Too tired to come up with witty title

I mean, I could have called this post "Elbows in my sternum" or "Knees in my diaphragm" but it's too depressing to focus on the endless stretch to which I was awake last night with my daughter (nearly 4 hours, not that I'm counting). It was one of those nights in which I just hit rock bottom. There were tears (mine), there were angry denials of juice, there was much body contorting and tantruming, and overall there was much sleep deprivation.

BUT, we had a nice morning, and I'm trying to focus on the positive. I can't help but amuse myself by thinking what the world would be like if we all never matured and consequently handled being upset or in distress the way toddlers do. For instance, I'm not feeling good at work today. I thus:

(1) Throw my coffee cup at somebody during a meeting;

(2) Refuse to sit down and bow my body over the chair, screaming;

(3) Deliberately refuse to make eye contact with someone who is talking to me;

(4) Interrupt anybody at anytime to demand a snack and some milk; refuse to take no for answer;

(5) Go out into the lobby and cry continually from my perch in a heap on the floor.

It would be interesting.

At any rate, we're focusing on the positive, no? To the extent that I can stay awake to do so, that is. I have belly dance tonight, and I just hope that I can make it through class without collapsing. That is my prayer.

In other news, Mike and I have started re-watching Downton Abbey from Season 1, as we await our pre-ordered Season 3 DVD's from Amazon. They are released in late January every year, and we have found that we prefer to patiently await them rather than watching the episodes as they air.

So each night after our volatile little Anne is safely tucked into her crib for the night, we play a board game with Henry, and await the real fun that is to come. Henry goes to bed. We turn on Downton Abbey.

I just love this show, and the Jimmy Beans Wool Mystery Knit-along is based on my absolute favorite character, Lady Violet. We received our first clue last weekend, and uncovered that we are going to be knitting Lady Violet's Dinner Gauntlets. As we started the first 2 episodes of Downton, I worked on my gauntlets. They feature a lovely "rosebud lace" panel and are going to have a ruched feature with either a ribbon or laces of some kind. We shall see. After I finished clue #1, I moved on to my Lady Edith shawl, which was designed by KnitPurlGurl Karrie, who I mentioned passed away around Thanksgiving. It's just a gorgeous pattern, this is what the finished product will look like:

The yarn that I chose is also a solid spring green. I wanted to knit this in memory of Karrie, and I wanted to use the same color that she did. This works out perfectly with my annual January - May addiction to any and all spring colors. I absolutely love the pattern, well done Karrie! I've never enjoyed knitting a shawl this much. The edging is this beautiful leaf lace, I can't wait to wear it!

And somehow, I'm now knitting *2* Downton Abbey related projects while watching the show.

NERD.

But it makes me happy. And I need something to lift my spirits given the nights that we've been having. Here's hoping for a good weekend.

"What is a week-end?"

I just love her!

Of painful weekends and Mystery Knit-alongs...

Well, I'm alive. I think that after the weekend I just had, that's the good news. Let's get started...

Saturday was good. All was normal, Mike and I went out to dinner to celebrate our 8th anniversary (actual date is Tuesday). Then I woke up on Sunday. Hank comes downstairs crying.

And so it begins...

Hank is sick. His head and stomach hurt, he says, plus he's cold and his "whole body feels weird." We tuck him into the couch with an afghan and some juice. Anne meanwhile, hasn't slept well at night nor napped well in days, and it's clear that she's once again teething due to her drooly ways and consequent stinky sleepers. She begins a reign of terror that lasts from the moment she awakes at *5:40 am* until 6:30 pm, when we literally couldn't take it another moment, and shipped her up to bed. Besides when she napped, all she did ALL DAY LONG was the following:

(1) Screamed;

(2) Cried;

(3) Threw self on floor;

(4) Asked for things (like a cup of milk, or some cheese) and then when handed aforementioned item, threw them down violently; broken up only by some

(5) Whining.

At one point, I offered her one of her favorite books, and do you know what she did?

She made A DISMISSIVE SOUND and TURNED HER BACK ON ME!  Attitude was positively *oozing* from every pore. It was just one of those days in which you wonder who replaced your sweet, loving toddler with this feral, demon child.

