O'Doyle Drools!

The Road to Make Believe

2012-02-13T19:04:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure why these pictures strike me as hilarious, but they really do. Our quirky girl lives in the here and now sometimes but very often, she is exploring life off in fantasy land. I can't remember why she packed her bag for a bike ride on this day in particular, but assuredly it was for some wacky adventure. She's always on a picnic, at the beach, on a boat in the bay (?), on an island or just off in la la land. Mostly, this is good; she creates all sorts of families and friends to bring along, almost always with a brother and a sister (who tells the brother what to do). The downside of an active imagination is bogeymen that begin to exist, usually at bedtime. We've been hearing a lot about vampires, monsters, and sharks trying to get in the house (commercials during sporting events are not happy places. Why do car companies need vampires to sell their cars??). Usually, though, her little worlds are happy -- cookie island is popular -- and Jack is often invited along (right now, they are running from a witch. I have this feeling that I am the witch... it must be a good witch). My dear girl is not the most focused of persons when she is doing something at my request but when she is constructing a make-believe place, I'm struck by her single-minded attention to detail. Now, how can I get that attention to detail to translate into finding her own shoes in the morning?

Man oh Man

2012-02-05T01:51:00.000-05:00

Two is delivering all that it promised. This little man of ours is a bundle of energy, a bundle of laughs, and a bundle of mischief. Oh, the mischief. He thinks he is the funniest person around and tries to get Molly's goat every. single. chance. he. can. For the most part, he's sweet and gentle to everyone else... and then his sister enters the picture and he decides that he's pure trouble. Really, though, he's just two. He's busy, headstrong, independent, fickle, happy, dog-tired at the end of every day, sweet, snugly -- he's like the weather and changes every minute, which makes our days interesting and never, ever quiet. He's still a train, plane, bus, and truck man with babies, puzzles, books, and tools creeping in as well. I really am loving this stage, even with its never ending movement and his ability to run in precisely the opposite direction of where I need him (hello, covering every square inch of Ikea). Little people are just so pure at this age, so transparent, and so emotive -- sweet, simple, gentle.

This bike is clearly in need of repair.

Someone taught him how to make funny faces. He has a repertoire of about three.

And here they are...

Shake It Up, Baby

2012-01-25T17:25:00.001-05:00

Two things I love about Molly right now: she's totally into dancing (Poker Face by Lady Gaga, of course, and Strike the Bell by Dan Zanes are her two current faves. Those aren't polar opposites or anything.) and she is my new resident meal planner. I like to cook but I hate thinking of what to actually make each night. She loves helping me come up with a menu for the week (including sides) and it really saves my sanity. I do get a lot of requests for spaghetti and meatballs but she is willing to branch out with a gentle reminder that it's nice not to have the same thing every single night (despite her insistence that nobody will mind. She most certainly believes that she is the voice of reason around here and will consistently speak for other people -- often when they have no idea that she is volunteering their opinion).

Oh, and an ancillary benefit to the dancing? The rather hilarious fashion statement that comes from a need to put on a too-small leotard so that her skivvies are on full display.

You know what I love about this one? He's just a ham (holding a ham, incidentally. Sorry Olivia) who is full of love.

Happy Wednesday!

Our Unexpected Vacation

2012-01-19T17:59:00.001-05:00

We have been house- and neighborhood-bound for two days now, for a total of three this week because of snowstorm on Sunday. I've heard surprisingly few grumbles from both my crew and the parents in our area; people seem to be generally enjoying their unplanned days off. We've had it pretty good, to be fair -- we have power (sorry to Mary who lost it this morning), we have plenty of snow to keep us busy, and sledding opportunities abound on our street and nearby. I had planned an outing today just to give ourselves a change of scenery but the ice storm (now snow again) kept the Aquarium people at home and their doors closed. So, we hung out in jammies for a long time this morning, only changing to get our snow gear on, and rinsed and repeated our day from yesterday. And I'm fine with it... I really am. It's cozy, the small people are getting their wiggles out running up and down the hills, Molly joined up with the older girls on the street who graciously let her tag along with them this morning, and we finally adjourned to our respective rest times with snowflakes falling outside and our beds, baby dolls, and computers calling our names. It's nice being forced to slow down, as Kate reminded me this morning, even though I'm busy pulling mittens and snow boots on and off over and over. I didn't think it was possible for getting ourselves out the door to take even longer than it already does, but with no real deadline or place we have to be, it's not harried and stressful (although I feel like a sheep dog herding my littlest lamb to the door area and keeping him from wandering off... that kid would be prime predator material were we of the four legged, farm variety). Thus, while we have the creature comforts of a cozy house still available to us and the opportunity for playing outside only a drafty doorway away, I'm enjoying this unusual Puget Sound winter event. I like this little vacation precisely because I know that we'll be returning to our regularly scheduled programming soon enough -- and I like that too. I enjoy our busy lives and our hustle and bustle and meeting with friends and always squeezing something or other in. But for now, I like the quiet of sleeping babies (one real and at least five pretend) and soft singing upstairs while no cars break up the scene outside. This unexpected break is recharging -- and it's nice because no one really needed it. But to have this little bit of bonus time heaped upon us without asking, well, that's just a straight-up gift.

The littlest helper is very intent on his snow shoveling. Molly begged for a shovel in the store (and me, sensing an opportunity to impart some ever-popular life lessons, talked about getting her one because she could be my helper and contribute to our chores around the house). Jack didn't care but I knew that if I only got her one, there would be war. Molly used hers on the driveway on Tuesday, the only day there was no snow on the ground. Jack has used his for the past two days when there is actual shoveling that needs to be done. The life lesson got a big fat zero on the success scale...

Don't bug me, there is work to be done.

Sliding with no sled?? This proved popular for one small fry. I'm telling you, while we did go to the park and the high school to sled, our driveway was one of the best hills out there. Since there is little to no plowing of secondary streets in Seattle, nearly no cars have ventured down our street for two days and it has turned into a kids free-for-all zone. That also tells you how nice and steep our driveway is.

The hot chocolate never tasted better after a warm-up bath and, for some, jammies at 1:30 in the afternoon was the cherry on top.

Where Am I?

2012-01-16T15:05:00.002-05:00

Well, well, look what we have here. In this land of seemingly perpetual bare ground (for us, up to this point), we got a little reminder that it's not always green grass and temperate weather in this part of the world. The snowy white stuff came to visit us yesterday in swirls and with gusto and while it was not a nor'easter exactly, this snowfall has afforded us plenty of sledding (and oddly, Molly, who tends to be careful and fairly risk averse these days is not when it comes to sledding), snowball fights, snow angels, and snowmen building (well, man). Our street is very, very icy so we are celebrating MLK at home today, with more of the above, a few snow squalls and hot chocolate, settling in for another forecasted storm tomorrow. I never thought I would enjoy having snow outside my front door again (bare sidewalks = happy mama), but I have to admit that it's really beautiful and a fun change of pace.

Go Ahead, Make His Day

2012-01-07T19:19:00.001-05:00

We had a wonderful, wonderful holiday filled with much family, as many friends as we could squeeze in, and plenty of good cheer. We returned to the west coast with a few extra bags and boxes, a few extra pounds, one enthusiastic new year's resolution, and lots of great memories. I want to get to all things Christmas at some point, I really do, but first, I need to say that this guy:

has come out of nowhere to claim the spotlight. And so, today, I'll write about him. No longer content to be the tag-a-long, Jack has become Mr. Attention Getter. Sometimes, it's good attention he's after -- talking up a blue streak, laughing with his big belly laugh, dancing:

yes, he's standing on a chair at the beginning of this. Little monkey would climb all day long if he could.

Sometimes, it's the rather unfortunate kind of attention he's after -- a few swats to the lady's head, running and hiding, and, of course, the rather unfortunate (for me, anyway) and infamous fire alarm pulling incident (for which, for the record, I take full and terribly embarrassing responsibility. Many people in the restaurant second that motion based on comments overheard). Nonetheless, good, bad, or neutral attention-seeking aside, I'm really marveling at how my little baby Jack has turned into a big (literally) kid overnight. That proverbial switch got flipped sometime over the holidays and he became rather cunning and verbal in a previously unseen way. I think I'm enjoying it but given the amount of hits and hides I've seen in the last week, the jury is still out. My sweet, laid back guy is still there but there's a new edge to this boy wonder that makes life just that much more interesting and spicy. He has also decided that he has lots of questions and comments and certainly wishes and wants. He isn't so keen on redirection like he was before but that's fine -- his little monkey business lacks the drama that can otherwise be present so I'm at least taking consolation in that. I think others are still adjusting to this take-charge attitude so everyone is getting some more love and attention right now... or something like that. I'm interested to see how this all plays out, enjoying the funny and newly insightful comments and observations that are popping out of his mouth, trying to be diligent about turning away and hiding my laughter when the naughty-but-funny stuff crops up, and conveniently forgetting the really naughty stuff that he does at the end of the day. Thankfully, bedtime seems to have returned to (somewhat) normal since we've been back, which means my reset switch and rose-colored glasses have been returned at the end of the day. I usually need that time to recharge and assess what the heck happened all day. Who knows if this is a phase or if his true blue colors are coming out. Either way, I wanted to record the emergence of Jack "No More Always Mr. Nice Guy" Doyle so that in twenty years, I can look back and say that this was the moment when it all changed and his crackerjack ways will make a little more sense...

It's Her Birthday

2011-12-16T01:41:00.000-05:00

Four years ago, we welcomed this joyful, exuberant, empathic, wacky, cuddly, opinionated gift. We felt all that we had expected to feel and then a hundred times more than that. This little blond tornado, born between two huge snowstorms, blesses and enhances our lives each and every day. She has so much to say, so many thoughts, so many worlds that she invents, so many schemes, so many jokes, so many jumps, so many dances, so many outfits, so many opinions, so many fears, so many questions... but most of all, she has so much love. She is cautious yet fearless, obstinate yet intuitive, impatient yet particular, happy yet dramatic. She runs at 100% or at 0% and there aren't a lot of shades of gray to this gal. She makes us think harder, ask more questions of ourselves, and she will never, ever, ever takes no for an answer the first time you say it. She is my spark plug and keeps me going long after I'm ready to call it quits for the day; there is no mailing it in when she's on duty. But the love, oh the love, that you get makes every moment worth it. She is four years of love and energy wrapped up in there and she is, quite simply, an incredibly magical little person. Happy birthday to our well-loved, and loving, monkey.

Monkey House

2011-12-14T02:41:00.001-05:00

Anyone with small children will tell you that staying home for too long on any given day can be a recipe for utter mania. I'm trying to slow down, though -- or maybe it's not so much about slowing down and more about cramming less in because let's face it, things aren't moving at the speed of light these days (unless it's Jack finding some chance to run into the street. That happens fast). Before we depart for our holiday excursion to the exotic east (coast), however, I'm trying to be at peace with staying put and having friends come over and play so that we can enjoy our tree and our decorations and just each other. Admittedly, my local coffee place is also closed for renovations, which may have something to do with this as well. Nonetheless, we are soaking up our little bungalow, and I do rather like it. I have no pictures of this enjoyment, of course, because any time I pick up my camera lately (or the phone), the howler monkeys come out and it's at that moment that Jack bonks Molly over the head (yep, still happening because someone is still screeching, which just delights the offender to no end) or she decides he is doing something dangerous (there's a legit 50/50 chance on that one) and must tell me about it pronto and at the top of her lungs. Those do not make for attractive pictures. Instead, you all must suffer through more outside photos. Some of these are a month old from my mom's visit out here and some are to prove to my kids that I marched them outside for fresh air no matter how chilly Jack said he was when I gently nudged them out on the porch. Inside, outside -- it's all monkey business.

I lied, I do have a picture of what happens when we stay indoors...

Tree Huggers

2011-12-11T00:15:00.001-05:00

Some people were a little bit more into chopping down our Christmas tree than others... and then there was me who was over the top excited. I want it to be known, however, that just like I got overruled countless times by my picky brother growing up, we ended up with a tree that Molly and John liked more than I did. Of course, when we got it home and I loved it more than any other tree we've ever had. Still, for being the deliriously giddy one at the start of the trip, I think I showed amazing restraint in deferring to my child's (and, ahem, husband's) needs and wants. Jack could not have cared less so trying to get him on my side accomplished nothing. It turned out that being overruled worked out wonderfully and maybe I should think about letting that happen more often... nah.

Jack looks on and wonders why people are getting all worked up about this whole process.

Molly+sharp objects=good times

Letting John get some saw time in

Showing me what needs to happen with the tree trunk to make it perfect for the stand (note: that did not really happen so well)

Please, why can't we leave? I'm a delicate flower with a big ol' head and it's cold out here!

Finishing touches

The victorious and their plus one

The Dance Off

2011-12-06T17:56:00.001-05:00

I have more holiday post fodder than I can shake a stick at... tree-getting (and then falling over and nearly hitting Jack), Christmas-ship watching, Santa letter-writing (daily)... but right now, my favorite part of the holiday season is how much Molly wants to have a dance party to Christmas songs all the time. So, speaking of shaking things, if you have a few minutes of your life that you can give up, I've got one little tiny dancer who is VERY infected with the holiday fever.

The first minute is a little slow... err, the build up... to the twirling sounds of Christmas.

And this one is so long it will likely only be interesting to Molly and grandparents (and of course, mom and dad), but starting at about 1:30, the moves are much better. Clearly, her parents passed along stellar dance genes.

Hide Out

2011-11-30T00:39:00.001-05:00

A whatfeltlikeaveryveryverylong spate of cold, rainy weather kept us indoors a bunch over the last several weeks. Surprisingly, this has been okay with the hermit crabs and Jack has bulked up on his already-healthy dose of train table time and Molly keeps creating these very detailed imaginary worlds of playdates, restaurants, schooldays, whatever else creeps into her quirky little mind. When the little monkeys aren't bopping each other over the head (literally. The elder stateswoman keeps getting mad that the junior senaakin is taking her stuff so she does it out of utter frustration and he does it purely to elicit a shrieking reaction out of her. Which he does. Every time), they have found activities to play together that keep each of them quite contained, I mean content, and happy. One of their top two is building a fort of some kind (the other being chase and mean old mom usually puts a stop to that right quick since I've seen way too many bonked heads when navigating by the dining table). It's always interesting to see and hear what happens with the people behind the curtain... errr... sheet.

