at home. Allie's a sweetie, but she can be a little tiring when it's nine hours at a crack.

My sister Claudette is off on her honeymoon this week (one week after the wedding week) in San Francisco, which is where Greg and I also went on our honeymoon seven years ago. It's a beautiful city and I'm sure she and Mike will have a wonderful time.

Greg and I also visited the Napa Valley and the Winchester House in San Jose (I believe) when we were there. The Winchester House is the house that they kept building on for 20 years or so because the owner believed that would keep the ghosts of those killed with Winchester guns from haunting her. It was cool--you see things like that on shows like "Ripley's Believe It or Not" and it was fascinating to see it in person.

My mom called this morning and said that Claudette and Mike are visiting Alcatraz today. That's another place you see on TV and then to see it in person--- Here's wishing a steady ferry ride for the honeymooners--the bay at San Francisco can get really choppy.

And if those two are anything like Greg and I--by the time they leave on Saturday, they'll be heartily sick of sourdough bread. Give me a good baguette anytime!

I had a follow-up appointment at the eye doctor today and my eyes are going to be OK. I haven't worn my contacts for a week and a half, except for 12 hours on the day of the wedding, and that helped a lot. I guess my blood vessels are looking a lot more normal, and I've got a new prescription for contacts that's just a little different than 2 years ago. Thank god. I repeat, thank god. I am, however, a reformed contact lens length-of-time wearer. One week wear schedule, OK. Two day wear schedule, OK. I don't care how much I spend on contacts, I'm following the wear schedule.

I told the optometrist that I blogged about how everyone should follow their contact lens wear schedule and she was very pleased. She said she needs to get online herself and post something about the dangers of overlong wearing of lenses, and asked me what I could have been told to keep me from wearing my lenses so long. Hmm--maybe that I could seriously damage my eyes? Golly--that would have been enough for me. I, and she, put some blame on the manufacturers of the new multi-purpose solutions. You don't even have to rub contact lenses these days if you change your lenses often enough, but she says no one ever reads the fine print on the boxes and so people go ages with each lens and just throw them in the case at night.

Well I, for one, am reformed.

My husband was right with his news message about weddings meaning pain, but his list was short compared to the actual injuries. Let's see----

The bride had big marks on her feet the day after the wedding from her strappy sandals.

The maid of honor woke up the day after the wedding with a horribly stiff neck.

The wife of one of the ushers got stung by a yellow jacket when the party bus that the wedding party was on stopped at a site for pictures.

The best man injured his back when the bride sat on his knee for the garter ceremony, to the point that he can't feel his legs (he was going to see a doctor yesterday).

The groom woke up with a stiff neck the day after the ceremony.

The youngest, cutest flower girl (guess who) has nasty sores on her feet from her cute ivory shoes, which she kept on the whole time she boogied (she was up until 11:30, three hours past her bedtime).

Another bridesmaid hobbled around the day after the ceremony from wearing new dress shoes all the previous day.

The wife of another usher fell twice on the dance floor (yes, drink had something to do with it).

Despite this list, the wedding really was fun. Not as fun as mine and Greg's, of course, but fun. Congratulations, Claudette and Mike. By the time we all recover, it'll be time to celebrate your first anniversary.

If you wear contact lenses, please read this. If you don't, feel free to check back another day.

I went to the eye doctor yesterday for the first time in two years. I am pretty diligent about things like going to the dentist every six months, getting a pap smear every year, and getting my eyes checked every two years.

The optometrist commented that my eyes looked kind of red and I told her I had a newborn and that I didn't get a nap yesterday. She checked my right (dominant) eye and my prescription had changed slightly, no big deal. Then she checked my left eye and there's a big change. My astigmatism is much worse, my prescription has changed at least four levels, and she couldn't get me to be able to see 20/20. She said the blood vessels are enflamed and that it's affecting my cornea.

The reason--I've worn my left contact lens beyond the recommended wear schedule. Yep, that's probably the only reason that I may have caused permanent damage to my eye. At the very least, I'm going to have to change lens manufacturers, because my old lens manufacturer doesn't make lenses in as high a prescription as I'm now going to need.

