Cutie patooties (long overdue)

It's true there are a million photos taken of your first baby, fewer of baby number two and even fewer of baby number three. And so it goes, with less frequent visits to the photography studio as your house fills. I swore I wouldn't fall into this photo trap, but sadly, I have.

I'll refrain from saying how long it had been since Trace and Alysse had had their photos professionally taken (not counting the group photo that was taken of all the kids this fall), it's shameful. Please refrain from looking back through the archives to actually find out how long it had been, I'll feel even more ashamed.

So, finally we dedicated the time and energy to trek to the studio, and here are the results. Well worth the wait. Let's call them two-year-old shots taken a couple months early, instead of 18-month photos four months late.

Ten things I certainly don't love

Lest the world think everything is constantly lovey dovey around here given my previous posts of things I love (October 2008 list and July's top 10), I'm going the opposite end of the spectrum here with the top ten things motherhood has managed to make me despise.

Before we get started, let me qualify my list with two statements:

• The majority are innocent items little mind was paid to before motherhood. Funny how a few kids turn the ordinary into the despised.
  
  
• The majority are innocent items, therefore, do not take offense to my inclusion of them on the list. Our kids love balloons ... don't be leery of sending them to our door, they love them. These are my hang-ups only, and I long ago realized I can't rid the world of balloons.

Without further ado, and in no particular order.

1. Toys in the pediatricians' office waiting room. What an oxymoron. A bunch of toys put out in a place where sick kids come. Now, wait for it ... for other sick kids to later play with ... for other sick kids to touch ... for other sick kids to sneeze on. Yeah, you get the picture.

Actually, I lied in saying this list was in no particular order. This is definitely my greatest mom hate. I love everything about our pediatrician and her associates, with the exception of the small waiting area dedicated solely to these disgusting toys.

2. Tablecloths. Prior to our children, I appreciated a nice tablecloth; they now create fear and dread. One unnoticed pull by a child and an entire table setting could be wiped out. Not worth the constant "Please don't pull the tablecloth, honey" nagging they now produce.

3. Gum. In hair, on shoes, just a mess waiting to happen. Alena and Alivia love bubble gum and I get daily requests for the chewy goodness; I wish we had never introduced them to it.

4. Latex balloons. There's a sign posted in the waiting area of Cincinnati Children's Hospital Fairfield location stating that firearms and latex balloons are not permitted on the premises for the safety of their patients. That pretty much sums it up: latex balloons = firearms. The worst possible choking hazard in my mind, I'm on constant balloon patrol when I know there's one around.

5. Stickers on clothes. Kids love stickers, and where do they most like to stick them? On their clothes. The problem is, they usually don't unstick them. As a result, mom is left to peel the suckers stickers off before washing. And when mom misses one and it goes through the washer and the dryer, that pajama top has a permanent square of ick right on front.
6. Car seats. Their purpose is undeniable, yet, having listened to four babies scream and scream some more while strapped in car seats, I reserve the right to hate them.

Even after nearly two years of being put in hers, Alysse still doesn't like the car seat. Jason has surmised it takes her 30 minutes of restlessness in her seat to succumb to the realization she's going to be there awhile. She resigns herself to that fact for about one hour, and then she's had enough, and squawking and tears ensue. Not one of our kids was a "sleep in the car quietly" kind of baby.

7. Kids in dirty coats. I hate to see little ones in a dirty coat. If our kids are ever seen in a dirty coat or jacket, it's because my washing machine has been stolen or I've gone blind. This is just one of my pet peeves.

8. Pacifiers. Half of our babies had them, half of our babies didn't. I wish we'd gone zero for four in handing them out. More disturbing to me, though, is seeing a three year old walking around with a pacifier in his or her mouth. Come on.

9. Impossible toy packaging. I have seen designer purses in high-end department stores with less security packaging attached than some Fisher-Price toys at Target. Are all those plastic-coated, twisted wire ties necessary? Boxes within boxes, within boxes. Plastic galore. Here's a way this country could eliminate some serious waste in terms of going green.

10. Grocery carts. A 2007 University of Arizona study found grocery carts have more bacteria on them than the average public restroom. Yuck. Stick your kids, who touch everything in their reach (including their mouths), in them and YUCK.

We make good use of our cloth grocery cart cover, but without fail, someone wants to ride in the cart part or stand on the end, and you're left wondering why bother trying to keep one pair of hands germ free when one or two of the others is picking up the wonderful bacteria. I'm a proponent of our friend Jungle Jim investing in a few PureCart systems, or maybe I'll get one for Mother's Day that I could tow behind the Suburban and never have to worry about a dirty cart again.

Totally random thoughts

Today, while doing the mundane, I began to reminisce about the memories I have of the women who deeply cared for me during childhood. I discovered, the fondest memories I have of each are of very simple, ordinary things.

I remember walking in my great-grandmother's living room balancing books on my head with my sisters. She'd tell us to keep our heads up and walk slowly.

I remember jumping rope on my grandma's back porch as she turned the rope (the other end tied to a column near the outside of the porch). I think I would have jumped for hours.

I remember birthday parties at my aunt's house. Lunch was pizza or McDonald's takeout followed by birthday and presents. Casual, easy and memorable.

I remember an after school snack every day and a handmade Halloween costume each year made by my mom. They showed she cared and took the time to do special things for us.

Years from now, I wonder what simple things my kids will remember of me.

The wonderfulness of nothing

Nothing. Nothing to bake. Nothing to buy. Nothing to wrap. Nothing to plan. Nothing to get to. Nothing to prepare for. Nothing to do.

Isn't it wonderful?

As exciting as the Christmas season is, I'm ready to commit to saying the post season is even better. The hectic rush ... gone. The flurry of this and that ... gone. The stress of it all ... gone.

Since last Saturday, and the last holiday party on our schedule, there's been nothing we've had to do. And it's been wonderful.

The errands we've run have been the "want to" kind versus the "have to" variety. The cooking that's been undertaken has been for the hobby of it instead of because company's coming. The cleaning that's occurred, well, it hasn't.

All the everyday demands and expectations have been replaced by breaking in new Christmas toys, relaxing and enjoying time together. It's as if the pace has slowed dramatically.

There's been time to build train tracks; time for discussions of speed limits and the corresponding signs; time for our new year celebration. Seemingly so much more time.

I'm guessing this little holiday of the not-real-world kind will last only a couple days longer, then it's back to work for Jason, back to school for Alena and the return to our regular routine of things. The speed of day-to-day life will slowly increase until we're back to racing around, but until then, there's nothing.

Just because ...

Because a house full of little ones at Christmas time epitomizes the spirit of the season.

Because lighting up Rudolph's nose with a tap is better than all the other lights at the Cincinnati Zoo's Festival of Lights.

Because aunts who save their laps for you are about the greatest luxury little girls could ask for.


Because having your own box of dress up clothing means options expanded beyond Cinderella gowns and pink boas.

Because frolicking under the table at a holiday party beats dancing on top of it.

Because Santa getting your request just right makes Christmas morning even better.

Because anything with wheels is positively fascinating.

Because amongst the wrapping paper mountains, a book is always worth finding.

Because one day you'll be all grown up and remember the Christmas memories long past.