Put me in, Coach!

My little girl (that one, not the other one) is growing up. She uses a potty like a big girl now -- 99% of the time. She knows all of her letters and numbers, and she really digs Diet Coke. With advanced age come advanced activities, however. For a girl who's already done (and is doing) gymnastics, swimming lessons, and Musikgarten (Nazi music class featuring lots of Wagner and Nena), the logical next step is.... T-ball!

We've signed Molly up for a 4 and under t-ball league. We probably could have done it through the YMCA or the county, but we chose a more sensible option -- a nearby Methodist megachurch. It makes perfect sense, if viewed in the context of our continuing quest to confuse Molly's religious identity. After all, we first sent her to a Jewish day school, now she's at a Presbyterian day school, and every time she's with my brother she worships his huge Buddha belly. Methodist seems about right.

We showed up for our first practice at 6:00 p.m. sharp, and found our way to the section of the giant field reserved for Molly's team -- the Mets (you can take the Silverman out of New York, but you can't take the New York out of the Silverman). At this point, we proceeded to do... nothing. It seemed one of our coaches had decided not to attend this evening. The other had a cute kid, but didn't seem to know much about what we were supposed to do. Nobody knew anything about schedules, rules, or how practices should be run. All we had was 150% humidity and a gaggle of three and four year olds running around with aluminum bats. It was Methodist Madness (not to be confused with Methodist MRSA, which is a pious but especially nasty bacterial infection).

I decided to exercise a little initiative. I showed Molly how to put on her glove, and proceeded to start playing catch with her. It didn't go so well, primarily for two reasons: 1) Molly likes pretty things, and she seemed to prefer staring at her glove than at the baseball headed for her upper body, and 2) given her height relative to mine, and her spastic, violent, and downward-thrusting throwing motion, there were several times Molly almost removed any possibility of her having any more brothers or sisters. Plus, Molly got bored after three minutes, so she decided to rest:

I finally coaxed her back up, but once up, she loudly announced that she had to take care of some business before she got down to the business of t-ball. She then took off running across the field, into and through other team's practices, urgently seeking the potty. She found it, she used it like a big girl, and back to practice we went. I can't quite figure out why, but she seemed much lighter on her feet.

On the way back, I stopped by and chatted with the only authority figure present -- a girl of about 18 or 19 perched in a golf cart (which is how I knew she was important and special). She helpfully told me that there are no rules, the church hasn't set a schedule yet, and practices generally run about as long as your kid feels like practicing. This is going to be an excellent way to teach Molly teamwork and structure.

Back to our team area we went. We played catch again for a few more minutes, while the other kids on her team ran around, chased each other with bats, and whined to their parents that it was too hot. After about thirty minutes of this, the parents surrendered, and everyone headed to their cars. I guess it's going to fall to me -- the 5'7", Jewish, athletically retarded one of the group of parents -- to organize these damn practices and whip this team into shape. As my daddy used to say...if you're not first, you're last. We've got work to do.

Before heading home, we had to stop by the church building to pick up Molly's uniform (which, although it is a "Youth Small," looks like it won't fit Molly for another six or seven years). Here's our happy girl, modeling her new uniform hat and her pretty pink glove:

I had to choose a number for Molly's uniform. Unfortunately, 583 was taken, so I picked the next best number, a number which honored the one thing that Molly did best of all at practice tonight. She's going to wear Number 2.

Madeleine Greer Silverman - 4 months, 4 days.

Height: 24.5 inches (75th %ile)

Weight: 13 lbs. 7 oz. (50th %ile)

Head Circumference: 43 cm (90th %il) Thereby continuing the fine Pearson-Silverman tradition of kids with HUGE noggins.

We stopped swaddling Maddie last night because she's become so good at flipping from back to front. (She first started this at 15 weeks). It didn't seem to make much of a difference and she's a good tummy sleeper now. She's going to bed at 6:30 PM but still waking up to eat at 10:30 PM and 2:30 or 3 AM. The pediatrician suggested I start diluting her nighttime bottles a bit so that her body naturally switches to taking more during the day to make up for the lost calories. Wish us luck!