When I originally started wearing toric contact lenses (those made for people with astigmatism) ten years ago, I cleaned my lenses with this fizzy process every day and religiously cleaned them for enzymes every week. I could wear my lenses for three months before changing them. Then suddenly the manufacturer changed the box, and my three-month lenses became one-month lenses. As I told the eye doctor the last time I was examined, I didn't believe anything about the lenses had changed besides the manufacturer wanting you to buy lenses more often, so I continued to wear each lens for three months.

The eye doctor two years ago never told me there might be a problem with that (he's no longer with the office, by the way). Times changed with cleaning solutions and processes and the enzyme tablets are really outrageously expensive, so when they came out with multi-purpose solutions that say you don't have to enzyme anymore, I jumped on board. The newest solutions even say you don't have to rub your lenses when cleaning them anymore (I still rub them to clean them anyway). The problem is that I stopped doing enzyme treatments and continued wearing my lenses beyond the wear schedule.

If you wear your contact lenses beyond the recommended wear schedule (and I bet all of you lens-wearers reading this do), please check with your eye doctor to make sure that's OK. They can give you some guidance. Sure, you might end up spending more on lenses, but you could avoid serious eye damage.

As for me, I need to stop wearing my lenses immediately and wear my glasses, at least for a week. The doctor said I can wear my contacts for the wedding on Saturday, so I'll probably wear them for a few hours that day. I have to go back for another appointment and I'll find out more about what damage I've really done.

This concludes today's cautionary tale. You only have two eyes, people. Take care of yourself.

Ohesotte nani? What is the meaning of my bellybutton?

That's Allie's favorite phrase from Daddy's new Japanese phrase book. She picked the book up because it has little sketches of funny men in it and she asked me to read her what it said. Greg was laughing at me because I'd read something that wouldn't make sense to a literal 3-year-old mind and then try to explain to her what it meant. Most of the time I'd just say, oh, that's a silly one. The above phrase is from the Zen section. It's funny, but it doesn't make too much sense to a literal 38-year-old mind either.

Allie is going to be gorgeous this weekend at my sister's wedding. She has an ivory satin dress with an organza overlay and a big satin sash. It has two satin roses at the raised waistline and a satisfactorily-swishy skirt (I say that because we put it on Allie briefly this weekend and she swung the skirt around and around). I remember doing that with dress skirts when I was her age and even older. She has ivory dress shoes and she'll wear ivory hose (as soon as we find some that fit). Thank you, Nana, for all your work on this outfit. Allie is going to beat the pants off the other flower girl in the cute department (sorry to Amanda).

No, I'm not dead, nor is Greg. We've both been out of town. I got home first and haven't had time to blog what with being a single mom until he got home today. No offense to single parents--god knows I have all the respect in the world for them, but sometimes being a single parent must suck. Not having another adult to pass the crying kid off to--that would be really hard on any kind of regular basis. Lucky for me, I just had two nights of it.

Julia has decided that her fussy period of the day is going to be in the evening, between 6 and 8:30 or so (if we're lucky, and it doesn't start at 3). This is a real shame, because that's when Daddy primarily sees her and he's beginning to think she's a demon. Honestly, she has the potential to be a sweet little girl. She's smiling now and she really looks at you, which is cool. She just needs to realize that sweet girl potential, preferably before her parents go nuts.

Lots of things have been happening--the bachelorette party (details of which will remain verbal only, sparing my mother who I know reads my blog), Allie's first tumbling class (she did great, except that she kept asking me when it was going to be her turn), Allie's first visit to the dentist (she did fine, but she needs to stop sucking her thumb--big surprise). I'm too tired to write details on any of this right now, however. You'll all have to wait to be enlightened (I know you're all holding your breath right now).

I decided to tidy up our mudroom, which contains a washer, a dryer, a hamper, a bench which was so full of stuff that there was no way anyone could ever sit down to put shoes on, and a garbage can. I also emptied out the cabinets over the washer and dryer and rearranged everything or moved it to where it really should go in the house, etc. As an example, why were two beanie baby lions that Allie got when she opened her bank account three years ago in these cabinets? God only knows.

