The Gals Have Some News.

...Because things were starting to settle down around here...

...Because we're starting to get a respectable amount of sleep each night...

...And because it looks like there MIGHT be room for one more...

...We're expecting a baby in December.

It's like they always say, "Why wait to remember what it's like to be outta diapers before you need to go buy another four cases at Costco?" (Okay, fine, I just coined that phrase.)

A few preemptively answered questions:

1) Well, if all goes awesomely, we'll have three in December. (How many are you gonna HAVE?)

2) Six weeks. Six. Weeks. My 3rd Kid body is gonna be great, I can just tell. (When did you start to show?)

3) After you, obviously. (What're you gonna name him/her- let's be honest- HER?)

Love,
Two veeery excited big sisters, a wicked proud Dad, and a seasick Mama (whose hormonal and self-pitying rantings are starting to make a leeetle bit more sense, aretheynot?)

Chicago Is- Briefly- All Full O' Summer.

For the uninitiated, this is what the first 80 degree day in Chicago looks like.

To be fair, this is also what the first 68 degree day in Chicago looks like. (By 55 degrees, we've thrown winter coats into deep storage.) So yeah, it's just as euphoric as it looks.

Take that, nine months of winter!

The Evolution Of A Day's Outfit.

Night attire, obviously. Butterfly sundress, polka dot blouse, pink stretch pants, moose socks.

Midmorning play clothes (chosen by 17 month-old): A perfectly acceptable
cozy outfit, plus maroon tutu, plus bandanna, plus pink Red Sox cap.

Post-nap ladybug dress over striped pants, with the addition of at least one glitter flip flop.

Checking themselves out in the mirror- once Zuzu chose her own ladybug dress, obvie.

Ladybugs with flip flops. "We should really see if someone's outside, we look incredible."

It's The Quiet Ones You've Gotta Watch Out For.

I came upon this scene between the 3 and 1 year olds yesterday, in Susannah's bedroom:

Nora, facing her little sister (fiercely): What's cooler than cool!?
Susannah makes a big show of wrapping her arms around herself and shivering.
Nora: No, Zu, you say "ice cold."
Susannah: Brr.
Nora: What's cooler than cool!?
Susannah pauses, certain she's got this one.
Susannah: Brr.
Nora: Ice cold! You say 'ice cold!'
Susannah shivers.
Nora: That's right.

I shouldn't be too surprised by how street these children are. After all, their mother has been known to bust out with "Hey-o-hey-o-hey-o-hey-ohh..." during breakfast prep, only to have their father belt out from the hallway "Hey-o that girl looks good..."

To which their various children reply with frighteningly advanced eye rolls that seem to beg the question: What the heck is a "diggity?"

At the Valentine's Day school party:
Me- What're you doing, Nora?
Nora- Just holdin' my sister's hand and sawin' my leg.

But today is not for bustin' rhymes, it's for playing a new game which they've deemed Bangers and Shots. Is this game:
a) a rather violent English pub
b) a wildly inappropriate video game
or c) a medical clinic where I hope you never, ever find yourselves?

It's c), the walk-in health center that makes a spin in County seem like a day at Canyon Ranch.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm awaiting a vaccination into the chest to treat a manicure.

The Spooky Salon.

I was pulling together costume pieces (and sorting the copious piles of clean/dirty laundry), with my two miniature helpers- namely, half-dressed Orange Butterfly and fully dressed [pajama-outfitted] Brown Puppy. Nora announced that she wanted to play Jeremy (the dude who cut her hair, not the Pearl Jam song, sigh). I handed her a small pink comb and the water spray bottle, and opened Susannah's closet with an armful of sweaters. I turned back not three seconds later to find-

-A confused Susannah, drenched from head to toe, and a startled Nora, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Nor, did you just open the spray bottle and dump it on Zuzu?"

"Yes, I did."

I grabbed a towel and dried off the already cheerful toddler, who was totally ready to forgive and forget.

"Nora, you can't dump water on people, especially not your little sister."

The Orange Butterfly stood with her hands on her [glittery] hips and exclaimed, "Well, if she didn't want a trim, she should have SAID SOMETHING."

(Happy Halloween, from our [slightly damp] home to yours.)

Patriotism Makes You Blurry.

Happy Fourth of July, everyone.

It's The Little Things.

As we close out week five of "The Project," it's pictures like this that keep me going:

Yuv.

This one doesn't hurt, either:

90% finished laundry room. (Yuv.)

