Thankful?

How could I be otherwise?

Happy Thanksgiving, my lovelies. Let's eat.

A Tale of Two Weddings . . . and a Baptism

When A. and I got married--going on 15 years ago now--we, like all newlyweds, assumed it would be our only wedding.

I think it was reasonable to assume that. But you know what they say about the word "assume"!

"It makes an ass out of u and me," is what they say, which is incredibly lame, so let's move on.

Our first wedding was very nice. We were married in the MiL's little white country church, by the minister from A.'s childhood. I wore a white dress. My parents walked me down the aisle. (Yes, both of them. I figured they both raised me. Why should my dad be the only one to walk with me?) The reception was at Blackrock. There were about 60 people in attendance.

It was not, however, a Catholic wedding. And if it's not a Catholic wedding, the Catholic church straight-up does not recognize the marriage. So, basically, we had a civil ceremony, even though it was in a church.

But it recently became important to A. that we be married in the Catholic church*. So we did. On Saturday.

This time we were married in the chapel of a north country Catholic church, by a deacon. I wore black, because the only clothes that fit me at one month post partum and that I can nurse in are black. My parents were both there, as were our four children.

It's not a simple blessing or something; it's a full marriage ceremony. It was a little bit bizarre to be repeating wedding vows and exchanging rings with our four kids there (and Jack standing behind me wearing my mother's glasses, which I really wish I had a picture of), but touching, too.

My mother even bought us a wedding cake, with the top tier to be kept for our one-year anniversary and everything. The reception was at our house. And by "reception," I mean the cake and some balloons and bubbles for the kids, because that was pretty much the extent of it and even that was all courtesy of my mom as I had planned absolutely nothing. Thanks, Mom.

The next day, Poppy was baptized.

She wore the christening gown that I was baptized in, although I was smart enough not to put it on her until after Mass. Good thing, since she completely soiled herself during the service and required a full outfit change. This appears to be the Sunday tradition now, except this time she wasn't considerate enough to do it before Mass. Maybe she was protesting the (floral, and very cute) pajamas I had her in?

Anyway, all sacraments have now been completed satisfactorily. It was a very exciting weekend.

We leave tomorrow for Blackrock to continue the excitement with Thanksgiving and pie. A whirl of gaiety indeed.

* To the anonymous commenter who wondered: No, it was not a requirement for our children's baptisms. And we didn't have to do any marriage counseling except casually talk to the deacon who performed the sacrament. He rightly noted that newlywed marriage counseling at this stage would be a bit ridiculous.

And On That Note . . .

We did a lot of stuff this weekend. Cubby and Charlie received awards at a school assembly for their "Can Do Attitudes".* Poppy was baptized. And A. and I got married. Long, loooong story. I'll tell it soon.

Anyway. Lots of stuff happened. My parents were here for all of it, and my dad took pictures.

And then I didn't write about it. Again.

I'll try to do that this week when I get the pictures from my dad. But considering I found A. sitting in the living room drinking tea at 3:45 this morning because he came down with a nasty cold, and that Poppy is coughing and snuffling with what I must assume is the same cold, and that we're supposed to leave for Blackrock on Wednesday morning, it might be awhile.

Just cross your fingers for me that no one else gets sick, okay? Okay.

* I'm sure I'm not the only one with children who seem to be Dr. Jekylls at school but morph into Mr. Hydes at home. I'm always just glad that at least they can behave themselves in public. Usually.

We Do Stuff, I Take Pictures, Then . . .

Then the day we did the stuff is past and the pictures are old and somehow (somehow=newborn + other family members that still require care and feeding), I've just never written about it.

So here! Have a whirlwind update!

We went to the Adirondack Wild Center* on Saturday because it was free admission day. It's a little over three hours in the car to get there and back. I didn't really want to go with the baby, but I also didn't really want to leave A. to try to keep track of three crazy little boys in a public place. The baby slept almost the entire time, including in the car. The little boys were crazy in the car, but they got to see a live barred owl and get a bag of Cheetos from the center's cafe. Doesn't get much better than that.

In what is becoming a regular occurrence, Poppy soiled herself so thoroughly on Sunday morning that she required a full outfit change. Maybe she does it on purpose to ensure her lazy mother changes her out of her pajamas before church.

The first outfit choice was adorable, but not warm enough.

Much more neutral than last week's pink color palette.

So I had to put another layer over that:

A bit androgynous, but that's what happens when your hand-me-downs come from three older brothers. (One of whom is photobombing with his hand there on the baby's knee.)

Poppy did not sleep through the service this time, because she pooped again and woke up just before the opening hymn. Which is when I discovered that I only had one properly sized diaper in the diaper bag.

Rookie mistake.

I spent the next hour hoping she would stay clean and I wouldn't have to Macgyver a size 5 diaper into something that would fit a size 1 baby.

I didn't. Thanks, Poppy.

We finally got our half cow, which must have been the smallest cow ever, because the steaks are tiny. I did ask for a smaller cow, though, to make sure it fit in our freezer, and the boys love having their own individual steaks. A. just loves having steak at all, and I love having beef to change up our diet of constant lamb. Happiness all around.

