How cheap am I?

Fairly cheap, it turns out.

Google informs me that I'm out of memory on this blog and it's going to cost me $40 a year to keep it going. I've been trying to decide just how cheap I am, and I've decided I'm just that cheap.

So, please, come on over to the new blog: http://haywardupton.blogspot.com/.  For now, it's titled "Frances Elliott and..." because we don't know this new baby's name.

Thanks for tagging along!

We miss you, Juan and Santos

When we lived in lovely, lovely Cambridge, in our semi-lovely rented apartment, we had two lovely, lovely men, named Juan and Santos, who took care of all our not-so-lovely problems, like cockroaches, mice, snow and fallen leaves.

Now, cast out of Eden (although, an Eden with cockroaches, mice, snow and fallen leaves), we have to fend for ourselves.  The leaves were getting mighty thick in the car park, so Santosita got out her broom and helped tame them.

It's a little hard to tell from this picture, but Santosita never grasped the concept of raking the leaves together, rather than spreading them around. 

The job got done, nevertheless, and the car park looked great, for about a week, when the process needed to be repeated, which is when Mark got sent in.  "Good, ol' Daddy," as Frances has started saying.

Keene Pumpkin Festival

One cranberry festival down, one pumpkin festival to go!

As I mentioned in the previous post,  I found out about a pumpkin festival in Keene, NH.  I'm all for pumpkins, maple-flavored cotton candy and little road trips, so we headed off.  Keene turned out to be lovely and its residents are very enthusiastic about their festival.  Here's Frances soon after our arrival and the pumpkin we brought to contribute to their pumpkin total.

She's actually in most of her Halloween costume in the picture above.  I decided she was going as a racer this year, because she loves to run so much.  Those are racing shoes and racing shorts she's got on, but when the time came she wouldn't wear her racing bib or her racing headband, so it's possible no one could tell what she was supposed to be.  Oh, well.  

Here's Keene's Pyramid of Pumpkins.  All of Main Street was lined with 'em.  Impressive.

Unfortunately, though we registered Frances's pumpkin toward their grand total, we couldn't actually get Frances to leave her pumpkin there. It rode right home with us.  Hopefully, they broke last year's record by more than one pumpkin.  Double "Oh, well."

Frances is learning quick.  As soon as she realized she was at a festival, she started asking to get her face painted.  Luckily, some high schoolers were willing to oblige for one buck.  My kind of face paint.  Frances chose to be a kitty.

Then we looked at a lot of pumpkins, contemplated a lot of greasy food and failed to find maple-flavored cotton candy.  Triple "Oh, well."  Frances chatted for the entire two hour drive home when I'd planned on her napping.  Quadruple "Oh, well."

Pumpkins, pumpkins

I was all excited to visit the Pumpkin Festival in Keene, NH, mostly because its website claimed that maple-flavored cotton candy would be available.  Maple-flavored cotton candy seemed like a good thing.  Visitors to the festival are encouraged to bring jack-o-lanterns to break some jack-o-lantern collection record.  Happy to oblige!  So I had Mark carve a pumpkin.

Cutting off the top:

Taking out the innards:

Stirring the innards, just for good measure:

And the finished product:

Frances was very pleased with her pumpkin.

Then we finished up the night with a ballet show, because that's what we do around here, often.

I think I'm about 23 weeks pregnant here, and Frances is in half her Halloween costume.  Can you tell what she is?

Hiding

Frances likes to hide - a lot.  She especially likes to hide with her dad and then yell, "Mama, come find us!"  I then pretend to be mystified about where they might be.  But, really, I'm not so mystified.  For one thing, there's the yelling.  For another thing, Mark is six foot six inches (have I mentioned this before?) and this is what it looks like when he hides:

Can you spot them?

Thirty-Five Months of Preschooler Frances

On Frances's thirty-five months birthday, we attended the Hindu blessing of my friends' daughter.  Frances loved it.  She got to take her shoes off and ramble around in "church," as she described it.  She got to sprinkle somethingorother into a burning somethingorother.

And she got a "decoration."  She was very pleased with the "decoration."

She also got to run around with some older and very generous children and eat Indian rice, which she likes, it turns out.  She was one happy camper.

