Fancy France-y

Last week on Ramona's birthday was her much anticipated Pink Paris Party. Guests were scheduled to arrive at 1:30pm, so we spent most of the morning cleaning and transforming the main floor of our house into Paris. But when we weren't doing party prep, we did get a chance to just celebrate Ramona. Forest made some special #5 pancakes for breakfast.

And for lunch she ate mac and cheese off of a birthday plate designed by Teresa.

I would like to say Paula celebrated by wearing this adorable cupcake outfit (thank you Carol!), but in actuality I didn't get it on her until the following day. With all of the excitement on party day, I never got a chance to change her out of her pajamas.

 The last hour before party time, Ramona helped decorate cupcakes . . .

 . . . then took a whirlwind tour of Paris with Mika.

 

At 1:30, our tour groups entered the city, decorated their pink purses, and filled them with fake currency. 

Then the groups split up to spend their money around town. Ramona's group (the fleur-de-lis) started by contributing some artwork to the Louvre.

 

Next, they got some manicures at the Arc Nail Salon.

After getting their portraits done next to Notre Dame Cathedral . . . 

 . . . they made a stop at the pastry shop for some refreshment. It was also the rendezvous point for all three tour groups.

By the time each tourist had finished her chosen sweets, the cinema across the street had opened for a rare showing of "Anastasia." Ramona and her friends made it in just in time to see the last half hour, beginning with the Paris sequence.

Soon it was time for the girls to head to the airport and catch their return flights home. It was a lovely afternoon in Paris--especially for our birthday girl, who seemed to be walking on a cloud the entire remainder of the day. Mika seemed to have a good time, too, and for the most part dealt well with the fact that her birthday was not until August.

It may be safe to say that one of Ramona's favorite birthday gifts was the "Frozen" movie.

She literally jumped for joy when she opened it.

Of course we had to plan a family movie night for that evening. With popcorn. I loved hearing Ramona's voice sing along to all of the Frozen songs and seeing the contentment on her face as she watched. Five seems like such a magical age.

Dear Ramona,
    We're so blessed to have had you these past five years. You have grown to be such a thoughtful and inquisitive little girl, and you like to add your own splash of fun and imagination to both work and play. Thank you for all the care you give your sisters, and for taking the time to say, "You look beautiful, Mommy." Your sweet compliments always lift my mood in moments when I feel frazzled and sloppy. Most of all, thank you for your affectionate hugs and "I love you's."

We love you, too!

Four No More

On Ramona's last day as age four, she got to present a poster about herself in preschool.

 

It also happened to be the day of the preschool egg hunt at the park. I think Ramona felt like she was getting an early birthday party.

Mommy Brain

My hair is falling out--postpartum hair loss strikes again. I knew it was happening when Forest found a hair in his enchiladas the other day. He just sweetly set it to the side of his plate and didn't complain, but I saw the horrific evidence and realized it was time to take some kind of action to try and prevent further damage. I got 10 inches chopped off and donated in hopes of letting some of it go to better cause than just clogging up the shower drain (and gagging my family at mealtime).

I wonder if each strand of hair that departs from my head is somehow taking brain cells along with it--it seems like I have had some fairly severe cases of "Mommy Brain," lately.

My first experience with Mommy Brain occurred while I was pregnant with Ramona. We lived in a small one-bedroom apartment a few blocks from the old Lincoln Square Mall in Urbana. I often cut through the mall to walk to the bus stop, library, school district office, or doctor's appointments. (Amazing how much I could do without a car while we lived there). Anyhow, the point is that I was very familiar with this mostly-deserted mall and frequently used its facilities because something about walking + pregnancy really makes you feel like you have to go. One day as I came out of a bathroom stall, I noticed something different on the wall: urinals. (Thankfully, that was ALL I saw). Then realization hit that I had turned right instead of left, marching straight into a clearly-labeled men's restroom after correctly using the women's bathroom so many times previously. I felt confused and betrayed--how had my brain let me down on such a simple task as distinguishing between a men's and women's restroom?

In the past year, my Mommy Brain incidents have been more prevalent than ever before. While I was still pregnant with Paula, I dropped Ramona off at preschool and took Mika with me to run an errand. Afterward, without realizing it, I buckled her in her sister's car seat, (which was behind the driver's seat), and started the car to head home. At the stoplight, I turned to check on my little toddler, and felt my heart sink when I saw her empty car seat. "I left her at the store!" I thought, in a panic. Thankfully, there was just enough brain function remaining to help me calm down and realize that my two-year-old was in the car, just not in her usual seat. And that I had not left her at the store after all.

Since Paula joined our family,  my condition has noticeably worsened. There are days when the effort to be productive appears to result in more harm than good. For example, last week after posting our old printer on craigslist, I set up a time for someone to come and look at it. He was happy with it, paid me the asking price, and took it away. Just as I was patting myself on the back for getting things done, I realized I had left one of my music books under the scanner lid of the printer--and this music was worth more than I had made by selling the printer.

I ended up having to contact the buyer, who was kind enough to meet me at the local Staples store so I could get the music back. I loaded the kids in the van and headed out to retrieve the book (successfully), then decided to run an errand at Staples since we were already there. Again, I was over-confident in my ability to be productive--even though I completed the Staples errand, I forgot to load the stroller back into the van, so I had to drive back over to pick it up from the parking lot later (at least it was still there). I had to wonder if I would have been better off throwing the old printer in the garbage that day.

Despite such occurrences, perhaps it isn't fair to attribute so many of my mental shortcomings to the fact that I have children. Sure, motherhood can hurl a woman into a whole new world of distractedness and chaos, but it also can do her heart a whole lot of good. For me, having Ramona, Mika, and Paula in my life have helped increase my patience and compassion for others. They remind me every day how important it is to be kind, to be forgiving, and to enjoy the simple things in life.

I don't know if my lost brain capacity can ever be recovered, but I hope the lessons I learn will always stay in my mommy heart. And that my family continues to put up with me mixing up birthday parties, missing exits, and brushing my teeth with face wash.

Paulamontage

Ramona recently declared that she wished Paula would stay little forever. While I often share this sentiment, I also find great satisfaction in watching my little ones grow, gradually transforming into the people they were meant to become.

Paula, like most babies, has changed so much in her first first three months. I believe all of the veteran parents who tell me: "She'll be a teenager before you know it." The past few weeks have gone by so quickly that when people stop to ask me the frequently-asked-question: "How old is your baby?"--I realize that quite often I am not even sure. I had to sit down with a calendar to figure out exactly how old Paula was when each of these photos was taken.

Two weeks old:

3 weeks old:

Here she is trying out one of her first voluntary smiles:

4 weeks old:

5 weeks old:

6 weeks old:

 7 weeks old:

8 weeks old:

9 weeks old:

10 weeks old:

(At some point in here she rolled over for the first time, belly to back.)

11 weeks old:

 12 weeks old:

13 weeks old:

 

I know she won't always be a doll-sized bundle, but she will probably still keep her nickname "Paula Doll," no matter how big she gets. And we will likely continue to sing this little song to her, too (whether she appreciates it or not):

Baby Paula's song, sung to the tune of "This Old Man:"

Paula Doll, Paula Doll
She is not quite two feet tall
With a fuzzy head and a tiny little nose
She is pretty as a rose.

I like it best when Ramona and Mika sing it to her. We love you, Paula Doll!