Yesterday, I turned 25.

It was no big deal, really.  I’ve been forgetting how old I am for the past year or so, so I sort of thought I was 25 already.  And at risk of sounding like a huge baby, a birthday doesn’t really feel like a birthday when I’m not at home.  With the exception of one, my first 22 birthdays were spent at home.  Since it’s in late spring, I was always home from college.  So I’d get to go out to lunch with my parents (or choose what was for dinner), pick a cake and an ice cream, and just sort of get spoiled.  I wouldn’t have to do chores, I’d get some presents and cards, and it was nice.  I loved my birthday.  But my last good birthday was when I turned 22.  I had my best friend over, and she, my mom, my little sister and I had a mini bachelorette-party (I was getting married six weeks later).  We played the Barbie Game, had root beer floats, and just had fun.  I didn’t really realize how good my family, and especially my mom, was at making me feel special until I left.

My 23rd birthday was spent in Sweden.  Andreas worked, so I spent most of the day alone, and I remember crying while I was walking to pick him up.  Not for any particular reason, but just…because.  I made mini chocolate cakes with peanut butter frosting.  Andreas was so sweet and got me the box set of Friends.  But it didn’t really…feel like a birthday.

My 24th birthday was spent taking a 5-hour written Danish test.  I don’t remember if I had time for a cake.

This year, I started my birthday at midnight-forty five to a screaming (probably teething) baby who was up most of the night.  I was up for good at 5 am, and feeling right sorry for myself.  The day picked up when I met up with my mom-group, but by the time I put Theo to bed, I felt ready to collapse, and Andreas and I both skipped dinner (and cupcakes) and were asleep by 8:30.

But after a better night’s sleep (although the day sort of started at 5 again…) I’m much more optimistic and looking forward to maybe doing a bit of late birthday celebrating over the weekend.  The weather should be lovely, and I’ve got knitting group tomorrow for the first time–yes, the knitting group that I’ve been talking about going to for the past two months, that I still haven’t been able to attend, haha!  But this time, it seems I’ll be healthy, and Andreas should be able to babysit, so I’m definitely going to make it!

As one last note, 25 should have many fewer sleepless nights than 24, so I have no qualms about getting older this year!  Bring on 25!

Well, that wasn’t fun

We’re back!

Kind of.  We are back, but we’re not quite at full strength.  As proud as I was for keeping up with photo-a-day through those first few days of sickness, it was too much.  It may have been “just” a cold, but hot-dog was that a cold.  Two weeks later, and I still only feel at about 70%.  But I’m back to full-time laundry duty, making dinner every night, and doing everything else I always do, so things are pretty much back to normal.

A few things happened while we were gone, though!  When he seemed recovered, we night-weaned Theodore, who, apparently, was more than ready for it.  And shortly thereafter, we did a little round of sleep-training again, this time with astounding success.  Since he learned to sit up on his own, Theo has been sitting up and then pulling to standing the instant he’s awake.  Sometimes, even if he isn’t awake.  And then he’ll cry until I’d go lay him back down, and he’d fall asleep.  This would repeat several times a night, and WAY too many times at bedtime before he’d settle and go to sleep.  Finally, I decided that this was enough.  I knew he could sit and lay back down by himself, as he does it all the time during the day, so I thought I’d sit in the room with him while he fell asleep, and just read and basically ignore him, but just be there.  I was there for two hours as he cried, stood, sat, played, cried, pulled at my Kindle cord, cried, etc.  And then, without any anger or frustration, I just realized that this was not working, and I left the room, and (much to his chagrin) closed the door.  He yelled for 15 minutes before he laid down and fell asleep.  We tried the next night, and he yelled for 2 minutes, and slept through the night.  The entire night.  8:20-7:15.  And it was beautiful.  The trend seems to be continuing, and I am just so, so, so grateful for the better sleep.  I’ll never know if I should’ve done this earlier, or if he wouldn’t have been ready, but for now, I don’t really care, as long as he keeps it up.

