Sweets

In preparation for Valentine's Day, Miss Mouse's birthday, Sunny's birthday, and Daddy's birthday, Miss Mouse and I embarked on a baking project. This wasn't just any baking project. We were not only baking the cut-out sugar cookies, with sprinkles, we were also planning to frost them and squish them into sandwiches.



Nope, there was no way that was all happening in one day.

"Fancy Nancy" would love this sprinkled cookie. This was the first one Miss Mouse did by herself, and, despite her protests, I helped with the others.....not because I can't appreciate the beauty of an overly-sparkly-cookie, but because I didn't think our sprinkles would hold out if they all looked like that one!

Our more evenly-sprinkled masterpieces. Miss Mouse loved helping bake the sweets; I loved the help of my sweet.

A Biscuit & An Egg

Last week, two little, tiny, usually-insignificant objects ruled our household for 24 hours, and I'm not talking about my Mice. They are little, tiny, but extraordinarily significant. I'm talking about a biscuit and an egg. My biscuit recipe calls for one egg. One. For an entire recipe of biscuit dough, it takes one egg.

It was past Mouse-feeding-time, so when the dough was mixed - Sunny had "dumped" the ingredients; Miss Mouse was the "stirring expert" - I allowed both of them to sample it. I indulged myself, as well, congratulating myself on supposedly sneaking more than they realized I had eaten. I'm guessing they saw through my sneakiness....they're perceptive little creatures.

The hotdish created with the biscuit dough was less than savory. Neither Mouse would touch it. Thank goodness. I had an extra helping for them, but I didn't finish the "extra" of the second helping. Something just wasn't sitting right.

I gave us all some chewable papaya to help our stomachs after supper. Usually that helps all of us, if I have the right brand of the stuff on hand.

Around about midnight, I was still prowling the house, anxious as a housecat near a sprinkler. I just did not feel right, well, healthy. And at 12:45, my body let me know that it was indeed not healthy, happy, or proud of my raw-egg-biscuit-dough-indulgence. And it let me know again. And again. And again.

At one point, the world got all dark and sparkly, and I passed out. My Knight in Shining Armor arrived just in time...almost. The poor guy spent his night comforting Sunny Baby Mouse, who wanted only her momma. As soon as he would get her back to sleep, he would run to check on me since I was spending the night on the bathroom floor for convenience's sake. By that time, Sunny would usually be awake again screaming for me, so back to her he would run. It was quite a night, and he earned years' worth of brownie points.

By 6 a.m., Sunny and Mr. T were both asleep. My 5 a.m. experiment with keeping water down had failed spectacularly by that point, so it was with dismay, though not surprise, that I heard Miss Mouse shout her need for assistance. Her body did not appreciate the egg, either, apparently.

Sunny Baby Mouse lasted until around 10 a.m. before she started ridding herself of the previous night's "treat".

Mr. T had called in to take work off - perhaps for the first time in years, at least for a reason like this - to take care of us. He was stocking up brownie points at a shocking speed.

What is amazing about this whole, disgusting, stinky story is how thankful I was in the midst of it.

You see, we were puking on Thursday. The previous Thursday our washing machine had quit. I had called an appliance store, failed at talking to the computerized system, and been transferred to a call center somewhere to schedule an appointment for it to be fixed. We were scheduled for Saturday, but on Saturday, the call center let me know that the repairman was too busy to come. He would be out on Thursday, meaning it would have been an entire week before we could even know what to do with our washing machine. Needless to say, I checked around and found someone else who could come on Tuesday. He showed up as scheduled on Tuesday and told us the poor machine was beyond repair. Desperate for clean clothes, the Mice and I trekked to a local appliance store (and by "local", I mean actually owned and operated locally - no call centers involved) and purchased a washing machine on Wednesday afternoon; we were put on the schedule for delivery of our new machine for Thursday morning at 9 a.m.

