We were on the way to daycare the other morning when Allie said, "Mommy, Karina (our daycare provider) says that God is invisible." I said, "Yes, that's true, honey. Nobody knows what God looks like."

She said, "I know what God looks like. He has a green pointy hat with a red poof on the top. He has a green shirt like Peter Pan, but he doesn't have a green skirt made of leaves like Peter Pan. He wears green tights, and he has big black shoes."

I guess the eternal question of what God looks like has now been answered for all humanity. He looks a lot like Peter Pan, but with black shoes.

Too bad Michelangelo isn't around anymore to produce the definitive painting.

I do benefits at work now, and it's open enrollment. I've probably seen about 150 people this week, most wanting to drop one insurance or another.

They come see me and say they want to drop their insurance. I say, "Health, dental, short term disability, long term disability, or voluntary life." They go, "huh."

It's no surprise that I've gotten sick again, either as a result of the long hours I've been putting in or all that contact with people, some of whom have probably just finished coughing all over their paperwork.

I saw the doctor today. New guy, again (our clinic can't keep a doctor). He glanced at my chart and said, "History of tonsillitus, history of asthma/bronchitis, and back for throat today." I thought, "What?"

I was in in March for a throat infection, but I haven't been diagnosed with bronchitis since I was 11 and I don't have asthma. The wonders of modern medicine.

I don't have strep, according to the rapid strep test. Just another throat thing that's lasted for over two weeks. What fun.

It's always nice to see your family at Thanksgiving and exchange germs.

The other day, we were asking Allie if the brother-in-law of our daycare provider (who is temporarily living at the daycare house) is there all day, because we were wondering if he has a new job or is still looking for one. I said, "Does he go to work during the daytime?" Allie said, "I think he gave it up."

About a week before that, during dinner, Allie asked her dad for more milk, because he was already by the fridge getting something. When he told her (jokingly) to get it herself, she said, with a big grin, "If you don't get it for me, I'm going to crack you over the head and then eat your brain."

Meanwhile, Julia is into dropping things while eating in her highchair and saying, "Uh Oh!" while looking for them on the floor.

She doesn't have too many other words yet--just mama, dada, hi, bye, and something that sounds a little like thank you at the times thank you would be appropriate to say.

Given how her sister's vocabulary has developed, that might not be a bad thing. Though Allie did say something the other day that I thought was cool. Julia, Allie and me had shopped at Target and were heading for our car in the parking lot when Allie said, "Mom, there's a thicket!" I asked her to repeat it and she said "thicket, over there," and there was a thicket of woods across the way.

I wonder how many four year olds use "thicket." Maybe all hope isn't lost.

Greg is traveling, as you probably know, so last night I was on bath duty by myself.

I am just not thrilled about the idea of trying to bathe the girls together (though Greg does it that way), so I decided I'd bathe Allie first. Julia could crawl around the bathroom floor, getting god knows what on her hands, and then I'd get her all clean before bed.

The only problem with that plan was Julia. As soon as we all went into the bathroom, she started trying to crawl into the tub. It just goes to show that she could probably already get out of her crib if she put her mind to it, because she got on her tiptoes and got a leg up and she was almost on the edge.

Just to see what she'd do, I steadied her so she wouldn't fall and she promptly slithered into the tub (which was empty) with all of her clothes on. Allie was taking hers off as Julia was climbing, so as soon as Julia sat down in the tub and started playing the bath toys, Allie was naked and getting cold.

I would have just stripped Julia and let them bathe together, but just then Julia decided to fill her diaper. So I hauled her out of the tub and washed Allie from top to bottom as fast as possible while Julia complained (loudly, needless to say) about not being in the tub. She also tried, for the entire time I was bathing her sister, to climb back into the tub.

Allie got out and I took Julia in her room to clean her butt before I bathed her. She screamed the whole time, but eventually I got her back in the bathroom and filled the little tub. I dumped her in it, and she immediately started that contented baby humming thing while she grabbed all the bath toys she could reach and started playing.

Who needs playpens, expensive mobiles, sound and music makers, dollies, or strollers. To entertain your kid, dump her clothed butt in the bathtub and she'll be happy for hours. Apparently.

Hello, yes, and how have you been?

I'm doing better, thank you. I've been doing my new job now for almost a month (including when I was being trained) and some things are now coming instinctually instead of "OK, pull out the notes, how do I handle that." Most of the time, I'm able to help people without having to look things up in front of them, which is also progress.