Molly (left) and Maddie (right) both @ 4 months of age.

Father's Day 2009

I appologize that we've been so bad at keeping up this blog since Madeleine was born. It's true; two kids are more work than one. Oftentimes, at the end of a long day, Josh and I will both plop down on the couch, exhausted, promising to update the blog "tomorrow."

Well, tomorrows seem to come faster nowadays. Maddie is already 4 months old and is turning out to be quite the dream baby. For posterity, I should mention that she rolled from front to back at 10 weeks and from back to front at 15 weeks. She holds her head up and is very vocal, cooing and "ah'ing" at any available opportunity. She is an easy baby - napping and eating a regular times and with very little fuss. We love our new addition.

This year for Father's Day I wanted to get Josh something we don't have a lot of - pictures of the Girls together. Ideally I would have liked to have Maddie be able to sit up, but since we're a few months away from that we did the best we could at the Picture People this morning (where Maddies 2 month shots - below - are still on display!).

Anyone who knows my sister and I knows we are extremely close to our father. My dad's loving and gentle spirit is something that I have grown to appreciate more and more as the years pass on. There may have been a time where I feared that I would never find someone with equal tenderness or greatness with which to have my own children someday, but I did, and the Girls and I are unspeakably lucky to have Josh in our lives. It's always amusing to me that Josh, who plays the "tough guy" roll most days, dealing frequently with unsavory individuals and situations, can be so sweet and loving with his Girls. Almost immediately after Molly was born Josh made it known to anyone who would listen that he was ready for a second child - and it better be another girl! Madeleine displays shades of her father; a bit more observant, quiet, and more content to settle into the background than her rather boisterous sister. I know he loves them with all his heart, and they love him back.

Happy Father's Day, Josh. We love you.

Madeleine Greer Silverman: 2 months old, 4/17/2009

To sleep, perchance, to dream . . .

Beginning at 7 weeks of age, and for the last 2 nights, Maddie has been sleeping 5 hour stretches at night.  Our typical nighttime routine involves bath and massage starting a bit after 7 and in bed with swaddle andwhite noise at 7:30.  At 10:30 I get her out of her crib and feed her again.  She's then going for a five hour stretch until 3:30 or so.  From there she's up to feed every 2 hours until we get up.

Raisin' our girls the only way we know how.

Can you guess which of these completely tasteless photos is Maddie and which is Molly?

Molly Silverman, 3 years old. 3/30/09

Age 2

Age 1

Dear Molly,

Tomorrow you will be three years old. It's hard to believe that the years since your birth have passed as quickly as they have! Every day you grow stronger, and smarter, and sassier. Your daddy and I find ourselves looking on in amazement as you continue to evolve into your own person. You can be so exasperating sometimes! Some days it seems all you want to do is argue. If Daddy or I say up, you say down. If we say yes, you say no. You insist on picking out your own clothes, dressing yourself, doing *everything* yourself. If we make the mistake of opening your door, or picking out your clothing, we are met with screams and protestations of the highest order from you!

Other times you can be so sweet. You love to sing silly songs, and dance, and create. "I love you Mommy" and "I love you Daddy" are the sweetest words and we hear them from you all the time. You love Barney, and your grandparents, and your new sister Maddie.

Watching you become a big sister has been such a treat this past month. Before Maddie was born I worried about not having enough love, or patience, to go around. While I'm still working on the patience thing, there's no doubting that there's enough love. The funny this is that, watching you take on the role of "Big Sister," I think I actually love you even more. Every day more than before. You like holding Maddie, and helping me bathe Maddie, or change her diapers. You tell me when you think she's hungry, or wants her pacifier, and each day that I spend with the two of you I begin to see the kind of big sister you're becoming. Surely there will be days when you and your sister don't get along, but already I see the beginnings of a love that will carry you throughout your life.

