{OnE YeAr AGo ToDaY}

One year ago today, we welcomed our second daughter, Michaela Byrd, into this world. Her sweet disposition is such a blessing and joy in my life. She is living proof that sometimes God decides to bless you whether you are asking for it or not.

I can't believe that 365 days ago, I was riding next to T on the way to the hospital, crying silent tears. I was filled with anxiety. Getting pregnant with this little one had come as quite a surprise. Natalie wasn't exactly scheduled either, but we had both pretty much agreed that we had another year or two to go before we thought about having any more children. Apparently, God had some other plans.... I spent most of my pregnancy moaning over where to put the baby (the guest room, duh), how we would afford the next C-section (God provided!), and how could I possibly love another baby as much as Natalie (how could I not?)?

As I lay on the big table in the OR while the doctor cut and tugged and yanked, those same thoughts rushed through my head. Yet somehow when Dr. S pulled a screaming Michaela Byrd out from the incision (she was clearly unhappy to be introduced to the world two weeks early), those thoughts scattered like pebbles on a dirt road. God filled my heart with a love for her so big, my heart could almost burst these days.

She had a rough start with a week-long NICU stay due to some sort of infection, but she's healthy as a horse (or a very small pony) now. She is smiley, friendly, smart, and loves her family unconditionally. She can certainly hold her own. There are tales of her exploits from the MOPS nursery that involve her ganging up on a roomful of baby boys, and she always shows righteous indignation when a precious toy is snatched up by a bullying older sister. Her chatty, sunny personality is a delight to me.

Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with this beautiful girl. I am most undeserving!

Gotta love that grin!

Happy Birthday, baby girl!

Hey, Good Lookin', Whatcha Got Cookin'?

I stumbled upon a neat newlywed'sblog tonight, and the blogger sent out a request for some menu planning advice. I have a loose plan...more of the kind of thoughts that you'd jot down on a restaurant napkin, really; but a plan nonetheless. I'm actually grateful to Melissa for posting because it reminded me to sit down and think about some goals for 2009.



One of my goals is to do a better job with more regular trips to the grocery, doing my best to make frugal choices, and making meals more regularly so that my husband doesn't have to eat Ramen noodles because the kids' screaming in Super Target was so unbearable that we had to leave without buying any chicken. In my defense, T works some odd hours, and it is hard to chase after the kids all day, put them to bed all by myself, and get him another hot meal on the table after 9 pm without falling asleep and burning my face on the stove. Not exactly the microdermabrasion treatment you'd get at the spa.



Regardless, I want to do a better job of having a nice meal for the family to eat together on the evenings he is home at dinner time.Melissa, if you are reading this, you might have an easier time with this if you start making a habit of it now. When children come along, they have a way of making grocery store runs and cooking long, complicated recipes-ah- a bit more time consuming. Now that we have a freezer, I plan on making use of tips from my friends L and Meri and doing some make-ahead meals that I can keep in the freezer and pop in the oven in time for dinner. I am pretty sure L recommends ThisBook for some freezer meal ideas.



I don't think I'll have time to make meals for an entire 30 days, but it would be nice to have meals for a week or so at a time.When I am better about being organized, I do try to make a menu for the week and then prepare my grocery list from that. I try not to be rigid about my menu ideas because you never know when something might pop up and throw a wrench in your plans...we might be invited to dinner with Mimi or T might run off to France with a beautiful, young sales rep. (Ha! That would never happen because there are never any beautiful, young sales reps. Besides, T hates France, and even if he did decide to go there then I wouldn't have to worry about my meal plans anymore)


I'd love to start sitting down on Saturday or Sunday evening and thumb through my collection of cookbooks for inspiration. I didn't realize how many I have and how my collection is growing! But for now, I'll settle for a quick list of daily meals jotted down while the girls scarf their breakfasts down. The Sneaky Chef looks like fun, but Better Homes & Garden's Dinnertime Express may get more of a workout in our house these days.
Sooo...thank you, Melissa, for sparking my memory. This is something I need to think about more often. Hope you found some ideas here!

Can You Hear Me Now?

I have some very bad news, ya'll, and it is a shame that it comes on the cusp of the New Year. My sister, Alison, has been diagnosed with Hyperverizonitis. The doctors at Seymore Butz Memorial Hospital told us that she will have to have her cell phone surgically removed from her right ear as soon as possible to save what little brain waves remain. The nerve endings in her fingers are damaged, and permanently crippled from all the texting she has subjected herself to.