I "only" worked 10 hours today and I could have worked more, but didn't feel that I needed to. I could just be forgetting something huge that I need to take care of, but for the first time, I didn't leave work thinking, "oh my god, I should be staying to start on that huge pile."

The girls are thriving, despite not seeing much of me lately (not that they NEED me but I hope they've missed me). My husband is getting over resentment about being a most-of-the-time single dad because I got a huge raise last week, and the cat seems stable.

Life is pretty good.

It's been so long since I posted that I don't know where to start. I'm still wearing a brace on my hand every day because of my tendonitis, so I haven't been typing here at all. As far as the girls--

Julia went to the doctor last Wednesday for her one-year checkup. She's gained some weight, thank goodness. Her head size is in the 90th percentile, her length is in the 75th percentile, and her weight is in the 50th percentile. Not symmetrical, but cute nonetheless. Greg really needs to get some new pictures of her on his part of the site.

Allie seems more grown up every day. She entertains herself (and not always by watching TV), she gets her own drinks (including glasses) sometimes, she helps us keep an eye on Magellan (otherwise known as Julia, fast-crawling baby), and she has adventures away from us (like visiting Nana and Papa for a week at the end of June).

I have a new job at my same place of work. Our benefits administrator gave notice, so I'm taking over most of her duties while keeping some of my old, getting an assistant and a new title--either Benefits Manager or Employee Services Manager (my vote is for the latter) and I'm getting more money, but the details still aren't fleshed out and it's been 1 1/2 weeks. It's pay change time in our department, so my boss has just put in on the back burner. We should have a chance to talk this week.

I have a birthday coming up one week from today--the big 3-9. Things are changing everywhere.

I know I haven't posted in a long time, but that's because I'm having symptoms of tendinitis or carpal tunnel syndrome or something and I don't need the additional typing at home.

My right arm hurts most of the time (my mousing hand and my 10-key pad hand, of course) and it's a huge pain in the ass. I've tried mousing with my left hand at work. Since Greg is left-handed, our mouse is on the left side at home and so I can do that ambidextrously (is that a word). But mousing with my left hand has just given me almost as much pain as my left arm.

It's hell to get old and have your body fail you. I know, I should be grateful it's not something horribly worse, but this is not any fun either. I wear splints on both hands every night to bed and all day at work I wear one on my right hand.

I would type more, but this hurts. The Lee family is all fine, otherwise. Lots of adventures that Greg will have to write about for the time being.

A woman hit my car on Monday. Why, in three out of the four times in my life that my car has been hit, has it been a old person. Hmm. (Who hit me the fourth time, I don't know--it was a hit and run in the parking lot at work with a company vehicle. Someone in Maintenance got away with it.)

When I was 18, I was driving with my parents back to college and a 72-year-old guy who'd stopped at a bar for a Sunday afternoon drink pulled out from a parking lot to right across the highway, and I was unable to find enough road to avoid hitting him.

About 6-7 years later, my car was legally parked in front of my parents' house when the neighbor across the street backed out of her driveway and apparently never considered that there might be a car back there. In fact there were two, but my sister's car was behind mine and didn't get hit.

On Monday, I pulled into the parking lot at Pizza Hut to pick up a personal pan pizza. This 70 to 75-year-old woman was backing her Cadillac Seville out of a space right by the door, so I stopped completely to let her get out. I was actually turning right to go to another space but I stopped to give her plenty of room to stop backing up and go around me.

Well, she did OK getting out, but she cut it too close when she turned left around me. I saw her car really close to my window and I thought, "Man, she's close." And then she hit the back driver side of my car, which was sticking out about six inches further than the rest of my car because I was starting to turn.

$900 damage on my car. And she scraped the entire side of her Cadillac on my car, so I'l bet her's is going to be a lot more. A lot more.

I got out of my car and just stood there to see what she would say. She kind of threw up her hands and said, "I've got State Farm!" Gee, that really makes me feel better, ma'am. And I was polite, too. I called her ma'am, instead of idiot.

My insurance company was great--the check arrived today. We need a loaner for the 2-3 days it'll take to fix it, so I have to wait until the 28th, but it'll get back to normal eventually. And the body shop says they'll fix where Greg scraped my passenger side mirror on the garage frame for free!

There's a silver lining for ya. Sigh.

Gosh, it's been awhile since I posted. Nothing too interesting has been happening. Let's see . . .

We've had lots of guests. Dinner/playdate guests (wrote about that last time), then my family visited for Mother's Day (and we all got crazy in the jumpy), then Dwayne, Raquel, and Lourdes visited, all in three weeks time.