The month as a whole has been easier - many more smiles, much less obstreperousness.

Thirty-Five Months Fun Facts

• Firsts: Frances had her first night without mom or dad!  She stayed with Mimi and Sir in Maine while Mark and I had our first non-parenting night together in almost three years.  Everyone survived.  Frances did end up sleeping with Mimi and Sir, something she almost never gets away with at home, but no one even complained about that much.  It does make us wish the grandparents lived closer, but I don't see that changing any time soon.
• Frances-isms: "Stick-lip" for lipstick and "mishmallows" for marshmallows.
• Things I never thought I'd say before having a two year-old: "No, don't lick the bottom of your shoe." Except that I didn't bother saying it.  I just watched her lick the bottom of her shoe and said nothing.  I must have been very tired that day.
• New skill: Frances can put shirts on by herself now.  She even did it while having a fit in timeout the other day!  Very impressive.  She still hasn't figured out how to get long-sleeved shirts off, but she's getting there.
• Favorite reads:  Owl Moon by Jane Yolen and The Perfect Pumpkin Pie by Denys Cazet have been requested more than once.  I've also introduced Ox-Cart Man by Donald Hall, a book I loved as a child.  Frances hasn't fallen in love with it yet, but she tolerates it and I have high hopes.

That about sums it up.  Next update will be her Third Birthday!  Last year, she didn't understand birthdays at all.  This year she is rarin' to go.

Just for Beka

When my good friend Beka saw the last post, the one where I announced I would be bringing new life into the world, she called me up to complain that she only looks at the blog for cute stories about Frances or, at the very least, ultrasound pictures that reveal the coming kid's gender, so she could start knitting appropriately colored booties, sweaters, tunics, what-have-you.  

Beka, this is for you - neither cute stories about Frances nor gender-revealing ultrasound pictures.  Just buckle up and stop whining.

This first ultrasound picture is from about nine weeks.  My midwife had mercy on me and sent me for an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy.

Cutest gummi bear you ever saw, right?  Must admit I cried a bit when I saw this, I just did not believe I had a viable pregnancy going on.

I believe these next ones are from 19 weeks.  (I know the ultrasounds are dated and I could figure this out precisely, but I can't be bothered, and the point of this post is to bother Beka and she won't care about precise dates anyway.)  Going clockwise from the top left, we've got a left hand, nose and lips, and then two of profiles.

It's hard to tell from this, but the baby's lips are beautiful, just like Frances's.  That's why we think it's a girl.

Alright, one cute story about Frances:  She's started telling almost anyone that will listen that first her birthday is coming and then a baby.  If she is traumatized out of her mind, she's hiding it well.

Keeping up with the Duggars...

...if the Duggars had stopped about 20 kids ago, which is my way of saying that the next Upton is on the way.

Here's the kiddo at about 12 weeks.

Just a tad eerie, no?

I'm due in the middle of February.  It has been a very easy pregnancy so far.  I didn't even believe I was pregnant until it was confirmed with an ultrasound at nine weeks.  My midwife discovered I was anemic, so I've been taking about 300% of the daily recommended allowance of iron and I actually have more energy than before I got pregnant.  Some days I don't even want to nap.  My midwife is trying to avoid some of the complications of Frances's delivery (abruption, anemia, a low platelete count, blah, blah) so she's sent me to visit with a Maternal Fetal Medicine doctor, who also recommended a couple supplements and some non-stress tests toward the end of the pregnancy.  Now I'm taking about nine pills a day and will be visiting the hospital quite a bit toward the end for the tests, but that is so preferable to early labor, anemia, etc. that I don't mind a bit.

We aren't going to find out the sex, so don't ask.  Frances is pretty sure she's having a baby sister, and we suspect she's right.  We think Frances is handling the news with grace.  The first time we mentioned the baby to her, she just wanted to know where it was going to sleep.  Then she went through a spell of wanting us to read Julie Vivas's The Nativity to her over and over, but she's done that before.

I definitely have moments of panic - how am I going to handle a tantrumming Frances and a hungry new born while Mark is at work? - but I know we'll survive and I can't wait to see what this next kiddo is going to be like.

We are at a complete loss for a name.  Suggestions appreciated.