I found out that Greg currently has seven pairs of gloves just in this cabinet in the house. His total glove count doesn't include the three closets in the house where he has outerwear, other possible glove locations. I had five pairs of gloves/mittens, and Allie had three (but I know she's got at least two other pairs in her room). In my defense, I got three pairs of black gloves for Christmas a few years ago, but we're still poster children for conspicuous consumption. No, on second though, not poster children, because I don't think we're atypical. Most people probably have five to seven pairs of gloves.

And don't even get me started on coats. I didn't dive into the coat closet in that room yet, but I know for a fact that I own at least 12 coats, probably closer to 15. Greg recently brought home two new coats, so I know he has at least 15 and possibly more. Isn't that insane? I pass by our local dry cleaner every fall, who advertises the "Coats for Kids" charity drive, and I think we really need to do something. In fact, we have donated coats in the past to St. Vincent de Paul's. But I think it's time to get serious. And you?

Sermonizing over for the day. Thank you very much.

My sister is getting married on September 20th and I'm standing up. I met with a seamstress (there's an old-fashioned word for you) yesterday to get my bridesmaid's dress tailored. Maybe I should call her a tailor? Doesn't seem right for a woman, and I'm as big a feminist as some and a bigger feminist than most.

Fortunately for me, she knows her way around a bridesmaid's dress. I took Industrial Arts in middle school instead of Home Ec and I can barely manage to sew buttons on, myself. Actually, I can sew buttons on, but they usually don't stay on very long. Greg is better at it than I am, which he would be happy to tell you when he's in the mood to send a minor knock at his wife.

My bride-to-be sister is having a bachelorette party this Saturday, which I am planning to attend. Does this mean I need to visit an adult bookstore for an appropriate gift? Believe it or not, somewhere we have a gift certificate to Selective Video, our local "dirty-goods" shop. It's my husband's; you'll have to ask him why we have it. I don't mind so much visiting an adult bookstore, it's just the embarassment of buying something--you want to tell the clerk that you're buying the 10-inch dildo as a gift for a friend, really, and you're not just saying that because you're embarassed.

Ask me sometime about the time I visited an adult bookstore with my mother-in-law. God's truth.

Pig and I went to the vet yesterday. She hates going to the vet (big surprise) so I had gotten the cat carrier out a few days ago, thinking maybe she would forget about it if it sat around like furniture for a little bit. Yeah, right. I guess when it came time for me to put her in it, I was acting a little too casually like I wasn't even thinking of taking her to the vet, because she immediately sequestered herself beneath our bed, which is about the only place in the house that you can't just reach and grab her from under.

Pig is normally a very docile pet, but we spent a good five minutes with me poking her and her hissing and even growling from under the bed without any success on my part. I finally got her to come out by poking her with the ironing board (I'm sure you can appreciate the visual here) and off we went to the vet, which thank god is very nearby (everything is nearby is this town).

She was evaluated and got her feline leukemia shot in about 7 minutes. I think it took me longer to get her and Julia inside the building in their various carriers than the actual exam. Pig is in fine health for a 10 year old kitty, and now we shouldn't have to go back for a whole 'nother year. Thank god.

Stand by--next week Allie is going to the dentist for her first-ever visit. I have a feeling my narrative on it could be similar.

I don't think I'm going to blog anymore. My life at present is so dull compared to the others that are linked to our website.

I did get stung by a yellow jacket today. Dammit.

Did you know that you can seriously give yourself carpal tunnel/tendonitis symptoms by holding a baby for long lengths of time in awkward positions? It's true. I've been holding Julia for inordinate periods of time lately (she's been much fussier than the last few weeks) and my wrists both hurt. Add in my sore neck from keeping her head on my shoulder (that's the position she seems to like best) and I'm a basket case. I mentioned that there should be a parent body conditioning course a few weeks ago and now I'm thinking of designing one. Pregnant parents could practice with those lifelike dolls or sacks of flour or something. Dwayne and Raquel, are you listening?