There’s not much other news.  We’ve been blowing our noses, and coughing, and talking more loudly than usual because our ears are all blocked up and we can’t hear anything.  I coughed so hard and so much that apparently I pulled a muscle in my ribs (that’s what the doctor said) and it is incredibly painful.  It’s going on a week since it happened, and the pain isn’t any less.  Honestly, part of the reason we chose that night to sleep train is because my ribs hurt so badly when I have to get up from lying down (or even change position) that I really needed to not be getting up and down all night.

But I’m sure it’ll get better, and we’ll all be fully healthy again someday.  And when that day comes, we’ll be back to regularly scheduled blogging!

Day 10

10. In the garden

may 10

My older brother and I in the gardens at the Baha’i House of Worship in Wilmette, IL

And yes, it’s an old picture because now all three of us are down.  As I was struck first and am closer to being well, I’m official caregiver.  So farewell for now.

Day 8

8. Blue

may 8


My little blue-eyes!  Funny thing–my mom has blue eyes, and my dad has dark brown.  My mom always wanted a blue-eyed baby, but all six of my siblings and I have brown eyes.  But with Andreas’s greenish-eye genes and my light-brown ones, we managed to have a blue-eyed baby!  I know there’s still a small chance they could change color, but it doesn’t look like they will, and my mom is pretty happy about at least a blue-eyed grandbaby.

Oh, and you’re getting another old photo today because Theo caught whatever it is that I still have and we’ve had a bit of a misery day together.  Thankfully, Andreas was able to take the day off as “child’s first sick-day” so I didn’t have to try to take care of both of us at once, which was a huge help, as we each scraped together about 3 hours of sleep last night, trying to help a miserable Theodore feel better.

He’s been sleeping on us on-and-off most of the day, which is actually kind of cozy because he’s normally not a particularly cuddly boy, so we’re soaking up the cuddles and the adorableness, but hoping it’s all over very soon.


Day 7

7. Taken from above

may 7

This is the strawberry tart I made this weekend to share with Andreas’s sister and her husband.  It’s the first Danish cake I’ve made, and it was SO GOOD.  I was tremendously proud that I could make Andreas’s favorite cake all by myself, and I already want to make another one! (next time strawberries are on sale)

PS-you got a picture from the weekend because Theo and myself have fallen fantastically ill.  I had to call Andreas home from work to take care of us, which he did because he’s my superhero.  Hopefully feeling better by tomorrow…

Day 6 (on which I am brave, and share a terrifically unflattering picture)

6. From down low (also known as the-angle-from-which-Andreas-insists-on-taking-photographs-of-me-despite-my-consistent-protest.)

may 6

When, oh when, will my husband learn to take photos from flattering angles?  Or even an angle that is less unflattering than this one.  Seriously.

Now, I admit that I am not quite as small as I was pre-Theo, and slumping on the couch isn’t doing much for my silhouette, but I promise everyone that I am not quite the manatee that this photo makes me out to be.  Even when I was pregnant, and we would do weekly belly shots, Andreas would take a photo from his beltline.  Not up by his eyes like any normal person would take a picture.  EVERY TIME.  Without fail.  And every time, I would explain that people look awful if you take pictures of them from below eye level.

So, today’s photo came with a small pet peeve rant, but, seeing as I’ve had a truly awful day, I thought it was much better to write about this, than to write about that.

I just hope to raise awareness, for husbands everywhere, that taking a photo at butt-level makes your butt look REALLY BIG.  So stop it.


Day 5

5. 4 pm

may 5

This was us at 4 pm.  I was feeling done with the day, as Theo was a fusspot from after his first nap, until bedtime.  But luckily, at 4 pm, I was blissfully unaware that it was only going to get worse from there.  We went to a friend’s place for a potluck dinner, to meet her sisters who were in town, and also some of her other friends.  It really was lovely, and I was so happy we got to go, but Theo hadn’t slept well, and had woken up from his last nap at 2:30, so by 6, he was DONE, and basically screamed every time someone looked at him.  Oh well.  All we can do is hope tomorrow is better.

And after four nights of him not eating at night, and me sleeping on the sofa, I’m reclaiming my space in the bedroom (the couch was getting a bit lonely, and starting to hurt my back) so I’m hoping the night goes well.  Andreas and I are switching sides of the bed, as he’s on night duty now (since he doesn’t have tantalizing boobs like I apparently do) so I’m looking forward to a night of, at least not standing up.  Whoo!