Wareham Cranberry Festival

Last weekend was the Wareham Cranberry Festival.  As Southern transplants who've never experienced a cranberry festival, we figured we better check it out.  The festival was great, full of free rides for the kids and extensive arts and crafts displays for the adults.

Here's how Frances started the day, minus the ladybug on her right temple:

And here's how she ended up:

She was sooo pleased with herself.  After getting Frances all dolled up, we headed out to the actual cranberry bogs.  We learned there is wet picking and dry picking.  This would be the wet picking.

The berries are floated, sucked up in a tube and separated from debris on this conveyor belt.

The pickers can clear about 60 acres a day.

Frances was under the impression that we would be doing the picking ourselves.  She was somewhat underwhelmed by watching others do the picking, but Mark and I were in awe.  The colors of the berries and the scale of the project were mighty impressive.  Frances was pleased to find these stairs to nowhere.

Then we ate some apple cider doughnuts, because we could, and headed for home, some worn out but happy campers.  Frances was asleep within three minutes of getting back in the car.  When we asked her about her favorite part of the day, she said she liked the school buses we took to get from the parking lot to the festival and then to the cranberry bogs.  We had guessed as much.  Not exactly the point of the festival, but as long as she enjoyed herself!

Happy Autumnal Equinox!

(I just love saying "autumnal" and "equinox."  "Autumnal" sounds like something Tigger would make up if he were trying to be fancy and the Latin of "equinox" is just great.)

The Autumnal Equinox seemed like a great excuse to go apple picking, so we headed out to Tougas Farm in Northborough, MA.  I had a great time; I think we all did.  

Those Tougas Farm people are no dummies.  Almost as soon as you step onto the farm, they sell you an apple cider doughnut or three, which was fine by us.  Look at this joy! 

Last year, Frances would eat about two bites of an apple cider doughnut.  Sacrilege!  This year, she ate all but two bites.  The kid's learning.

Then those Tougas Farm people give you a hay ride to the apples.  Frances Elliott loves her some hay rides, and picking apples wasn't too bad either.

Here she is inspecting her plunder:

Then those Tougas Farm people provide a hay bale for some photo ops.  They really know what they're doing.  Frances begged to get up on the hay bale and then practiced her flying, while staying seated.

To leave the apple picking area, Tougas Farm guests must walk past the pumpkins.  So, guess what?  We bought a pumpkin.  Frances insisted on buying the smallest one she could find.  We didn't understand her choice, but we certainly didn't fight it either.

Then Frances had her first caramel-covered apple, but we didn't get a photo of that because we were too busy eating our own lunch.

Really fun day.  I think days like this make the cooler weather worth it.  Mark would shiver and disagree.  So far we've made apple sauce and an apple pie with our apples.  I think an apple galette is next up.  Yum.

Meeting Lena

My parents, because they are insane, have recently acquired two new dogs.  Just what every almost-retired couple needs.  The bigger, calmer, quieter of the two dogs is an Anatolian shepherd named Lena.  Frances wasn't at all sure about Lena when we arrived in Maine.  Frances spent most of her time sitting on the kitchen counter trying to avoid the dogs.  But she did have moments when she warmed up to Lena, like so:

The smaller, wilder, louder dog is a Portuguese Water Dog named Marta, also lovingly referred to as "Heathen."  I'm guessing she was locked up somewhere while these photos were being taken, otherwise Frances would have retreated to the kitchen counter.  Frances got pretty good at saying, "Buzz off, Heathen."  I was tempted to teach her "Get behind me, Satan," but "Buzz off, Heathen" was probably just as effective and satisfying, as in not at all effective and totally satisfying.

We took many other photos of Frances in Maine, doing Maine-type stuff like steering the sail boat and frolicking on the beach naked while her mother shuttered in a turtle neck, but those photos are not to be found.  Perhaps our camera's memory chip gave out?  Oh, well.  We'll just have to take those photos again next year, and every year after that.

Mt. Desert Rock, or "Our Triumph"

I normally stick to all things Frances on this blog, but when I asked Mark if I should include our sail to Mt. Desert Rock, he replied, "Of course!  It's our triumph!"  So here's our triumph.