Thank You

2011-11-26T23:49:00.001-05:00

Some people lament that we have one day that we officially give thanks and argue that it should be part of our every day lives to offer be thankful for the many gifts and blessings in our lives. I would argue, however, that Thanksgiving isn't about being the only day that we appreciate the richness in our lives but rather it's about honoring the fact that gratitude is a part of our daily living. A subtle difference, perhaps, but rather than it being about offering thanks, I think it should be a symbol and a celebration that kindness is indeed part of what we offer and receive each day. For every, ahem, choice set of words that we think or say about parking space stealers (undoubtedly in front of impressionable ears), I would guess that we let someone cut in front of us in line or we say thank you to an employee who helps us out to the car. I think that we offer small acts of kindness and pay it forward lots and lots of times, probably without even thinking, and that Thanksgiving is a way to honor those small graces and encourage us to keep faith in other people. We should be thankful every day, yes, but I think most of us are. We might not always check it off our to-do list at night but we both give and receive help and hope every day. Thanksgiving is also about acknowledging the big stuff we have going for us -- a roof, if we have it; healthy families, if we have them; friendships, if we have them; food to eat, if we do -- and I think it's beautiful that we do that. But, these big blessings are built on the foundation of the small things that happen in each 24-hour cycle. The little threads of kindness and thankfulness that we weave together through listening to friends, reaching out to family, helping strangers, being grateful, receiving help graciously, all construct a strong social fabric that can withstand lots of stretching and pulling when big events happen. The whole truly becomes greater than the sum of its parts. It's not all sunshine and rainbows, and sacrifice and sadness really does need to be present at the table, but our souls need feeding and nourishing to keep on going, too. And so, I don't mind one bit that we have Thanksgiving only once a year because rather than take the time to appreciate only the big gifts in our lives, it's a day to commemorate the good that happens each minute of each hour of each day. It's not a day to be thankful of things in comparison to anyone else, it's simply a day to be present in the goodness that is now and honor the kindness and generosity that swirls around us and that we offer up on the other 364 days of the year.

I'm certainly thankful for our Thanksgiving scene this year. I always miss my own family on holidays when we're not together, but I'm so very grateful that I a,m a part of this loving and generous group of people. The monkeys in the house certainly made for an entertaining, as always, day.

Happy (belated) Thanksgiving.

Chasing Those Clouds Away

2011-11-16T23:15:00.001-05:00

I'm missing the very pleasant weather already. Cool, crisp, sunny days (yes, they DO happen here) are quickly giving way to a whole lot of gray, drizzle, and even some *gasp* snowflakes. Although the liquid sunshine means snow in the mountains, I'm pretty sure I liked the actual sunshine and can hold on a little longer for ski season. I'd better learn to be happy with the reminders of what we've been offered this fall and not bemoan the raindrops any further. We've been lucky to be able to do mostly this...

Although, now, it appears that our outside time will more and more like this:

Precious

2011-11-13T14:14:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, I had the pleasure to spend part of the day with just Molly. These days, those opportunities are rare since she's in school more days and for longer hours than Jack is. I've snatched an hour or two here and there with her but we had more time than that yesterday and it made me realize how much I really miss that time with her. A mother-daughter relationship is a nuanced, complex relationship -- even at this age -- and while I spend plenty of time thinking about navigating the complexities, I hadn't spent as much time simply enjoying her solo presence. It's not that I've been focused on the bad stuff, really; I've just been thinking about it more than just experiencing it. She and I did swimming lessons, had lunch, did some errands, went to the library -- nothing glamorous -- and it was really fun. I know that she's a treasure trove of wacky fun (emphasis on the wacky), but when I'm herding two increasingly busy people around stores or restaurants, I can't laugh at her funny observations and indulge her curious wanderings (which are generally classified as dawdling at that point) as much. Idiotically, I figured since I had almost two years of one-on-one time with her before Jack was born, I had unthinkingly calculated that she had her time then and now it's his turn to get solo time. I figured those few random hours on a weekend and our afternoons together while he's napping would be enough mom/daughter time but I see now that that wasn't quite right. I need those times but I also need to deliberately set aside bigger chunks of time. It has me rethinking my school plan for next year. I had assumed that I would do morning preschool for both of them. I wonder, though, if I'd be better off with Jack in a morning program and Molly in an afternoon slot. It wouldn't give me the alone time that is also really (really, really) nice, but it would give me some really special time with both of them most days. I remember when I was little, my brothers trotted off to school when I was home with my mom and we read the entire Little House series. I so cherish those memories. More than trips or toys or stuff, I remember the time I got with both my mom and dad and I loved it. And, since karma is so good at making its subtle point, I understand and appreciate it more even now as a parent. Whatever we choose, I know I'm making my decision with a little more knowledge, a little more insight than I would have two days ago. These little critters have a way of making those "aha!" moments happen with more regularity and I appreciate the opportunity to live a more examined life. My little girl is a pretty good teacher, it turns out.

Father Knows Best

2011-11-08T20:37:00.001-05:00

While I was very busy laughing hysterically and having a wonderfully rejuvenating girls' weekend with Liz, Sarah, and Kate, the VIPs in my life were having a fun-filled (very creatively and busily filled, in my opinion, so big kudos to John) Daddy weekend. The Science Center, bowling, dinner at a restaurant... and, of course, a ride on the light rail, were all on the agenda. I know that I was laughing and smiling until my sides hurt and it looks like these two had just as much fun. I'll see if I can get the Blogfather to stop by and fill us in on all the details... I can't do it all justice.

Toot Toot. Meow Meow.

2011-11-01T15:47:00.000-04:00

Kids in costumes simply don't need any narratives. They are just so stinking cute. We were on a pretty popular trick-or-treating beat this year and we got to see so many adorable munchkins (and some odd solo adults who were not cute at all) traipse up our steps in all their finery. Molly-the-black-cat was so excited to go out trick-or-treating and Jack-the-train-engineer looked forward to "go for walk" with Dad all day. He picked up on the less healthy part of the walk pretty quickly, I was told, and both small people came home with their pumpkins full of goodies.

Once home, a single piece of candy induced dance party ensued to exorcise all the ghosties and goblins of Halloween 2011, complete with my other favorite part of the holidays -- matching pajamas.

Happy November!

Two Be or Not Two Be

2011-10-31T00:03:00.000-04:00

In the first five days of being two, Jack decided to throw down the gauntlet. He had his first mega-tantrum, which lasted the entire way out the door, down the steps, into the car, all the way to Molly's school where he barely pulled out of it with the sniffles. He got hand, foot, and mouth disease and was a bit of a sleeping disaster for a couple of days, and he topped it all off with a sugar-and-lack-of-nap vomitron session at dinner where I had the pleasure of catching his upchuck in one hand (why that seemed like a good idea, I don't know) and trying not to let Miss Gags-A-Lot to look with the other (although she did and threatened to let loose herself). Thankfully, John cleaned it up because, well, Molly gets her gag reflex for those sorts of things from somewhere. So, in addition to the normal bumps, bruises, and falls that we experience on a daily basis, the beginning of two has been a bit of trial by fire but we have all persevered and I'm expecting the rest of the year to be free of calamity. That's reasonable, right?

Here are a few pictures from the remainder of the week -- thanks for all the calls, emails, in-person celebrations, and gifts. The love of trains, trucks, and tractors is evident in the cakes and toys and more than one person around here has been having a lot of fun, lately.

The actual birthday evening.

A little family celebration over the weekend.

Thanks to my friend Jessie for her cake making tips. Although this does not rise to anywhere near the level of her creations, it would have turned out far worse without her advice. Thankfully, it passed muster for the under-fives and I had fun making it.

Who says rain gear can't be attractive?

A Most Happy Day

2011-10-25T17:56:00.000-04:00

Today, it's his turn to take center stage... as much as he can, anyway. He deserves the spotlight and the attention and all the happy birthdays. Two is a big deal, I think. It's when you really cross over into big-kid land -- when you're allowed to, and very much want to, participate in things that you weren't really welcome to before. Everyone makes a big deal about turning one -- as they should, it's exciting -- but approach the third year with so much caution, gearing up for a challenging time with the ill-conceived "terrible twos" looming. Not me. I love two and always have (and whoever decided that two was terrible apparently hadn't experienced three. Oh vey). Sure, there are lots of trying times and big emotions but it's so exciting. It's not a picnic-a-day sort of exciting but it's a gift to watch these little people try on all these big ideas and feelings, yet be so transparent and generous with their emotions. They still invite you to their party, to bear witness to their triumphs and travails, even as they want to try to do everything themselves. It's certainly a time for readjustment for moms and dads (and siblings), especially if they have gotten used to having a laid back, funny bunny, eager tag-a-long, but it's not a time I would trade for the world (except when we have to go grocery shopping and to the post office. I am willing to give those precious moments to someone else). In short, two is cool.

I love watching Jack start to own his space. He loves to, and is willingly subjected to, Molly's games and imaginings. He comes back for more no matter how many times he is unceremoniously booted out of the game once she's had enough of him or when her whim dictates. And in return? He makes nary a peep but man, can he push her buttons. He can strike with surgical precision to bring on a full force squeal/scream/loud protestation. And he knows it. He knows what he is capable of. I have a hard time helping them sort things out without laughing because it's just so apparent that he has her number. He rarely goes too far, unless he's tired or hungry, but can go just far enough to get some sort of outsized reaction. He also has a trick or two up his sleeve for me some days... I won't lie. But, thankfully, he keeps his plotting restrained and more than being devilish, he loves to be social -- not in a show off sort of way but in a really happy, ambassador-for-fun sort of way. School has been a really fun adventure and he's completely embraced being a part of his class. It took Jack a few weeks of school to embrace his Bumblebee membership but now he owns it with pride. He flaps his wings, makes his buzz buzz sound, and sings his goodbye song with gusto... and plays at the train table for the other 95% of class. It surprised me, how much he loved being a part of this group but he sure does. Trains do dominate his life although he generously makes time for fire trucks, construction vehicles, cars, garbage trucks, "scoo busssss" (school buses), and "itty bussss" (city buses), too. Oh, and men. He loves men. Loves them. When a dad works in his classroom or is at the playground, Jack is drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He hugs, climbs on his back, leads him by the hand -- he is completely drawn to dudes (which has caused some consternation among some of his lady classmates who are rather protective of their dads).

Although the fight in him can be strong, he rarely gets bent out of shape. He has a lot of typical second-child characteristics -- which makes for a nice compliment to his rather alpha sister. He thinks he is funny but doesn't feel the need to make everyone around him laugh. As long as he's laughing, he's pretty happy. He is a watcher and a learner, rather than throwing himself headlong into everything. He soaks in a lot of information that I am unaware he is soaking in until it comes back to bite me in some way, shape, or form. He is mischievous, that one, and enjoys a cruising altitude that is just under the radar. This can be unfortunate because he is fascinated by computers, phones, remotes, radios, whatever technology you are silly enough to leave within his reach.

There's so much to my Buddha Belly boy but I feel like I have a hard time adequately capturing him in stories or adjectives. More than anything, he is a warm fuzzy feeling, a sweet snuggle, a big belly laugh, and now, since he's two, a little bit of spice. I hope that the silly monkey in him lives forever, that his generous spirit serves him well, and that he continues to give as much love (for trains or dads or whatever) as he serves up today. And, I hope he stops pulling out every envelope and mailing label at the post office. Please.

The birthday morning started out well -- who doesn't love a candle in his waffle?

Let's just say that I was not going near that spit-soaked waffle after a few rounds of blowing out the candle with no success. Luckily, back-up was right there and chomping at the bit to help out...

Now, with two of them going at it, there was really no way I was sharing in that waffle/germ fest. Thankfully, I hadn't left them all on the same plate.

With that out of the way, Jack got to choose one present to open at breakfast. It's a good thing he chose this one so that...

he could, once again, receive some assistance from his aide-de-camp.

who was the first one to embrace and announce:

Super Jack!

new cape modeled by big sister. Thanks Stockwells!

October Road

2011-10-17T00:11:00.000-04:00

I am a shameless lover of traditions, which most of you know by now. I don't need overly big and elaborate annual events but I love going back to the same thing year after year, hopefully drilling into my own kids' memories the same sorts of things that I (and John) enjoyed as small people. It really doesn't need to be a perfect or amazing outing each year; it's always the funny or totally wacky times that you remember as an adult anyway (like the many number of years that we froze our tushies off waiting for my persnickity brother to find the perfect Christmas tree that only he was qualified to pick. We tromped around in more circles...). What's important to me, though, is that we do it -- adding or substituting people along the way -- and that we make the effort to spend the time together. Simply picking out a pumpkin or sitting around a Thanksgiving table or opening presents together on Christmas morning is not going to solve the world's problems nor is it a panacea for the bumps in the road that come with raising children. What it does mean, though, is that we care enough to create opportunities to be in each other's presence. It means that our idea of family can be as small as the four of us or as large as the number of people who can crowd around a table. It means that we create shared experiences so that we have a common thread running through us for the rest of our lives. It helps build, I think, part of the foundation that create strong family bonds that will allow us to navigate those bumpy roads with each other. I love the everyday stuff of family life but I also really, really love when the everyday gets punctuated by the extraordinary. It's fun for the day but it becomes more than a single day's memory when it's woven into the tapestry of "we do this every year". Sometimes, wearing rose colored glasses to see our little universe is the best thing we can do for ourselves. It's a way to restore our souls. I drink up these traditions and it's why when the autumn equinox rolls around on the calendar, I start getting really excited. All times of the year have their own wonderful traditions but the ones from October to December hold special magic for me. For one thing, I'm allowed to break out my tchotchkes and decorate the nooks and crannies that seem a little spartan the rest of the year. And it just rolls on from there. The trip to the pumpkin patch is one of my all time favorites and this year we were able to enjoy it with the cousins and Uncle Eric and Auntie Holly. I don't know if it's the mazes or the six inches of inevitable mud or the weird, slightly out of place, people/events that pop up, or finding the perfect orange globe (or gourd) but I really love the pumpkin patch. This year being no exception, and with the added benefit of the smell of horse manure to make things even earthier (oh, New Hampshire, you're in my blood), we had a good time. Jack loved the tractor ride, the girls did the hay maze twenty times and got to ride on ponies, and I made our family lug home big pumpkins. It's just the beginning of the season but so far, it's off to a good start.

Which way is out?

No time to talk, must navigate my way through.

The crew.

Nice. Really nice.

Waiting in line is much more fun with a friend.

So is the tractor ride.

Unless you're this guy, in which case it's just amazingly fun.

I can't pick this up but you can, Dad.

Ummm... I believe that was purchased for my benefit?

Beach Bums

2011-10-13T13:46:00.001-04:00

Who says that 50 degrees (but sunny!) doesn't make for a prime beach day?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Outside, Inside, Upside Down

2011-10-06T00:19:00.000-04:00

And the Blogmother is back...