I love you, sweetheart. Happy birthday.

Mommy.

Exterminator Wanted

Yesterday, Mason turned 3. When I turned 3, my father gave me a a stalk of celery and told me to get a job. Stacey chose a different approach -- she decided to honor Mason's request to go to Chuck E. Cheese. I don't know how Mason knows about Chuck E. Cheese, as there isn't one in our town. The closest one is a good half hour drive away, tucked away in a strip mall nestled amongst the horse pastures and trailer parks of Marion County. I also don't know why Stacey would drive that far to celebrate Mason's birthday. She could have taken the kid to our local homeless shelter, shined a few bright lights in his eyes, given him a slice of terrible pizza, and the kid never would have known the difference. Alas, he's not my kid. I didn't get to make the call.

Naturally, Mason wanted the love of his life to go with him to celebrate his birthday, so he invited Molly, Erin, Maddie and me to go along. Owing mainly to the lack of quality TV shows on Wednesday nights, we agreed. We loaded up the Family Truckster, and headed south. The drive was nice. The rest of the evening -- not so much.

Remember how Molly hated Disney World? Well, imagine taking the entirety of Disney World, deep-frying it in Wesson White Trash oil, draining the deep fryer, scraping the most brittle, bitter, nasty crumb of Disney essence from the bottom of the pot, and then taking that crumb and rolling it in germs -- well, then you would have your local Chuck E. Cheese. Our first stop upon entering was the hand-stamp station, at which parents and children are stamped with identical Auschwitz-like numerical codes, so that no child can leave with the wrong adult. This system actually seems brilliant in theory, but doesn't work so well in practice, considering the fact that the lone staff member manning the station was all of 17, and had a certain slack-jawed, pimply je ne sais quoi that didn't exactly inspire child safety confidence in me. It was like putting George Bush in charge of running a country.

After clearing security, we wandered amongst the rows of video games until we found Mason. Mason seemed amused by the bright lights and loud noises, but I'm not sure he really understood what was he was doing. All of the games were targeted at an older demographic. Molly seemed drawn to one in particular, a kind of fusion between whack-a-mole and Dancing with the Stars. All Molly wanted to do was sit on the platform and endlessly feed tokens into the machine. Every time I tried to take her on another ride, she would freak out and demand to dismount. For this we drove 30 miles?

Dinner was next. We ordered a couple of pizzas. Be warned: never trust a pizza that takes less than 10 minutes to prepare. It was obviously pre-made, frozen, and thawed under some kind of fast-food tanning bed. Disney World at least had good burgers.

After the pizza came the crowning achievement of the evening. Erin and I bought Mason a birthday cake. We picked it out from the lucite case right next to the beer taps. The manager, a strapping lad of 20, told me that if we waited a few minutes, Chuck E. Cheese himself would bring the cake out to Mason. I eagerly said yes. I chose.... poorly.

Molly perked up at the mention of cake, but as soon as the dude in the giant rat costume came out, all hell broke loose. To say that Molly didn't like Mr. Cheese would be an understatement on par with "Sarah Palin is retarded." I can't really do justice to her reaction, so these pictures will have to suffice:

Molly was absolutely, postively, unmistakably, overwhelmingly, adverbally terrified of Mr. Cheese. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. There was absolutely no eating of cake. As her father, I felt terrible for her. I felt sad. I felt so much empathy for my little girl that I did the only thing a loving father in my situation could do: I laughed my ass off.


Yes, I'm going to hell. And it's not just for ending that last paragraph with a preposition....

The first month

Sorry for the lag in posting. Needless to say, it's a bit hectic with two little ones around. Josh has been swamped at work and it's just harder to find the time to post. Hopefully things will slow down soon! In any case, I find myself looking back on the early months of this blog to refresh my memory as to what Molly did when, and I want to make some notes for posterity with Maddie as well.

