Not man kids can bend to 180 degrees.

This was even more impressive in person. It was absurdly cute, she was just poking at the capri-sun bag (pouch? Sack?) and was tired, so she put her head down. Adorable.

Another diagnosis bites the dust. Sort of. The syndrome du jour upon which Abby's geneticist has lately pounced upon is something called Opitz. If you want to read about it, here's the rather brief wikipedia entry:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smith-Lemli-Opitz_syndrome

Let me just say what a joy it is to latch onto a new possible syndrome every couple months and have the chance to read all the horrible things it can cause. In this case, it was all for naught, since the test came back negative last week. This means little, though, since the test can very possibly not detect the syndrome but she can still have it. In brief, if it was positive, we'd know; since it was negative, we can be moderately certain that we certainly know nothing. Make sense? Great.

They want to see her again, of course, because that's what doctors do. They see you, usually get it wrong, then they see you again. Or, in Abby's case, they see you 9 times again.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that we get an average of 10 of Medica's incredibly worthless "This is not a bill" notifications per week.

This is not a subject that's really on my mind much, I just wanted to say that we've effectively ruled out yet another syndrome. Hoo-ray Abby! I think we can only know that, if she does truly have something (which is brutally likely), we can take heart in knowing that it's got to be pretty mild.

This morning, it was delightful to bring the girls downstairs and watch them react to Jen's cousin Zach sleeping on our living room floor. (he was on a futon mattress, we're not trolls you know) They were quite stunned. I think they warmed up to him and his friend Mary with whom he was bouncing around the US looking for a PhD school.

The day was nice. Our trot around powderhorn park with them on our backs was enormously sweaty. In the afternoon, we went to a birthday party for Ruby and Henry Downing and they sprung for some very high quality cake, which was awesome of them. I had a very dad moment while swinging Lily in the playground. I was there with two other guys, about my age, all swinging kids about Lily's age. As we chatted idly, I felt so suddenly Dad-like. Daddish. Dadesque. I can't say that it was much more interesting than that, it was just a strong and sudden feeling of self-appraisal.

I have about a thousand kid stories, and I am desperate to put them down here. Unfortunately, it's 11:30, so it's off to bed with this Dad.

Day two hundred and nine.

There was a parachute at the party today. Big hit with Abs.

Lily of the valley.

That cake was stellar. The girl was nice too.

A terrible non-post.

I gave the girls their very own bowls of cottage cheese to eat as best they could. Abby dove in with joy.

Lily was more reserved, but she's getting some skill with the spoon. Despite this picture, where she's eating with her hand.

I have to keep this short, since Jen's cousin Zach is stopping for a visit. Since he's sleeping on our living room floor, and I'm in that room right now and it's 11 and he's tired, I'm just going to do some photos. I'll pick up the slack tomorrow.

Day two hundred and eight.

Rowdy the green donkey gets a nice workout.

Lily on Rowdy. Jen supervises.

Crank-o-Lily

My heart is cloven in two. One half feels achingly bad for this face. The other half remembers the hour and a half of non-stop misery that came with that face.

I'll be writing this post in second person. Adjust your eyes accordingly.

Lily, you were a monumental handful of crabbiness today. From the very moment I picked you up at daycare, you were un-winnable. During the walk to the car, the ride home, walking inside, heading out into the backyard, you wallpapered every moment with unceasing cries. You were so worked up; I asked why, but you just couldn't muster the words, which was no surprise. The tears came fast, and you cried so hard you choked a few times.

I sang myself hoarse. I danced a jig while you ate. I let you pick some flowers from the garden. These all managed to sooth you, but for only the most fleeting of moments.

I have to be honest, I'm not a fan of the lie down move you use when at the apex of unbearability. You do this most frequently when we try to coax you in a certain direction, and you won't budge, and we grab you by the hand, and then it's over. You melt to the ground, where you proclaim your displeasure to the nearest 9 square blocks. This move does not endear yourself to me, though a small part of me wonders if I'm not just jealous, wishing I could collapse to the floor when things aren't going my way at work. Maybe I'll try that the next time I become exhausted and sickened by the sight of the DC9.

Despite all this, when I first saw that picture above, I choked on a laugh and felt the sharp suspicion that the whole day was in fact my fault. Surely I just didn't understand you. I'll try better tomorrow.

As for you, Abs, I have no specific comment on the day. You were charmingly fantastic one moment, suddenly crabby the next; this is how you operate on a normal day. I do apologize for hitting your head when I was trying to take your pants off. It didn't top the head-hit-o-meter scale, but just in case you remember it in 10 or 20 years, I'm sorry. And for future reference, please don't fight me when I take you out of your high chair and remove your pants; I want to give you the avocado ASAP, too, but that dastardly vegetable stains clothes like a champ, so the pants had to go.

As long as I'm talking directly to you, let me also say this: relax. I know you want the nilla wafer/milk/sippy cup/mac and cheese/peas/yogurt/whatever, but I'm not (impressive though I might be in your eyes) a wizard; I cannot make it appear magically in zero seconds. I have to go to the kitchen to fetch it at the least, and at worst actually do a bit of prep. Relax. It's coming. Use the time to practice pronouncing "bee-bo".

Day two hundred and seven.

A rare moment of serenity tonight.

How that cat restrained himself from biting her, I have no idea.

Lily, alone with thoughts.

Never end a visit to Target with toddlers. Stay until the bitter end.

Noseeum bite. The noseeum that did this to me remains at large. If it looks a bit strange, that's because it's been slathered in calamine lotion.

How something so small can create such unhappiness for me is a mystery of nature.