Both Cubby and Charlie brought home pieces of paper with things to decorate for this week's open house at school--a turkey for Charlie and a tree for Cubby--with instructions to use "any media except food." I suggested they could use the designer duct tape sent by Aunt Tara. The reason she sent designer duct tape was because my niece used to use it to make headbands and so forth, so they had a lot on hand. Which is why we now have an entire shoebox filled with over a dozen different rolls of patterned duct tape.

Jack of course must also have some; he made an original creation.

We also used the duct tape to secure the packages of lamb we wrapped up. It's nice to have designer meat packages in the freezer.

And I think we'll end there with a mic drop. Thank you and good night.

Celebrating Our Veterans with Snow

Apparently, this year Veterans Day is the beginning of winter. When I got up at 5:47 this morning, it was 10 degrees with a strong wind, and when I went outside to let Mia out, this is what it looked like:

Mia was not amused.

Okay, so technically it didn't look exactly like that, because it isn't even light at 5:47 a.m. I waited until later to take the photo. Obviously.

The boys were very excited about the snow and were out the door like a shot as soon as they had some breakfast.

Well, a shot that was loaded by me first with winter boots, snow pants, hats, mittens, and coats.

Is it a bad sign that I'm already silently but vehemently cursing the winter apparel and it's only the first snowfall of the season? Yeah.

Anyway.

They stayed out for almost an hour, despite the wind and temperature. 

Meanwhile, Poppy was all, "Have fun, guys. I'll just stay here on the couch in my fleecy sleep sack."

Smart girl.

Incidentally, as you can see from the above photo, Poppy is in the baby acne stage of development. That's okay, though, because it gives me the opportunity to sing my own version of "Sixteen Going on Seventeen," from The Sound of Music. It goes like this, "You are three weeks going on thirteen, with pimples across your cheeks . . ." 

Catchy, no?

So that's where we are: playing in the snow and singing ridiculous songs to the baby. Cabin fever, here we come.

The Squash Haul

A. had to go the nearest city today to pick up some work papers, and Jack, Poppy, and I accompanied him.

The entire reason I subjected myself to an hour-and-a-half roundtrip drive with a constantly talking 2-year-old and a newborn was to visit the farm stand in this city. Such is my desire to stock up on apples and squash.

I was going to send a list with A., but there are so many variables that I couldn't account for on a list. What kind of apples would they have? How much was the squash? What if they had beets, but they didn't look very fresh?

Obviously, my need for control over my produce is a little excessive.

In any case, the whole crew descended upon the farm stand (which is actually pretty big and more like a store affiliated with a nearby large farm) where I found good broccoli, questionable beets, not as many varieties of apples as I would have liked, and a lot of squash.

A. would have been very confused.

Jack and I picked out about ten butternut squash, along with the broccoli, a discounted bag of Fortune apples (a little soft, but I bought them for cooking with, so it didn't matter), a bag of Honeycrisp apples, a giant cabbage, and some pork rinds.

Gross on the pork rinds. Those were A.'s contribution to our healthy haul.

When we got to the cash register, the lady weighed my squash and then told me that if I wanted, she could give me a banana box to fill with squash and the bulk discount would mean I would only pay three dollars more.

OKAY.

So Jack and I went back to the squash bins with a big-ass box and filled it up with more butternut squash, plus some Delicata and acorn squash just for the hell of it. In the end, we got about double the quantity of squash for a few dollars more.

Totally worth going myself. Even if I did have to listen to Poppy scream for the last fifteen minutes of the car ride home because she woke up and (I later discovered) had a soiled diaper and NO ONE WAS HELPING HER.

Sorry, Poppy. But our squash supply should last until you're eating solid foods in six months. You'll thank me then.

Sunday Best

This morning as I was changing Poppy, I noticed she had some poop on her onesie. Well! Full outfit change for you then, my girl!

And since today was her debut at church--which, based on the interest in my pregnancy among the congregation, really was going to be like a debut--I thought maybe I should find something other than pajamas for her*.

Because the right clothing really makes a person more comfortable in a new social situation.

So I dug through the drawer of baby clothing, most of which I have not yet used, but the only non-pajama clothing I could find was in size 3 months.

Which fit.

And which are very pink and floral. Pink John Deere socks included.

Every item of clothing she's wearing came from the baby drizzle. Good thing everyone bought things larger than newborn size.

Can someone tell me what is up with decorating the rear end of baby clothing?

Personally, I'd steer clear of that particular area, bunny. It can get a little messy 'round those parts.

She slept through the entire service in her car seat, anyway. The car seat has a cover over it, so no one even saw the outfit. But I'm sure it boosted her confidence. And the plethora of pink (the car seat cover is pink, too) made it safe for everyone to exclaim, "You had a little girl!"

Yes, I sure did. And I shall bedeck her in florals and pink. At least until she's old enough to wear some more of her brothers' hand-me-downs.

* Not the "Mommy's Little Dude" pajamas, though. She's outgrown those already.