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.

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!