We had our big Syttende Mai celebration in town, but it rained a bunch so we didn't do as many events as we normally do. The weather was great for the Saturday parade though.

Allie is partway through a five-week series of tumbling classes. And she's the only student. Yep, the only one. Normally, there's two brothers, twin sisters, another boy, and Allie in her class, at a minimum. Apparently all the other parents decided to take a break at the same time.

Two weeks ago, Allie had two instructors just for her. Last week, she had one instructor all to herself. She gets worn out in that half hour, needless to say. Normally she has to wait her turn and she gets to rest between somersaults or cartwheel attempts or jumping on the trampoline, but she's coming home from these classes sweaty and thirsty.

The tumbling class people aren't going to cancel her class because there are classes immediately before and following hers and they'd just have to sit around between. We can't get her in the class before because it's a little too early. And the class afterwards has kids that are at least a year older than her.

Alexandra, despite her middle name of Grace, isn't the most graceful or coordinated kid. It's just recently that she walks down a balance beam that sits on the floor without going tentatively and slowly sideways. I think she'd really feel behind if we put her in a class with older kids.

So it seems she'll continue her solo excursions in tumbling for another three weeks.

On Wednesday night, Allie and I spent two hours transforming a box from Howie (if you know us and have been to our house, you know Howie) into a castle. I cut a door, three windows, made turrets, made an angled roof, made curtains, fixed shutter latches and a doorknob, and then we made a bed inside and Allie laid down to watch TV through one of the windows.

The next day, I strung a string of Christmas lights inside so she has power. It's pretty cool, but I'd like to add wallpaper (so you don't see the writing on the brown cardboard) and flower boxes on the windows and color at least the front (maybe paint?). I know, you're thinking, whose project is this? I think that should be obvious.

This weekend, Marcia and Dave visited, I made a quick trip home for my sister Pam's 40th birthday party (Happy Birthday, old lady!), and Greg and Dave tiled the backsplash of our kitchen, on the wall with the stove. Greg can now make tomato sauce with impunity. It looks great. Good job, honey.

What have you been up to?

We had a great time yesterday. We spent the whole day cleaning and then had guests for dinner and a playdate--Maddie, who is probably Allie's best friend, her parents (Chris and Betsy--I used to work with Betsy and they also used to live almost across the street from us) and her baby sister, Erin, who is 22 months old and wild.

We had Papa Murphy's pizza (we really like Papa Murphy's) and they brought cookies for dessert. Allie could hardly speak, she was so excited. All the drudgery of cleaning the entire house (which was desperately needed, by the way) was completely made worth it by the expression on Allie's face when they arrived.

There was an immense amount of running, hopping, and screaming. Two 4-year-olds, one almost 2-year-old, and one puzzled-at-all-the-excitement but smiling 9-month-old. The older three girls were endlessly running, screaming, from the kitchen to the living room and back. Our ears were ringing, but no one wanted to yell at them and spoil their excitement.

Needless to say, the girls didn't really eat any pizza. We adults ate a bunch of it, almost finished off the cookies, and talked our way through the entire evening. It's just a shame Betsy is allergic to cats. Within minutes of arriving, she was suffering with a runny nose. They had to leave when she started getting wheezy, but she was a wonderful sport and made it through over 3 hours.

Allie was completely exhausted and said she had the best night ever. We really, really need to do this kind of thing for her more often. She's at a daycare with only a 14-month-old and her sister and she's starved for playtime with older kids.

And this morning, she slept until almost 9:00 (almost unheard of). Yay for play!

We've been busy lately doing spring things. No illnesses per se have hit us, but Greg did sprain his ankle on Monday night. He was helping our daycare provider's husband move a playset and he just stepped wrong.

Of course, that was the same night he got our lawnmower back just for the night from the repair/tuneup place, so I went out and mowed the yard. I like mowing, as long as it isn't hot, and it wasn't this night. Good thing, too, because it took forever. There was an awful lot of grass in our yard (and weeds, and dandelion blooms, and dog poop, since a popular walking route runs alongside our house).

Greg has been limping around the house and work ever since and he says it doesn't feel better. Sigh. We must be cursed or something.

Julia is having adventures in food. She'll be nine months old tomorrow and she's experiencing new food flavors almost every day. Yesterday, she had baby lasagna for the first time. She voted no to the noodles and yes (or at least OK) to the sauce.

Her favorites (besides the plain fruits, of course) are the fruit/meat combinations. Mmm-mm. Ham with apples. Chicken with pears. Chicken with apples. Beef with carrots--of course that's not a fruit, but carrots are sweeter, so you'd think she'd be OK with it. Nope. It's not fruit and she knows it. And it's amazing how much orange baby food can stain a bib and clothes.