In her blog, Donna talked a few days ago about (in my opinion, at least) rude questions people ask when they find out you're single and 35. Having been single myself until age 31, I feel somewhat empathetic. Everyone should understand that it's not a bad thing to be single, for god's sake. Seeing some marriages out there should convince people of that. A friend of mine attended a wedding this weekend. At the reception, the bridal couple were too busy arguing to come out to the dance floor for their first dance. And the guests were talking about how both new spouses have a history of cheating on one another. Gosh, what a match made in heaven.

Once you're married, though---daytime TV is for the birds, but I did catch something when flipping through the channels from Dr. Phil. I don't even know Dr. Phil, but I've heard a little about him in the newspaper. (It has definitely paid off for him to be friends with Oprah.) Dr. Phil says that you can't just speculate about getting divorced or run to the courthouse and file at the drop of a hat. He says you have to earn a divorce. Earn it by trying everything in your power to save your marriage first--including a revolutionary thing called "talking to your spouse," counseling, retreats, whatever. I think Dr. Phil is on the right track with this one. (Didn't my husband just say this same thing a few days ago with his blog on the Episcopal gay bishop?)

Doesn't this mean we're meant for each other?

Postscript--I had to stop typing and run upstairs because Julia woke crying. As I warmed her bottle, I held her on my shoulder. And wouldn't you know--she hit me right in the eye with one of her little fists. Parent pain, indeed.

Robyn, I'm with you. My potted plants have spent themselves heroically, blossoming to the end of the summer despite my haphazard watering and deadheading. They're toast (pardon the pun). But somehow, I can't bring myself to just stop watering them and let them pass into annual plant heaven. I guess I'm waiting for that first frost to come and take them away. I realize I have awhile to wait--after all, my tomatoes are just really getting started producing. I'm never happy, I guess.

Julia was a bear this morning--just not happy. No amount of eating, rocking, swinging, burping, or holding made her content. At least content enough to relax and go to sleep for an hour, which is what I wanted her to do. I went out to lunch with some co-workers and she's been basically sleeping ever since I packed her up to go to the restaurant. I think she's trying to make it up to me.

I made Yankee Pot Roast for dinner tonight. I hope it's good. Don't worry, Greg my honey, I'm not going to ruin it at the end by trying to make dumplings in it. If nothing else, pot roast makes the house smell oniony good. Speaking of, I have to go stir things up in the pot. Mmmmm.

I've been home for three weeks and I think my brain is starting to rot away. Seriously. I've been meaning to sit down for at least two weeks now and figure out what adjustment to make to my tax exemptions, direct deposit allocations, and flexible spending account deductions to allow for the taxes that my short-term disability payments aren't paying and to keep things on an even keel otherwise (don't worry if you don't understand what I mean, it doesn't matter) and I still haven't done it. I just need to do a little financial analysis, but I'm procrastinating about it like it's our 2004 tax returns.

I've been managing to keep the checking account balanced and pay bills like always, but this task just seems beyond me. Not that I'm willing to go back to work to get my brain back in shape or anything.

If I had had a normal delivery and couldn't afford otherwise, I'd be going back to work in 3 weeks. Many of the employees I deal with when I'm working are forced to do just that (I handle leaves of absence for my company). I would not be ready. Not by a long shot. Julia's just getting to the point where she's trying to smile and she's also starting to really look at you when you hold her. I'm not ready to leave that.

Before I type anything, I generally check my husband's blog, Dwayne's blog and the blogs of Greg's co-workers. I like reading the rantings of these genuinely creative people. If any of my co-workers want to set up a competing series of blogs, let me or Greg know. I know he would help you out. And you get past that "why would anyone want to read anything I have to say" thing and eventually you just don't care, you type.

Having said that, I don't know what to comment about Ryan's latest blog. Hmm. Well, yes indeedy. Okay, then.

I just can't think of anything more to type after reading that. Until later---

OK, I made it one whole day without typing something about Julia, so now I can tell what we did yesterday. We went to work! Oh, what excitement. Actually, it was fun. Julia slept soundly while she was passed between about 15 adoring (or they put on a good impression of being adoring) people.

