Bowing out

It's November second and already I'm bowing out of NaNoWriMo. Technically, I bowed out yesterday when I realized it was 10:00 PM, I had just put the baby down for the first time that day, the children had been in bed for less than an hour, I could hardly keep my eyes open, and I hadn't written a single word.

Now is not the time.

Andrew made a program to calculate how much I've written on the blog the past 9.5 years to prove to me that I have the ability to write a book. I've written over 2.5 million words (not particularly well-written words, but words nonetheless). To put that in perspective, the entire Harry Potter series is approximately 1 million words. Obviously, if I wanted to, I could sit down to write a book.

And I do want to. But now is not the time.

I got up with the baby a 5:00 this morning (Benjamin got up, too; it was a party). Granted, we're still suffering the shock that is the end of daylight savings, but 5:00 is pretty early, especially when the baby was still getting up every couple of hours. Like, come on, children.

I did some laundry, because Zoë did a tremendous spit-up, completely drenching me, herself, and the bed. I made muffins for breakfast. I folded some laundry that sat in the dryer over the weekend (oops). But I didn't write one word towards my novel.

So it's pretty clear that now is not the time to write a novel in one month.

I'm simply more passionate about food and sleep than I am about writing right now.

Is it so terrible that we're coming on six months with our newest addition and I'm still in survival mode? When I get everyone fed and clothed for the day I feel pretty successful, so who needs to write a book?

If there's one thing I learned from Maslow it's that self-acctualization is not that important.

Eat. Sleep. Breathe.

In other news, evidence from Zoë's diaper this morning suggests that her first solid foods were wild onion and old leaves. I'll tell her paediatrician it was rice cereal or applesauce or something (once I get around to feeding her any of that stuff). But really it was wild onion and old leaves.

That might have contributed to her fussiness through the night. Pooping out solids is hard work.

Even I don't know why I'm putting this stuff in my mouth...

Halloween 2015

Rachel had a soccer game this morning, which she said was her "best ever!" Her team scored two goals (and lost 2 to 10 or something like that). They've had a rough season. But it's over now because with daylight savings ending it'll be pitch black outside by the time practice begins.

I stayed at home with the little ones and we video-chatted with Uncle Patrick so he could wish her a happy birthday. He wanted to call last week but he ran out of internet. He's in wee Riviere, South Africa, doing a conservation internship right now. I guess he prepays for internet and when he uses all his "data" then he has to go buy a new plan. Or something. Anyway, we got to talk to him today, which was lovely!

We also did a lot of raking. When Andrew and Rachel came home he said, "Oh, I was just going to get the leaf blower out and do that." So he did. That was a much faster way. We made the biggest leaf pile in history and spent a lot of time jumping into it before we managed to fit it all into one yard waste bin (I stood in the bin and acted as the leaf compactor while Andrew piled the leaves in).

Trunk-or-Treat

The trunk-or-treat was a fun this year. The most popular addition was the Photo Booth. We had someone take our picture for us but I forgot to check to see if it turned out until we were on our way home and, sadly, it didn't turn out well. It's the thought that counts, right? I think I see us all in there.

What's wrong with Zoë? Oh, she was dropped on her head as a baby.

We went to the park this afternoon after the girls got home from school. Miriam was most interested in playing with Zoë, which is usually fine. Sometimes, though, Miriam forgets that Zoë is a person, not a doll that can be cast aside on a whim. I spend most of my days harping at Benjamin about treating the baby kindly. This afternoon all that energy was focused on Miriam.

"Don't swing so high."

"She can't sit up on her own yet."

"Don't just leave her there."

"Sit down to hold her."

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Haunted Hike

This evening we headed to Little River Regional Park for their Haunted Hike. The first half was lit by friendly milk jug jack-o-lanterns and CLAWS inc. had people stationed at pavilions around the trail with various birds of prey for us to visit with. Most of them were look-only animals, but the African raven, Grip, was greeting the crowds.