And so much is orange--carrots, sweet potatoes, squash, beef with carrots, garden vegetables (carrots, potatoes, peas all together), peaches, peaches with mango, mango with apples, you name it. Am I making any of you hungry?

Well, consider this. Orange baby food leads to orange baby poop. I'm going to just leave that thought there, thank you very much. Have a good day!

I've been sick again. Yeah, yeah, who cares.

Today I served a pizza lunch to 683 people. Well, I made the arrangements for 683 people at work to have pizza, to celebrate a large order we received from a company I won't name but whose initials are UPS.

It's enough business to keep about 1/3 of our workforce busy for about 8 months. Worth celebrating. And thank god the pizza party is finished now and we had enough pizza for everyone but not too much left over.

Our bill for pizza, just for the city that I work in, was almost $1700, without tax. We gave them a $40 tip. That's 2%. Before I get nasty e-mails from waitstaff and delivery people, I want to state that we based the tip on information from one of our supervisors who works at Pizza Hut nights delivering pizza.

He said that $10 per driver would be a respectable tip but not outrageous. Gosh, they only toted around 162 pizzas, no big deal!

I should add that I am in absolutely no hurry to see sausage, pepperoni, or cheese anytime in the near future.

An acquaintance of mine was robbed last week.

She lives, along with her husband and their two kids, in a two-story house with a partially exposed basement. Both the basement and their kitchenette area have sliding glass doors.

In the middle of Thursday night, she woke thinking she had heard something. When she didn't hear anything else, she went back to sleep. In the morning, she went downstairs and her slider was slightly open and the door to the attached garage was partially open.

She said she never even considered that they had been robbed; she just thought one of the boys had left the sliding door ajar and the wind or suction or something had caused the other one to open.

She got ready for work and was set to leave. That's when she realized that she couldn't find her purse. Even then, she said she didn't think robbery. She just thought she must have left it in her car.

When she went in the garage, she found that the door from the garage to outside was open also and that her purse was not in her car. That's when she figured out what had happened.

The thief had come up on their deck, got in through the slider (which she can't swear was locked, but she thinks was), stole her purse and her briefcase, and left by way of the door to the garage and then outside. The police found muddy men's size footprints and no fingerprints.

There were four other houses hit on our side of town the same night. Did I mention she lives two blocks from us?

She lost $5 cash; that's all she had in her purse (and she and her husband are both lawyers!). She had taken most of the papers out of her briefcase to work on and hadn't put them back, so she didn't lose much work-wise. Though she knew not to keep her social security card in her purse (you all know not to do that, right?), she did have a paystub in her purse. Of course, her social security number was on her paystub.

She and her husband have signed up for some kind of monitoring service on their credit cards that watches for fraudulent charges and other signs of identity theft. And they bought curtains for their basement sliding door. And deadbolts for the doors into the garage and into the house from the garage. And they're faithfully using bars in their sliding doors now.

She says she lies awake at night listening. She can't stop thinking about what might have happened if the thief had decided to come upstairs, after her husband's wallet, for example.

The biggest loss, of course, is their sense of security. And some of mine, too.

Another week has gone by. The only good thing about that, I suppose, is that it's closer to spring and the weekend.

Last weekend, we took Allie to the ballet as planned. She loved getting dressed up and getting to go out with Mommy and Daddy while Julia had to stay home (though she really likes our babysitter too).

She was eager to get into the theater and we showed her our watches to let her know how much time was left until the show started. We sat in the front row on one side.

Then the music started, the lights went down, and the ballet started. She did wonderfully. She asked questions, but did it quietly and not very frequently. She stayed in her own seat (unlike last year when she was afraid of the folding seat and spent the show on our laps). She knew the basic story this year, too, so she was waiting for the crocodile.

It was very nice, except for the annoying little girl behind us (who was old enough to be told to behave and do it), who continually asked loud questions about what was happening. And her parent answered back just as loudly and very, very frequently. I almost wished Allie would do like last year when she shushed the people behind us. We should have spoken up, but what do you do at a kids show.

Afterwards, we took Allie out for ice cream. She loved that best of all, though she did start complaining that her dress shoes hurt (she had nasty red marks on her feet, we unfortunately found later).

It was wonderful and I think we'll do it again, but I have to admit that it didn't have the same sense of magic as last year. My expectations were too high, though. How can you expect that your daughter will always be as thrilled as she was the first time she saw theater.