My dad, affectionately known as "Sir" of late, got a bee in his bonnet to sail to Mt. Desert Rock.  Mt. Desert Rock is, shockingly, a rock off the coast of Mt. Desert Island.  So Mark and I signed on, once again abandoning Frances to Mimi's care so we could go sailing.  The three of us headed out at about 7:30 a.m.  Around 11 a.m., we arrived at Mt. Desert Rock, like so: 

"Inhospitable" sums it up well.  The surf was so rough, you wouldn't land there unless getting on shore was more important to you than ever sailing your boat again.  And even from a great distance, the place reeked of dead fish.  Maybe because of all the seals hanging around?  I had fun imagining what a bachelor lighthouse keeper would say to a potential wife to lure her in.  Something like "It's only bone-chillingly cold nine months of the year!  And you'll never have to weed or worry about pesky trick-or-treaters."

So, why a triumph?  Well, Sir didn't fall off the boat, despite challenging seas.  Mark wasn't too seasick and I wasn't seasick for long.  We didn't see the whales we were hoping for, but now we can say we've seen Mt. Desert Rock.  Jealous, aren't you?

Good Ol' Beech Mountain

A lot of this vacation was spent walking Mimi and Sir's latest canine acquisitions, which was great because it got us up and moving on a very regular basis.  One afternoon, we scampered up Beech Mountain.  Keeping the group together proved a little difficult, what with a two year-old doing her dawdling two year-old thing.  Mark carried her most of the way and Frances didn't even complain.  Here's Mark and Frances on the trail. I think she's going to be a tall girl.

One Morning in Maine

I had this lovely idea: I would take a picture of Frances every hour, on the hour, for a day in Maine.  It would be a nice introduction to life in Sawyer's Cove for all you future visitors.  It might even make a nice book.  

Let's examine the results of this little project.

6:30-ish a.m. - I know I said I'd do it every hour, on the hour, but she wasn't awake on the hour, so there you go.  Here's Frances, waiting for breakfast and avoiding Mimi and Sir's new, enthusiastic dogs by sitting on the counter.

7:30-ish - It doesn't appear we've made much progress, but notice that Frances is dressed.  Mimi will be soon, I'm sure.

8:30-ish - Mark, being a trooper, took Frances outside while the rest of us got organized.  The two of them found a fascinating caterpillar.  It's hard to tell from this photo, but the caterpillar had great spikes.  We thought it was a real find.  It became less exciting as we found more and more identical caterpillars, but at 8:30-ish in the morning it was pretty good.   

9:30-ish - Forgot to take the camera to the grocery store with us.

10:30-ish - I did take a photo of Frances getting into the car at the grocery store, but it was a very awkward photo, so we're going to skip it.

11:30-ish - Frances eats a nutritious lunch of mini pepperoni and apples, emphasis on the pepperoni. 

12:30-ish - Frances takes a nap.  No photo.

1:30-ish - Mark and I abandon Frances and this project so we can go sailing.  End of project.

So there you have it!  Instead of A Day in Maine, you get One Morning in Maine, and it's not very tempting, I know.  I promise any potential visitors that we try harder when we've got guests.  You will not be dragged to the grocery store, for instance.

I think I'll try this project again when all the cousins are in Maine.  Surely someone will be doing something photogenic every hour, on the hour.  Surely.

You know you're in Maine when...

...there's a giant fiberglass moose at the rest stop.

(Maybe they've got them in Canada, too.  Wait a minute while I ask Mark...Yes, apparently, they have giant fiberglass moose at rest stops in Canada, too, but Maine is cold enough for me, so we'll stick with that.  Back to the official post.)

We made the trek back up to Maine, this time with Mark included.  Much of the familiar antics ensued.  Pictures to follow, with highlights like "One Morning in Maine" and "How to raise a WASP."  Stay tuned.

Thirty-Four Months of Preschooler Frances

Mark won't be pleased with my picture choice, but here's preschooler Frances at thirty-four months, helping her dad polish his shoes...on our bed.  I'd say we're even.

Scrub away, dear Frances!

This month overall has been much better than last for all of us.  The low moment was very low, but it allowed me to use skills I learned while working at a residential treatment facility for teens with emotional and behavioral disorders, so there's a plus! Sadly, I think things are getting easier because we are giving up on our old normal ever coming back to us, but at least that frees us up to find a new normal, whatever that may be.

