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Magoo and I were reading through his favorite nocturnal animal fact book, Night Creatures, for the eleventy-billionth time tonight when I noticed that one of the bats sucks his fingers.

“Hey Magoo. Look how the bat sucks its fingers. It looks just like Wanda.”

He looked at the picture and then at Wanda.

After thinking about it as hard as a little melon-headed 4-year-old could, Magoo answered, “Nope. It doesn’t look like Wanda. Wanda doesn’t have ONE OF THOSE!” He then pointed to the bat’s prominent manhood.

Other than gender, they are identical.

The tree’s body lay on the living room floor for about 24 hours before I performed some drastic surgery with a cordless drill and some photo-hanging wire, restoring just enough of its health to prolong its life through the Christmas season.

While the tree was getting better, Wanda and I were getting worse.

My throat hurts. I have an earache. Wanda is coughing and sputtering like a hoopty old car with a hairball. Her nose is full of fluids and so is her eardrum. She has her first ear infection. So, at less than three months of age, she’s starting her first round of antibiotics. Yippee!

I’ll tell you this though, she’s the jolliest little sick person I’ve ever known. She will cough, sputter, splurk and sneeze and then look up at me with her little red eyes and grin. Makes my whining seem a little pathetic. My nose isn’t even running. I just don’t feel good. It’s kind of sad when you have to look at your infant for advice on coping skills.

Dan’s been fighting a sinus infection for weeks.

Magoo’s got an on-again/off-again relationship with a nasty cough and a fat boogie nose.

I’m fighting a sore throat.

Wanda’s rocking her cold and ear infection.

Laylee is the last man standing. I’m just waiting for her to come down with a mild case of the ebola virus.

Magoo loves his new book, Night Creatures, a Scholastic book order pick that teaches about all things nocturnal. With its help, he’s busily categorizing everyone and everything as either nocturnal or diurnal. Charles Ingalls from LHOTP is like a night creature because he sometimes works all day and then sleeps in late on Sundays so he’s unable to make it to church.

He told me that I’m nocturnal as well. “You’re nocturnal b’guzzz you get up in the night and FEEED the baby.” Somehow “feed” came across as something very creepy and vampire-like.

He’s blown away by the radness that is breastfeeding. He wants to watch. He wants to help.

So Mr. Personality was watching me pump milk for Wanda the other day, Wanda the blessed saint of taking a bottle perfectly on demand but taking the breast on demand as well, when he noticed that one breast was not producing as well as the other.

“Umm… Mom. That one doesn’t do very much milk from it.”

Then with a look that showed he suddenly realized that what he’d said might be offensive to my left breast, he backpedaled by adding, “But you’re, well, you’re kind of like the best mom ever.”

He is completely enamored with the breast pump.

“Do you know why it’s so cool mom? It’s so cool because it’s like a machine… IN A BAG!”

Yes. It’s exactly like that.

The day before Thanksgiving, Magoo was going on and on about what he’d get in his basket the next day. “I hope I get the same stuff as last year, chocolate, a rubber snake, lots of candy.”

“I think you’re talking about Easter. Thanksgiving doesn’t have any presents. We just eat turkey and are thankful for stuff.”

“Oh. Well, can I have the turkey leg then?”

“We don’t usually eat a whole turkey leg. We just slice it up and eat the slices.”

“Then what do we do with its big brown head?”

“We (“we” meaning the farmers and turkey hunters who sell their products to the grocery store) cut off its head, pluck its feathers and cook just the body.”

“Eeewwww! That sounds really gross… But I like it.”

Love the lip-biting, love the science class scene, love that it’s an “accident.”

So there I was, writing a note to my alter-ego, excusing my daughter from the possibly harmful effects of my own parental choices. [read more at Parenting.com]

Today Dan went back to work but we all survived.

He left for work while I was still sleeping and I was sad that he didn’t say goodbye, but he called shortly after I woke up to tell me he loved me.

I got Laylee to school on time but forgot to put in her hearing aids and told her to buy lunch instead of me making it.

My baby cried a lot but when I do this:

Sometimes she does this:

The sun shone in Seattle so I took Magoo outside to play but we came back in too quickly because the baby was cold.