I guess we'll have to look forward about two more years, when we can take Julia!

Would you believe I've been sick again? Considering I never threw up with morning sickness in either of my pregnancies, I've done more ralphing in the last month than ever in my life.

Monday I started feeling like crap at work and I spent most of Monday evening in bed instead of with my family. Just like clockwork, almost exactly one week from when I threw up last week (within 1/2 hour of the same time), I was throwing up this week. Greg got it this time, too, on Tuesday morning.

I dragged myself in to work on Tuesday, idiot that I am, to prepare some weekly reports that a VP relies on. I went home in late morning and crawled into bed at noon. I didn't wake up until 4. I can't ever remember sleeping that long in the daytime. Maybe when I was 2 or so?

In any event, to cut boring blogs short, I'm feeling better. Thank god.

Julia and Allie are doing fine. Julia has been a little snarky healthwise for the last week but she seems to have rediscovered her appetite with spades in the last two days.

Tonight before bed, she ate baby applesauce, sweet potatoes, AND peaches. Have you seen those little jars of #1 baby food? She ate the equivalent of two whole jars, easily.

Happy family.

And, we get to have a family day this weekend. We're getting a babysitter for Julia (WHAT--but they never do that? Well, we're going to!) and Greg and I are taking Allie to see the Peter Pan Ballet.

You might remember Greg's blog about seeing this with her last year. She adored it. For a long time, it was her favorite thing in the entire world. And now she gets to see it again.

When I told her tonight that we were going, she was thrilled. Then she said, "This year, Mommy, when the show is over I'm going to talk to the people that were on the stage for sure. I'm going to be brave."

She chickened out last year, which was no big deal. Isn't it a shame that even a four-year-old can be bothered by regrets? Well, she's getting the opportunity to resolve the situation and I can't wait.

I'm not that excited about seeing the ballet again, though it was cool and I always love live theater. It's watching her face as she watches the ballet that I can't wait for. She'll be flying through her dreams again.

I give up. Four weeks ago, all four of us were sick with vomiting and stomach symptoms. Two weeks ago, I got my nasty throat infection and found out I'm allergic to penicillin, and this week, I'm sick again. Last night, my stomach just didn't feel right when I got home from work.

By the time Greg finished making shrimp scampi for dinner, I didn't want any part of it. I was nauseous, in the bathroom, and at 10:30, I threw up. I made it through two pregnancies without throwing up once and now I've been tossing my cookies with some regularity. What is up with this crap.

The good news is that I felt slightly better after throwing up and I slept OK. I went to work today, despite feeling like someone beat me up.

I hate winter. I love spring. Is spring coming what it's going to take for this family, and especially me, to get healthy?

At least the rest of the family are OK. If you haven't heard, Julia has her second tooth, and she's sitting up for long, long periods of time now. Her favorite hobby is chewing on the remote control (don't tell her daddy). What have you been up to lately?

No, I haven't up and died. Hard to believe it's been three weeks since I blogged.

First my parents were here and Greg was gone, which meant I spent almost no time on the computer. Then, if you read Greg's blog, you know about my illness.

What it was, we'll never know. It felt like strep throat, but wasn't. It could have been mono, but thank god, it wasn't. All the health care professionals I saw kept saying what a large collection of pus I had in my throat, so I guess we'll just leave it at that and be grateful that I'm back to normal.

And I'm going to be very grateful that no one else in the family got it. I hibernated in our room for most of Friday, all of Saturday and Sunday, and most of Monday while Greg held down the family fort and I guess I kept my germs to myself.

Things were fairly insane at work when I got back--I'm still doing two jobs, but I've hired a clerk now and she starts this coming Thursday, so that should get better.

Otherwise in the world, congratulations to Raquel and Dwayne on little Lourdes. I'm having kind of a hard time imagining Dwayne with a baby. I'm sure he'll be a great father and he's very good with kids, but an infant is a whole different matter.

He sounded completely in love with her on the phone, so I think the Springman family is off to a good start.

In our family, Allie looks like she's gone ten rounds with an unfriendly and lost. She has a black eye. Last night, I took the girls to a McDonald's with an indoor playland and Allie disappeared for a hour inside the tunnels. She loved it. However, when we got home, she was crawling across from the back seat to come out of the car by my door and she fell somehow.

She got a lovely bruise on her cheek and it's spread up to her eye. Greg took the girls out today while I did our taxes and he said people would always smile at the three of them, until they saw Allie's face, when thoughts of abuse and authorities would cross their minds. Poor little girl, she'll probably look bad all week. We need to take pictures!