We are hopeful for a positive outcome, but deeply saddened by this news. When Alison was home for Christmas this year, the little red phone rarely left her side. I felt like one of Pavlov's lab aides-whenever the phone rang or beeped with a new text message or voicemail, her demeanor visibly brightened. I think we should have set a place at the table for Christmas dinner for Phone.

At one point, I wrestled her for the Phone. She didn't like that. I lost. She is freakishly strong.


Alison's relationship with Phone goes back some years. One of the worst nights of my life involves Phone. I can't remember why I got stuck sharing a bed with her at my grandparents' house, but I did. I must have offended the gods in some way, because they really got back at me. Sharing a bed with Alison can be dicey to begin with. She is very particular about what side of the bed you can sleep in, how many covers you can have, how much you can talk to her, etc. She also usually requires her bedmate to get out of bed and turn the lights out. Why do I listen? You might be wondering. Because she is scaaaaaarey. Read on.

So I was all tucked in bed in one of the guest rooms at Granny and O'pa's house. So sleepy. I had just nodded off when a horrible, droning buzz shook the bedside table. I opened my eyes to see Alison grab her lit-up phone and flip it open. She proceeded to click away a response to the text she received. Click, click, click. Rapid fire--her fingers fly over the tiny keyboard like an Apache helicopter on the battlefield. (Sam, did you get the helicopter reference?) This only occurred about 17 more times, each time after I had just fallen back to sleep.

When I finally worked up the nerve to confront her, she hissed something so nasty at me (I honestly don't remember what it was-it must have been so horrible that I have blocked it from my memory) that I jumped up and ran out of the room...after stealing the comforter and turning the lights on for spite, of course. I spent the night on a makeshift bed of couch cushions on the family room floor, where my grandfather found me the next morning, so traumatized that I can only now speak of the incident.

Alison's ties with Phone run deep. I wonder if the Betty Ford Center offers some sort of rehab for people affected by Hyperverizonitis. If anyone knows, please leave word in the Comments section. My family is desperate to help her before her wedding in September. If she can't have the surgery and rehab, we might have to have the florist place Phone in her wedding bouquet so she can have quick access during the ceremony.

What Are You Doooooooing New Year's Eve?

Not much, would be the answer here at the T household. With T's reclusive tendencies and the fact that our house still sounds a little bit like a TB ward, I am guessing that making big New Year's Eve plans would not be the best idea this year. Eh. It's not like we've done anything too fabulous in the past few years anyways.

I laugh when my friends or younger family members who don't have children boast of what they have planned for the Big Night. Dinner in Chicago. Clubbing in DC. Kissing someone in Times Square. Of course, if they live in the Burg, there is always the option of going downtown to see the giant glittering piece of fruit they lower on C Street in lieu of a ball. (It used to be a pear that looked like an enormous, glowing booger. Gross. Snot makes me throw up.)

But I laugh because I know that sooner or later, they too will be shackled to their homes by the not-so-elusive eight o'clock bedtime of the 3 and under crowd. We haven't exactly done anything newsworthy for New Year's Eve the past 3 years. The first year, I was so tired and stressed out from having a newborn in the house that I honestly had no idea it was New Year's Eve until I was standing in the Wal-Mart check-out line in a stupor, waiting to buy diapers. I went home and cried. Last year, the highlight of my night was watching my friends L, S, and J play with J's daughter's beauty parlor hair-highlighting kit. They gave each other pink and blue streaks as our children ran wildly through the house. I don't even remember what we did the year before that...must have been pretty exciting stuff. Probably involved me falling asleep with my mouth open in T's chair while he watched soccer.

So, if you have big plans for tonight, enjoy! (If you have children, how did you escape? Do you have an unsuspecting relative who forgot tonight is a holiday? Or does your babysitter charge holiday rates?) Think of me, eating leftover fudge and thumbing through magazines while poor T coughs and watches Fox News.

Happy New Year!

Do You "Celebwate"?

I was working on a newsletter last night when Natalie scampered (she loves this word) into the kitchen with my new GiantCupcakeCakePan. I didn't pay much attention as she sat across from me, mixing some sort of delectable imaginary cake mix (you can be sure it was chocolate). As she worked, she talked to herself, which she often does when playing mommy or teacher or beautician or sanitation engineer (ha, got you...just checking to see if you are on your toes). I caught the end of the sentence, "...celebwate Hanukkah." Huh? First of all, when did she convert to Judaism? Do they eat cake for Hanukkah? And most importantly, if they don't eat cake for Hanukkah, can I have it? Oy vey...this will kill my mother.