Maddie will be one month old this friday. It's hard to believe that it's been a month already! She is doing very well. Born at 8 lbs. 11 oz, Maddie lost weight down to 7 lbs. 14 oz. after birth but, as of today, is up to 9 lbs. 10.5 ounces. Sleep is still a precious commodity. She goes about 2 hours between (breast) feedings during the day and three hours at night. We had been sleeping her at bedside in our Amby baby until I noticed that Josh was becoming increasingly sleep deprived (someone's got to earn the $$$!) So last night we moved her across the house to her crib. She actually did better! She slept the same 2.5 - 3 hour stretches, but was MUCH easier to get back to sleep after a feed. Maybe she settled better when I was out of the room and she couldn't smell me . . . Anyway, moving Molly out of our room at 4 months was quite traumatic but I had no problem at all moving Maddie at 1 month. Hopefully this will get her used to her bed and lay the foundation for better sleep in the future . . .

Otherwise, she's a pretty chill baby. She doesn't crave her paci or swing like her sister did and generally eats, is alert / active for 30 minutes to an hour, then gets grumpy and wants to sleep for the final hour prior to her next feed. I'm looking forward to the fabled "five hour stretches" starting at night but, right now, that feels like a pipe dream.

Molly loves her sister and, if anything, is a little TOO affectionate at times. We've had to institue strict "bath right after school" and "no kissing Maddie's face" policies to hopefully stem the flow of day care germies. This morning Molly came into bed with me and was very confused that Maddie wasn't there. I turned on the video monitor (best purchase ever. Seriously. I almost had a panic attack when we moved Molly to her crib and I couldn't see her. This should be mandatory for all new parents.) and Molly was facinated that she could see Maddie "on t.v." I'm looking forward to resuming my Molly 'n' Mommy days in June once Maddie starts daycare.

That's it for now - laundry calls!

Sisters

Then . . .

Bringing Molly home from the hospital, 2006.

And now . . .
Bringing Maddie home from the hospital, 2009.

Then

3/29/06 - The night before Molly was born.

...and now. 2/19/09 - The night before Maddie was born.

Letter to Madeleine

Dear Maddie,

I'm writing this now, just a little over a week before you're scheduled arrival into our little family. Hopefully Daddy will find a moment to write to you too. Sitting here now, I'm overcome with emotion imagining what you'll be like, look like, and how it will feel to hold you. The first thing I want you to know is that you were desperately wanted. After your sister Molly was born, Daddy and I discovered we loved being parents. Around the time Molly was about one and a half years old we knew for a fact we wanted to have another baby. We tried to get pregnant for quite some time, but never could. Then, in June of this year, I guess you were ready to begin the journey and we found out we were pregnant with you!

Just like with your sister, I knew right away that you were a girl. (Daddy always insisted he wanted another girl and I was very happy as well. I guess you can thank Molly for this, but we can't really picture it any other way!)

My pregnancy with you has been pretty great, all in all! I had a lot of morning sickness early on, just like I did with your sister. After that went away I've had really bad heartburn (again, just like I did with your sister). But I haven't been as uncomfortable this time around and, more than anything, I've enjoyed feeling you move inside me over the past couple months! I wonder if you'll be a soccer star, or a dancer, because you REALLY seem to love to kick those little legs! Sometimes, when you won't settle down, I find myself getting a little bit tired of all the movement. But then I remember how you'll never again be as close to me as you are now and I only want it to continue.

Mostly I can't wait to meet you. You look so beautiful in your ultrasound pictures. You have big eyes, and full lips, and chubby round cheeks. You looked so much like your sister at your 29 week ultrasound, but by 32 weeks you developed your own unique features. I wonder if your hair will be light like mine or dark like Daddy's (before Daddy's hair turned grey!) I'm more than a little pleased that it looks like you have my nose. I like my nose.