I'm not really gleeful or anything, of course, but I had two black eyes when I was about two from climbing on the kitchen cupboards and bonking myself with a door, so she comes by the look honestly. Here's hoping you and your family are healthier than ours!

I think Greg should post another picture of Allie's new haircut, because he called it severe and it looks awfully drastic in the photo, when it was soaking wet. I took her to get it cut and it is short, but she looks cuter than heck (like that's so difficult--indulge a mother, please).

Her hair is thick, so it's poofed out considerably now that's it's dry. She did pretty well at the salon, considering that the girl who cut it (this was not a woman) was not very careful about combing it out gently. Allie said "ow" a couple of times and then towards the end, she got that "I'm gonna cry any minute" look and sure enough, she did.

Big crocodile tears welled up and spilled over, so the beautician quickly cut her bangs (a little unevenly) and she was done. She made it through her third salon haircut (her nana was a hairstylist and she's cut it quite often).

Greg is trying to convince me that we should cut the back of Julia's hair. The sides aren't very long and the top is OK (although she has a combover), but on the back of her head, she's got a mostly bald spot.

Allie had one too, same place, from laying on her back so much. The problem is that the hair below the bald spot and to the side of it is quite long, giving her a little bit of a mullet.

But she's my mullet-headed baby, and I just finished giving her a bath, so she smells good (like a baby should).

Now if she would just learn to roll in the opposite direction, so she wouldn't keep getting stuck under the furniture, we'd be a happy, happy family.

It's no use. If you read my blog yesterday, you can forget about it. Or try to, anyway.

No matter if you keep your toothbrush on top of the toilet or if you keep it hermetically sealed in your bedroom safe, it's going to have fecal coliform bacteria on it. That's the conclusion of "Mythbusters," in the investigation detailed in my blog last night.

There was no significant difference in the amount of bacteria found on the toothbrushes kept in the bathroom and outside. However, no one got sick from any of the toothbrushes either. The end result is that there's fecal bacteria everywhere--because people are such slobs, of course. Just try not to think about it.

On another subject, did you know that some psychology professors who have studied job interviews state that most interviewers make up their minds about an applicant in the first 3 minutes? Then they spend the next 27 or whatever minutes gathering information to validate that decision.

I've been thinking about that a little lately because I'm interviewing to find a new clerk for our human resources department. People think that because I do HR that I interview all the time, but nothing could be further from the truth. Me and the HR director never do job interviews.

I've done three interviews since last week and I'm so glad I'm almost done. I know that interviews are very stressful for most people, but I just want to get someone to accept a job offer so I can hand over the clerk duties, which I'm doing right now.

Anyone unemployed out there?

Have you ever seen the Discovery Channel show "Mythbusters"? It's hilarious and educational at the same time.

These two guys whose background, I believe, is in science/TV/mechanicals/who-knows-what-else carefully research and attempt to prove or disprove urban legends and stories that we've all probably heard but have never known anyone to experience.

Tonight, they're trying to see if it's possible to waterski behind an eight-person crew boat. They're also trying to find out if it's true that leaving your toothbrush by the sink next to the toilet will result in it being covered with fecal coliform bacteria droplets when the toilet's flushed.

I'm interested especially in the last one--I read that theory in Reader's Digest a long time ago. Great little journal, Reader's Digest. If you read even a few other magazines each year, some of the stories are going to sound really familiar when you see them condensed in Reader's Digest.

My parents have a collection of ancient R.D.s in their basement and the most fun thing is to find one from, say, 1975 and read the predictions that were made regarding the cold war or progress in computer development. They were really off, usually pessimistically (is that a word?), thank goodness.

I need to remember to read one of those oldies the next time I'm at their house.

In the meantime, back to see if I need to buy a new toothbrush and if I'm going to start keeping it next to my bed. Stay tuned for the answer---

This has been one lo-ong week. I did get sick on Thursday, joining my family in vomitus familius. Today, I felt weak but knew I had to go in to work. Then the phone rang--our daycare provider again. Her son had a fever of 103 that wasn't coming down with Tylenol.

Sigh.

Greg took the girls to the daycare center associated with his work. You know, one of those "warehouse your kids" places. And it was fine. Allie had a blast playing with a little girl who had a Princess jacket on (therefore, friend) and Julia was one of only three babies, so she got lots of attention.

We're all going to spend the weekend sleeping to recover from this week. Especially since it's snowing again (we got 5 inches of snow last night).

Our sole trip out will probably be Greg's mission to buy us new toilet seats. He says he's now intimately familiar with what's on the toilets in our house and it's time to buy new ones. What can you do with a used toilet seat (since we'll have three)? I'm taking suggestions.

