Heat, Kitchen, CO

For all my wishing for children, I closed my eyes after falling into bed for the fourth time last night, having just coaxed Smallest One back to sleep as Mom isn't able to lift her out of her bassinet, and felt Little one kick me soundly in the hip as she scooted, still fast asleep, on her side of the daybed. I sighed and tried to scoot as far to the edge as I could and waited for sleep to come. It only did in rare stretches between Little One needing trips to the bathroom and Smallest One waking again.

I was tired this Thanksgiving and if Dad says once more than the stove has been on for days, slowly filling the house with Carbon Monoxide, I believe I'm going to kick him. I think someone bumped the stove on the way out, especially as we had stuff sitting on top of it all damn day. Said argument ended the first time with my leaving the room. The second time, he threw the remote on the table and left Mom glaring at him as he stalked down the hall.

There were good moments, of course. Little One went potty while I sat on the floor and read her books and cheered. We watched movies and cuddled. I took over with Smallest One while Mom spent some time with her eldest granddaughter. I don't think Smallest One smiles quite yet, though Dad insists she does. Her eyes are eager to take everything in though, and she's especially fond of watching the ceiling fans sweep round and round and round.

"You smell like baby." Mom said last night or early this morning as we slumped together on the couch. Smallest One was snuggled into my shoulder as I patted her back gently and rested my cheek at her temple. She's this soft, warm weight with blue eyes that are drifting toward brown and the softest skin there is. Little One's hair reaches halfway down her back, though once her curls emerge as her hair dries, it appears much shorter. She plays with dolls and talks to imaginary friends and can tell me the story after I've read her a book. She's darling and obviously brilliant and terribly sweet. We put together a puzzle at Aunt's before dinner, both lying in the small carpeted section amidst the gleaming hardwood floors.

Little One opted out of setting the table so I did it myself. I spooned mashed potatoes into a bowl with one spoon, then used a slotted version to transfer the green beans to a platter. The turkey was quite good this year - sometimes they get overly dry. Mom, Little One and I made rolls first thing yesterday morning. I cut the dough into various sizes (out of poor planning and lack of sleep rather than the idea that some people would like smaller rolls), and Mom and Little One giggled as they cut small pats of butter and said "Zap!" as they placed one on each doughy ball. We showed Little One how big the rolls raised before we put them in the oven. She frowned into the pan for a moment before shaking her head and returning to her toys.

I read blogs in spare moments since I think I won with half of the data, but lost with the other part. So I believe I fixed the problem and am slowly working my way through it again. I was jealous of stories without travel and noise - of work and writing and productivity. But then Little One would demand more juice or a different movie or Smallest One would begin to cry. The former demanded all three kinds of Thanksgiving Pie - cherry, apple and pumpkin. She ate the whipped cream or ice cream that was served with each, but wrinkled her nose over the fruit-filled pastries. Brother and his family headed off to the in-laws while we helped Mom to the car and came home. She went to sleep while Dad and I aired out the house and had round 1 over how the house came to be filled with poisonous gas.

I woke early this morning and came to my laptop to get more data started. Dad and I argued over something different, I think. Oh, he said my laptop is too loud and will certainly break soon. I'm supposed to hold it up in the air while I work so the fan can get air from the bottom. I went back to bed without replying. I heard Mom shuffle back to bed a couple hours later after arguing with Dad over Christmas decorations. While we slept, he won by default, dragging up bags and boxes from the basement.

The tree is sitting in the corner - it never did make it back in front of the window - and has lights and the ornaments Mom could place while sitting down. There are two wreaths and several ceramic figures and five puffy plush animals that Little One will demand to see upon entering the house. There are carols coming from the television and half-empty boxes strewn all over the floor. I still don't feel rested and my to do list tugs at my attention until I fall into another exhausted sleep. The girls are returning today - Mom and Dad ask to have them, then complain that they get too tired while caring for them.

I think I'll take a walk - Chienne has yet to be invited to go since we've been at home. It's been raining or busy or sleepy, but I'm ready to go breathe in cold air and get a tiny bit of quiet before facing the rest of the day.