Now is when I give a big, fat round of applause (I almost wrote applesauce... this brain mush of mine is becoming sorrier by the minute) to my fantastic partner in crime. I truly did not worry for one second of my three day excursion to my cousin's wedding... well, maybe when someone admitted that he'd been using paper towels at diaper change time when the wipes ran out. Ouch. No really, he made it waaay too easy on me to hop on a plane and leave and I appreciate it more than words. All I can say is... Vegas, baby, Vegas. Except I don't like Vegas so much so maybe it's Spa, baby, Spa.

Anyhoo, as I was running in drizzly rain today, I was thinking about how this was going to be the first day in a long time where we couldn't get to the playground or go bike riding without putting our rain gear on. Because, yes, it rains a lot here but it's not like the Ark is on standby everyday to take us places. It's usually drizzle or mist and we actually receive less rainfall than Boston here (but do have more overcast days, it's true). So, even on days where there is precipitation, it isn't an all day affair and we get out. We've also had an incredibly mild fall so we've been able to get our afternoon wiggles out by bike riding or playgrounding almost every day. There are over ten playgrounds within three miles of us and, while we have our favorites, we make good use of most of them on a regular basis. And true to what the old ladies like to say in the grocery store line, most days the critters do indeed go running in opposite directions. If there's an open tennis court or field, Jack beelines it there to run in circles (weird?) and lusts after every clean, mangy, nice, growly, deaf dog he can spot and that is looking for squealing affection. He's the least picky kid when it comes to those of the canine persuasion. The more kisses on the face, the better. He avoids swings at all costs, but dogs? Those things rank right after trains in his hit parade. The swing aversion is unfortunate because guess who could swing and hang upside down all day long? Yup. The blonde tornado. The more blood that rushes through her ears, the better. The more dramatic shrieks to come help her but when I show up she wants to do it herself, the better. The more people she invites over that we've never met, the better. I think I've "cancelled" more play dates that she's set up than we've ever had in our lifetime. Oh, I love the playground. Except when I don't, because sometimes I won't (Dr. Seuss needs to exit my brain mush). And it's on those days that I can't quite stomach dogs or monkey bars that we go biking. Molly has finally gotten over braking up hill -- because someone taught her to skid so now that's pretty fun. Or not for me as she careens into pricker bushes. Jack, as you saw from the Blogfather, prefers to push the stroller (that stroller is pure gold. Do you know how much easier the grocery store is with that thing? It's A-M-A-Z-I-N-G) or ride in the Cozy Coupe. I've put the CC in the shop for a few days, however, because he will take off at breakneck speeds (as breakneck and plastic wheels allow) until he crashes in to railings. It's hilarious -- to him. Not to me.

So, maybe I'm a little glad that we had an inside day today. It was a cozy, happy afternoon with only a few jumps from high places (ahem) and no dogs or bikes. We'll take the rain and drizzle every now and again, if only because it makes us appreciate how much we do love getting our wiggles out in the out of doors.

And the fun begins...

On the way up... to upside down.

Sometimes two-footing it isn't so bad, right?

Notice a trend with the flower picking? This boy can not pass a dandelion without swooning.

There is mischief afoot.

Keeping tabs on the uphill progress.

These two are all about the teamwork -- the boss lady directs and the minion pushes.

Hi mom, I'm going to fool you into thinking I'm a benign driver.

Pedal pusher.

Jeff "Jack" Gordon scoping out which ramps to fly down and which railings to run into.

Super sonic speed racer.

Day 2

2011-10-03T23:09:00.000-04:00

I'll come clean: Thomas and Friends stopped by for a while on Saturday morning, allowing the Blogfather to catch a few extra minutes of dozing alongside the kids. Possibly a good while by the standards in your own homes. During this time though, the Blogfather deduced a new Law of Parenting while taking in Thomas' trance-inducing theme song over and over again:

shunting trucks + hauling freight = dozing late

For those who absorb scientific laws in equation form, here's a good one:

(st + hf)*e = zzzzzz
where e = episodes viewed.

Do you like the italics? I remember many textbooks using italics to emphasize "This is something meaningful that you are unlikely to comprehend on your first try." Doesn't it seem more meaningful now?

Yes, the Blogfather's preference for remaining in at least a partially sleeping state after 6 AM got the best of him once again. I extend congrats to all superparents out there who run 10 miles before dawn, wage daily war against the evil TV and its ability to rapidly degenerate the human sprirt, and whip up a 3-course homemade breakfast. Did you get it posted to Facebook yet? In the meantime, chortle away at the Blogfather's selfish weakness in comparison to your superiority. Yes, you have more perserverance and skill than the Blogfather.

For all of you worried this forfeit to Thomas Inc. confirms the Blogmother has been victimized by a mere mainstream mortal, have no fear: most details of the Thomas profit machine do not slip under the radar, even in a state of partial sleepiness while children sit on the Blogfather and scream "Emily!!" when she comes chugging into the screen. The most obvious manifestations of Thomas' revenue engine are 1) the proliferation of train characters to cover just about every type of human being, and 2) the evolution of his theme song, which years ago was a simple trance-inducing British kid diddy, but has since been recreated in full pop and rap versions.

The kids were lobbying hard to watch college football after breakfast, but they also told me they were looking for an opportunity to learn and grow as human beings, so we headed to the children's museum. On the way, we took advantage of the three best kids' amusement rides in Seattle next to the Space Needle - the light rail line, the monorail, and public elevators. Who needs Disney when you can catch a monorail every day? Apparently public transit is called Undriving here in Seattle. One might call it 45 minutes each way, vs. a 15 minute car ride. But it's solid time for big eyes and smiles. If kids ran the town, I'm pretty sure we'd all get around in trolley cars.

Hey how did this picture from work get here. Sox collapse. Sigh.

Inbound!

The Monorail - an amazing wonder of modern technology - coming soon to every town in America.

Yes, it's real rock. Or is it?

Jack jumps into the driver's seat. Molly makes a break for the door.

Jack makes a break from pinkie as the camera comes out.

(defenders of gender neutrality: fear not. no stereotypes were reinforced in the making of this picture. jack was encouraged to roll confidently in any car.)

Molly picked off the whale going 60 in a 40.

Day 1

2011-09-30T23:36:00.003-04:00

Rest easy. The kids are healthy and surviving Fall 2011 Dad Weekend 1. The Blogfather also budgeted time to capture indisputable evidence of children thriving and communicating messages to the Blogmother.

8:40 AM: After a hearty breakfast and 5 attempts at securing Molly's barrette properly, the children eagerly volunteered to participate in a propaganda video countering perceptions about the Blogfather's preference for tardiness. Peer pressure associated with delivering children late to school is just too overwhleming, even for the Blogfather:

10:00 AM: Jack shows the Blogfather his current favorite playground spot - the tennis court.

5:30 PM: Only 30 minutes after an involuntary end to an unplanned late afternoon nap, Molly encourages the Blogmother to have fun - have no concerns, Blogmother:

5:40 PM: Grover crosses Jack's line. Or Jack shows Grover how to jump up and down on the stairs. The blogfather would prefer believing the latter, but the normally mild-mannered Jack seems unusually forceful with Grover and is placed under anger management watch for the weekend.

Bad Grover?

7:10 PM: After a 20-minute battle with his nose and mouth, Jack dislodges spaghetti stuck somewhere in his nose. No picture - however you imagine this is exactly what happened.

Stay tuned for more this weekend, including NFL Sunday Family Time (graciously hosted by the Blogfather) and Escape to Uncle Eric's, which could occur without notice at any time.

Rambling Man (and Ladies)

2011-09-22T18:43:00.000-04:00

When fall comes, it only feels right to tromp off for some quieter adventures. Noisy lakes, beaches, and pools are a perfect fit for summer but autumn feels more pensive, more introspective, more solitary. Last week we trouped out to a wetlands area where I (over) promised we'd find frogs and fishies and who knows what other slithery creatures. In went our binoculars for some bird spotting (Molly loves binoculars), on went our rain boots for some muddy mucking. Well, I was off... I picked the wrong trail, returned us to the beginning only to figure out that I had actually picked the right trail and just hadn't gone far enough for the turn-off I was looking for, turned us around again, now almost dragging Molly and carrying my human paper weight. We got about 1/5 of the way down the trail I actually wanted to be on and everyone was ready to call it quits. I was bummed because the grand sum of our creepy crawlies spotting amounted to four banana slugs. No frogs, no herons, not even a stinking lily pad. You know who wasn't bummed? The two people that found a stream at the beginning of the trail to splash and jump around in and who had plenty of places to run up and play "Boo Bird". The woods were lovely, the air was cool, and the splashing and tromping were just fine... it didn't matter one whit to these guys that I had other plans and we did indeed enjoy our solitary and rejuvenating walk where we got to witness the beautiful old cedars and big ferns not one time, not two times, but four times on our ins and outs. I feel well versed in what that trail has to offer. Nonetheless, I'd still call our early herald of fall a success, albeit of the slightly unplanned variety. Happy autumn.

Yes, Please

2011-09-19T18:24:00.000-04:00

I'm officially jinxing myself by writing about this but in an effort to soak up the small details of small people, I am forced to acknowledge this little gem. Like all little tykes, Jack learned no before he learned anything in the affirmative. His "no", often accompanied by a mad dash to the opposite side of the train table because, apparently, nothing bad happens over there, is so funny. He makes a really round "O" with his mouth and shakes his head like his hair is on fire. It's emphatic, to say the least. Perhaps because he thinks saying no too often might cause his brains to fall out of his ears, he has recently learned to say "YES!" with equal enthusiasm. If you ask Jack if he'd like cereal for breakfast, he says "YES" like he's just accepted a gold medal in the Olympics -- he's that excited and he, strangely for him, enunciates it perfectly. Sometimes he opts for an equally well enunciated "I DO!" when you ask him if he'd like to do or go somewhere. It kills me because it's such a happy little embrace of the simple things and he gets all revved up for the smallest detail. I'm sure no crop up more once he realizes that he doesn't need to make a break for it every time I ask him if he wants to wipe marker off his face but, for now, I'm happy for the zesty "YES!".

I wasn't kidding, this boy loves cereal like there is no tomorrow.

Grand Stand

2011-09-13T17:40:00.000-04:00

I'm trying to make up for lost time... it's been so crazy, busy here (isn't it always? Or is it just that it's always busy and I'm crazy?). Greg came, we went on vacation (and I will post those pictures later), my parents came, school started... and now it's quiet on the home front. We had such a lovely end of summer and when my parents packed their suitcases yesterday, they took our warm 80-degree weather with them in their bags. Fall came as quickly as our house emptied out and while I wish the people hadn't gone, I do welcome our autumn weather and all the accompanying traditions, routines, and sights, sounds, and smells. We did take advantage of our unseasonably warm and sunny weather to explore lots of new places and more thoroughly experience some old favorites.

Molly wrapped up her first week of school and it went really well. She was excited and eager to be there, no tearful goodbyes, and will actually tell me what happened while she was there. It's a good place for her and she's happy and, whew, it's a good feeling to get the school year off on the right foot. Jack starts his little co-op school tomorrow, and while I'm still trying to suss that place out, I think the teacher is lovely and I'm looking forward to him having a spot of his own. He has spent so much time looking on from the sidelines at big sister's activities, eager to join in but not being able to, so this will give him a place of his own with small people his own age.

So, there we are. We are back to our foursome -- which means you'll be back to bad camera phone pictures after I give you these from my parents.

Exploring the arboretum... I also just noticed that Molly wore this rainbow dress an awful lot during the week.

Jack and Jill, er Molly, went up the hill.

Coolness can be achieved when you're under three feet tall.

Speedy lady.

Less speedy but very enthusiastic man.

The intrepid adventurers.

Checking in with mamacita.

Break-taking.

Little legs get tuckered out.

Off to see the fishies at the aquarium.

Grammy-sitting.

Seal watching.

We got in lots of bike-riding practice...

which often conveniently end at the playground.

Showing off the monkey skills on the monkey bars.

Fancy footwork.

Ferrying ourselves over to Bainbridge Island.

Pensive man at our rocky beach picnic.

Thanks for coming out M&D! Seattle misses you and the sun!

(Soon To Be) Teen Angel

2011-09-06T00:58:00.001-04:00

My girl has gone and done growed up. Sort of right before my eyes, I've watched Molly magically transform into this very capable little preschooler who is less little each day. All around me are signs that she's crossing that hard-to-spot-but-very-much-there boundary from Mom's little girl (although in good daughter form, she's very much a daddy's girl) to my kid (my child, actually, she informed me the other day -- "Mom, I'm your child not your kiddo"). She keeps doing things that I have known she will eventually master but am still surprised when it actually happens. And it's the sort of successes that are due to hard work and determination not just doing something because her legs are finally long enough or her hair finally grew in enough. No, these are bona fide accomplishments because of her effort or overcoming her own risk aversion. We're both transitioning right now as I enter my new phase of life as a school mom. Our summer has been dotted with school picnics and potlucks and it's an interesting place to be, handing off your child to someone to play a role that so far, John and I have done ourselves. If finally mastering the monkey bars is a measure of readiness, though, she's passed her entrance exam and off she'll go to school this week. But it's more than that; it's something about all the pieces that she's putting into place in different areas of her life that have me getting choked up these days. It's that she is dying to take the school bus and that she really wants a bunk bed -- and I can see on the horizon that it will happen one day. It's that, with a lot of spelling help, she's writing notes and messages to people that make some sort of sense. It's getting over her nervousness at putting her head underwater and swimming on her own or biking without needing someone to help her stop on downhills. It's that she cut her doll's hair into a crew cut today because she "needed a little trim off the bottom" (wait, that got me teary for a different reason).

It's hard to describe this transition into bigger kid but it's there. It's like the leaps forward just get bigger and bigger and effort pays off. It's priceless to watch her face when she's done it -- when she's figured it out on her own or gotten over some internal road block. It's an amazing gift that I don't even think she knows she gives.

