Redheads on March 17th

Me: You know, I just feel like redheads should get special privileges on St. Patrick's Day.

Jeff: Yeah, well I think they should come with a pot of gold.

Me: Honey, we ARE the pot of gold.

This Actually Happened

A few days ago as I sat reading a story to Annalee, she took her thumb out of her mouth (I don't know why it was there--she isn't a thumb sucker), wiped it on my forehead, looked into my eyes and whispered, "Simba." 

You know, Rafiki style.

That kid. She just kills me.

(Picture via lionkingpride.net)

Annalee's Trip to the ER

Annalee is into everything right now. She is as curious as she is quick, and it's proving to be a dangerous combination. A few days ago, with three adults in the kitchen, she managed to get into the cleaning cabinet and was biting into a dishwasher packet before anyone had any idea she was causing mischief. 

So yesterday when she reached up on the counter and grabbed a knife, I wasn't exactly shocked. We try to be careful, but I'm learning that there's no perfect system for preventing accidents. If we can prevent 95% of them, which we probably do, then I think we're doing as well as can be expected. For the other 5% of the time, band-aids and mommy kisses usually suffice. 

The knife-grab, though, was more serious. That was pretty obvious from all the blood. Oh, the blood. I am so, so thankful that we're living with a nurse right now, because I'm not sure I would have handled the situation very well otherwise. I never did look at the wound because I was almost sick just from the blood, but after holding pressure on her hand and holding her still so Bonny could check out her hand, it was determined that stitches would probably be necessary. 

Bonny wrapped up her hand and we gave her a popsicle, and Jeff and I took her to the ER. We were very pleased with the Park Ridge Emergency Room, by the way. We were in and out in about an hour, which is amazing. They ended up gluing her and instead of stitching since it was such a clean cut, and it was just incredibly simple.

She was so, so brave. I distracted her with videos of herself and Alabama while they were working on her, and though she was in pain, she hardly cried. I've honestly never been so proud of her. She handled it better than I would have.

We came back to Jeff and Bonny's and she was back to normal. She isn't using her right hand very much, but she isn't complaining at all. When she woke up this morning the first thing she said was, "My hand feels better!" 

We've survived our first trip to the ER. It wasn't half bad either. I wish we could have prevented her from feeling the pain, but I'm so grateful that it wasn't worse. But as smoothly as it went, I still hope we aren't back there anytime soon!

Five Lovely Months

My baby is five months old today. I've just realized that I haven't put a picture of her here since last month, and I'm terribly sorry. I do occasionally post them on Facebook, so most of you have gotten enough chubby cheek shots to do you, but for those of you who rely solely on the blog, well, I don't know how you've survived the past thirty-ish days.

As an token of apology, I'm giving you practically every phone picture of taken of her in the past few weeks.  They aren't fancy or fixed, but the subject is adorable. Happy five months and one day, Bama. Thanks for lighting up our world.

Our Old House

We closed on our house yesterday. The one we sold, I mean. 

It was the house we spent the first nights in with Annalee, sleeping sideways on our bed so that we could be as close as possible to her in our small bedroom. It was the house we spent all night refinishing the hardwood floors in before we moved in 2008. It was the house where I washed dishes and vacuumed and did laundry, rocked babies and played with dogs and raised chickens, hung up bird feeders and picked tomatoes, canned green beans and baked birthday cakes. It was the house where I stood at the window with a Alabama on my hip and watched down the road for Jeff to come home. Where I painted the front door purple, picked pears from the tree, learned how to use a pressure washer and a pressure cooker. It's the house where my very best memories live.

It is the house where I learned how to be a wife and a mother.

...

I'm doing well with the move. Miraculously well, actually, considering how intertwined I become with my homes, how emotionally attached I tend to get, and the huge events that took place while we lived there. I suppose I've slowly mourned our home for the past two months, so by the end of the move I was ready. We walked around to each room and said goodbye, choked out a little prayer for the house we've loved so much, and then we left. 

I don't plan to drive by it anytime soon.

...

I came here to say that I'm happy about this move, and that I'm really looking forward to the future. We have a house in mind, and we're still looking a little bit, but for now we're happily crashing at Bonny and Jeff''s. Our families have helped us immensely, whether by helping us move or doing our laundry or letting us live with them. Thanks to all of you so very, very much. We couldn't do it without you.