You too PM. My love to all of you today.
Even though we’re not citizens, not even the girls who were born here, we all have to get new Italian ID cards. Like a passport, this requires a photo and not just any photo. Eyes have to be open, no hands, feet, arms or other body parts can make an appearance, neutral expressions are mandatory, no shadows; the background must be white and strangely, the photo must be in digital format so it’s not possible to just go to one of the millions of photo booths scattered around town and hand over the automatically sized prints. This year, as usual, it took a couple of sessions to capture everyone’s essence. Or at least their mug. Here’s what I’m talking about…
Yes, we’re doing it one more time! With hope and prayers we’ll welcome our third baby into the family Mathews in June. At week 12, all looks great for New Baby so far and big sister Phoebe is thrilled. She hands me diapers every day, carefully explaining that “these are for the new baby, Mommy”. She also keeps trying to show the baby (aka my stomach) to people, which is cute but not ideal for obvious reasons. Estelle has been tight lipped about her feelings though, for obvious reasons.
But best of all, we’ve had a great time asking Phoebe to predict the sex. Okay, I have, but here’s how it goes:
Charity: Do you think the new baby will be a girl or a boy?
Charity: Will the new baby be your sister or your brother?
Charity: Are you a girl or a boy?
So, Chinese Gender Chart, don’t worry. You’ve still got a job to do.
Wish us luck!
Well, it’s been two and a half years, almost, and the time had come. Phoebe wears a barrette in her hair every day. But she objects to having her hair combed, every day. She shrieks and cries and usually leaves the room as though it’s a bizarre and new request. Every day. So I thought a trim would help. Her hair would be shorter and easier to handle. But did I dread getting her in that chair.
To my knowledge (which is hardly extensive) they don’t have those special kids’ hair salons with seats shaped like race cars or horses in Rome. It seemed like that would have helped, plus stylists who are used to/immune to the objections of the under four feet crowd. So I took her to my salon, which Phoebe actually knows because it’s near our house and we often stop by to pet the owner’s Pomeranian named Lucy. Still, this lady was bound to want to comb Phoebe’s hair and it wouldn’t be pretty. Or maybe it would. With Estelle in the Bjorn, I turned my phone toward her and recorded this easy breezy experience. Who would’ve known?
Okay, so there isn’t any “cutting” in this video but she let the stylist put her in a chair, throw on a robe, comb out her hair then yes, cut it. And we have a keepsake.
In keeping with my super slow reporting lately, I’ve got two milestones and two videos. But one of them is from August. Yep.
Anyway, here goes:
Okay, it doesn’t look like she is doing much clapping here but this was the first time she did any clapping at all, following Phoebe. Now she’s an excellent clapper. Video to come. Probably in several months…sorry.
Phoebe got to ride her first horse this fall, a couple of weeks ago. Amy and Dan suggested a pumpkin patch plus country lunch and as usual no one had to ask us twice! What did take some convincing though, was that Phoebe would be able to ride. I’d heard about the miniature ponies at the restaurant (set on a tiny farm outside of Rome with chickens, bunnies, and the two tiny horses) so I asked Phoebe if she’d like to ride when we got there? She’s only seen horses in the park and they’re always full grown police horses, so naturally her response was less than enthusiastic,” No Mommy, I’m not big enough.” Just wait…a Phoebe-sized steed awaits.
But first pumpkins.
Then lunch. Playtime. And finally ponies.