I wonder what kind of personality you'll have. Your sister is extremely strong willed and can be a bit bossy at times (as I'm sure you'll find out). Everyone agrees she's a lot like me. I think Daddy hopes you will carry a bit more of his temperment. Daddy is a bit more level-headed than I am and doesn't get worked up quite as easily.

Whether alike or different, I really, really hope that you and Molly become close. She's been telling everyone, for months, that she's going to be a big sister. She loves playing with your toys, and jumping on your bed, and trying to crawl into your swing or try on your clothes. She's seen some of her friends at school have little brothers or sisters and, while I'm not sure how well she understands what's about to happen, I know that on some level she's anxious for you to get here as well. You don't know it yet, but you have grandmas, and grandpas, and great-grandmas, and great grandpas, and aunts and uncles, and family friends among the multitudes awaiting your arrival. I promise to do everything I can to make your entry into this world as easy as possible. I already love you so much but I know that love is only a shadow of what's to come. Please be safe and healthy and strong until I can hold you in my arms.

Love,

Mommy.

Madeleine's Room

Well, we're in full on waiting mode. I guess that, for people like us, (where preparedness is paramount) there comes that one moment where you realize you have *everything* . . . . except the baby. The other day as I was putting the finishing touches on the nursury, Josh joked to me, "Do you think that if DCF did a site visit they would find us sufficiently prepared to be parents again?"

Um, yeah . . . .

I had originally intended to repaint the room that will be Maddie's room, our former office. I wanted to keep it green but I didn't really like the way this green turned out. (The green from when it was an office.) In the end, lethargy won out and I decided that green is green and I didn't care enough to repaint. I did, however, purchase some cute bird / birdcage vinyl stickers that appealed to me for some reason. Here's Molly "testing" Maddie's bed.

One great thing about having another girl is getting to reuse Molly's old wardrobe. I had such a great time unpacking all this stuff. There were outfits that I remember packing away with a bit of sadness, either because she had never had a chance to wear them, or because part of me was sad that I'd never see her in that particular outfit again. Either way, to know that much of this stuff will get another go 'round makes me smile.

In order to avoid purchasing a dresser or two, Josh and I kept the book shelves from the office (sans books). I knew I wanted to use the upper shelves for clothes storage and began looking for storage boxes that would fit. I took measurements, and when I found these canvas drawers at Kohls.com I felt they would be a close fit. I had no idea how close! They're PERFECT and look like they're made for the shelves! What's better is that Kohls.com lets you use double online coupons / discount codes so I spent practically nothing to buy the 12 drawers I needed for the two dressers. The bottom shelves are at crawling height for toys and books and I had Josh anchor both bookshelves to the wall so they can't topple over.

And, of course, through the whole process I've had my "helper" Miss Molly. Her favorite part of the preparations has been testing out all of Maddie's stuff. Here she is in Maddies bouncy seat / rocker (thanks Chris and Jen!) where she can be found more and more these days. I think it's hilarious how she's so big she hangs off the end of the seat. Miss Kinky also makes sure the seat is on "vibrate" whenever she's relaxing. Hopefully Maddie will find this seat just as comfortable as Miss Molly!

Our Day in Potty Training

Two in the can, one on the floor.

That's how we spell "progress" in this house.

Animal Adventures in Non-Disney Orlando

Just to the east of Disney World is Kissimmee, Florida and an off-the-beaten-path attraction called "Green Meadows Petting Farm" . It's not cheap, by any means. However, compared to Disney ticket prices it's quite the bargain. Knowing we were going to be "doing" Disney on Saturday, and also knowing I would probably have a mental breakdown if I had to endure 2 days of magical kingdom-ness, I opted to take Molly to Green Meadows on Friday while Josh was at his conference.

