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.