By Thursday morning, I had several loads of food poisoning casualties to go into the newly-installed machine. I am thankful beyond words that we were not back at the point of diagnosing the old machine that morning rather than getting the new one installed! What better way to break in the new machine than to get food poisoning??

Miss Mouse has been 'instructing' her younger sibling about eating raw eggs this week. After mixing up cookies yesterday, Sunny Baby Mouse thought we should sample the dough, as we have in the past. I silently lamented with her over not sampling the fresh, almond-scented mound in front of me. But, keeping us both in line was Miss Mouse who explained, "No, Sunny, we don't want to eat raw eggs because we would get poison again". This explanation led Sunny to nod her head and say "Noooo. Puke. No."

Apparently we have all learned our lessons. And we are all four of us very thankful for that beautiful new washing machine.

Winter "Blues"

Winter "Blues"

(this photo was taken in mid-December on our way out of Santa's village)

Twinkling Christmas lights amplifying a near-full moon's glow,

The wind still, the twilight quiet,

Children's voices ringing through the clear night, through the years, through the ages, looking for Saint Nicholas and all he represents.....

(this one was taken looking out into my backyard; I love how the blue color of the snow in the late afternoon nearly perfectly matches the view of the sky in the above photo this time of year)

The warm golden hues of summer and fall are gone,

Replaced by a crisp, cold blue,

A blue that surrounds us,

Matching the view on the ground to the view in the sky

(this one was taken at my parents' place in mid-January; we Norwegians like to keep our Christmas lights up as long as possible!)

Finished are the Christmastime festivities, the gift opening, the celebrating around tables full of food, the story-telling around the tree,

Yet the lights remain,

Reminders of the Light of the World whose birth leads us to celebrate each winter,

Reminders, too, that spring and its plentiful daylight will return,

Reminders that in the darkest winter nights of our lives,

"The Light (still) shines in the darkness,

And the darkness (still) cannot overcome it"

(this one was taken on a snowshoe trek in the woods behind my in-laws place on Christmas Eve Day)

The woods are silent,

No breeze rustles the branches,

The crunch of snowshoes echoes harshly through the trees,

The silence and snow surround,

Wrapping a blanket of cold, quiet insulation around those willing to venture out,

Reminding us that it is in silence that we hear the most.

(I shot this from my driveway this afternoon)

I have no words for this one yet. I'm not sure my words for any of these are profound, but thinking of them has kept me positive through this extremely cold and snowy winter. Trying to see the beauty in the difficulty of winter has been helpful for me, though it is definitely getting to be a long one. The Mice and I have been stuck inside for days in a row, since I refuse to make them play outside unless it is above 10 degrees! Sunny Baby Mouse and I ventured out today to see Hubert and take him a treat. The other day I had mentioned to my Uncle that the snow in the backyard was knee-deep on me. Today I realized there are several places where it is hip-high. Thank goodness for knee-high muck boots! Very little on me was soaked with snow; it was definitely worth the little bit of snow we carried inside to have some outdoor adventure-time. We're hoping for sledding weather later in the week!

Seeing Spots

Lest I forget this adventurous foray, I thought I would blog it and leave it perpetually floating in cyberspace so that the Mice can read about it someday.

Two days into our visit to the farm a couple weeks ago, we went to visit Great Grandma (my Grandma - now known as Great Grandma, of course). We scheduled a pizza supper with my aunts and uncle as well as the girls' aunt, my sister. The plan was to leave shortly after the pizza party to make it home before either girl would fall asleep in the car. That was the plan.

In reality, Miss Mouse was overly tired that afternoon, falling asleep on Grammy's lap once and then on the couch next to me following that intial nap. She also seemed to be radiating heat. Absolutely radiating heat. Around 4:00, I finally decided we should take her temperature; in my planning brilliance, I had purposefully left the thermometer I had brought to the farm just there, up at the farm. Who would need a thermometer along on a day-trip, I reasoned. Well, apparently we did. Great Grandma found hers, though I know not how. She had looked in every cupboard, the closet in her bathroom, and all containers in said closet. Then I looked in them all with her. No thermometer. Miss Mouse continued to seem warmer. I called my aunt who was bringing out the pizza from town to have her bring a thermometer along as well. By the time she got there, Great Grandma had once more gone through everything in the bathroom and come out with numerous, numerous thermometers. Where they had been when we looked together, I have no idea, but I'm glad she found them.

