PS

First family photo.


Thought I'd share. :) msf

Return Triumphant

I wouldn't be sitting down to write this blog if the Man wasn't on base inprocessing, but since he is, and I have time, I might as well write.

I'm currently sitting in the recliner admiring the tulips and daffodils that are festooning our humble abode while wearing an apron that is absolutely covered in flour and biscuit dough. Can I just say, I love wearing aprons. It's like having a gigantic napkin that doesn't fall off your lap. I've spent the morning hanging out with Littles and prepping for lunch which will happen if the Man ever gets home. I have my doubts. But it's nice to be looking forward to him actually being home instead of just looking forward to a skype date.

The Man got in on Sunday, and from now on 28 March will be celebrated annually and exuberantly in the Friz household. It took the guys forever to get their bags, and since they had to go through customs, we (on the other side of the customs' doors) waited with increasing impatience. I got out my jitters by pushing the stroller back and forth ceaselessly and by tricking myself into thinking that the next time the doors open it was going to be him. Naturally, the Man, being the Man, was the very last one to come through the doors since he had to make sure everyone had their bags and no one was left behind. I love my husband, but sometimes I wish he wasn't so responsible and servant-hearted. I mean, come on. Be a little selfish, man! And when he finally made it through the doors, it seemed like there were dozens of people between me and him and half of them wanted to shake his hand. But then he was there, and we were hugging, and I was picking up Littles to show him to the Man, and I was trying not to cry (because tough girls don't, obviously), and it was pretty much mind blowing.

After all the gear had been loaded onto the buses and the Man was free to go, I realized that I had absolutely no clue how to get back to the parking garage, which was kind of entertaining. We wandered around BWI for a shameful amount of time before I finally manned up and asked for directions. And we drove home on the Baltimore-Washington and spring was finally worth being fully appreciated because he was home.

Anyway, since then it's just been us, and it's been grand. The Man is a great dad already, and I personally think Littles likes him better than me, but I guess I can deal with that. And evidently, Littles is fatter in person than he is in the pictures, but if that's the only thing I failed to communicate through email/skype/facebook/letters/packages, then I'm pretty proud of myself. And home is still home and the Man is still the Man even if there is a lot more baby paraphenalia strewn around and my husband is significantly skinnier than he was when he left.

On that note, I just got a text from the Man that he's leaving base, so I'm going to go put the meatloaf in the oven so that I can fatten him up again. Evidently I like my man rolly.

Gratitude Cast

This week we celebrated the end of the serial casting by having Little's heel cord surgically lengthened. In honour of the beginning of the end (he goes into a brace after this), I made a gratitude cast for Littles (his last cast will be a welcome home cast). We have "thank you" written in the obligatory English and then in Indonesian (and Indonesian slang), Spanish, French, Arabic, and Chinese. We believe in multilingual children in our family.

I wanted a gratitude cast for this one because there are so very many things I'm thankful for at this point.

I'm thankful for the wonderful job that the doctors and nurses did at Children's. I'm thankful that this was such a fixable problem. I'm thankful that Littles will be able to walk and run and play, thanks to the great medical care we received. I'm thankful for the support I've gotten from friends and family and my wonderful husband, and especially for my mother-in-love who talked me through all the minute details of the procedure and listened to me process during multiple phone conversations. I'm thankful for our GPS that helped me figure out downtown DC until my sense of direction finally kicked in and I began to feel like a competent driver once more. I'm thankful for insurance that keeps us from spending thousands of dollars and that my name is not Geneva Noreen (whose bill came to my house yesterday and scared the living daylight out of me). I'm thankful for the many ways I learned to make this fun instead of frustrating.

There's a lot that I'm thankful for, not the least of which is that the Man is coming home a week from tomorrow. And that is just pretty cool.

Kewpie?

A couple weeks ago, I was informed by a friend of mine that Littles looks like a Kewpie doll. Not knowing what a Kewpie doll is, I didn't know whether to say thank you or sic Oswald on her. So I looked it up. And I have to say, the similarities are creepily present. I mean, less creepy than if I'd been told Littles looked like Chucky, but still kind of creepy. Dolls in general can be kind of creepy. (The number of times I've used the word "creepy" in this post is creepy.) At any rate, I'm posting a picture of a Kewpie doll and a picture of Littles to commemorate this moment forever. Random fact about Kewpie dolls: Anne Frank had one.

Kewpie doll. Yes, they live in nudist colonies. Just kidding. If you need more information on Kewpies, wikipedia has a terribly instructive article.

Littles. Slightly better clothed and refusing to smile for the camera, but I can totally see it!

Springing Forward Enthusiastically

Okay, how cheesy is this:

This is the first time I've ever been excited about the loss of an hour due to daylight savings. Why? Because it means one less hour that I have to wait for the Man to come home. Normally, all it means is one less hour of sleep, but not this year! This year, I'm reveling.

And on that note, I should probably go to bed, since I'm still going to get one less hour of sleep, in spite of the revel...

Rainy Day Realization

I woke up to the beautiful sound of falling rain this morning and the clicking of my light switch with no accompanying flash of a lightbulb turning on. Yep. Our electricity was out. No biggie. We have a gas stove, and the grey light coming in through the windows was more than sufficient. Plus, my computer was charged. So I opened my laptop (lovingly named Seamus Finnigan McBook) to check my email and...wait, what? Why is my wifi not connecting?

Yeah, so, realization number 1: if you have no electricity, then your internet cannot connect. If you have no internet, then you cannot check your email. If you cannot check your email, then you can't find out how your husband's day went. If you can't find out how your husband's day went, well, you get the point. For want of a nail. Yada, yada.

Realization number 2: I am addicted to having internet. The thought that all the fresh produce in the fridge might go bad left me completely unfazed. Not being able to check email, and thereby hear from the Man, left me a little frantic. Not being able to play on facebook while I nursed left me a little bored (grey light while beautiful isn't the best to read by, so my alternatives were limited). And contemplating a day without watching Psych (yes, I was thinking long term) left me a little, well, saddened in that deep place of my soul that gets great pleasure out of howling over the antics of fictional Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster.

All that to say, I think I'm going to have to stop cold turkey when the Man comes home. I mean, no, not long term (my parents would have a cow if they could no longer skype with "their" boy, Littles--I'm a mere after thought), but I think I'll take a few days off since I'll actually be able to talk, in person, with the Man instead of having to email him or skype him or facebook message him. And nursing entertainment? He'll be here to talk to me. And surviving without Psych? Not a big deal. The Man is way cuter than Shawn Spencer and, yes, even Burton Guster.

As you can tell, my internet is now on, which means I should go email my husband and then I think oatmeal muffins are in order. After all, it is raining. And rain requires celebration at all times.

cinnamon toast coffee

There's really no better way to start a day than with a few slices of perfectly put together cinnamon toast, a cup of coffee (with a bit of whipped cream on top), freshly washed laundry bouncing around in the drier, one of your all time favourite friends on the way in, and a happily gurgling baby. Admitted, it would be even better with the Man, BUT I only have to wait a few more days, add a couple extra pieces of toast, and tell Jennah that she canNOT take another trip up here...til after we've had a few days by ourselves.

I'm not quite sure where this sudden bout of blogging is coming from, but isn't it fun while it lasts? I should probably quit writing and hanging out with Mohawk Baby (who hasn't figured out that if he's trying to talk, his paci will fall out) and go unload the dishwasher. I haven't even looked out the window and already it's a beautiful morning. As Littles and I sang last night (yes, together), "Morning by morning new mercies I see."

And my day just got better: an email from the Man in my inbox. I must be living right...