I booted up my work computer and printed out a report that I have access to but no one else does (other than MIS, and who wants to bother them if you don't have to). So that made me feel useful. And I got Julia added to our health insurance and put some life insurance on her and changed my beneficiaries so if I die she gets some money. All good things to get taken care of. I also brought in donuts for my birthday.

Then it was time for us to leave and I put Julia in her carseat. Big mistake. I've adjusted the straps now, but I stuck her in there when they will still a little too tight and she screamed. I closed the door to my office and fed her, but she was still mad. I hope none of my co-workers were on any important phone calls. We skedaddled as soon as possible (is that how you spell skedaddled? Not a word I use often.).

Last night, the family went for a walk. This morning, Allie, Julia, and I walked Allie to daycare and then Julia and I went around the block. It's going to be nasty hot and humid today so this was the time of day to do a little exercise. Now "Cool Jules" is sleeping (as her daddy has decided to christen her).

She became an official person as registered by the federal government today. We got her social security card. I wonder if there will be anything left of social security by the time she's 80 and can start collecting?

Yes, I am old. Well, so what. You're as much older as you read this as I am. Got that?

I had a wonderful birthday. My husband spoils me rotten and I love the incredible gift he got me. My sisters and my parents came for the day on Saturday, which was very nice. Not too long of a visit is a good thing when you're still transitioning back into new parenthood.

People are always very impressed that my husband insists on making me a birthday cake every year (or at least ordering one, but usually making one). I think he's trying to make it up to me for the fact that I never had a birthday party as a kid because my birthday is in August and it was too hard to get my school friends together. Nope, never had a birthday party. Not even one. Everyone reading this should get together and have a great big pity party for me. I bet if you got a bunch of those tiny sympathy violins in one place in cyberspace . . .

I decided I need to have at least one post to this blog that doesn't mention you-know-who, so I'm going to tell you another time what we did today.

What's up with the spellcheck on this thing that it highlights "blog" as a typo? Weird.

Greg and I took Julia to the doctor yesterday for her 2-week checkup. Everything is fine. We bet on what her weight would be, just like we guess what the total will be at the grocery store when we fill up the cart. I said 7 lbs., 2 oz. Greg said 7 lbs., 5 oz., I believe. The nurse, getting in the spirit of things, guessed 7 lbs., 9 oz. Then she went off to weigh Julia.

Remember, this little girl was 6 lbs, 13 oz. at birth and lost 6 oz. before we left the hospital. I read somewhere that it can take 2 weeks for a baby to regain the weight they lose after birth. Well, that wasn't a problem for Julia. She weighed 7 LBS., 12 OZ!

I'm proud of that, for some reason. I have no idea why. Gaining weight is at no other time in your life cause for celebration, but there you go. She's getting to be a big girl and I think it's cool.

Speaking of--the getting-to-be-a-big-girl is hungry again. Later--

So Raquel and Dwayne are having a baby. I'm very happy for them and I'm sure Raquel is over the moon. Dwayne--are you in shock or are you raring to go on this new adventure? Don't worry, I'm sure Raquel's whole personality won't change, at least not immediately. I would probably try to get those long motorcycle rides in pretty quickly, however!

Babies. They're fun. A lot of work, but fun and funny. Julia ate this morning, about an hour ago. I let her drink a little over an ounce while she made all her usual little sighs and squeaks, then put her up on my shoulder for a burp. She let out such a whopper, oh my! I looked around for the trucker who went with it. And when I laughed at her, she looked at me like, what? Never heard a burp before? Not like that, little one!

I am home alone with Julia from roughly 7:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. With that much time, you would think I could get a lot done. Like thank you notes written for all of the wonderful people who have gotten Julia and/or Allie gifts, like cleaning at least one room of the house, like weeding my front walk (which looks atrocious right now, notwithstanding the really big weeds Greg pulled yesterday). Nope.