Can Santa Bring Some More Afrin?

It was an interesting Christmas in the T household, friends. I started feeling iffy on Monday night. By Tuesday morning, my throat was on fire, and it's pretty much stayed that way. I think T was secretly grateful that his personal Christmas wish came true--less conversation from me. (By conversation, I mean me talking while T stares at Fox News and nods every once in awhile.) I haven't slept more than a couple of hours in several days...add in wiping snotty kids' noses (they're the stinkers who gave it to me!) and the crazy rush of Christmas Day and I am pooped! To top that off, I am pretty sure I have PMS as I caught myself crying during the sappiest Lifetime movie ever this afternoon. (Aside to my sister's fiance: Sam, if you are reading this, I apologize. That was too much information. But you have only yourself to blame by reading this.)

So, I just made myself a nice little cocktail. I like to call it an AcetaminAfriCodeiniti. It's a delightful mix of Acetaminophen, Codeine, and Afrin. The Acetaminophen/Codeine thing expired back in October. I really don't care. I called my nurse sister just to be sure I wouldn't die, and she said it was okay. But I also heard about 594 people in the background, so I am pretty sure she was at Happy Hour somewhere, which could mean she had no idea what she was saying. I have conveniently showered and dressed for bed so if I pass out here at the keyboard, T can just drag me upstairs when he gets home. Or, if my cocktail kills me, hopefully I will live long enough to hit "publish" so you all can tell T what happened. I swear I'm not a junkie. I'm just desperate for a good night's sleep! You moms know this!

At any rate, all the pain was bearable during yesterday's festivities: Natalie didn't realize that there would be toys out under the tree in the Living room after she opened her stocking. I guess she thought the stocking stuff from Santa was it. This photo is when she ran in and saw her dollhouse. The other photo is Michaela Byrd furiously crawling towards the tree, saying "Oh oh oh!" We clocked her going 68 mph.

It was so much fun to watch them both get excited over their gifts. Michaela Byrd was most excited about a sippy cup she received in her stocking. However, if you were to review our video tape of the morning's events, you'd see Michaela sidling up to the dollhouse, and this would be the transcript;

M: ooooooo!

N: No! Michaela get outta my spot!

Me (frantically): T, turn the camera off!!!

(shuffling, silence)

With the exception of the raging fire in my throat which is currently calming to a dull roar with the aid of my concoction, Christmas was really special this year. T gave me a cookbook I asked for (Hungry Girl- anyone know if it's any good?), a cartridge for my Cricut machine, a scrapbooking gadgety thing, and a new camera. Yay! He also did a great job with my stocking this year, which I can attribute to the fact that he forced my sister to go shopping with him on Christmas Eve. Most importantly, T and I are blessed with two beautiful, smart little girls. They may not always act like angels, but sometimes they sure look like them!

Inappropriate Christmas Carols

"I don't know. It's complicated, and it is inappropriate."

These were my sister's final thoughts on "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" tonight as we rode around town looking at lights. It had just come on the radio, and we were passing a delightfully tacky display. It was dark in the backseat (Mimi was driving), and we were separated by Su-Su, otherwise I would have slapped her upside the head.

"You really didn't know that the little girl was singing about seeing her father dressed up as Santa Claus, but she doesn't know it?" I asked incredulously.

"What? I thought the mom was kissing Santa. That's inappropriate, Manda."

It took Su-Su and I several tries to explain to Alison that the little girl in the song sees her father dressed up like Santa Claus, but she doesn't realize it's her father. It's like a funny little joke to her. Obviously to my sister this is a ballad of heartbreaking familial betrayal.

She's supposed to be the smart one. Right. I feel like I just told a kid that Santa isn't real. Am I spoiling the song for anyone else?

I leaned my head back as Nannie exclaimed over the same lights we saw last year.... She must have missed a few throwbacks of her mighty-water today because she did not remember the enormous blow-up Nutcracker (or, CrackerNut, as Natalie calls them) or the flashing gingerbread men or even the thousands upon thousands of lights plastered to every surface of home and yard.

As we passed the one house on the street that seemed to be boycotting the splendiferous displays (they only had one wreath on the door and a tree in the window, geez), I thought of a few more inappropriate carols.

What about "Baby, It's Cold Outside?" That man is clearly going to drug the young lady in an effort to keep her in his home (Glenn Beck analyzed this song cleverly on his show the other day). I'm sure there are more.

You have to be careful about what you let your kids listen to around the holidays, people!