Oh Brother

2011-09-01T02:41:00.000-04:00

Whew... we've been determined to not let the summer end without a big old bang. It's been a little crazy around these parts and we've loved loved loved every minute of it -- even when Jack has been wailing in the back seat to get him the heck out of his throne, I know he secretly loves long car rides. I just know it. And speaking of second children who are male and drool a lot still (just kidding, Jack's getting much better), Greg came to visit us at the end of August. If you will permit me to say that I loved something one more time, I'll use that card up right now (until the next post anyway). It was a great visit and we are thankful for his lack of grumpiness even though he endured hellish travel (not even Irene-related), and it was also much, much too short a visit. Not only does he have more friends in Seattle than I do, so we got to meet lots of new people who also have some short stuffs running around, but he was game for whatever my slightly manic, very overtired children decided to subject him to. Now, you might say "but of course he did, that's what uncles are for" and I would agree with you... to a point. We have superb uncles in our family but I don't think it is in their job description to have a very large toddler/small bear/mini Michelin man using them for human trampolines. I know this because I've been bounced on and I don't allow it anymore because IT HURTS. Add a big sister into the mix and well, sorry Meg, but we're sending Greg slightly misshapen. And yes, I just stood there taking pictures instead of helping him out. Aside from the internal injuries, though, we really did have a super duper time.

Oops. Isn't everybody having fun?

We went to see Mt. St. Helens. Maybe this a slightly more interesting trip for adults than kids (although there was a great ramp to run up and down on in the visitor center so I'm sure they ultimately agreed that the three hour drive was worth it for them, too).

The mountain men are excited for what I thought would be a short but not quite as short as it turned out to be hike.

Molly was off and running quickly...

for about thirty seconds. And then she just liked the dirt.

Then I made her move another four feet.

Jack, apparently, had sympathy fatigue and decided to join the chorus and let us know that he was all done, too. The boy can speak but he felt the need to sign that he was all done just to really get his point across. I get great enjoyment out of doing stuff to/with my kids that I just know they will be so glad they did in twenty years. Thankfully, it wasn't all tortured marches around dusty (but really fascinating) places...

After being inspired by a very cool thingamajig that we saw one night, Molly helped Greg build Jack one for his birthday. She's super helpful running around like a crazy loon with a drill. Seriously, where is Captain Safety when you need him?

Oh, there he is... supervising (apparently).

Molly did actually help... sort of.

And watched in awe.

And then tackled her own project (in proper attire, of course).

But now, thanks to these two, we have a very cool ramp for Jack's cars.

We know all you far away aunts and uncles have busy lives but thank you for seeing us whenever and wherever you can. Here, there, everywhere -- we love seeing you all on any coast, in any place. Eric and Mary, well, you're just stuck with us sneaking up on you weekly.

Next up: Our min-vacation to the Oregon coast.

The Days

2011-08-18T00:47:00.002-04:00

Sometimes, I'll take a moment and observe some situation or complete mess that I'm in the middle of and wonder how I would score it if my life were a movie (and I were actually talented in that area). Would I want a funny song to lighten the moment of four cups of flour being dumped on the floor? Or would I want a dramatic march that would really bring the flour pouring out of the measuring cup to life? Or would I want a deeply dark and disturbing piece... the lead-up to the subsequent horror scene when I discover that I'm now out of flour and I can't make my pizza dough!!! Ohhhh... the possibilities. So, now that I've shared that quirky tidbit, I'll just say that I like listening to music when I'm home. So I listen to lots and while it ~~may be~~ is cheesy, and John will give me hell for quoting lyrics (but we can't be original all the time, right?!), I realized the other day that 10,000 Maniacs (hmmm... strangely enough, a good name for myself some days) had it right:

These are the days

These are days you’ll remember

Never before and never since, I promise

Will the whole world be warm as this

And as you feel it,

You’ll know it’s true

That you are blessed and lucky

It’s true that you

Are touched by something

That will grow and bloom in you

That feeling of being blessed occurs watching siblings develop and deepen their relationship. While I made dinner tonight, I listened to the monkeys play together and laugh and cackle like old ladies. It was one of those magical moments when the world seemed totally right and things were ordered (half an hour later, when dinner turned out to be nasty, that feeling flew out the window). I try to leave the room quietly when they are being compadres so that my presence doesn't detract from their growing bond; I like to slip out and just be present to whatever nonsense they've got going. I also love finding them huddled together somewhere, thick as thieves -- like they don't even remember that they just needed milk or a shirt turned right side out or that they were arguing over the same darn book again -- and watching the perfectly synced blond heads rise as they discover that I've come into their space. Sometimes they want to share what they've been doing with me and sometimes they don't -- and that's fine. I don't want to be a necessary presence all the time. As they get older, their relationship gets more intuitive and better and better to watch and experience; the flip side, of course, is that they fight more intensely with Jack recently realizing that if he sits on her, she gets really mad. Lately, though, when they've been arguing and I've sent them back to come up with their own solution because I know just how good at solving problems you both are, I've even been rewarded with silence/giggling/harmony a few minutes later. I'm so not used to it that I usually have unthinkingly walked back in the room to mediate the dispute only to realize that there doesn't appear to be one anymore and who's the crazy lady now? We're not sunshine and rainbows all the time here (HAHAHAHA... that's a funny thought) but we have moments. And I live for the moments.

Morning read-a-thon

Some shenanigans in the pretender (the pretender is exactly what you see -- four interlocking panels. It's very cool and I have to give big kudos to my brother and his fam for making it for them. It goes from a house to a reading nook to a school bus and anything else a three year old can imagine faster than I can keep up).

No matter what, though, a little brother is never, not ever invited on camping trips with a big sister and her imaginary friends.

The preparation

The execution (I always bring my umbrella on my camping trips, don't you?)

The goodnights

Maybe his big gut scared all the ladies?

The clean-up. All within 20 minutes.

Summer Days Drifting Away

2011-08-11T00:35:00.001-04:00

We have these few weeks of summer where we have very little that we have to do. Camp is over, school stuff hasn't started yet (soon, though, and I feel like I'm moving into an entirely different phase of life come September -- class picnics, school meetings, packing lunches), our upcoming visitors are still a week out from arrival (but I sure am excited), and I don't have to start thinking about packing for our little family vacation quite yet. I'm looking forward to everything that we have coming down the pike but I'm also really enjoying our leisurely days and impromptu outings. With fall just around the corner (and we're feeling it on both coasts, apparently, since I read Liz's post with similar sentiments in the middle of writing this one), there is a feeling of urgency to getting our summer excursions in but it's good pressure -- it reminds us to embrace all the cliches and seize the day, suck the marrow out of life, and, according to Erma Bombeck "Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the 'Titanic' who waved off the dessert cart."

We're trying our best to live and love and enjoy these fleeting moments. Sometimes I wish that some of us weren't trying to be so fleet footed since Jack's latest gash probably could have been avoided had he not been trying to keep up with the older kids, but we'll take the good with the bad. These aren't quite the lazy days of summer quite yet (soon, soon -- maybe next year) but they are full of good memories. In this little interlude between busier times, it's nice to sit back and take stock of where we're at and what we have coming up. It's fun to share the days' stories with John and let him swoop in and be fun dad while the we still have time to enjoy long evenings outside. The sun is certainly setting earlier these days but while it's still shining during the day, we're soaking it all up with every ounce of energy we can muster.

We love catalogs over here. Molly generally likes things along the lines of Land of Nod or American Girl. Jack, however, likes the free car magazine that you find next to the USA Today newspaper on the street. Like the souped up hot rod he was intrigued with, I'm pretty sure the walking and reading thing is a bad idea.

Being an older kid (Molly's term for herself when she's pretending she's big and grown up), means that we can convince mom to stop her run and take a dunk in the lake (her, not me) while "the little kid" is sleeping.

Blueberry picking...

which turned into blueberry eating and...

leaf picking.

post-pick picnic.

Today's outing was to the best kid farm I've ever been to. I hate scary petting zoo-type farms with over-fed animals or the farms that are like amusement parks with a random goat thrown in. This place was a good mix of well-tended-but-not-rabid animals and a few other activities that kept us entertained but not overwhelmed. Phew.

Jack lost his mind over the chickens. I don't think he ever figured out that he couldn't catch the big ones (and I'm realizing that he sounds like my parents' cat who hasn't figured out that he can't catch squirrels. Great, my kid is like a lunatic cat) and was SO excited when he could hold one of the baby chicks and it sat on his arm. The other thing he liked? The poop rake. He followed the guy picking up the horse poop around screaming "rake" at him over and over. Hey, my boy calls a spade a spade.

Molly liked the idea of the chicks better than the reality. The lady is cautious about her wildlife...

except for the horses. She loved loved loved riding the horse.

All good farms let their farmers drive tractors.

Thankfully, the hot rodder-in-training couldn't put the pedal to the metal quite yet but he was mad to try it.

It's A Bird, It's A Plane, It's Fun!

2011-08-07T01:35:00.000-04:00

If Molly could have "her girls" around her every waking moment, she would be pretty happy. She's always chirping about her cousins and even when she is bone tired and falling asleep in her food, she would prefer to keep these ladies right with her and never let them go home. It's quite cute (and nice for me since I usually get to hang out with Mary and this weekend we even got the whole famdamily together). What's especially funny is to watch the dynamic amongst all the kids develop: Katy imparts her sage advice, Molly tries to organize everyone into random pursuits, Emmy keeps us apprised of what Baby Jack is doing and what is safe or not, and Jack just tries to keep up with everyone else and stay right in the thick of things. Oh, we love them all so much.

**********

We have been listening to, and taking sneak peeks at, the Blue Angels for the past several days since they've been rehearsing by our house for their big performances this weekend. We checked out the real show yesterday and John and I thought Jack would go bananas with all the planes since he generally goes out of his mind for planes, trains, and automobiles. Nope. He was far more interested in the dogs that people were walking and the popsicle he got to eat. We walked back down to the lake for another air show today and the crazy-banana-antics did end up coming out... for the helicopters, which weren't doing any tricks whatsoever. He could not get enough of the twirly birds that were hovering... just hovering.

Okay, so I give up on predicting what my kids are going to love other than their cousins (and ice cream).

I'm stealing these pictures from Eric since I still can't pictures off John's phone. Thank you!

You Talkin' To Me?

2011-08-03T12:33:00.003-04:00

Don't worry, I'm not losing my affinity or affection for the east coast but I was recently struck with two examples of where maybe, just maybe, Boston could learn a thing or two about openness and magnanimity from its west coast cousin. Yesterday, Jack and I were strolling to get coffee (I won't even mention the superiority of Seattle's finest blends as an example because even though the coffee is outstanding, you know what it doesn't have?? Dunkin' Donuts. And I'm sorry, there is just no replacement for DD some days) before we picked Molly up from school and we spied a guy in a digger sitting and having lunch in the cab. Jack started making all sorts of monkey sounds to get near the machine but I didn't want to disturb the guy's break. We milled around from a little distance until he smiled at Jack (who was enthralled with the tires) and I called over that I had a little boy who is a fan of big machines so were just looking for a minute. The guy smiled so nicely, said "me too" and told us that we could look all around it and he'd answer any questions (I had some but I think he meant he'd answer Jack's questions). In Boston, I think they worker would have dropped some F-bombs and thrown his Kelly's roast beef at us as we dodged traffic to get out of the way so this was a pleasant surprise.

Secondly, last night we had a block party. I was totally wary of this, I have to admit. A potluck with neighbors, many of which I've never met? Um, no, not really my speed, especially when my wing man is out of town. But, I bucked up and went and it was actually fun. It was so old fashioned friendly and people introduced themselves and just chatted the evening away while kids were inviting each other for sleepovers (okay, just Molly was inviting everyone over for sleepovers which I didn't know about until a little girl came over to her mom, with whom I was talking, and asked if she could sleep over at our house). Again, I'm not sure I can envision my Fenway neighbors and I pulling out tables and chairs to the middle of the street and bringing coconut chicken and salads out on a summer evening.

I'll always be a New Englander at heart, but perhaps old dogs can learn new tricks... and I can learn not to assume that Jack's not going to get a Fribble thrown at him every time he obsesses about heavy machinery.

Nothing to do with anything pictures...

You Are The Sunshine Of My Life

2011-07-31T23:51:00.000-04:00

I think it is safe to say that summer has finally arrived in Seattle. Thank goodness. And with it has, apparently, come some old fashioned summer laziness since when I looked at my camera tonight I had some huge number of pictures that I haven't downloaded. I think the long days combined with a more settled feeling than I've had since we left the east coast (and, to be honest, being sleepy at the end of the day after chasing the wild children in my life) have made me delinquent in posting pictures and writing. In a roundabout way, it's a good thing -- it's good to feel fairly in control of things and to enjoy where we are living. The things that I don't feel in control of, well, those are certainly still there, usually in the form of my blond tornado and her bouncer brother. But mostly the blond tornado and my love/hate relationship with the age of three. But that's a different story for a different day... or I just told it. I love, love, love it... and then aye yai yai, the emotional roller coaster is off and running. Anyway, while I think we'll feel in a period of transition for some time to come, life feels like it's bumping along pretty nicely right now with more predictable ups and downs. It's not perfect but it's good and it's ours and it's working. And, did I mention summer finally got here? Everything is better with some sun (and fudgesicles).

Camp Out

2011-07-26T02:47:00.001-04:00

If you know how we roll around here, you know that we don't often do a lot of advance planning for our weekends. This weekend being no exception, somewhere around 10am on Saturday, we decided to go camping. After throwing around approximately 6000 ideas, we finally settled on going south towards to the coast... or maybe to the Mt. Rainier area... or maybe south but inland... or we'd just decide on the road. Two hours, one tent, four sleeping bags, five camp chairs, and a lot of other crap later, we found ourselves on the road. Four hours after THAT we found ourselves getting an off-road vehicle permit, a big red flag, and one portable toilet. And THEN one hour later, we were surrounded by lots and lots of sand (and the sound of ATVs) in our "dispersed camp site" in the Siuslaw National Forest sand dunes. Aside from the drone of ATVs, it was really beautiful and I'm now a huge fan of sleeping on the sand. The little people were also big, big advocates of camping this way -- today, Molly informed me that she likes that camp site better than Seattle (I dunno about that...) and Jack did innumerable face plants in the sand (and yes, Holly, he did ingest his fair share of sand although he seemed happier landing in it than eating it this time around). Sometimes these adventures don't work out so well but, more often than not or else we'd call it quits, the unplanned nature of them adds to the spirit and fun and they end up like this -- sandy, sunny, and undoubtedly funny.

Our view.

My sous chef.

Tent sentry.

Plenty of room to run... and run... and run.

Sunset.

Jamming at sunset.

Where'd my cars go?

(Ed note: I dug for Hot Wheels a few too many times this trip. Not so fun when you're pretty much looking for a needle in a haystack).

It's okay, we found them.

Campfire.

The proud fire builder.

Getting ready for s'mores.

On Sunday, we headed up the coast where there was sand AND water.

Captain beach.

Yes, that water is FREEZING.

Although, some people disagreed with that notion.

The Boss Lady and Little Big Man.

The end.

