Lots to catch up on....

Some pictures from the weekend have been posted, but there are more to come. I left one of the flash cards at home this morning and it takes too long to upload. Thought the (limited) time would be better spent in a narrative update.

Thanksgiving was good. Mom spent part of the day on Wednesday applying for the proper credentials for the boys to be British nationals (among them a document where we have to swear to our marital status at the time of our marriage -- um....single...since HERE we don't allow more that ONE spouse at a time, no matter what they say in Utah.....) The whole process is ridiculous, but, just in case the boys decide to go to school or get a job in the EU it will be easier that we've done this now....

Thursday we got up and headed for home, timing the boys' naps with the drive. The fellas roused just as we stopped at home and we got things ready for lunch (bless us, oh, Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive.....) Griffith decided that Uncle Mark's green beans (cooked in the crock pot with lots of pork) were The.Best.Things.Ever. He shoveled in green beans to the exclusion of anything else. Takes after his Uncle Dick in that regard. (We ended up bringing green beans home and, once again, Griff ate them to the exclusion of everything else). Griff chased Cousin Bailey around the home place from the time we got there until nap time. He sat in a stupor in the car seat until about 30 minutes from home (about an hour past nap time) at which point he couldn't hold on any longer. We got home and he roused, momentarily, but couldn't stand it. He woke up just in time to eat dinner, take a bath and sleep (soundly) all through the night. Amen. Friday, he woke about 8, ate breakfast, played for a bit and decided that a nap was the way to go. As did Big Al, God bless him. Momma got a bit of a nap pre-lunch, fed the boys and then, Amen, again, Griff decided to nap. (We don't really need a full-time 4-year old, but if we could borrow one to wear Griff out, that would be great, thanks, Santa!)

Mom and Dad didn't really do any thing in particular all weekend. House work. Dad decreed that the boys would re-locate to their nursery full-time which meant moving the cribs (or so Mom thought.) What it really required was complete and utter devastation of the entire house for 2 days.

Saturday, though, we did watch The. Big. Game. Which ended wrong, wrong, completely wrong. Griff spent all of the overtimes yelling "go, go" but it wasn't enough. Daddy had a poker game (gotta pay for Xmas somehow!) and left after the game ended. I got the boys bathed and moisturized and ready to go (so I thought). Allan was playing contentedly on the floor. Sex In the City reruns (two) were on the television. Life was warm and coy and good. Until Griff threw up - all over himself, all over me -- green beans and milk. Yum. Change him, change me. Try to get him to take a bottle. No dice. He spent the next hour running around the house, vomiting periodically -- on the floor, on the ball, on the carpet, on himself.

The whole time Allan is enjoying himself immensely -- playing with toys, kicking, whatever. Normally the kid is fine entertaining himself. Normally. Griff is very nearly out. In a stupor. Shutting his eyes, leaving them closed for minutes at at time. All of a sudden, Allan is screaming as if hot pokers are being shoved in his eyes. He has managed, somehow, to get sprawled out spread-eagled and can't get to the toy he wants. So I have to get up, save him from himself, wake his brother and start the whole process all over again.

Now, I had about called their father to come home because after the first vomiting episode,
Griff was like my own, personal mobile little Vesuvius with the puking. He settled down, though, and I got on the couch with him and with Allan next to me. Ordinarily Allan would be fine with the arrangement, but Saturday night he decided this would not do. So he kicked his brother. He squealed at the top of his lungs (but only when Griff was nearly asleep). He tossed and turned and nearly threw himself off of the couch. I was so ready to send him back. Finally Griff fell asleep and I put Allan between us on the couch and he went to sleep, too. At about 11, Allan decided that he couldn't stand being so warm and cozy and squawled like we were killing him.

Every one got settled and we had another good night that night. Sunday was spent in moving the boys and Dad and Mom downstairs. This involve more chaos than you might imagine, but we are on our second night of separate rooms.

More snippets later...time for a little shut-eye.....