Here's Benjamin taking a turn petting Grip:

Pumpkin Day

Benjamin threw up on Tuesday morning. He had requested eggs for breakfast (after I gave him applesauce to "test" his stomach) and I decided to indulge him—by actually cooking breakfast—since he hadn't eaten much on Monday and also hadn't thrown up in a while. This was a mistake. He threw up after he ate half his eggs. He just turned away from his plate, threw up all over the bench and the floor...and then turned back to his plate.

"No! Benjamin!" I said. "You can't eat more! Your tummy needs a rest! Let's wash you off and get you a little drink."

"I want to finish my brekky!" he protested.

"You are still sick," I said.

"I'm not!"

"Well, you're finished eating."

"But my tummy's not full."

"I can actually see that. See all this stuff on the floor? That's from inside your stomach. And I have to clean it up. And I don't want to have to clean it up twice so you're finished eating. You need to have a lie-down. You can have a little drink, but that's all."

This sickness has been the weirdest. He's insisted the whole time that he feels fine. And it has been driving me crazy. Most people slow down a bit when they're feverish and vomiting...but not him.

He also threw up during story time on Monday night. I finished a book, he hopped off my lap, threw up in the bowl that was on the floor, and then jumped back up on my lap.

"Anuzzy story!" he chirped.

It all happened so quick it took me a minute to figure out what had happened.

Anyway, he didn't throw up for the rest of the day on Tuesday so on Wednesday morning he insisted he was all better. He wanted to go to school with Miriam for Pumpkin Day. There's a 24-hour "rule" at their school—once a child has been clear of vomiting and fever for 24-hours they're welcome to return to school. We were about at 22 hours by 9 AM, so I decided that was close enough. We went to school.

Halloweens Past

I have a handful of childhood Halloween pictures in my possession, which I'll share here.

The first is from 1988; I'm three years old. My parents took me to my big brother's kindergarten class party. I dressed as a genie. My dad is wearing my hat so that it wouldn't fall off and get wet while I was bobbing for apples.

Speaking of teeth...

Zoë was working hard on her newest tooth yesterday morning. I gave her a variety of toys to teethe on, but she eventually squirmed her way over to the little table (that Benjamin's throw up bucket was resting on) and gave the table leg a try. That, apparently was the ideal chew toy—probably a bit tastier than sterile plastic.

Math-querade Night: adding and subtracting teeth

This evening the girls and I went to the school's Math-querade party.  Benjamin stayed home with Daddy, which he wasn't very happy about, but he threw up again this morning so he wasn't fit to go out in public. That was the only time he threw up, though, so he must be getting over this bug!

I spent most of the evening helping Miriam with math activities in the K-2 room while Rachel played math games with her friends in the 3-5 room. They were both excited to give their costumes a test run.

Rachel is the (eleventh) Doctor, Miriam is Snow White, and Zoë is a Cabbage Patch Doll.

Constant Energy (in sickness and in health)

Hallway.

Bathroom.

Kitchen.

Toilet.

Bowl.

Toilet.

Bedroom.

Bowl.

Toilet.

Those are all the places Benjamin threw up today. Let's take a minute to appreciate how many times he managed to either make it to the toilet or remembered to use the throw up bucket. That's real evidence that he's growing up.

You'd think that with how sick he was he'd, I dunno, slow down a little or something. But no. Not Benjamin. He's determined to be running full steam ahead 100% of the time. 

I think I've mentioned this before, that Rachel was a difficult toddler...until she got sick...and then she was a dream. She was content to sleep it off—hardly complained, took it all lying down.

Miriam, on the other hand, was a fairly easy toddler. She was calm and quiet and a joy to be around...until she got sick...and then melodrama would start bubbling out of her. She'd get demanding and weepy and restless.

Benjamin's always on. All the time. He's hard when he's sick. He's hard when he's not.