I'm A Big Kid Now

2011-07-22T02:16:00.001-04:00

Remember when Jack missed Molly during her first day of camp? Ah yeah, no more. While he does spend the first couple minutes asking where she is and is excited to pick her up (which may have something to do with his disappearing into the playhouse each time we go to get her), he has started taking full advantage of his time away from the big boss.

This week, he...

took over the stamp set (I think he just made stacks of them since he does not appeared inclined towards the crafts just yet)...

asked me to please leave him alone since he never gets a moment of peace and quiet around here...

but in the end, did agree to give his old mom a little of his charm...

and then tried a new way of picking up toys...

which failed...

but he kept trying to get those toys inside the vacuum...

and, once again, asked me to leave him the heck alone so he could work in peace.

Ed Note: Yes, I do realize he is wearing goggles... it just doesn't faze me much anymore since someone is usually wearing my circa 1995 ski shades around here.

And the big boss lady? She's doing really well at school and I can tell she's having fun because she refuses to tell me what the heck she does all day. One other thing I do know, is that she "suddenly" knows how to draw people! I'm not sure why I'm so fixated on the people-drawing and I don't know why she waited so long to break out her skill (yes I do... it's because I was so fixated on it despite trying to keep it to myself) but it has made for good times all around. Yup, you betcha, I'm that excited.

Molly starting "real" school (well, real enough... it's camp but it's at the school she'll start in September with the same teachers) has, as expected, provoked a range of feelings. I've had my moments of swooning, feeling so proud of her for how well she has done, and I've had my moments of disbelief that she's old enough to do all of this and that I'm relegated to the chauffeur role, and I've had a moment or two of sadness that she's turning into a big kid so fast. It's been nearly all good, though, and I'm excited for her to really start in the fall. And, as she gets smarter every day, I think I might get dumber. I swear, any mental agility I might have ever possessed feel like it's left the building lately... maybe I'll let her take over the blog writing...

Island Life

2011-07-19T02:56:00.000-04:00

We're still having some technical difficulties getting some pictures from our BI trip but since we've been living with more rain than sun since we've been back, I'm ready to revisit the gorgeous weather that we had out there and am just going with what I've got (with a little boost from Nana). What's especially nice is that I can't get at any of the pictures of anyone else who made the trip fantastic -- so, so sorry that it's just our ugly mugs populating this post. Nonetheless, you can trust me that Nana and Grandpa welcomed the traveling circus with great food and company and gave us all lots of time to relax, as always. It was so lovely to reunite with John and give up my single parenting (with lots of assistance) gig and I think he actually unplugged for several days, which was amazing! Shocking! It was really great.

We got in some great walks, chased the wizard around the yard, visited the playground, enjoyed lots and lots of beach time (John loved every sandy minute of it), and just wore ourselves out. Being on vacation is simply fabulous, especially when lots of people want to help you take care of sun-kissed little people. We got some extra special help at the end of the week when Auntie Holly, Auntie Karin, and Becca came out. Molly basically attached herself to Becca for 48 hours and I'm pretty sure she would still be hanging off her arm if we hadn't forced her onto the ferry.

And while it's nice to be home, it was definitely hard to leave those blue skies and fabulous people behind...

Please ignore the animal attached to my head... also known as my wild hair. Yikes.

The wizard kept appearing in different spots around the yard and someone was happy to hunt for him every morning.

Traveling circus what?

My mellow men.

Hide and seek is less effective when you hide in the same spot every time.

Whee!

Oh, those curls...

Jack's final test to become an America citizen: ingestion of his first RI institution -- Dell's Lemonade.

There may be little foot imprints at that door -- I'm not sure if it's birds, flowers, or what but he loves gazing out front.

Working hard for the money.

Actually working hard.

Waving goodbye to his peeps.

On My Own

2011-07-12T14:46:00.000-04:00

I thought that when Molly went to camp, Jack would be ecstatic to have one-on-one time and not to have to share dear old Mom with a very bossy sister. I don't know when my ego started running away unchecked because not only did he spend the first two hours saying "Where Maw-wy?" over and over but the lawn mower was more interesting than whatever shenanigans I was trying to interest him in on the playground. Slide be damned!

How Sweet It Is

2011-07-08T18:13:00.001-04:00

Three and a half. Like most milestones reached, it feels like this happened in the blink of an eye. That Molly is suddenly in the latter half of her fourth year on the planet seems unbelievable yet also very, very believable when I think of how much we have done with her and how much she has done for us. My little spitfire is as fiery as ever. She still has swagger, frenetic energy, an incredibly strong will, and remains as stubborn as all get up. But three has been a big year for her in other ways and it's had its share of growing pains. She's more fearful of some things than she used to be, dogs for instance, and you can see the tug of war in her mind where she wants to walk right up to something but can't quite get herself there. She can have a very hard time trying new things if I don't stay with her but this is abating quickly and her confidence, now tinged with a little more awareness of the world, is returning. She can be very particular about who does what for her -- you might have experienced this if you've tried to get her out of her car seat -- and will give you a hairy eyeball (and a shriek or two) if you try and convince her to do it your way. She remembers everything. Everything. Every-thing. E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G. You can not, should not, will not pull a fast one on her. Don't think for one second that if she fell asleep on the way home from somewhere and you had promised to get ice cream that she won't wake up, come into your room at 6 am and inform you that you were supposed to get ice cream on the way home so let's go now. Or that yesterday you said that it was easier to brush her hair with your fingers (when you really just couldn't find the hairbrush and you had to be out the door in thirty seconds) so what in heaven's name do you think you're doing trying to use a brush on it today. Her mind, like her mama's, is a steel trap, one that, (like her mama's) may occasionally tweak things that you say so that they better suit what she'd like to hear. She's sassy and savvy, this one. She loves to be a big girl and will tell you that she is one, especially in relation to her brother --"I don't use binkies anymore, I'm a big girl." Or "I don't wear diapers anymore, I'm a big girl. Jack is a baby so he still wears diapers at night (ed note: he actually still wears them all the time but the daytime diapers don't really relate to her anymore since she's been out them long enough that they don't register on her radar. It is, after all, all about her). She is oh so independent in the things she feels mastery over -- puzzles, "reading" (i.e. reciting from memory) books, coloring, painting, t-ball, building blocks, geography (weird, I know, but she is strangely good at it. I've learned more about US geography in the past two months than in all 33 years prior) -- but can be hesitant to try something out in front of anybody until she is secure in her success. She's is, at the same time, still very much little. She often wakes up wanting to be held and snuggle. She nudges (or pushes) Jack out of the way for lap time and she loves being smooched. I love that she has big ideas, big plans, big personality but that there is a bit of her that still isn't ready to be in the big world full time and a piece of her still likes being our baby girl.

The love that she can bestow is epic. She will latch onto someone and it's like no one else needs to exist. That person is her best friend. Sometimes it is someone she has met once, sometimes it's someone she hasn't seen for a year, sometimes it's me or John... but if you're in the spotlight, the two of you are the center of the universe and you are the funniest, smartest, best at XYZ person around (after her, of course). You just had better not want to eat dinner without her on your lap or hanging on your arm or, at the very least, with your chairs touching. You also should not attempt to go to the bathroom or shower or wake up alone as this may be hazardous to your health according to the single white female hanging outside the door. It's a generous love, though, and the attention is sincere, which is cute. There is no posturing on her part; that it's genuine affection is helpful to remember when you have someone staring down the bathroom door.

With all that said, with all the highs of the age, three has been challenging for me to parent through at times. Two gets a lot of press for being a difficult age but I found it easier than three with her. I hear a lot of my admonishments shot right back at me -- I often am told that I'm not listening well, that I'm not being kind, that she's not interested in arguing about something. I have said to people that Jack tires me out physically each day but my little firecracker sure does make me mentally exhausted every day. I find myself flummoxed or tongue-tied or not quite sure of my approach more than I used to. As she grows and stretches and bumps up against limits and boundaries, I find it hard not to mention the rules ad nauseum or get exasperated by the same behavior that I swear we just talked about and instead keep my eye on the developmental realities of the age. I am not always successful no matter how many times I chant "firm but fair, firm but fair" as my mantra. I yell more than I'd like and now Molly preemptively asks me if I'm going bananas (it's really that obvious, I guess). I have to slow down more than I'm used to and think things through instead of acting reflexively or reactively. She is, I am, we are, as always, a work in progress.

Still, no matter how many times I have to retrieve her and my iPhone from some dark corner where she professes to be doing "nuthin'" and no matter how many times I need to remind her not to affectionately call her brother tushy penis head (especially in public, please) and no matter how many times I have my own cranky pants on, there is not a thing about her that I'd change. I will love her for always, forever, and to the moon and back. She wears many hats but she's so full of spunk and love and energy that there is no choice whether or not to embrace it all, it's a given, just as it has been for the past three and a half years.

Pictures From the Edge

2011-07-06T02:18:00.001-04:00

I'm not sure where to start in recounting a month's worth of good times. How about starting with the standard "where did that month go"?... since I really can't believe that four weeks just raced by that quickly. Life changing events (Meg got crowned a doctor), milestones (Molly turned 3 and a half and America turned just about as old), and not so surprising things (I got a royal beat down in chess... by an eight year old) all occurred without ever having to leave the state of Maine, because, you know, it's the way life should be. But leave we did to visit friends and to cap off our trip with a week on Block Island, where we had, perhaps, the best stretch of weather I've ever experienced out there. Best of all, when we flew home, no one threw up on me or John. Wowza -- what a month.

I have no idea how to organize any of our malarky and a daily diary may finally move you to tears if you've never had the pleasure after some of my other ramblings. I, of course, don't have a representative smattering of pictures of our good times (and not so good times like when Jack liked to banshee yell all night or Molly took home the trophy for world's latest bedtimes/effective stall tactics). My parents are hardly in any photos yet they were AMAZING (seriously, who puts up with my traveling, one-parent circus for three weeks and then tells us that we can stay longer -- all with a straight face?). I hope they know how wonderful they are since I high tailed it out of town quicker than an on-sale firecracker on the fourth of July so that I could continue my successful run at avoiding painful goodbyes. My brothers and their families are also completely underrepresented but we got to soak up time with all of them even if it made schedules a little nutty. I was also too busy yukking it up with friends to take any actual pictures and instead committed all visits to memory. Crud.

Has anyone noticed that I'm off on a tangent?

Okay dokey... here's one attempt to document our time. Cousins (my side... the other side comes later) -- oh what fun we have with them. What little imps they can be. Oh what absolute messes they can be...

First of all, I'm pretty sure there is nothing that will bring people together more than camping. Second of all, these nut jobs were so goofy that I think we scared any other creatures away except for the eat-'em-alive mosquitos that took 2/3 of Molly with them, poor thing (that moose that ventured our way did so at night, smarty pants). Finally, I learned that you CAN camp with two kids but without your partner... if you want to sleep tucked in a corner, breathing nylon at the foot end of the tent because your two small people take up so much ever-loving room with their legs, hands, feet, and pinkies. Don't think that their feet don't smell, either. Oh, you can also do it if you have other people cart your gear for you (thank you!).

Thick. As. Thieves.

No wait, make that a triple.

Hanging with his homeboys at the campfire. And by homeboys, I mean giant, flesh-devouring mosquitoes.

Men Men Men Men. Chris, on principle (the one I'm still figuring out), refuses to try for a nice picture. Hey, I may fail every time to be photogenic, but I don't TRY TO BE DIFFICULT.

This kid... oh, this little man (you know, the one who is 2/3 of year older than Baby Jack but weighs 2/3 as much) -- he redefines hilarious.

There they all are: Megan, Molly, Erin, Evan, and Jack... waaaaaaaaait a minute...

Okay, that's better (and note to self... don't bring footie pajamas camping again).

Morning mess.

Love is in the air.

We also joined the crew back at headquarters where the kids were super good listeners about not going in the water at the splash park (and yes, Jack is trying to drink the water from one tiny sprayer).

And finally, Megan joined us at Grammy and Grampy's for a couple of nights.

Hil-arious and serious dance "class".

Followed by face painting, of course... which naturally had to occur 30 minutes before company arrived.

Clean crew.

And that's all I've got for now. We've missed being here so we shall see if we can ramp back up quickly here, ayuh. On that final note, happy belated holiday.

Coming Home

2011-06-16T22:29:00.008-04:00

I'm on a semi-hiatus from the blog because we're back east visiting family and well, it's much more fun to visit and catch up with people than type away at my computer during nap time. It's a funny thing "vacationing" in your parent's house but really, it is actually can be far more relaxing than being on our own (although there is a big old hole without John here). Whenever grandparents are involved, hands seem to multiply towards infinity and offers of help come from all directions. I'm lucky... I've been able to run a 10 mile race that Liz and I trained for for months (she recaps the whole thing well except for the part where she doesn't say that she is super duper fast), we have been canoeing, enjoying some outside entertainment, out for walks, eating exceptionally well, meeting up with little friends, cursing the rain but embracing the sun, running through sprinklers, splashing in pools, going to the beach... and it's all been easy peasy. No, that's not true... Molly always adjusts to the time changes well but Jack, not so much. He is Mr. Happy Go Lucky except when we ask him to totally change his sleep schedule and then he turns into Mr. Banshee Wailer Who Shatters Windows With His Scream and Can't Be Put Down. That's a big title for a young man. The little dude had a three day period of being very unhappy, including one entire day of frequent rounds of screeching, until he discovered two things: a Thomas book at the library and cats' tails, especially one on a very patient cat who doesn't mind that his tail gets pulled or his ears get grabbed, and life has suddenly been much easier. Molly, while adjusting to the time change just fine and dandy, has been producing behaviors that have my parents cackling and mumbling things about karma and payback and me ready to go batty... except that my behaviors weren't so time consuming to redress and redirect until I was 16 (my mom says 11, but she's wrong). Molly is, you may remember, three. Just three (although my niece, who is eight, did say that Molly has matured since our last visit). The stuff that comes out of her mouth often IS funny, too, if you're not the one who has to deal with the consequences of said behavior. She's a tongue twister, that one (literally, sometimes). I can get so flustered figuring out what to say to her because it has bitten me in the patooty more than once (my favorite right now is "Mom, I just don't want to fight about it anymore"). But the love, oh the love, that is there... that all makes it okay at the end of the day with these small people.

Helping Grampy fill the bird feeders is one of those things that takes 20 times longer when little munchkins help but...

the looks of satisfaction on their faces are 20 times sweeter than anything any silly bird will give you.

Right, our sun went away and we were forced back into fleece and pants.

Ladies afternoon out: a show and gelato.

?????