For the price of admission you get a personalized tour of the farm that clocks in at just over 2 hours. Along the way we were able to get up close and personal with just about every imaginable non-zoo animal including larger breeds such as ostrich, llama, bison, and even a "zorse" (zebra-horse). Colorful peacocks roam the farm and there's plenty of opportunities to feed, and pet the animals as well as a chance to milk a cow (Molly declined), ride a pony, take a hayride, and hop a choo choo train. After the tour you can stick around and stroll the grounds, have a picnic, or watch as the kids play on the large playground set up.

Definitely worth the trip!

Overheard in the Silverman House

Daddy: "Molly, where do you pee?"

Molly: "In Mommy's soup."

Aaaaaaand . . . . .SCENE!

The Least Magical Place on Earth

If it's the end of January, it's time for the Florida Bar's Annual Marital and Family Law Certification Review Course. I know that when I think of fun, I think of a ballroom full of of 1,500 divorce lawyers, all eagerly listening to speakers explain the latest and greatest ways to screw the opposition out of every last cent of alimony and child support. That warm and fuzzy feeling I had sitting through those lectures had little to do with the gratis coffee, and much more to do with the fact that in my heart, I know I'm doing God's work.

After the session on Saturday, Erin and I decided to take Molly, for the very first time, to Disney World. As I sit here today, I can say with unwavering certainty that after Saturday's session of my conference, Erin and I took Molly to Disney World for the very last time. Our trip to Disney World was much like a colonoscopy, except with the colonoscopy, the lines are shorter, the out-of-pocket expenses are lower, and you at least leave feeling like you accomplished something. The Silverman family did not fare so well on our trip.

Things started out badly. As we were sitting at the bus stop at our hotel, Molly began to have one of her now infamous potty freak-outs. She loudly exclaimed to everyone that she had to go poop -- no, it's just gas! -- no, Daddy, I pooped -- it's just gas! -- I have to go put my gas in the potty! -- oh no, oh no, I pooped! -- my tummy hurts -- I pooped! This desperate scatological monologue went on for about ten minutes, until I finally decided to extricate myself from the quite embarrassing scrutiny I was receiving, and take Molly back to our room to "work things out." Well, because our room was in a building a long way away, and because Molly then spent 20 minutes on the potty absolutely freaking out about the very notion of defecating thereon, she and I didn't make it back to the bus stop for about 30 minutes. By that time, we had missed two of the buses (and left Erin sitting there, quite upset). We finally got on the bus and arrived at the park about an hour late.

Our first stop upon entering the poorly-named Magic Kingdom was the teacups ride. The teacups ride is one of the original rides at the Magic Kingdom, and it's also one of the most benign. You get in a big cup and spin around gently for two minutes. Big whoop. Kids of all ages love the teacup ride. Toddlers around Molly's age love the teacup ride. To prove my point, I present this picture of me and Noah on the very same teacup ride at the Magic Kingdom back in the late '70s:

Molly, it turns out, is perhaps the only kid in the world who is not a fan of the ride. She was ok while we were in line, but as soon as we started walking toward our assigned teacup, she started kicking and thrashing and carrying on in a most upsetting way. Once we got in the teacup, she continued carrying on, although she added screaming and yelling to her repetoire. The following collage pretty much sums up the magnificent ride, which went so badly and loudly for Molly that I was pretty sure someone was going to call the police and report me for child abuse:

My favorite picture is the one in the bottom left, which shows Molly on her third or fourth attempt at climbing out of the teacup in the middle of the ride.

After the teacup debacle, we headed over to the only part of Disney World which Molly seemed to enjoy: the "It's a Small World" ride. I gather that it's supposed to be some kind of paean to the various cultures which people out planet. In reality, it's just a creepy puppet show. I can't decide which I liked better -- the fact that white folk were depicted as civilized and sophisticated, frolicking in their towns, while the Africans and South Americans toiled in the fields amonst elephants and donkeys, or the fact that the entire representation of the Jewish people (a 5,000 year old, extremely influential national and ethnic group) consisted of a nebbishy-looking Hasidim schmo marrying a plain-looking girl puppet in some sorry-ass chuppah. Here's a picture of Molly in line for "It's a Small World," obviously unaware of the poor quality of the politically incorrect animatronic burlesque show she was about to witness:

This moment, this exact second -- this was as good as our trip to Disney got.

