Eleanor is 3 months old! As you can see she is very excited about her three month birthday, probably because it means this weekend I will be putting away her 0-3 month clothes and unpacking all her 3-6 month outfits. Okay, maybe I'm the only one who is excited about that, but I'm sure she would be excited too if she understood the thrill of having an entire new wardrobe every three months.

Speaking of new wardrobes, I had hoped to break out of the 140's by the time Eleanor turned 3 months old, but that most decidedly did not happen. And, as we are now headed into the span of months completely characterized by candy, cookies, and stuffing oneself stupid, I am afraid the 130's may not be in my immediate future. This, of course, has raised the question of how long I can continue to pretend that I am fine having only one pair of jeans and two pairs of sweatpants that fit that I can rotate through every single week. I may be imagining it, but I think the other mothers at Fraser's preschool are giving me looks of distinct pity when I show up every time in the same pants and one of the 5 flannel shirts that I own. (No, I am not currently so fat that I don't fit into my regular shirts too, but as breastfeeding requires constant easy access to my breasts, the only shirts I can really wear are my 4 nursing tops or something that buttons down the front.) My desire to appear like I have not given up all hope of appearing human is now at odds with my intense frugality (which insists that if i would just stop eating I could lose the damn weight and not have to buy any new pants, thus saving money on both food and clothing). I will let you know which side wins, but as "frugality" has the secret weapon of "fear" in his corner (as I am just plain terrified to try to take three kids to the mall so I can attempt to shop for pants) I think the fight is rigged.

Recently I mentioned to my mom that I have decided that Fraser is like the Santa Ana winds and Hammie is like forest fire. Alone they can each do plenty of damage, but it is only when they get together that true catastrophes occur. I think, however, that in light of Hammie's most recent adventure (tripping in the minivan and flying headfirst into the latch for the sliding door giving himself a large gash under his left eye and a really impressive black eye) which Fraser was not at all responsible for, I think Hammie must be regarded as his very own, self-contained, natural disaster.

Eleanor, on the other hand, is clearly the eye of the storm. While her brothers are literally swirling around her at a hundred plus miles an hour, simultaneously attempting to take flight and break the sound barrier, she just lies back with her hands crossed, regarding them with amusement like a tiny laughing Buddha. I profoundly wish she would stay this serene, as she is the only thing keeping me slightly sane most days, but I know all too soon she will be shrieking and running with the boys through the hurricane that is our lives.

Fraser had his harvest party at school this week which was really adorable. He didn't sing much, but he did do some of the hand motions that went with the songs (see video below. Sorry it is shaky, but I was holding Eleanor and trying to keep her from crying while I was filming). Unfortunately, I didn't get the cutest part on tape, which was when the teacher told them to clasp their hands and close their eyes so we could all say grace before they came to sit with the parents and have the snack portion of the party. Fraser clasped his hands as instructed, but when she told them to close their eyes Fraser put his hands over his eyes. So there is the whole row of kids saying grace with their little hands clasped in front of them, except Fraser who looked like the "See No Evil" monkey with his hands over his eyes. Really very cute.