I swear, I think my mom and I finished almost all our conversations that we started while at the beach today -- in a linear fashion. These two played their little hearts and souls out... with each other. I might even throw a magazine in there next time.

Post beach production.

Painting with pals (thanks for the picture, Liz).

Wreaking a bit of havoc on some other diners' dinners. Just a little hide and seek... what? (thanks again, Liz)

We really do miss John and I'm sure he loves hearing the stories about the madness while he toils away back in Seattle, but I figure if you can't have your spouse to help, grandparents sure do make a good back up team. Even with the extra dash of sassy and screamy, it's so nice to be back. It's helpful and reassuring to get the perspective that parents offer and it's really nice, as we all feel I'm sure, to get to see the relationships develop between little ones and grand ones. Summers in Maine and Block Island are glorious and while I often race around hither and thither when I'm home, on this trip, I've slowed down. Getting to enjoy the location as well as the people has been rejuvenating and fun. It's why no matter how nice temperate winters with little snow are and springs that really do start in April, I think I'll always be a New Englander at heart. It's the people, it's the places, it's just plain home.

Hello Sun

2011-06-06T02:48:00.001-04:00

I love summer... well, let me specify, I love summer when normal temperatures define the season (I was horrified when Holly told me it was 105 degrees in Phoenix this weekend. Horrified. And I just came from a place where it got insanely hot... just not that crazy hot. Sometimes it doesn't pay to be a sweaty mess above 85 degrees). I am unapologetic, though, about my nostalgia for my childhood summers and I steadfastly see them solely through rose colored glasses (even that one summer when I begged to go to sleep away camp... only to want to immediately come home). I remember them being defined by lots of bike riding, going out to the river, canoeing, building stuff out in the woods, and feeling very satisfied when my feet were callused enough to basically never need shoes until October. I feel like I lived in my bathing suit. I know I'm leaving out a thing or two in my revised narrative (endless garden weeding, for instance...) but I really have no desire to add back in any of the less exciting details. I loved that our summers felt free and rejuvenating and unscheduled and so, when we finally got our long-awaited summer weather this weekend, as cliched as it is, all of those good memories came out pouring of the woodwork of my brain. The permission to slow down, to enjoy late afternoons, to eat lunch anywhere but at a table, to experience each day with all our senses -- this is what hitting 75 degrees meant for me. We all breathed big old sighs of relief and we made the most of every moment even while it all felt less stressful. Days stretched out into the evenings, everyone went to bed happy or sandy or with a little pink in their cheeks (Jack did -- Molly insisted on putting on sunscreen the moment we stepped out the door) or sticky from sweets or more likely some combo of all of the above. We had a great visit from Auntie Holly, soaked in some rays at the Mariners game, had a fun post-game BBQ with all the folks, got out to the beach, lounged in the kiddie pool, and rinsed out all the sand, sunscreen, and sweat at the end of the day feeling pretty happy and satisfied. I'm pretty sure this weekend gets high marks in the nostalgia department.

Don't worry, the slide made its way into the pool shortly.

One very patient aunt, one Baby Buddha, and a whole gaggle of ladies.

Line 'em up!

I'm pretty sure everything is better understood upside down.

I can eat my way through the entire game, right?

Love, love, and more love.

Here's how the beach trip went: arrive at beach, get asked to apply sunscreen before bag is out of my hands, ask small person to hang on (repeat x3), apply sunscreen, watch small person roll in sand for a somewhat uncomfortable looking additional coat of sun protection.

The other sand monster.

Grilled cheese with a side of sandy protein.

Small World

2011-05-31T14:55:00.000-04:00

We're into little, small things and creature these days -- fairies, building mouse houses, birdies, worms and slugs -- so Molly and I embarked on a project that we both enjoyed -- painting for her (on something other than paper since I'm almost out of scrap paper and have reams and reams of artwork on my refrigerator) and something crafty for me -- and dolled up some bird houses (Oh Jo-Ann Fabrics, how I love you and your craftalicious good times). They came out... colorfully. I decided that they pay homage to our Italian ancestry and our love of bright, bright colors all swirled together in one place. Now, I just need to go find some plastic to cover the furniture and it really would be home for some Italian birds. Although I laughed and cringed (inwardly) at the color choices, it was fun to watch Molly very seriously pick her colors and her intensity in painting it just so.

You Know You Are A...

2011-05-24T21:35:00.000-04:00

Canadian when hockey captures every ounce of your attention. On TV, on your floor -- either place you can (sort of) yell, "he shoots! He scores!"

These playoffs are serious business... he just hopes it doesn't come down to a Bruins/Canucks final series (is that what it's even called in hockey? A series?). Yikes!

If You Give A Diva A Dress...

2011-05-22T22:03:00.002-04:00

Can you guess which child I still get to dress?

Now, as these things go, this is a totally tame outfit choice... usually the colors and patterns that someone (who thinks she has a fashion degree) combines reside on a completely different color wheel and pattern board than my own. Today, though, was a case of how many shades of the same color can one combine and how can one accessorize? It's always an adventure...

18 Months... But Who's Counting?

2011-05-18T18:30:00.000-04:00

The 18 month mark came and went last month for Mr. Baby Jack but since he hasn't radically changed in the last three weeks, I think this post can still be relevant. Who is my little man at a year and a half? Oh my, he's a sweet boy who is always looking for a good time.
- Wants to be in the midst of EVEYTHING? Check. Aye yay yay.
- Wants to do whatever Big Sister is doing? Check. This goes his way sometimes, and others, not so much.
- Mugs for the camera with a big ol' "cheeeeeeeeeeeese"? Check. It's like he smells a lens a mile away.
- Has early onset wild and crazy hair? Check. Wings.
- Loves his daddy and gets manic when he walks in the door? Check. Knows his car, knows his footsteps, and I'm expecting a whiplash injury to occur soon.
- Talks more and more each day to the point that I wonder if just waited to talk until he had an internal quota of words? Check. Many words still require translating but the window into his needs is pretty nice.
- Finds the nook on mom's neck to snuggle in before bed each night? Check. I love it.
- Backs into someone's lap like a box truck backing up when he wants to read books? Check. I think to myself "beep, beep, beep" every time.
- Has the deepest, most exuberant belly laugh that I've ever heard on anyone -- man, woman, or child? Check. It's infectious and hilarious.
- Squeals like a honking seal when there is something he wants and either can't have it or can't have it fast enough? Check. Dislike.
- Reaches new levels of motivation each day to climb and finagle new ways of getting food from the 'fridge, cabinets, bags, etc? Check. Welcome to the world of continuous bruising.
- Continues to throw big, fat, noisy fits when he gets frustrated? Check... but only if someone is watching. I've literally seen him face down on the floor, look for me, not see me and get up and toddle off. Drama, drama, drama.
- Is surprisingly coordinated, dextrous, and possess good fine motor skills? Check. I am terribly uncoordinated and clumsy so I never expected much beyond superior foot-tripping skills from my little ones.
- Possesses unflagging determination for making sly escapes. Check. It's awesome.

I love this age. I love the curiosity, the simplicity, the unfettered enthusiasm for life. I love this little boy.

Water Logged

2011-05-15T23:44:00.000-04:00

What do you do when the rain REFUSES to quit? What else can you do besides go figure out where your water comes from. We went up to a really well done water museum north of here today and had the place pretty much to ourselves, which was great for our cooped up crew. A little education, a little puddle stomping, a little contaminating Seattle's water reservoir (Molly didn't like that this wasn't a lake she could swim in...) and it all worked out to be a good way to combat the unseasonably cold weather we've been having.

The Moms Have It

2011-05-10T13:23:00.001-04:00

Full on paragraphs are not forming in my brain this morning but there are some things blowing around in that drafty upstairs of mine. Some things like...

how the best mother's day present is one little voice chirping up from the side of the bed saying "happymother'sdayiloveyoumama" while another one giggles slightly manically, just happy to be included in the big people stuff.

how much I missed being with my own mom on mother's day and I hope she knows how much she means to me every day and not just the second Sunday in May. Being away from home is hard even when you like your life a lot... I couldn't say it nearly as well as she does, though.

how I am lucky to have a mother-in-law who is wonderful no matter which "mother" hat -- mom, mother-in-law, Nana -- she has on.

how special it was that I got to spend this mother's day with two really great moms who are relatively new additions to my life but who feel like I've known forever.

how I have a husband who can turn some pretty interesting lemons into lemonade whereas I would just have a big sticky mess on my hands and cry.

how grateful I am that my family and friends who are moms are willing to share their highs and lows, their funny stories, their triumphs and disasters with me and each other. That we don't walk this path alone is priceless, sustaining, and joyful.

how the weight of two little bodies never really feels heavy and, in fact, feels like a treasure I'd happily carry every day of my life.

Happy Belated Mother's Day (we were in Jack's motherland for the weekend but have happily returned home once again).

Dynamic Duo

2011-05-04T01:00:00.002-04:00

There has been a subtle but definite shift in our house over the past several weeks... a lovely, welcome, timely one. Recently, the peals of laughter bouncing off the walls haven't all been because of my hysterical jokes and actually have very little to do with me... and everything to do with the small people. Although there still is, and I assume always will be, antagonism afoot, these two have been playing more and more together and really becoming a thick-as-thieves twosome. I was picking up the other night when I heard scampering across the floor and giggling up the wazoo and I was able to sneak upstairs and just watch these two love on each other and be each other's best buddy without them immediately noticing me. It was so fun... so, so, so fun and rewarding and sweet and funny. It touched off a lot of emotions, actually. I'm used to being in the middle of things with one or both of them -- mediating or helping or soothing or getting something or just mommying -- but these days I'm getting edged out a little bit. Trust me, it's FINE -- I WANT it to happen. I want them to scheme and conspire and confide and help each other, but it is a shift in our dynamic and that takes getting used to a little bit. This really isn't about me, though, it's about them and their growing relationship. The big gulf of ability that used to separate them is slowly closing and their different personalities have started to really complement each other. Jack is always, always looking for a good time and he tends to make his own fun no matter what. Molly is more elaborate and deliberate in her constructs of hilarity but these guys just click as they discover the best parts of each other more and more each day. It's a gift to watch them and to see them appreciate what the other brings to the table without overanalyzing it all -- it's just pure, sweet childhood and siblinghood at its best.

Tea for two, please. I'll write more on this at some other time and how it devolved into a nekked tea party.

Here's what I heard when I got upstairs... "I wanna be a cow girl and you can be my cow boy"... Dads teach their kids all sorts of important things about life like '80s one hit wonders and drinking milk from your cereal bowl... ahem.

The big fish's #1 fan.

Braving the drool to swoop in for a hug.

Serious, serious fun.

I'm not sure exactly what game Jack got roped into playing here but he's a happy camper...

Why Be On Time? The Easter Post

2011-05-02T18:11:00.001-04:00

The cuteness of Easter pageantry is too much, no? Every year gets more and more fun with Mrs. E. Bunny (Molly told me it's a lady bunny) coming to visit, rabbit ears sprouting up left and right, treats and baskets popping up overnight, and Peeps still being banned from the house. For me, Easter is a time when I can go nutty on my love for family traditions without too much resistance from the peanut gallery and I think we achieved that well this year. We had fun with the fam, enjoyed good weather, and just generally enjoyed a mellow weekend. And then, true to form, I got rid of all the Easter gear the next day... I love all the baskets and eggs and stuff leading up to the day but once the clock strikes midnight, I get all antsy about the stuff floating around... and I'm about the furthest thing from a mcneaty pants (yeah, yeah, you all know that).

Peter, Peterette, and Papa Bunny

Sometimes, good things never come to an end.

No, the entry to the dining room is not usually gated off but I figured if I actually wanted to walk the jelly bean trail before the jelly beans were consumed, I'd better control the chaos.

And she loved it...

And Jack loved it, too...

Because he just ate the jelly beans that got overlooked.

Crunched carrots, baskets of loot... happy day.

Sneaky little guy...

Even though egg dying might be on John's least favorite thing to do ever list, it is right at the top of my must do every year list. He does enjoy being sneaky, though, so while the kids and I dyed eggs earlier in the week, he got to hide them without even getting his fingertips stained.

Painting Me A Smile

2011-04-26T17:56:00.000-04:00

What do you do when you find an activity that your three year old will do for hours (and I'm not exaggerating, HOURS)? You embrace it, you love it, you make it your new best friend. What if this activity is messy, potentially ruinous to furniture and rugs, and produces copious amounts of output? You don't care -- you embrace it, you love it, you make it your new best friend... and you buy picture frames because everyone is getting a piece of the action for Christmas this year (kidding...).

Molly has been sort of bummed about being left at school or with a babysitter lately so in an effort to put the bright and sunny bounce in her step and smile on her face, we've been painting... and painting and painting and painting. And, really, she will finger paint, watercolor paint, go back to finger painting, go back to watercolors, do some mixed media, for a seemingly endless amount of time. It's a little messy, sure, but it makes her so happy that it really is worth it.

Since I've got a willing partner in crafty crime, we decided to make big easter eggs last week (on one day... I didn't need thousands). She couldn't have been happier (or more intense).

I must have many papers in front of me and I will use them all. And Jack's too.

I am just getting started.

Go away now, I'm hard at work.

This is okay, right? (Ed. note: heck yes! Keeping finger paint on the hands only is a relatively new thing for Molly. I'm not saying a word).

If I move my hand really fast, I make swirling colors.

And what of the other munchkin? Well, based on the last time I put up finger painting pictures, you can probably imagine how this scenario goes...

Yes, this is fun.

Weird texture but I'll give it a shot...

Okay, I'm done...

Or am I?

More, please...

So that I commence with nefarious activities.

Hmmm... it seems to have gotten everywhere.

Guilty as charged.

Buddha Belly

2011-04-24T21:05:00.000-04:00

Liz, very thoughtfully, recently passed along one of Adam's old shirts for Jack to enjoy. Now, I know kid clothing sizes can be completely unreliable, but one might think that an 18 month-sized shirt might sorta, kinda fit most kids approaching their 18 month birthdays. Now, one could also argue that it's about time that midriff shirts, usually the province of young ladies who perhaps mistakenly think they up their cool quotient or '80s fashion victims, became acceptable for young men but I'm betting that no one really wants to go there. So, alas, this adorable shirt gets folded up after one wearing and put on the shelf (or in the mail) to be loved in memory only (probably safer to think of Adam wearing it) despite enjoying the sentiment that it conveys for these two rascally boys.

peek-a-boo belly

really mom?

maybe it's just time for a total closet overhaul...