After "It's a Small World," we walked across the alley to the Peter Pan ride. We waited in line for 40 minutes for a ride which lasted 60 seconds. How is this rational? And how did the Disney Corporation scam me into paying a considerable sum for the privilege? Not since the new Indiana Jones movie came out have so many people waited in line for so long for something so unfulfilling. To top it all off, Molly started to melt down in line, squirming and running away and being generally bad (as one might expect of a 3 year old at 7:30 at night). The only good part about the long line for the Peter Pan ride was that I got to tell my only Peter Pan joke repeatedly:

"How did Captain Hook die?"

"Jock itch!"

Never gets old.

After Peter Pan, it was time to eat. That was ok, until Molly started to scream in the cafeteria that she had to go poop -- or maybe she did poop -- or maybe it was just gas. It was just like her bus stop tirade, except it was more public. Awesome.

Upon leaving the cafe, we noticed that it was dark in the park -- very dark. We soon knew why. It was time for the fireworks display. Every night, just before the park gets ready to close, there's a giant fireworks display in the skies above Cinderella's castle. It was an impressive display. I stopped to watch it. Erin stopped to watch it. Literlly five thousand people -- everyone in the park from the littlest kid to the numerous morbidly obese European tourists -- stopped to watch. People brought out their video cameras. Several dozen people had their video cameras on their tripods, filming every single aerial explosion (and seriously, why not? Why wouldn't you want to have a tape of a nine minute fireworks show so you can watch it later? Must not have HBO).

Everyone loved it -- except Molly. Folks, when I tell you that my little girl freaked out, I cannot underestimate the gravity of the freakout. It was one for the ages. I don't know if it was the noise, or the lights, or the fact that she hadn't dropped a deuce in six days, but she FREAKED OUT. She clung to me, screaming and wailing as if she had just watch me cut Barney from ear to ear. I did the only thing I could do -- I got her out of there as fast as possible. Of course, to do that, I had to carry my screaming, sobbing toddler through a sea of people. I was stepping on strollers, I almost knocked over some guy's tripod, and I'm pretty sure I stepped on some little girl (although I didn't feel bad, because she was ugly). For six or seven minutes, Molly, Erin, and I were a parade of three, snaking our way through this mass of humanity. I have never heard Molly scream so loudly, or act so disturbed. It was awful.

Of course, the display stopped as soon as we got near the park exits. The lights came up, and all of suddent that entire mass of humanity began racing in organized chaos for the exits. As soon as we got through those people, they all started coming for us again. Molly kept screaming. Good times.

Here are some pictures of the unmitigated joy with which Molly took in the fireworks display. These were taken right as the fun started:

As the Jewish people say about the Holocaust, and as any sensible person says about buying an American car: Never again! We're done with Disney. In the future, if Molly or Maddie ever ask about going, we're just going to take Jack Handey's advice. We're going to drive the kids to a burned down barn, tell them Disney World burnt down, and then take them to a museum. I don't like lying to my kids, but it's for their own good.

Sunday in the Park with Daddy.

The Naked Chef

Jamie Oliver: Great Britain's Naked Chef

Miss Molly Silverman: Gainesville, Florida's Naked Chef.

Our Baby

So Maddie's room is approaching its final state and Molly had been having a great time "helping" me get things put together.

For the most part, this involves expressing a strong and renewed interest in all the "baby" toys that have made their way from her shelves to Maddie's shelves.

She also has a new favorite game: Mommy's Baby. I sit in the rocking chair in Maddie's room and swaddle Molly tightly in a receiving blanket. She pretends to drift off to sleep while I cradle her and rock away, singing lullabies. At the end of the song, Molly will open her eyes and say something like, "Sing it again, Mommy!" while jumping off my lap. I feign surprise that my "baby" can, all of a sudden, walk AND talk!!! We'll see how she does when there's an actual baby vying for Mommy's attention . . .