I'm scratching it right now, actually. It is the bane of my current existence.

It's 10:30. I can think of nothing to write, and I have no clear indication that this situation will rectify itself.

Why not just say the most embarrassing thing about my day? Okay! Tonight, around 8:30, we finally sat down to dinner for a total of about 13 non-school/work/kid related minutes. Choosing not to strain ourselves with conversation, we turned on the tv and ate in silence while watching the end of Police Academy 2 on WGN.

Whew.

That was cathartic. The future of this blog might hold in store many more confessions.

Tonight, we headed to Target with the girls to buy a fourth and final car seat in order to make both our cars twin-conveyable. They love going to Target, what with their endless linoleum and maze of clothing racks. It's fun for all, especially for us chasing Lily around the place. She is scared of nothing and, if left to her own devices, would likely run straight out the door, hop over the MSP airport boundary fence, and dance like a moron right on the centerline of runway 35/17.

Abby eagerly took her newfound walkability to task. After quite a few falls on the linoleum, I picked her up and loosed her upon the carpeted clothing section, thinking the falls would be slightly easier to take there. She promptly walked in a semicircle and headed right back into the hallway. Thrillseaker.

The fun had to end, of course, and with it so ended their good humor and magnanimousness. It was an exit rife with tantrums. Like I've said before: the ends of things are forces to be reckoned with.

Day two hundred and six.

She always smiles when she sees the autofocus light, which makes for a good subject.

Lily has a nasty habit of climbing on and sitting on the coffee table. I want to curb this, but it's really cute. Maybe I should be happy to see her take an interest in seeking out different vantage points in life?

I'm going back to daycare, daycare, daycare...

I'm pretty exhausted today. My inclination is to just bow out of this entry and do what every good parent does after a long day: curl up by the window and think of nothing. However, since it was such a banner day, I'm going to shelve my needs so I can pump out quality content to all 14 of my regular readers.

Here's the day's recapitulation, in bulleted stream of consciousness style:

- Day care drop off went smoothly, up to and including the point where I saw Lily jam her face one inch from a boy and smile at him like a lovesick teenager. Blurg.
- The other kids at daycare were calmly sitting on the floor eating dry cereal from bowls when we arrived. Lily and Abby got theirs and dumped them all over the floor.
- Work was long, thanks primarily to a spate of noseeum bites that I suffered over the weekend. I don't know if I've never been around noseeums or just recently became allergic, but they make a really good case for clawing my skin off.
- Picking the girls up was a high point in the day. "Scccrreeeeaaaaachhh!" said Lily when she saw me.
- I'm not sure what sort of mental stimulation happened at day care, but the girls both seemed a lot more engaging on the ride back and at home.
- On the downside, the day wore them to the bone, and they were obnoxiously fidgety, tired, and whiny before bedtime.
- I noticed today that Lily is starting to get really bossy towards the pets, and sustained a rightly-deserved bite from the cat. She cried. She went right back after him. Should I be proud of her persistence?
- Abby is walking all over the place now, but she doesn't really look at the ground, and has had some spectacular trips and/or falls.

That's the meat of it all. I'm going to go switch off now.

Day two hundred and five.

Swingmonkey.

Mommyfeet.

Reflectomorons.

Slideycrotch.

Back to life, so to speak

Oh, the days I would pass in junior high dreaming of hosing down naked girls.

I spent 5 plus hours driving today. All other moments of the day were spent in a dizzying frenzy of girl chasing hootenanny. Is this the first time I've used the word "hootenanny" in the blog? Tarnation, that's cause to celebrate.

Recently I've found myself on an olde tyme English speaking streak. I hope it lasts.

We are back in Minneapolis, but not before I was flabbergasted during the drive on 35 when my brother and sister-in-law and kids showed up alongside us. They were coming back from Port Wing, WI. Crazy odds on seeing relatives on an interstate.

Now that we're back, and now that Labor Day has only an hour of life left, it's back to reality. All Jen's highlighters are sharpened. All her books are covered in brown paper. Her Trapper Keepers are trapped and kept. Her Partridge Family lunchbox has been cleaned and the hinges oiled. Tomorrow, it's back to school with her. Off she goes for her last semester.

Of course, this return to school for Jen means that the girls are headed back to day care. They've now graduated to the toddler room, complete with other toddlers. I'm trying to picture Abby in this place, trying to anticipate the situations and how it will go for her, and I'm working myself into a state of terror. I'm scared for her, our little blondie. She's so fragile, do they know that? What if the kids are too rough? What if she gets pushed around, has toys stolen, or bites someone (she's still kinda in that phase). I know the place has a high ratio of wranglers to wranglees, and this does assuage my fears a bit.

Mostly I'm anxious, at once eager for and dreading the end of day tomorrow to find out how she did. Until then, just crossing my fingers.

Day two hundred and four.

Cold water days mean shallow water play.

Lily with one of her favorite toys: my little bottle of contact rewetting drops. Seriously, I'm not making that up; she sees that bottle and goes nuts, then carries it around for hours.

They had a good time up at the lake...thanks again Marj and Neil for your awesome hosting of us!

All pictures...no talky.

I'm going to let the magical bloggity Pendulum of Content swing 'round the other way and post only pictures and no anecdotes. Which is good, since my anecdotes are half-baked retellings at best.

Since I took a bunch of shots and blogspot is crackerjack at being annoying with uploading photos, they're all just a click away on my flickr site.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/33065404@N04/sets/72157622278029690/

Enjoy. They are in chronological order, but like a moron I captioned them backwards, so that might be weird at times. Sorry. Happy Labor Day, all!

Day two hundred and three.