Thirty-Four Month Fun Facts

• Frances-isms: "On your markers, get set, go!"  "I want carry you" means "Pick me up." Flamingos are "mangoes." When asked, "Frances what does it smell/taste/feel like?"  the answer is always "Play-dough." The letter L is not her friend, but it means we get "yook" for "look," and "I yove you" for "I love you."  I'll take it.
• Food Wars:  A solid two-thirds of Frances's meals this month have consisted of ice cream and "crunchy noodles," what the rest of us call raw Ramen noodles.  Early on, I decided not to fight it.  I followed the mom's example in Bread and Jam for Frances: feed the kid what they want until they're sick of it.  The strategy worked reasonably well.  Towards the end of the month, Frances stopped asking for ice cream and crunchy noodles and hasn't looked back since.  On the other hand, the other day I was eating a turkey sandwich with mayonnaise, Dijon, lettuce, pickles, tomatoes and pickled banana peppers (I take my sandwiches seriously), and Frances not only took a bite, she kept coming back for more.  It was glorious.
• Things I never thought I'd say on the T before having a two year-old: "No, don't lick the window."
• Favorite reads: Bye-Bye, Big Bad Bully Bug, by Ed Emberley: it's about an alien bug bothering little Earthling bugs and it scares Frances silly, but she loves it.  Bink and Gollie, by Kate DiCamillo and Alison McGhee, about a tall, tidy girl who lives in a modern home at the top of a tree and a short, messy girl who lives in a cottage at the bottom of the tree.  They're best friends.  It's possible I love this one more than Frances does, but I want to remember it forever, so it's going on the blog.
• New skill: Frances can now open doors for herself.  This, of course, is a tragedy.  We were hoping she wouldn't develop this talent until sometime around leaving for college.  Time outs have gotten more interesting.  There have been a few very early morning visits from dear heart.  And I'm sure my visiting cousins didn't mind that I was showering with the door open, after a little help from our friend.

We really will be at three years before we know it.  Get out your party hats!

Come, Labor On

(The title is for you, Josh, in case that isn't clear.)

When we have free time, we like to pick a town almost at random, visit chosen town, wander, eat lunch, shop a tiny bit and head for home.  We always intend to include an activity that will earn us Immortal Soul Points.  We never do.  This Labor Day, the chosen town was Portsmouth, New Hampshire, which turned out to be perfect for our purposes.  Frances hadn't read the weather report (cold), so she chose this lovely flamenco dress (we have three such dresses, should you be in need).

After lunch and wandering, we found ourselves in a park where Frances put on a ballet show for us.  Our definition of "ballet" is fairly loose.

Then we took ourselves to some nearby outlet malls.  Unfortunately, the rest of humanity had the same idea, but at least Frances had some new and appropriate shoes to start the school year on Tuesday.  One cannot "Come, Labor On" in inappropriate shoes, for heaven's sake.

Out and About

In my last post, I talked about Frances being an urban girl, more comfortable on the T than on a tractor, but we do try to get out when we can.  We live in a pretty good area for it.   A sampling of our rambling follows.

A couple Fridays ago, Frances and I took ourselves to the Garden in the Woods, in North Framingham, MA.  Another Free Friday activity!  This is how they describe their project: "New England Wild Flower Society's Garden in the Woods offers an unequalled educational experience regarding native New England flora, including over 100 rare and endangered species."  

Frances just thought it was a great place to dance.

Then, realizing that the season is almost over, we headed out to Ward's Berry Farm for some blueberry picking.  Mom picked, Frances threw stones and Dad took photos.

Finally, we headed to Drumlin Farm, a wildlife sanctuary where guests can "experience life on a working New England farm."  The day of our visit, the kids were invited to build fairy homes.  I'm not sure what that's got to do with experiencing life on a working New England farm, unless they grow fairies on New England farms, but Mark and Frances were fans.  Frances's fairy home may have resembled a pile of  bark, but I'm sure some previously homeless fairy family out there was thankful.

After the fairy home construction, Frances got the hay ride she'd been begging for.  She was a happy camper.

"Smile for the camera, dad!"

We finished the day working on our tractor-driving skills.  Maybe Frances won't be so out of place on a tractor after all.