All I've gotten done today is kept Julia clean and well fed, emptied the dishwasher, swept the kitchen floor, took a one-hour nap, washed and made up bottles, written out the newspaper announcement of Julia's birth, and called the short-term disability insurance company who mistakenly think I did not have a c-section and who plan to cut off my benefits after only 6 weeks. I'm planning on making mushroom pork chops for dinner, but it just seems like I should get a lot more done, doesn't it?

Tomorrow will be better. Right now, Julia's making "give me a snack" noises, so I have to go. And she just sneezed twice. How can a sneeze be adorable? I am so in love.

Today is my first full day without any pain medication. I must be getting over this whole surgery thing. I put in my contact lenses (been really lazy about that since I haven't been going anywhere), wore a regular shirt (not a big T-shirt), and felt almost human.

Tonight, the family went for a walk. Greg and his girls. He is hopelessly outnumbered--a wife, two daughters, and even a female cat. Just wait until the daughters get to puberty--whoa whoa.

Tom and his wife, Amy, did a wonderful thing for us--they brought us a fantastic barbecued pork dinner. Considering that I sleep every afternoon (and thus don't cook) and Greg is kept busy serving the needs of the kidlets, it was a very cool thing. Thank you both!

I got a call this afternoon from work. It's nice to be needed, I suppose, but the question they had could have been answered by looking up someone who had been in a similar situation in the past and seeing what I did then. I guess they didn't think of that.

I'm just cranky because they called right when I was taking a nap. I'm starting to feel sleep-deprived despite my naps, so don't rile me. I haven't slept more than 3 hours or so without waking for literally two or three months. Am I too old to do this mom thing again?

Well, I'm two-faced, I'll admit it. Right after I typed yesterday about how motherhood was cool, I went upstairs and Allie proceeded to drive me nuts for the next ten minutes. I'll admit I got rid of her by sending her outside on the deck to be with her grandpa. I hope the gods of parenthood don't strike me dead.

I also caused other trouble for myself. Just last evening, I said to Greg, "isn't Julia a good baby?" What was I thinking to tempt the fates like that. She only was up twice again last night, but the first time was from 11:45 to 2:15 (yes, 2 1/2 hours). Blink, blink, went those little dark eyes, but they wouldn't close! I tried to get her down for 1 and 1/2 hours, then Greg tried for 1/2 hour, then I finally got her to sleep after another 1/2 hour. We tried rocking and walking and the rocking chair and swaddling and feeding and checking her diaper, but she wouldn't be comforted. My mom was sleeping in the living room where the swing is. If she has another night like that one, I think I'll put her in her swing and see if that helps. It would certainly help that ache in the middle of my back.

There should be some type of parent body-conditioning course---

Well, we've been home for almost two days now and things are going swimmingly. Julia is turning out to be a sweetheart of a baby. These last two nights, she's only been up twice each night. That's pretty good for a newborn.

Allie is busy being a wonderful big sister. She's very helpful in running to get spit cloths and forgotten items in the next room, and so far we haven't seen her try to hit Julia. I say that mostly in jest, but you never know.

I'm recovering all right--this certainly seems easier physically than Allie's delivery. I'm down to only one kind of pain medication and I'm not taking it as frequently as I could be.

My parents have been here helping and they're leaving tomorrow, so that's when we'll get our first test of this new family dynamic for the four of us. I'm looking forward to it just being us (no offense, Mom and Dad!).

Motherhood is so cool.

Well, tomorrow is the big day. We finally get to meet our new baby. I'm 38 weeks along today. I finished up at work this morning and took the afternoon off to do a little laundry and some last minute picking up. I won't be going back until October.

The baby's room is ready, the bassinet downstairs is ready, my suitcase is mostly packed, I've called the insurance company regarding my admission, etcetera etcetera. Now we just have to wait until morning. Greg and I are supposed to check in about 5:45 a.m., and the baby should be born about 8:30 or so.

The admission nurse said we won't be back in our room until probably 11:00 or 11:30. Right now, Greg is planning on videotaping the birth, though none of you may ever see it, depending on what I think when I review it.