The thermometer read 103.6 under her arm. Yipes. Definitely deserved a call to a nurse line, I reasoned. I was most worried because her sudden fever was accompanied with no other symptoms. Nothing. She had eaten us all under the table at a buffet for lunch, had a massive snack in the mid-afternoon, and emphatically denied anything on her body hurting.

After 40 minutes on the phone with our insurance (to find the number of our "convenient" nurseline that we have access to through the insurance) and then with our nurseline, I had been mainly warned that if she could not bend her chin to her chest, she might have menningitis. Double yipes. She was not pleased with my pleas to squish her chin on her chest. No, she was not impressed one bit and saw no reason she needed to do so (although she did do it and looked at me with a bit of sympathy for my craziness when I asked if it hurt). I was instructed to call the nurseline back in 48 hours to let them know which clinic I took her to; that hasn't been done because my Grandma in her lifelong quest for cleanliness (this quest is remarkably successful, I must say - I will never, ever have a house that looks like hers) must have thrown the slip of scratch paper where I had written Miss Mouse's official "number" on. I was to refer to this "number" when I called back with the official title of the walk-in clinic where we were headed. I received these instructions after being grilled by the nurse on the phone about what the name of the hospital and clinic were in town and asked how I would find it if I didn't know the name. I finally nearly hung up while explaining that I would ask my family who lives there! Now, I realize the poor nurse was only doing her job and following her orders; she was definitely a nice woman, probably a knowledgeable nurse, just stuck in a system more concerned with "official numbers" and paperwork than with commonsense care. I really could not care less that my Grandma threw the slip of paper, or that I perhaps have washed it now in a pair of jeans. Never once did the nurse suggest I look in Miss Mouse's throat. This will be important in the rest of the story.

Off we headed, with one of my aunts in tow as my support and navigator, to find the walk-in clinic. The first clinic, and the only one my aunt knew existed, was locked up tight. Back out with my little steamy Mouse into the below zero temps to find the other walk-in clinic. Thankfully we were able to call and find out where we were supposed to have gone. We arrived around 7 p.m.

We happened to arrive in the middle of training for a new receptionist. It took 15 minutes to check-in. 7:15. No problem, lots of time before 8 p.m. to figure out what's wrong.

7:25, we were called back by a friendly nurse. He asked Miss Mouse's weight. It's been a year since she was weighed at a doctor's office, so he thought we should weigh her again.....with her boots on? Then he thought we should get her height. Again, he had no problem with her boots staying on. What do I know, I guess......

After getting her temp taken two more times and both of us being given suckers, which was very nice since we had completely missed our pizza supper, yet another friendly nurse came in to walk us over to the emergency room. Huh??? Oh, yes, she explained. If someone comes in with a fever over 101.5, they send them immediately to the emergency room in case they need more testing than the clinic can provide. Perhaps it is just her ears, she said, but they'll be able to really figure it out over in the emergency room. I wondered why no one in the walk-in clinic had looked in her ears. Or throat.

The receptionists were expecting us in the e.r., but the nurse who initially evaluated Miss Mouse was not. Apparently she wasn't in on the protocol of sending anyone with a high fever over to the e.r. She told me that Miss Mouse must have strep because that's what is going around school, but she'd do a culture just to see. She gagged Miss Mouse to the point of puking, and yet, even she did not actually look in Miss Mouse's throat.

By the time we were called back to see the doctor, Law & Order SVU was coming on in the waiting room. I suppose there was a way to change the channel, but I was glad to escape to the isolation of the back room instead. There we met a doctor who finally, finally looked in Miss Mouse's throat. He called me over to look.....at the bright white spots clearly visible on her tonsils.