Our Chunky Monkey: Madeleine Greer Silverman, 33 weeks gestation.

A Tickle Eye View

The Many (Wet) Faces of Miss Molly Beth

There's really no reason to post this photo . . .

... except for the fact that my kid is freakin' cute! This is her trademarked and perfected, "I'm Displeased with the Current State of Affairs" look.

Belly Pic

I was probably 31 or 32 weeks when this was taken. Yes, I realize it's from the front so you don't get the whole "Belly Effect." Unfortunately I carry out front. Like WAY out front. Turning to the side almost necessitates use of a wide angle lens. So this is what you get. Maybe I'll get brave and take a side shot a bit later. Actually, i would like to. We have a picture of me the night before Molly's csection and it would be neat to repeat it with Maddie.

I've gained a lot less weight this pregnancy this time around however I have learned that, regardless of actual pounds gained, I am just a Big Pregnant Woman. Somwhere deep in my German-Irish genes is a tendancy to have big babies, and get equally big when carrying those babies. I carry Maddie exactly the way I carried Molly - high and all up front. The fact that my ass is a bit less large this time around does little to detract from the overall effect.

However, I need to watch and not get too down on myself. It's easy when all you hear, day after day, is:

"Wow - you must be having twins!"
"Ready to pop I see!"
"Are you sure there aren't 2 or 3 babies in there?"

Yesterday Molly and I went to her gymnastics class. A mom in there came over to me and said, "I just wanted to say I envy you. You look so happy and healthy and beautifully pregnant! I was never able to get big with my babies because they always came to early, and were sick, and I hope you don't take offense at what I'm trying to say . . . "

I didn't. There's no greater reward than seeing that, big, healthy baby emerge (in my case, most likely surgically!) after 40 long weeks of work and wait. I hope I don't jinx myself by saying this, but I AM grateful - for every pound gained and every stretch mark re-stretched. This pregnancy hasn't been without its stressors but Maddie and I have flourished this far and hopefully will continue to flourish until 39 weeks when my csection is scheduled. We should have some new Maddie pics later today. I'm anxious to see what she's looking like. It's been 5 weeks since our previous 4D ultrasound. And 6 weeks until we get to meet in person!

Our Messy Pink Fairy

Here's an old picture from this past Halloween. (I'm doing some quick posts today in order to earn myself a brief, 1-2 day reprieve from Grandma Pearson b**ching about how our blog has been lacking in posts lately!) We found this at the Cracker Barrell one Sunday and decided that Molly would be a fairy this year. I think the pink polka dot tights and pink undershirt really make the outfit, don't you? (It was evidently cold that night. Josh and I were in Chicago where I can tell you it was most definitely cold that night!) Molly still has most of her Halloween candy. For all of her interest in accumulating candy, she really doesn't care much about eating it!

You can never be too careful

You know, it's hard enough finding baby sitters that you trust with your most cherished treasure - your child. I thought my sister was such a babysitter, until these pictures surfaced of Molly "driving" at Grandma and Pap pap's house this past weekend! She doesn't even have her learner's permit!

In all seriousness, Molly is becoming increasingly interested in driving. Many times when she gets in the car, instead of settling down into her seat in back, she scoots up to the driver's seat and announces, "I'm gonna drive to Grammas." Or McDonald's (which she calls "Old Mac Donald's"). Or Skids Sklub ("Kids Club" at my gym). Or 'Nastics (gymnastics). It's very cute but I feel kind of rotten. You see, I work with people with brain injuries and Josh deals legally with folks who gt in trouble with their cars. We're not sure how to tell her that she's never allowed to drive . . .

Daddy and his Girls.

This is pretty much what I see every morning when I wake up.