It was ugly.

Anyway, I don't know when I've ever heard so much crying for such a long period of time, ever.  Over the din, I was telling Mike that for me, hell would be listening to a baby cry on a non-stop repeat forever and ever. It makes me so anxious to hear a continually crying baby, I just want to jump out of my own skin. For Mike, we agreed that hell for him would be being strapped down and for ALL ETERNITY and being forced to watch full volume reruns of Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. But I digress.

All this fun and I haven't even finished chronicling the day yet.

The highlight of the day was definitely Mass, and the feast of the Epiphany. Henry was too sick to accompany so, so I sadly went alone. He was looking forward to seeing the wise men arrive at the nativity scene from their perch of traveling across the altar for the past couple of weeks. I went up to the nativity so that I could take mental notes and describe it to Hank when I got home. The wise men looked lovely in their gold robes.

And the Epiphany has always been special to me. I read in a "Name Your Baby a Saint Name!" book years ago that Tiffany is derived from Epiphana, so therefore I consider my name a Catholic name; it makes me happy, so humor me.

After I arrived home and had lunch however, the day took yet another turn. I was really tired from being up with Anne, but I felt kind of weak. Chilled. Achey. Uh oh...

Suddenly, I felt lousy. I was so cold I could barely function and it hurt to lift Anne or generally cavort about the house. I had zero appetite.

I was miserable. I felt absolutely awful and there was no rest for the weary. Anne's screaming did not cease for a sick mom. Mike was doing all of the heavy lifting with regard to the kids but it's not like I could relax with Anne's antics reverberating through the house. It was a LONG day.

By the time she fell asleep in my arms before 7 pm I couldn't believe that I had made it. I was in bed before 9 pm. Good riddance on that one.

This morning, I had a fever rash (I get these all the time after I'm sick, real attractive) and had lost 3 pounds.  I'm just glad that that is over.

But in exciting news, the Downton Abbey Mystery Knit-along started yesterday, the first clue has been posted! I've taken a look at it, but I have not knit it yet. It appears that we are knitting gauntlets (what I would call long fingerless gloves). There is a provisional crochet cast-on, which I've never done before, and a lace panel in the first clue. I'm a bit intimidated, but can't wait to dive in later today!

Anne having a bad day

This morning, Anne was running around in her onesie, which is her outfit of choice for summer nights. And she's sleeping great, so I don't know what her deal is, but every.single.morning, she turns into Pod Anne: She Who Terrorizes the Household.

She'll usually play for a bit after her morning nursing session. But then, when I come downstairs from getting ready, the whining begins. I can usually pacify her with some Cheerios and removal of the safety latch from the Tupperware cupboard for her perusal.

After I eat breakfast, I pop her into her high chair for some cereal. She does this thing lately where she won't let you feed her (*swat!* *swat!*) unless she's also holding a spoon. Sigh. Once she refused further food, I took her out.

Well. She came running over to me, crying. She points to the kitchen table. I survey the options. Small bottle of fruit juice? It's sealed, so I hand it to her.

She glares at it. Then she glares at me. Then she TURNS AROUND AND WALKS AWAY without a word. When she reaches the other end of the kitchen, she turns around and runs back, sobbing.

Fantastic.

She points to the kitchen table again. Bowl of Cheerios? They are offered. They are resoundingly refused. Stray toy? Another turn and walk away, with zero acknowledgement. Until she races back, of course, sobbing. Suddenly, she points to the table again, jabbering in an angry-like fashion. Cup? This produces a cackle. I put some water in it, and let her drink from it. She likes this. She tries to grab aforementioned cup, which I don't let her do, since it's full of water.

A protest ensues.

Finally, I empty the water and just hand her the cup. This makes her happy for a solid 2 minutes, which was a real coup this morning, seriously. Until she threw the cup in disgust and opened her mouth in one of those catroonish howls in which I can see her tonsils. Even picking her up and just holding her netted big rolling tears and lots of pouting.

It was just one of those mornings.