London Calling

The Violet Hour

This is the violet hour, the hour of hush and wonder, when the affections glow again and valor is reborn, when the shadows deepen magically along the edge of the forest and we believe that, if we watch carefully, at any moment we may see the unicorn.
- Bernard DeVoto "The Hour"

It is the hour, according to TS Elliot's "The Waste Land," that brings us home.

The 2-day cake

We kept things pretty simple for the holidays this year because of baby Violet. No big crowds, no complicated meals. For Christmas Eve, my parents joined us for appetizers. Blu & Taylor went sledding and somehow came home with Guitar Hero. London entertained us and we all went to bed early to prepare for Santa's visit.  (This year we put the cookies and milk out and London started to understand the concept of Santa.)

Christmas day was filled with opening gifts and a nice dinner of beef tenderloin and roasted veggies. But the cake, that was the kicker. I started working on it Christmas Eve morning and didn't finish until it was served. Ironically, the recipe came from a book by Alfred Portale called, "Simple Pleasures." But there was nothing simple about this cake. The recipe called for 3 1/2 cups of heavy cream -- all whipped or infused -- and 14 eggs (each separated and whipped at different times). Lots of whipping and infusing and zesting and folding and glazing. It was a challenge -- not too hard, but not too easy. In the end, the cake was wonderful.

My only disappointment was that there was too much leftover. If my brother had been here for the holidays, leftovers wouldn't have been an issue. I can always count on him to enjoy the fruits of our labor. But this year, Taylor & I were the only ones picking through leftovers and I really don't think that his palate is sophisticated enough to fully appreciate the cake. (He would rather dig through leftover Halloween candy than eat the cake.) I've done my best and enjoyed at least one piece of cake each day until -- just now -- I've finished it. All of the goodies -- except the egg nog -- are gone and it's time to get back to healthy living.

My goal is to reintroduce myself to the treadmill tomorrow with a goal of running three miles (without stopping) by the end of January and somehow, with lots of planning and use of baby monitors, spending time on that treadmill at least three days a week.

Toddler power struggle

While I was pregnant, I prayed and prayed for a healthy baby that slept and was sweet and rarely let out a cry. God took pity on me and granted my request. For this I am so thankful.

As I often note, God has a fantastic sense of humor. Now, our lovely strong-willed toddler who has gone straight to sleep with a smile on his face every night at 7:30 has transformed into a vampire. He tricks you with his smile and his sweet way of saying "okay mama" when I tell him how the night will go. "Now London, we'll finish our bath, brush teeth, put on jammies and read two books. Then it's time to sleep." "Okay mama," he says in an angelic voice.

Yet, not more than fifteen minutes after I leave, I hear, "mama come back. mama come back. mama come back." Over and over and over. I often think that he'll talk himself to sleep, but no, no, no luck. We'll take turns going upstairs to talk to him. Not too often of course, but only when we feel the guilt -- so about every 30 minutes. For the last week or so, he's played this card for close to two hours a night.

Then there's the night waking when he scares the crap out of us by standing close to our faces as we sleep. He switches sides of the bed to keep us guessing. You feel someone watching you and open your eyes to see him just inches from your face. Very creepy.

We try to send him back to bed, but lately he's been putting up a big loud fuss and waking the little angel -- who, once awake, likes to stay awake for two hours. (Glad to have a DVR.) Last night was the worst -- so far. Baby Violet woke at 3 to eat and was fussy and super hungry. So, she ate and ate and ate and pooped and pooped and pooped. London joined the late night party around 4, just as baby Violet was snuggled into her cradle. We let him stay in our bed, which is unusual, but he's basically broken our spirits and we were too tired to put up a fight.

Within minutes, little Violet barfed an exceptional amount of milk all over herself, her cradle, and within a few minutes, her mommy. London thought this was just about the funnest event to take place in our house in ages. He wanted to help clean up baby and her bed and to provide commentary on the process. (His commentary was actually pretty entertaining.  "Oh, that was a big barf mommy.")  It was near 5 before we all got back into our own beds and went to sleep.

Just an hour later, London came back to tell us that he wanted to watch Mickey Mouse. In the process, he woke up our peacefully sleeping baby, who then realized that she was really, really hungry after spewing her late night snack everywhere. Blu took the little man downstairs and passed out on the couch while Mickey entertained London. Baby Violet ate and decided that it was time for her to wake up.

And that is just one night in the circus that has become our home.

So, is London jealous that the baby is in our room? Or just being a toddler on the prowl late at night? Or afraid of being alone? Any advice from parents is much appreciated. I actually laughed out loud when I looked at my reflection in the mirror this morning. I looked like a 50+ year old meth addict -- a very chubby one.

Catching up

I had actually written a few blog entries, but Typepad’s new software opens a preview in a new window.  My pop-up blocker prevents it from opening and then I hit back and it’s all gone.  So, sorry I haven’t written.  I really meant to.  Learned my lesson and started writing a draft in Word.

So, baby girl is wonderful.  She’s eating well and sleeping well – for a newborn that is.  My MIL was in town for a week which would make you think that I’d have all kinds of extra time, but somehow, I feel like I have much more to do when she’s here to help.  (I have many stories to share.  My MIL is a kind woman and very unusual – at least to a northerner like me.  I’ll save stories for later.

We’ve been out to a Christmas party and to lunch once.  I even made it out to Target for an hour.  Now Barry won’t let me take baby Violet anywhere, but I’ve been able to sneak out. 

We have a week of quiet to get out our birth announcements and get ready for Christmas before Taylor arrives on the 23rd.  I don’t know if he’s excited to have a new sister or if he’s pissed that he has to share a birthday.  We’ll see ….

She's here!

Violet Kathryn arrived on Sunday, November 23.

She was 8 lbs. 1 oz and 21 inches long.

Everyone is healthy, happy and are all in love with her.