Bugging Out

2011-04-21T01:13:00.001-04:00

I've been barfed on about eleven times too many in the last three days so I'm still sorting through laundry and too few pictures from our trip east to post much. Nonetheless, here's what I am sure of... as crazy as it sounds, a sick toddler is actually not so bad to have on a flight provided a) he's mostly done upchucking by the time you board and b) he sleeps for much of the trip. John learned the hard way that being a parent and being sick is way harder than having sick kid. Molly has asked every question known to man about being sick and who kept eating these stomach bugs...

Anyway, we are on the mend (well, yours truly didn't need to mend because I am currently super immuno-mom) and life is returning to it's norma level of nuttiness. In the meantime, speaking of crazy...

Dear Mom, you may want to call Crazy Town because a) I am a bruiser, b) I don't like wearing clothes, and c) I need to pick out my own footwear and it looks fabulous.

When I told Molly that we had to tame the beast (otherwise called her hair) for soccer, she took matters into her own hands... I guess this counts.

Oh, The Places We'll Go

2011-04-05T16:48:00.000-04:00

Just in case you have been wondering if we've lost our wandering feet, fear not, we haven't. The rain really isn't that bad here, although there has been plenty of it, and even when it's present, it's not generally a huge deterrent for me.... it's just a muddier adventure. While we haven't done anything wild and crazy lately (for approximately three yeas and 10 months, really), we've been back out exploring the city and surrounding areas... there is just a bit more to do here than in Penticton. When you have two small busy bodies plus one mom who gets really annoyed at being home too much (which has recently gotten me into trouble... must come home when little people are tired and not try to squeeze in anything else) plus one dad who is emerging from the vortex of a product launch, it's really best to be out and about.

Exploring the other pond (aka as the Pacific Ocean). Jack and Molly both got to dip their (booted) tootsies in the waters of the great northwest. I don't think they ever got wet when we were in Vancouver so this really was their first taste of the big Pacific drink. It was a chilly day, yes, but really it was the wind that was the big story.

No "puddle" can go unstomped.

Really great course... or some wishful thinking.

I think we were going to the "Mequarium" this day. We could have probably stopped our trip at this giant set of steps and called it a successful day.

Scooting here, there, and everywhere.

Singing in the stroller...

Going to the St. Patty's Day parade, complete with DeLorean enthusiasts (so weird)...

and lots of bands. It poured, it didn't matter.

More puddle stomping... lots of puddle stomping...

and, of course, looking out for airplanes...

and more airplanes (like mother like sister like brother -- we all love to have our pictures taken with our eyes closed).

Sometimes we add mud stomping into the equation, just to mix it up a bit.

We did some spring skiing (rather, Molly and John did while Jack and I wrested strange snow creatures into submission).

Molly got to ride the real lift this trip (no way in heck that I was attempting that so John did the honors).

and got her snow legs under her.

Jack is ready to shred some freshies next year.

When the weather did force us inside, we checked out the airplanes at the Museum of Flight.

and paid homage to our recently departed host country.

We took Nana's tip and checked out the tulip festival up north a little ways. It would have been great had there been tulips (don't be fooled by this display)...

although the daffodils treated us well...

as did the ducks...

I'm pretty sure John and Molly were psyched by my repeated oohing and aahing over the huge fields of daffodils.

Finally, when all else is quiet, there is always the playground.

Spring Forward

2011-03-31T17:06:00.000-04:00

Last week, Madame Spring arrived with warmth and she was greeted with open (and bare) arms. We apparently offended her because she decided that we needed some more rain this week. Please come back to us, Spring! We love you!

Run For It

2011-03-27T19:46:00.004-04:00

I wouldn't call myself the star runner in my group of friends, not by a long shot, but I have been lacing up the old sneakers a lot more lately. It's some nice quality time with myself, although I've realized that it's good I can't see myself while I'm out there because I inevitably look like giant tomato with how red I get. Molly also asks me, without fail, every time that I return if I'm stinky. Yep, that's a recipe for awesomeness there -- a red, stinky, running tomato.

Despite some of the apparent negative outcomes of running, I realized how many (probably very cliched) similarities there are between parenting and jogging. As I've been out there and letting my mind wander over various topics recently, I've kept coming back to the sameness, at times, of the two activities. Here are my top six:

6. We can become myopic. Looking at the ground immediately in front of you can often provide the worst perspective and we don't realize how the next ten steps are simply part of longer journey. When you look up at the wide world around you and the bigger goals, though, those next steps don't loom as nearly as large. The same can be true with parenting. When we look at less than desirable behavior in the little picture, it feels frustrating or unmanageable or exasperating or just plain hard and how can we possibly say something one more time. When we look beyond our little microcosm, though, some crumbs or blocks dumping really isn't so bad. We are able to remind ourselves that raising kids is (to really make things cliched) a marathon and not a sprint, and that all things come in stages. Putting small acts in the larger context allows us to remember that they don't dump their blocks because they are trying to push our buttons but because they are little tykes who love to hear the sound that blocks makes when they hit the floor for the 900th time and well, that's what they are supposed to do. It's easy and inevitable to become myopic, though, because we all have competing demands on our time and the next ten steps can feel impossible to accomplish when that's all we're looking at.

5. Cross-train. Running may be what you like best but if you only do that, you will likely burn out or get hurt and you will never be the best runner out there. If you mix it up, though, success and sustainability are much more likely. Same thing with being a mom or dad. If you only live, think, and breathe parenting, I think most people I know would agree that you're not being the best mom or dad you are capable of being. When you can complement your ever-present job of parenting with whatever other activities make you who you are then you are not only being a terrific role model for your little ones, but you're markedly improving your odds of being a great parent. If you painted or yoga-ed or wrote or volunteered or gardened or enjoyed dinner out with friends before you had babies, at least some of those interests probably still live on and I think including them in your days helps make you whole and real and interesting. Pursuing one thing with single minded dedication may work in the short-term but it's not sustainable and we need to nurture our whole selves in order for the best parts of us to shine. It's always hard to find the time, sure, and it's easier said than done, sure but people are creative and smart and have probably managed hard things before (and grandparents are often willing participants in this scheme).

4. It's easy to get in a rut. One of the best feelings, I think, is when you take an unexpected turn or find a new road or route or path and you run down it without knowing exactly where you are (but aren't completely lost and flailing). I try to almost never plan my runs before I go because I like to see where my time and energy will take me. Sometimes it's a familiar route, sometimes it's a shorter or longer deviation on something I've done before, and sometimes, I change direction from my intended direction as soon as I walk out the door. I think, like being a mom, that we can fall into habits because they feel comfy and easy and worked before but we don't adapt with our moods, our kids' moods, or the changing environment. We think that because we turn left there every time, that we always need to turn left. We don't always have the faith in ourselves that we should try new techniques or activities or plans; we don't always believe that we are capable creatures who can and need to adapt with the times as the go a changin'. My little people are young enough still that no stage lasts very long and if I don't change my route as they become more capable or more logical or more emotional then I'm in a rut that serves no one. Being comfortable with change and changing things up has got to be high on the list in the parental handbook... now, if I could just get a copy of that handbook like I've asked for so many times, that would be really great.

3. You need new shoes regularly. That one is self-explanatory and ever so true. In running and in parenting, new shoes just make everything better. End of story.

2. Not every run is a great one, but it is still an accomplishment. Some days, you wake up and really don't want to don your sassy spandex. You would far prefer to be in jammies (or comfy cozies, as Molly calls them) and eat some of those bon bons that you've heard so much about. And while sometimes on those days, getting out the door and pounding the pavement is just what you needed and you have a fantastic outing, sometimes it's not and you have a blah, uninspiring run. But you did it. You showed up and you did it. Same is true with being with your kids. Some days, especially those that start at 5-something a.m., I may want to hide under the covers and not get up and pick oatmeal out of Jack's eyelashes again. It's not that I don't want to be with my little people, necessarily, but like in any job, we have our good days and our bad. Accepting that we have down moments when we snap or yell or wonder out loud (oops) what the heck possessed someone to draw a full-on mural on the bathroom wall next to the potty or start telling the small ones that daddy will be home soon when it's only 4pm, well those aren't the days that will win any mother of the year awards. But, they happen, they are real, and the won't ever go away so we might as well give ourselves credit for showing up and doing the best we can then and there. I suspect that we all have idealized moms-we'd-like-to-be but that's not reality because we're blessedly human and humans aren't built for perfection. And you know what, those bad runs or bad days are fuel and momentum for the next run or day because no one wants to have two bad outings in a row.

1. You need a partner to achieve the best results. I have come to firmly believe that you need a wingman, be it a spouse, cousin, mother, friend, whatever, in both endeavors to really do your best. You need someone to set goals with, to check in on your progress with, to help pick you up when you're feeling stuck or unmotivated, to provide motivation or support to, to reality check with, and, perhaps most importantly, to share the pains and the joys, the highs and the lows with. I think when you become an island, you aren't really giving it your all and ultimately not serving anyone well. We can be really rotten at recognizing our biggest strengths and weaknesses and we're not terribly critical observers of our own behaviors. Achieving a goal or doing something well or being creative can be an amazing reward on its own but when you do it with someone or as part of a team, I think it almost always feels even better. The journey becomes part of the reward, too, and it's fun to look back and tell stories and have jokes with someone and let's face it, telling a joke that only you get is never funny.

So, as cliched as those may be, I wanted to write them down... and now maybe I can finally stop thinking of the correlations between running and parenting during my next run. In addition to being a sweaty tomato, I think I've also had a ridiculous grin on my face for the past week when I've been out there and I think "oh, there's another one!".

And now, if you've been impatient for me to finish my babbling, here are the little (and one big) people doing what they do best...

Rocking out with Johnny Jingles (and cheap beer -- a dearly missed option in Canada).

These are some of Jack's favorite things:

- stickers in his hair (not really, but it is a service often provided to him by someone free of charge)

- carbs

- pretending not to know that I cave whenever he flashes his big eyes and dimpled grin at me

What She Said

2011-03-24T01:18:00.001-04:00

I'm a big Anna Quindlen (and a Motherlode blog) fan and this post was no exception (I took out the forward but it's nice, too). I thought it was worth taking a gander at... enjoy.

GETTING TO THE POINT
By Anna Quindlen

Oh, I loved having babies. The smell, the feel, the … well, I liked the stupidity of them. The way they grabbed their own feet and then looked perplexed at the fact that they somehow felt it in their bodies. The way they’d be entranced by sunlight or ringing phones or the thrum of the dishwasher. There’s a popular YouTube video that shows a baby in near-hysterical laughter because someone is tearing up a piece of paper. That’s babies all over. Why paper? Why tearing? Who knows?

And toddlers — they were great, too. The way they would march across the lawn once they acquired motor skills, then run back to the shelter of mom legs, then sally forth again. The way they would mangle their words and chew their consonants and name things obsessively: Hot dog. Big bird. Good boy. The way they would dress themselves and then wind up looking as though they’d done so in the dark, color-blind. The way they would catch you if you tried to skip a sentence or two in a beloved book: “That’s not right!” They had such a strong sense of fairness and no filter at all. “That man is fat!” they would say, then be perplexed by the notion that there was anything wrong about that.

I loved having elementary school kids, holding their pencils like etching tools as they worked out a subtraction problem on lined paper, their faces scrunched. It was great how they would work out more complex matters, too, realize that one of their classmates was not now nor was ever going to be a good person, understand that when they hurt someone else they might also wind up hurting themselves. You could read human progress through the tears. The tears of a baby are often a reflex, for a toddler almost always the fruit of frustration or fatigue. The tears of a child begin to be the tears of knowledge. The older heart is more breakable.

Which brings us to teenagers. Ah. This is where I am supposed to admit defeat, but I just can’t. As hard as it was, as challenging as they could be, I really liked having teenagers. Some of that was about me, not them; I can’t really remember what it was like to be a little kid, but I remember very well what it was like to be a teenager. So when one of them would blow an assignment or a curfew, say something stinging or thoughtless, I would usually think: I would have done that, or, sometimes, I did. Besides, the smarts and the cool helped make up for it. I know about music and movies and slang I never would have known about otherwise. The house was full of snap crackle and pop. There were always kids at the dining room table, and if the dishes sometimes didn’t get done — well, I definitely remembered having left dirty dishes in the sink, too.

I don’t have babies anymore, or kids, or teenagers. I have adults, with their own dishes and their own sinks — and, I suspect, their own sinks of dirty dishes. The house is not always full of snap crackle and pop. But here’s my bottom line on this continuum for any woman bemused or becalmed or bedeviled by any part of it: it just keeps getting better.

Oh, don’t mistake me: I still miss breastfeeding, and having someone holding my hand when we cross the street, and high voices in sleepy conversation over the baby monitor from the bedroom. I miss laying down the law, enforcing arbitrary rules, having some modicum of control.

The old arsenic hours were when the homework was done and the squabbling began and there was still an hour until baths and bed. (Once, I remember, I lied and said it was 8 p.m. at 6:45 just to get them out of my hair. Note to the mothers of young kids: don’t buy digital clocks.) The new arsenic hours are when I’ve knocked off work for the day in an empty house and have a cup of herbal tea and an hour of whatever’s on the DVR before my husband shows up for dinner. Occasionally, if the universe is feeling merciful, I will hear the dogs bark as the door downstairs opens, and a voice will call, “Mom?” And my heart sings.

I regret being pinkslipped from my 24/7 Mom job, although there were times over the years when I thought the inexorability of it would kill me. But it’s hard to imagine anything better than right now: the family dinner with the five of us, all talking about politics, books, work, friends, and one another. It’s hard to imagine anything better than three smart and insightful people who live in the same city we do, who make me remember that there was a point to the whole exercise, and the point was this.