Argh. In hindsight, I could have looked in her throat, even though she adamantly insisted that it didn't hurt until we got to the emergency room, and gone to the walk-in clinic asking them to check her for tonsillitis! My poor little guinea pig on whom I am learning the art of parenting was quite a trooper that night.

I literally ran in to the only open pharmacy with 15 minutes to spare before their closing at 10 p.m., grabbed the prescription, picked up extra diapers, some popsicles, and two shirts for the Mice to use for pajamies. I'm so thankful we were able to just crash and sleep that night at my Grandma's place, thankful that my Auntie Linda who, with no children of her own, did not have to spend the evening in the emergency room with her niece and grand-niece, came along anyway, thankful that my Mom and my Auntie Karen were able to play with and corral Sunny so that I could focus on Miss Mouse that evening, thankful that my Grandma appears to not have gotten our "bug", thankful that Sunny Baby Mouse did not pick it up, thankful that I will know to always look in my daughters' throats before taking them to the professionals, and especially thankful that I can look at the whole situation as a memory now.

Click, Clack, Moo

I got out our new book, Click, Clack, Moo, this morning, and Miss Mouse said she would read it. She began and "read" the first two pages word for word. I took over on the third page, but I know she can "read" the general idea of the entire book because I heard her doing so for my mom the other day. Perhaps it should, but it doesn't surprise me because of how she has focused on books from the time she was only a few weeks old sitting in her little bouncy seat.

What did surprise me was when Sunny Baby Mouse chimed in, as I was reading, with "No Milk, Day!" She said it at exactly the correct time as I was reading the note that the cows left for poor Farmer Brown. The note said "Sorry. We're closed. No milk today." Perhaps I should not be surprised by Sunny, either, because I clearly remember Miss Mouse reading to 6-week-old Sunny Baby Mouse while I showered. Miss Mouse read Brown Bear, Brown Bear to her while Sunny Baby sat in the middle of the bathroom floor in her bouncy seat. I smiled through the whole shower hearing "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What see, Brown Bear, Brown Bear? Red Bird, Red Bird, What see, Red Bird, Red Bird?" And I smiled through the whole book today as Miss Mouse and Sunny Baby Mouse helped me read each page!

Treats and other Oddities....

The past two days have been long. Really long. It's always hard for Miss Mouse when we have spent a lot of time with Grammy and then have to say goodbye. She's having an especially hard time this time; whether it was because she came down with a nasty case of tonsillitis last week and spent most of the end of the week feeling crummy, whether it is a nasty case of the "4's" coming on a bit early, whether it is missing her Grammy - I have a sense it is a combination of all these things. Whatever it is, it has not made for a happy Miss Mouse. We've had defiance, eye-rolling (where she has seen that, I have no clue.....perhaps it is inate within a small girl, waiting to jump out at approximately 4-years-of-age....), and just general grouchiness. I cooked a new recipe for supper tonight, cream cheese enchiladas. It took 40 minutes, which for me and my Mice can often be an eternity in the kitchen, but tonight cooking went smoothly. Normally, I'm called away several times through meal preparation to solve disagreements, aid injuries, etc., mostly all caused because of the annoying wall which separates my visage from the living room. Tonight, though, they played happily together in the kitchen, and I counted that a blessing.


To my shock (and somewhat horror), they asked to lick off the mixing beaters I had used to smooth out the cream cheese into the enchilada sauce, which, by the way, I had to make from scratch since I couldn't buy the canned kind once I had read the ingredients and knew it would upset Sunny's stomach and my restless legs. I refused, several times, Miss Mouse's offer of a taste of her beater, but here is the proof that the two of them where happier than little clams-filtering-algae.

She's saying "Yummmm!!!!" Really, she is. They loved the tomato-y/cream cheese-y/sour cream-y/cumin-y goodness.