I made dinner for my dinner co-op but I had to ask Erin to bring me some ingredients that I’d forgotten so I wouldn’t have to wake up Wanda to go to the store.

I survived all day but I did need to call on Stephanie for help getting Laylee from the bus stop after my hip seized up and I had to lie on the couch for an hour with pain killers and a heating pad.

Laylee and Magoo were definitely in sugar withdrawals today but they never completely melted down and they even helped a ton with the wee bairn.

I voted in the election but I didn’t get my vote in until 15 minutes before the “polls” closed.

We now all use absentee ballots instead of “polls” in Washington State but there was still a sense of civic camaraderie as the hordes of procrastinators met at the library to stuff their envelopes into one of the few vote boxes scattered around the county.

It was a rough day and I couldn’t have made it through without the help of my friends and the encouragement of my family but as I drove home tonight with my music blasting and the stars shining I was happy with no buts.

I think I can do this.

Some might call it narcissism but I like to think of it as a healthy dose of self esteem. Our baby is in love with herself. Here she is at her one-month checkup. She screamed in the lobby and again after the appointment but the entire time she was near that mirror, she was absolutely enthralled with her own reflection. She already knows how cute she is. She is her own best friend.

Wanda cries more than my other babies did. She seems to have a sore tummy a lot and she squinches up her little face, pulls in her legs and cries. We’ve tried the Mylicon drops and this weekend I took her to a craniosacral therapist who worked on her and taught me some digestive massage techniques I can use at home.

She just has trouble pooping and digesting without pain. Her pediatrician looked at the great fatness she’s become and said he’s not worried about the fussiness since she’s thriving so well. That’s code for, “Dude. Look how fat she is. If she were really sick, would she be this squidgeable?” Indeed. Dan has nicknamed her McSquidgems and although I say she cries frequently, it’s not entirely true. She cries frequently if she’s not being held at all times and so we pretty much hold her unless she’s sleeping and sometimes even then.

We’re not sure if we’ll have any more kids and I’ve decided that there are far worse things I could do with the next year of my life than spend it holding this little person. She seems to agree. I think she’d hold herself if she could but I’m the next best thing.

I already tweeted this and put it on Facebook but I really think it needs to go on the blog. Dan is a lover of Call of Duty and I am a lover of how well he fulfills his ultimate call of duty as a dad. This picture combining the two is priceless to me. I love how his big fat gamer headphones are practically as big as the baby in his pouch.

I’ve only had 2 daughters for a couple of weeks but I’m already comparing them to each other. I need to remember to look at them as individual young ladies with their own gifts and talents but it’s so hard not to compare.

The main problem I’m having is that Wanda is pathetically incapable of belching. We have to work so hard to get her to do even the smallest burp. Laylee on the other hand could belch all day long if she wanted to and sometimes does.

In the past I’ve pleaded with her to stop this but now that we’re trying to keep Wanda’s tummy troubles under control, belching has become a primo skill to be coveted and respected. Maybe Laylee could take some time and do a little tutorial for her when she gets home from school.

Today I went to the pool and tried to Michael Phelps the baby out but she didn’t fall for it. 30 minutes of hardcore lap swimming left me tired and did manage to cause one contraction but I hardly think I can justify driving to the hospital and telling them I’m in labor based on just the one.

Magoo started preschool. So cute, so proud, I tell you. He clutched his little backpack straps and was all business as he went in and came out of the school. Normally when he goes to a play date or his little church class, I cannot drag any details out of him. Today he was all about the details, what they did, what they ate, what playground equipment they have, which kid misbehaved. He is BURSTING with excitement.

Or course it’s no surprise that Laylee’s SO happy to be back in school.

I’m thinking of Tweeting updates when I go into labor, whether I go on my own or get induced. It’s mostly for my family. I think the majority of people living on the interwebs do not care about every single living detail of my birth process but my family will appreciate the updates and if you care to find out, you can hit refresh on my site and watch under Twitter Updates or you can go to my twitter feed at Twitter.com/KathrynDaring. It’s very likely that the updates will be – “Headed to the hospital” and then I’ll forget to post anything from my phone and then “Had the baby two days ago. Must sleep.” But that’s something, right?

For now, I’m livin’ large with Dan and the peeps and waiting for Wanda to get squished out.