These last couple of days have sucked. Lots of sick people. On top of everything else in this story, I'm still getting over the cold I got a little while back.

So on Tuesday morning, our daycare provider calls to say she can't take the girls because she's throwing up. Greg and I decide that he'll work in the morning and I'll work in the afternoon and we'll cover it. Julia has come down with a nasty cold, so I spend a bunch of time in the morning suctioning her nose while I manage to get some work done at home.

At noon, Greg comes home for the tag team. Allie has been quiet all morning, just asking for a snack of multi-colored goldfish crackers and eating a slice of American cheese. I head upstairs to change clothes for work and hear a commotion downstairs. Allie has thrown up all over the (white, wouldn't you know) carpeting in the living room and in the hallway and in the bathroom.

Did you know that multi-colored goldfish crackers basically all turn red in the stomach? Gross doesn't even begin to describe it, and Greg got to clean it up because I had to leave. He spent the afternoon doing laundry (her bed got it too) and then Julia started throwing up also. Last evening was your basic miserable experience.

Last night actually wasn't too bad. Both girls last threw up about 7 p.m. Allie slept through the night and Julia woke at 3:30, famished. She ate part of a bottle and went back to sleep.

Our daycare provider had called and said she didn't feel up to taking the girls yet today. So Greg and I decided to tag team it again, this time with me working the morning. The girls were listless and Julia was clingy, but other than that they were pretty much OK. When I walked in to relieve Greg, however, he was throwing up in the bathroom.

He's been throwing up and nauseous all afternoon and evening while I've been trying to gradually re-introduce food for Allie while holding Julia, who's probably having stomach cramps on top of her cold, based on how she's almost inconsolable. And Julia's eaten so little today that I'm afraid for dehydration if she doesn't start eating in the morning.

And the worst part for me, personally, is the anticipation of knowing that my turn is coming. I don't think I have ever not caught something that Allie has had, illness-wise. Every time I eat, I question whether I'm going to be OK looking at that meal again.

The good news is, the girls and our daycare provider should be back together tomorrow. Greg may still be ill and I'll probably be ill, but at least we won't have to handle the two of them also. We'll also be feeling like death warmed over, most likely.

God, those nasty little viruses do like to do us humans in, don't they? Until healthier days---

Allie is four. She had her birthday on Friday and her party on Saturday. Let's just say it was a very pink day, filled with princesses and lace and Barbies.

How did my daughter get to be such a girly-girl? We've bought her trucks and balls and bats and construction materials, but she loves Sleeping Beauty. Why? Because Sleeping Beauty wears a pink dress.

We had a very nice weekend at my parent's. It actually got a little warmer today, so Greg successfully chipped away some of the ice on our driveway when we got home.

I gave Julia a bath tonight, which showed (no surprise) that there are still new challenges to come in bathing her. She kicked so hard and was so determined to chew on the cup that we use for rinsing her hair. . .

Tomorrow, I'm going to try oatmeal baby cereal for her breakfast. I'm assuming that I could blog tomorrow night and indicate that I've given her another bath. Babies that are her age love to decorate their hair with food.

I'd say she'll most likely outgrow it pretty quickly, but more often than not, when I brush Allie's hair after she has had pancakes, there's syrup in her hair!

I'm sick again.

It sucks again. And no, Mom, I didn't intentionally get sick to make you sick when we see you this coming weekend.

I have the whole sneezing, scratchy throat, drippy nose, stuffed sinuses, headache thing going on. Do you think it's God getting back at me for feeling happy that Luis got canned? It did start on Friday or so.

Well, it's worth it if that's it. Though I might not think so when I'm trying to sleep again tonight despite the fact that I can't breathe.

Rather a necessity, that breathing thing. I remember before Allie was born, when we got our first glimpse of her in an ultrasound at 8 1/2 months. She was moving--her chest was moving, and Dr. Stoffel said that was a good sign, that she was practicing breathing. Even though there was only fluid to wiggle around in.

I feel like I have enough fluid right now myself to float a boat--in my stuffed up head. Sigh. I'm going to go away and have a pity party now.

One of my daily tasks is bottles for Julia. Wash the bottles, wash the retaining rings, wash the caps, wash the nipples. Line them up, put a liner in each bottle, fill it to the right height, tap in 3 1/2 scoops of formula, shake them up, cap them, and put them in the fridge.