This family of three is about to become a family of four. Wish us luck as we begin this newest adventure!

This morning, Allie woke up about 7:15 and called for me from the hallway. She came into our room and crawled up in bed with us, saying that she and Mommy needed to jump up and down so Daddy would wake up. Daddy, who was playing possum, was not too pleased by this idea. He was a pretty good sport, however.

I got up and started putting away some clean laundry out of a basket, going in and out of our walk-in closet. Allie decided she was going to help me by blocking the doorway. Her daddy told her to ask me for a password. She said OK. So I asked her if the password was "froot loops." She said no. I said, "is it pancakes?" She said no. I said, "is it pickles?" She said no. I asked what the password was and she said, "it's please!"

Leave it to a child to think of something so common-sense.

We're going to give Allie a bath this morning and then take her to see "Spy Kids 3-D." You might think it's a little mature of a movie for her to see, but the first "Spy Kids" movie was the first movie Allie ever sat all the way through, when she was probably no more than 18 months old. We own the second in the series, and Allie loves to watch it, except when the kids fight the skeletons (and now she she's seen that part so often that we laugh when one of the skeletons loses his head and grabs it and puts it back on).

In the meantime, she's exhausting her daddy. He just put on some bluegrass music, picked up Allie, and they galloping all over the basement. Allie loves bluegrass--she wants to dance! Oh, the energy of a three-year-old! Gotta love it.

We have 5 1/2 days left now until the baby arrives. Earlier tonight, I wrote in the journal I've been keeping throughout this pregnancy (as I did during my pregnancy with Allie). Then I threw the book into my suitcase, which is now about half packed.

At work, I've been handing off files and computer records, and that should continue through Monday. Then I'll try to fill my time with non-urgent projects until I'm done working on Tuesday.

It's not like I think about the impending arrival every minute of the day, but it does seem that I don't have anything else to write about in this blog.

As you may already know, Greg and I finally settled on baby names this past weekend. Now the only thing left on my list of things to do is to pack my suitcase, and I'm superstitious that if I do that too soon, I'll go into labor. We have 8 1/2 days left--I don't want to go into labor early because all of our plans are based on July 30.

At my doctor's appointment today, I got final instructions for my surgery next week. I'm not exactly looking forward to it, but this c-section has to be better than last time, when I had a c-section after laboring for 12 hours and pushing/throwing up for almost 4 hours of that.

I am getting very curious to know the sex of this baby, too. That's really the only mystery--we know the probable birth date and time for this child. We're ready to welcome him or her home.

That's all for now--except to say that I don't know how Greg can stand to type at this computer table. It's wiggling back and forth slightly and squeaking as I work. Knowing my husband, I'm sure he'd jump at the chance to buy a replacement. I'd better just be quiet.

OK, since my husband went through the time and trouble to set this up, I guess I'll type something. If you want to know why I'm labeled the "Toast Ambassador," let me know.

When Greg first asked me about starting a blog, what I said was, "who would be interested?" and "I never even check my AOL mail, so how much time would I dedicate to a blog?" He was unswayed, so here I am.

I had the afternoon off today and spent it readying more things for baby's room. We have a week and a half left--maybe this weekend we'll actually settle on a name for this child. Otherwise, other than starting to put some things in my suitcase for the hospital, we're pretty much ready.

I even dug out the infant toys from the bottom of Allie's toybox today. This poor child isn't going to have anything new, I swear. What did I have new as a third child myself, I wonder? Or was some stuff worn out by the time I was born, so I did get new stuff? I'll have to ask my mom. She'll say she doesn't remember.

Oh, lordy, I'm in love.

Heather and Christine were asking me about sugar-free chocolate this morning, so I had to go to Walgreen's at the end of my lunch and get some more sugar-free Hershey's. They actually have quite a selection of chocolate, including Russell Stover sugar-free mint patties.

They're good.

They're really good.

Mmmmmmmm. Boy, I have missed good-tasting chocolate.

Those Russell Stover people must know how good they are, too, because there's a warning on the package that excessive consumption can cause a laxative effect.