[Forced] Togetherness.

Our Double Stroller- Making Moments Like This Possible Since 2012.

Can We Swap "Wordless" With "Instagram?"

Avocado Face.

The Burger Princess.

...And I call this one "Look At The Goober On The Side."

Wednesday Morning, 8:17 AM

Sisterly Love Is So Fleeting.

She loves me!

...She loves me not.

Slow It Down, Friend.

Soon I'm gonna be 15.

Time is skipping by.

Actually, no, that's not quite true. Time is racing, speeding, and zipping by- faster than a two year-old can unravel an entire roll of Charmin toilet paper.

Susannah is already three months old. And Nora is edging ever closer to actual big kid-dom.

Zuzu is making sport out of outgrowing newborn clothing...and three months clothing...and certain three to six months clothing of the fancy dress persuasion...

With Little Nora Thumbelina, we had her wearing outfits well past whatever the tag would suggest. 6 month pants on a one year-old. 12 month onesies on a two year-old. Even a pair of [mislabeled?] strawberry bloomers that said 3-6 months but were worn just the other day. Outfits stuck around for so long that they became members of the family. Inside jokes. Part of the furniture.

With Zuzu, I'm lucky to have her wear something once so I can say she did so. Before it gets thrown on the Little Baby Girl pile. It's done a number on my sentimentality and Susannah's patience. (She doesn't care for sleeves.)

Things that were the epitome of cute on Nora sometimes look a little forced on Suzy. And stuff that didn't quite work on Nora are just right on her younger sister. As I shove her little arms and legs into Nora's favored critter oufits, Susannah will give me a look that seems to say- I'm a different person, Mom. Stop trying to shove me into some sorta box. Or panda overalls.

And I promise her- fervently- that I will always [try to] remember that she's her own gal. But she still has to wear socks.

Zuzu appears to be popping at least one tooth. Which is crazy. But she's apparently gotten the memo that she's doing everything on fast forward. And while- sure- it's absolutely zero fun to soothe her through the drooly, achy, gnawy pain, it's even less fun to realize that she's careening through her babyhood.

Soon she's going to be bolting down the hallways, shrieking alongside her sister. And then they'll both be going to school and leaving this [cluttered, noisy, messy] living room startlingly quiet. I imagine they'll go off to college, allowing me to have the pristine and organized home that I so loudly feel I deserve on a daily basis.

And I'll remember back to earlier this week when I refused to let Nora do the glitter all by herself (because of The Floors! Think of THE FLOORS!) and instead held on tightly to each part of the paper and glue, rushing that activity along to get to lunch, to nap, to bath, and on and on and on.

And I'll think of how I looked over impatiently at Susannah's whines while I was attempting (again) to mop the kitchen- only to lock eyes with her in her bouncy seat and elicit the world's happiest coo and smile of recognition. Because- whereas she couldn't give a fig for how full the washing machine was- having me stand still long enough to reassure her that I was still there was the bee's knees.

As I put Nora down for her afternoon nap yesterday, she patted me on the back and told me that I was a good friend. I kissed the top of her wild curls (smelling like a perfectly natural combination of sunshine and maple syrup) and almost decided to forgo the nap.

"Come on, kid," I almost told her. "Let's go throw glitter all over the couch. You can even hold the container."

But I didn't. Because there was writing and cooking and sanitizing and diapering (and more sanitizing) to do. Besides, a Nora without a naptime is not anyone's "good friend."

I wanted to, though. That should count for something.

Today Nora has her first ever honest-to-goodness class. It's a gymnastics class, which speaks volumes as to how I'm letting my kids do their thing without placing my fears directly atop their miniature heads. For I am terrified of heights, being upside down, and having my face broken. And gymnastics embodies the threat of all of those things for me. But seriously- the girl is a wild animal with little to no actual fear of danger (unless she actually has to converse with the danger first). She needs to learn a good tuck n' roll. Monkey bar skills that her Mama could never teach her.

And how to stick a dismount that would make even the Russians proud.

Zuzu will be there, too. In the sling since, after all, she is still a baby. My baby. Watching her big sister- my other baby- learn to do stuff without her Mom's help.

And I'm already proud of her. And incredulous that I have one beastie this grown already. And another hellbent on racing her.

And covered in glitter. For we are all covered in glitter. (Even when it's me holding the container.)

Tidiness is overrated, anyhow.

Sisters Take Baths.

...Whether they like it or not.

(We like it enough for both of 'em.)