These long days where it seems that I fold laundry from sun-up to well past sundown, where I cook a fairly extravagant (for me) meal even though I know only the women of the household will be home for dinner, where it seems that we've had endless timeouts followed by endless "I need more cuddles", where I wonder if I've accomplished anything as I put away the leftovers of a meal that only I ate.....it is on these days I need the reminder that two girls gleefully eating tomato sauce mixing beaters gives me. The mundane does matter. It is in the mundane schedules of our lives right now that I have the most productive opportunity to set them on healthy, Godly, happy paths in life. And that matters more than anything, and as long as I continue to (prayerfully! I'm not a naturally patient woman!) do so...then whether or not the laundry stays folded or the books stay on the shelves in an orderly fashion, whether or not any of that happens, I have accomplished something*.

*But I need to write about it to remind myself of it sometimes, and I thought the tomato-sauce-eating-Mice were just too funny to pass up!

Who Are We Now?

Most of the time these days, I've been writing the cute things the Mice say down in little notebooks I got for each of them. The one for Miss Mouse is prim and proper looking, plain brown background with some darker brown swirly designs on it; the one for Sunny Baby Mouse is light pink with swirls and balloons of bright pink and purple and all sorts of gaudy designs on it. I wanted the notebooks to fit their personalities. In them I write cute things they say and do as well as times that I struggle with them, times that they struggle with each other, and times that we all struggle with different life situations and decisions. Basically I'm afraid that I won't remember these struggles when they are old enough to benefit from knowing about them....I have lost an incredible amount of sleep these past four years, after all. Yet that's just another part of what I want them to know - that while the sacrifices a mother, a parent, makes are significant, sometimes even physically painful (e.g. forcing one's body to coherence to rock a sick or teething or colicky child calmly at 2 a.m. when you just went back to sleep from the last rocking session at 1:45 a.m.), they are the most important sacrifices one can ever make. They are worth every painful second.

Because of these notebooks, I haven't updated much about Sunny Baby's talking progress or Miss Mouse's development into a little lady. I thought I'd take some time to do that tonight.

*Miss Mouse will be four next month, and she shows every year of it. She's as compassionate as she is curious. She regularly tries to figure out life's mysteries, usually by telling me something to sort of check it out. These are some of the ones we've discussed this summer/fall/winter:
---"When I am a grown-n-up, I will still have the same name." -- Yes, yes, you will.
---"When I'm a grown-n-up, I will still be the big sister." -- Yep, that won't change.
---"The other day, I was going to call the police for Sunny." Wait, what??? For Sunny? "Yes! She ber (were) just crying and crying and crying, and you couldn't make her stop. So I thought I would call the police for her so they could help her." Oh. My. Goodness. I praised her for being comfortable with "the police" and knowing that they could help us, but we had to talk a bit about what a true emergency would be.....

*Sunny Baby Mouse has absolutely amazed us with her language development. We thought Miss Mouse did pretty well with learning to talk (her Mommy said about five words at 2 years old); she communicated quite well. But Sunny Baby is amazing. I can't write down all she says because she says everything. She basically has complete conversations - with me, with Mr. T, with Miss Mouse. Some examples of what she says:
---"Peeepul" - can mean 'purple' or 'people'; you have to listen to the context!
---"Pink", "red", "blue", "green", "waddoh" (yellow), "brown"
---"One, two, free!"
---"Eight, nine" The other night I was reading a book where I counted to seven. She added the eight and nine.
---"Cold feet!" They are usually cold because she refuses to keep socks on in the house, and this is a battle I decided long ago with her big sister that I was not willing to fight.
---"Boots on! Coat on!"
---"Kitty coat" This would be my coat which has a foax-fur lining on the hood; she is so, SO excited when she sees other people with "kitty coats", too.

I know I'm missing most of what she says because she does speak in two to four word sentences; it's just hard to think of those sentences offhand because she does it so very much!

One of the most fun things of the past few days (colds, coughs, and sub-zero temperatures have kept us cooped up for far, far too long) has been seeing them cook in their toy kitchen together....sometimes wearing tutus.