Then Julia's set for meals for another 24 hours. It's easier, I suppose, than making a meal for either Allie or Greg and I, but somehow it seems like such a chore. It takes about 20-25 minutes a day, and I normally do it after the girls go to sleep.

I guess it's because I don't have any choice (unless Greg does them for me). The bottles have to be washed and the bottles have to be filled. If I didn't feel like making a meal for Allie, there's always McDonald's (and she would be supremely happy, as a side benefit). But ya can't buy a bottle filled with formula at the drive-thru at Culver's.

Wash, line up, fill, shake, cap.

When is this child going to start eating food? Then I can start complaining about how I miss holding her and giving her bottles.

Last night, Allie took a long bath. How long? Long enough that her fingers, toes, and probably her head all had deep crevices instead of just bath wrinkles. About 45 minutes.

Her latest game in the bathtub is to lay back full-length, with her hair floating around her head. She likes to listen with her ears under water and have me pour cups of water on her tummy or legs.

She could and does lay (lie?) like this for at least half an hour without any desire to stir. This seems to supremely fit the definition of child. If I laid in the bathtub for a half an hour, I know I'd be thinking about projects at work or how the bathroom rug needed to be vacuumed (it really, really does, by the way) or about if we're really going to get 4-6 inches of snow and if Greg will be safe driving the freeway in that kind of weather.

Allie might be thinking about how she can't wait for Tuesday (when she has tumbling class, which she loves) or wondering when the weekend is coming again (she likes to sleep in until 8 as much as her parents), but I think that's about it.

After I finally got Allie out of the tub and in her jammies, I bathed Julia. Julia loves baths too. Last night, instead of resting on her slant-board with her legs splayed or with her feet up to her mouth (she's been chewing on her toes a lot lately), she actually stretched out her legs, crossed them, and rested them on the edge of her bathtub.

Freaked me out, it looked so grown up and non-babylike. She only held the position for about 30 seconds, however. Then she pulled her legs up and started trying to suck on the toes I had just covered with soap.

She doesn't seem to mind the taste of soap, by the way. Not that I'm admitting to anything.

Greg and I just had an argument over who did more work today. He said he made dinner, washed the dishes, and got groceries, so he had done all the housemaid work today. I reminded him that I washed and made bottles this morning and then I couldn't think of a lot more other than watching the kids all day.

Now I've had some time to think.

This morning, I did the bottles, but Greg made Allie breakfast. We both bathed one child. Greg made Allie's lunch. I watched the kids in the afternoon until 3, while I did three loads of laundry. Greg took Allie to the store and I fed Julia (again) and changed a poopy diaper. We both put groceries away. Greg made dinner, but when I was starting to clean up afterwards, he said he'd rather wash dishes than play "Sweetie and Mommy" with Allie. I eventually went upstairs and put away four loads of laundry (one was left from earlier in the week) and I got Allie in her pajamas. I think that makes us pretty even in work accomplished, because that was the point when we had our argument.

I said I wanted to blog and Greg said he deserved a break. While I've been downstairs blogging, he's had to change another poopy diaper (I believe). That makes us even more even.

I think today was a pretty typical Saturday as far as what we got done. So why were we arguing? Who knows.

Nine years ago tonight, my life changed forever. I'm not being dramatic; nine years ago tonight was the night I met Greg.

I worked with the husband of a couple and Greg worked with the wife and they set up that the four of us would go to a movie together. We saw "I.Q." with Meg Ryan and Timothy Robbins. It was an excellent first date movie; no embarrassing sex scenes and some funny scenes.

Afterwards, we went out to eat at Applebee's (there weren't many other restaurants in Decatur at that time). There was an awkward moment when I bought him a drink. I had chicken fingers and Greg ate riblets, I believe. We laughed. We laughed a lot. Greg and I discovered we were both English majors and we talked about skydiving (which I'd done a few months before).

Eventually, we went back to my condo and the four of us talked for another hour or two before the three of them left together. Greg and I shook hands and said maybe we would do it again sometime.

I very carefully waited until the following Tuesday (not Monday, too eager) and then called when I knew he wouldn't be home to leave a message thanking him for dinner. The rest is history.

We had a wonderful courtship and our early marriage was very romantic. Lots of lunches together and notes left on car windshields. We both miss those heady days.

But tonight, all four of us crawled onto our bed together for about 45 minutes, before the girls went to sleep, and giggled and played and talked. Times like that may seem pretty ordinary when they happen, but I think back to that first date and I know how extraordinary it is that we've found ourselves at this point.

Fate is a wonderful thing sometimes.

I love you, Gregory! I can't wait to know you for another 59 years or so.