I couldn’t wish for more than that. Except for grandchildren, of course. But that’s another story for another time.

from: http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/03/22/the-best-part-of-parenting/#more-20249

Egress Excitement

2011-03-21T17:54:00.000-04:00

Some people have night nurses, some people have daytime babysitters, some people have mother's helpers... well, I'm looking for a get-out-of-the-house savior. I'm not that picky -- it could be a little goblin or elf, it could be a fairy princess, heck, it could be a real person who magically appears when we need to go somewhere. I need help, though. I hate the whole gosh dang process. I'm telling you, getting an infant and a crazy toddler out was approximately 1000 times easier than getting these two little people out now. First of all, trying to drag Molly away from a creative pursuit is an exercise in pulling my hair out. I've done five minute warnings of our departure time, I've done timers, I've done handshakes, I've let her pick her ending point on a coloring project, I've decided not to go anywhere, I've pleaded and cajoled (that's worked super well), I've lost my marbles... it's painful almost every time. And then, THEN, if we somehow make it close to the door, it's like I've got a goldfish on my hands who can't seem to remember the task at hand for more than eight seconds at a time without wandering off to find something more interesting than a crazy mom who is sweaty and red faced and taking deep breaths until she's hyperventilating (and writing run on sentences). I usually move on to Jack at this point and just try and get one success story under my belt (and pretend that I have any control) but when I look up, Molly is usually asking me what I said to her like I've totally confused her. I need what on my feet? What are these sneakers of which you speak?A jack-what? Jack-et? Hat? What is this madness? I'm fairly sure that I have committed every parental sin in an effort to get anywhere even close to on time (a challenge before I had two people running in two different directions). I'm not letting Jack off the hook either... chasing him down and keeping him in the same vicinity of the door is like herding cats, which you may remember from previous posts, is one of my favorite things to do. Once we manage to launch ourselves out the door, I'm inevitably met with shouts of joy to be out of the house -- there are puddles to stomp in, grass to run in, mud to slip on -- it's glorious every time. Now, I just need to remind my little forgetful goldfish of that before Battle: LA gets a sequel Battle: Doyle Front Door. On the other hand, maybe my kids are pushing me to try out for the sequel to Mars Needs Moms since I clearly look like I belong there when departure time rolls around...

Below is our latest and greatest object in my love/hate crosshairs as it relates to the above issue. One rainy afternoon a few weeks ago, I decided to make Molly a cardboard box house. Goodness knows that we have more cardboard than a cardboard farm right now so I thought I'd put some to good use. Well, it was a hit... and it still is a hit and is 90% of the reason that we cannot exit the premises in an orderly fashion right now. This house is intricately decorated and gets more so by the minute... especially the minutes that we are supposed to be out the door. My patting myself on the back for giving Molly this little gem of personal space (it's her house and I put it in the office, which is supposed to be off limits to Jack because of the damage he has wreaked on my b,s,g, and h keys on my keyboard... which are sitting nicely next to my computer...) has turned into me slapping myself upside the head. It works great when it provides quiet entertainment and breathing room but it is IMPOSSIBLE to drag her away from it because really, who can tell an artist when her masterpiece is done? When we make it to the car and everyone is strapped in, I sometimes review the madness (or I review my mindfulness exercises and live in the big, beautiful world of denial) and tell myself that having dedication and curiosity and spunk is a good thing and I should be proud of my wandering, questioning, slightly intense duo. Other times I wonder if I can do all my errands for the next 35 years in the next hour so that I don't have to leave the house ever again... or at least not until summer when jackets, shoes, and hats are a little more optional.

Here And Now

2011-03-15T21:13:00.000-04:00

My jumble of thoughts for today...

Does anyone else's kid randomly repeat whole sections of books? I'm not asking this to try and showcase that my kid is super duper amazing or anything (although she would agree with that sentiment)... I'm actually asking because it can be very disconcerting to be making toast and suddenly hear "Grandpa's had what's called a stroke, etc." or "Is this a home? I've always wanted a home, etc." or "Dad is sad/very, very sad/he had a bad day/what a day dad had, etc.". WHAT? I've started to listen long enough to figure out what story things are coming from (okay, the rhyming ones I can catch on to pretty quickly). It's funny, but really, quite disconcerting when she has entire conversations with herself because she says half a book at a time. It's like I'm living in some alternate universe. Maybe this is a preview for teenager-hood when I really will be living in an alternate universe.

**********************************************************************************

When we first moved down to Seattle, I was looking for snow suits for the little people since they were growing out of their current gear. I ended up never getting my act together and ordering them, thus proving to myself that being a giant procrastinator can actually be a great way to save money. Snow suits? Bah. Rain gear, yes please. Molly has never worn out a pair of shoes; she grows out of them before they're really destroyed. We've already worn and torn through one pair of rain boots, though, and she and I were lucky enough to spend Sunday afternoon tromping around (luckily it wasn't raining) looking for new boots that keep her tootsies dry and showcase her personality. Crazy polka dots summed her up pretty well. One of the best finds of all for rain, though, was actually in our closet -- a rain suit that Nana had given Molly last year. Although slightly hazmat-ish in appearance, it's a perfect outfit for the warm, rainy (read: mud) season that we're currently enjoying. We're not up for letting a few drops get in our way of being able to run around outside and this thing is the perfect accessory for that fun.

Apparently, I only can retain two thoughts at a time... I had more random things to write about but they have all fluttered away...

Never have a set of pictures better captured what my kids are currently all about. Jack is clearly enthralled with a plane in the sky and is not even aware of the madness moving behind him. Molly is, well, just running and focusing on her new soccer obsession. This pretty much sums up life right now. A picture really is worth a thousand words.

Here is one of the greatest creations known to man. One can run, slide, slip, blow bubbles, tumble, and roll all the while staying toasty and dry.

This has nothing to do with anything other than being an epic case of not understanding how something is supposed to work.

Helllllo Ladies

2011-03-14T00:13:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I make myself laugh really hard. This was one of those times. Jack is all dressed up like a big dude but he's really just my little guy (the binky may give it away, too).

Nana Comes To Town

2011-03-10T23:56:00.000-05:00

It's always fun to have grandparents come visit and always sad when they leave. Nana came out to Seattle for an extra long weekend and it meant some local adventures, lots of giggles with cousins, and some good, old fashioned attention-basking. We are very thankful that the little people know and see and adore their grandparents as often and as much as they do and I know that mom and dad also love their visits. An extra set of hands and eyes and hearts -- yes, please. Mary, Polly, and I also got to sneak out for a ladies afternoon, which was lovely and rejuvenating. We also went up to the top of the Space Needle, which was my first time there, and it was nice to check off that box in our "tourist in our own backyard spreadsheet" (no, we don't really have one but I'm thinking we should). We lucked out with good weather, good company, and lots of good cheer.

Thankfully, Jack roped someone else into his Hop On Pop obsession.

Molly didn't let Jack have all of the attention for too long. Oh nooooo.

Put on a happy face.

Nana's visit also left a little more time for me to spend quality time with Mr. Drooly Pants... guess what we're doing? Yup, reading Hop On Pop.

Having a visitor also means having those pictures taken with actual parents in them.

The three musketeers.

Molly and Emmy calling out to the poor, poor people below. Joke may be on them, though, since I think they were actually just yelling into an empty grate.

Dads and daughters.

Here is our house if anyone is interested -- thanks for taking that pic, Nana!

See you soon -- the welcome mat is always down!

Bouncing Baby Boy

2011-03-07T02:19:00.001-05:00

To be honest, I'm not sure that we'll ever stop calling Jack "Baby Jack". He's really not a baby anymore but the name just somehow suits him (that and Buddy. He responds better to either nickname better than to "Jack" alone). He is one huge ball of lovable, squeezable, huggable sweetness... most of the time. He also has this very toddlerish, devilish side of him. He knows how to push Molly's buttons like it's his job (which it may be). His weapon of choice? Pulling her hair. I wish I was mean enough to snap a picture of his face when he's grabbed a giant fistful of her blonde locks and she's yelping because it's priceless. He just opens those big eyes and gives me this look of "what, hmmm, me? Your sweet little boy?" I hate to see either of my babies in pain, of course, but I love the fact that he is standing up for himself. I will, of course, work on more appropriate ways to display his displeasure and we do tell him not to pull on the yellow frizz but this little, youngest sibling part of me says to go get those meany older siblings (please ask for my annotated index of the ways I was persecuted as the youngest child and only girl... just kidding. While I can recite the times my brothers were mean to me, I really had it pretty good).

There are other ways he's showing me that he's no longer my little baby. While he's not big on human words (other than mama, dada, hi, uh-oh, "mo" for more, recently "Ma" for Molly, and the weirdest animal sounds on the planet), he totally gets what's going down in these parts and can do baby signs pretty well. Because Molly talked on the early side (have I ever mentioned that she hasn't stopped talking? Have I?) and she was able to tell me me a fair amount at this age, I didn't realize how much Jack was understanding even if he isn't telling me anything other than what a sick goat must sound like. This kid actually listens to me! I love it!

Baby Jack has had lots going on in his life lately -- he is getting his final canine, which is thankfully his last tooth before his two year molars. Those things hit him hard. He has a giant buddah belly that he likes to keep full and round. He toddles around like a weeble and is surprisingly fast. He still falls all the time because he's trying to keep up with the first monkey and his center of gravity is wacky because of his giant head, his enormous belly, and his copious amounts of drool. He is a master spotter of all things transportation related. Buses, planes, fire trucks -- I don't even see these things half the time until I hear his little squeak and see his desperate pointing at whatever he sees. Trains and trucks -- real or pretend -- are totally rad in his book. And speaking of books, he's suddenly into reading materials especially if they involve finger puppets, Sandra Boynton, songs, or rhymes. Tomorrow, I'm signing him up for Hop on Pop anonymous. So, between climbing, falling, vehicle spotting/playing/sound effecting, reading, and walking toy dogs/frogs/alligators, his world is full. He is sweet and happy until he gets really, really mad about being hungry or having to get down from some perch or another and then holy smokes, let the drama begin -- the full out, prone on the floor, eyes squeezed shut until he peeps on open to make sure someone is witnessing this master performance, kind of drama. Still, it's all okay because what mom doesn't have a soft spot for her little boy and his antics? He's a funny, funny little dude and loves, loves, loves to laugh -- he has a belly laugh that can fill even his giant belly.

The toddler side of him is becoming more front and center as the baby part of him recedes a little more each day. I'm not ready to let it all go, though, and am soaking up his cuddles and his baby-ness in a way I don't think I did with Molly. With Jack, it's really hit home how fleeting each stage really is since I've suddenly got this 16 month old in front of me who walks, talks (a little), and is fully of funny laughs.

Faster Than A Speeding Bullet...

2011-03-02T17:17:00.000-05:00

It's one thing when you have certain idea about your kids are -- what they like, how they react to certain situations, why the heck you're exhausted at the end of the day -- but it's always even more interesting, and sometimes eye-opening, when someone else who doesn't really know your little ones give you feedback. Friends and family are already aware of Molly's joie de vive and her wacky personality since it's been on display since the hospital birthing room. She talked early and often, moves at lightening speed, and keeps me dancing a fast-paced jig all day long (and I mean all day long now because she doesn't really nap anymore). This is not news. A few weeks ago, though, we took Jack to the doctor for his new patient appointment. Here were some of the outcomes: Molly likes to listen to Jack's heart on the stethoscope. Molly made sure that the nurse knew that it's okay to cry when you "take a shot" and coaxed Jack over to the exam table (even though he really wasn't scared). Molly doesn't always get enough sleep (self-reported). Molly is a big sister... You get the picture? She nearly hijacked the entire appointment with her thoughts on the world, on Jack, on herself, on her listening skills, and on her sleeping habits. Luckily, the doctor is incredible and he managed to examine Jack at the same time that she was pontificating on how Twitter helped the protest moved in Egypt (kidding). He had very kind things to say to me about both kids, but certainly commented on Molly's active nature. We returned the following week for her check-up and the main thing I remember from that, besides that she is healthy and has eczema, was when he said "I don't even need to ask you about her gross motor skills. They are clearly fine" as she was showing him how high she can jump (not that he asked). I think I heard him tell his nurse something about being exhausted when we were leaving...

This past Monday, I took her to "school", a cute little drop-off playspace. When I picked her up the teacher just said "Wow, she's busy." Why yes, yes she is. She told me that she played with every other child, asked everyone their names, ate three servings of snack, finished her entire lunch, and really never stopped moving or talking. She wasn't bossy, she played fine with the other kids, it's just that she didn't stop. Ever.

You make the choice, somewhere along the line, if you're going to embrace your children's personalities or control them. Really, this was never this choice for me with Molly since controlling gale force winds never has proven successful. Despite an occasional embarrassing moment here and there that I wish could be avoided (the other day in the grocery store, for instance: "Mom, is Thomas (the Train) a boy or a girl? Me: what do you think? Molly: He's a boy. He has a penis. Me: Well, he's a train. I'm not so sure about that... (and now I begin to wonder if this will be one of those times when I decide check-out time is NOW). Molly: Why? Me: Trains are machines, not people or animals so they don't need all the same parts. Molly: Why? and so on and so on and so on with the whys), which I think you sign up for the minute you find out you're preggers, I really would never ask her to be anyone except who she is. She's exuberant, this I know and absolutely love about her, and now it seems that all the strangers in Seattle are learning the same. This isn't all she is -- there are other things about her besides her boundless energy that I hope also shine through and I'm sure they will as time goes on or someone gets to know her better. It's simply just interesting to watch her navigate more of the world on her terms and in her way as she explores and makes friends and tries different things. Nonetheless, it seems very appropriate that Olivia is one of her most favorite stories. The line that reminds me of Molly every single time? "This is Olivia. She is good at lots of things. She is very good at wearing people out. She even wears herself out." My sentiments exactly, Mr. Falconer.

Luckily, she takes Jack on a lot of her adventures...

Same Old, Same Old

2011-02-28T19:28:00.000-05:00

Our lives have settled into somewhat of a routine and I'm thankful for that. We have things to do every week, we have our days where we go adventuring, we do laundry, we eat dinners at (somewhat) the same time each night, we see people we enjoy seeing -- it's just nice. I'm not someone who enjoys a life of total unpredictability and I like looking forward to some of our activities each week. We are still out there trying new and different things (today's attempt to take Jack to Spanish story hour at the library -- a big fat failure. I thought I was being fancy and he'd suddenly wake up tomorrow being bilingual... until I remembered that a) he doesn't sit really well for English story hour where he understands some of what is going on and b) he doesn't really speak much of anything yet) but we are also enjoying doing activities that we already know we like. Life is still plenty interesting but it's nice to be able to answer that we're just up to the same old, same old when people ask these days.

Here's what happens if you ask Jack where he is (that's him playing peekaboo)...

except it's not always the best idea when his hands are covered in sauce...

This was the outcome of our serious, serious snowstorm last week. Mikey the snowman did come out of it but alas, we've lost him to some sunshine.

Return of the Cruise Directors

2011-02-23T19:56:00.000-05:00

We are back to adventuring, which is one of my favorite things about moving to a new place (another one of my favorites is that other moms haven't caught on yet that my children will pillage anyone else's snack food that is brought to the playground or the beach or for a walk. Admittedly, I am one of those epically under-prepared moms who rarely remembers to bring all the right gear anywhere I go, but I do, usually, bring some sort of food for my little ones because they are hounds and shameless beggars. Whatever I bring, though, never stacks up to whatever someone else brings. Thank you for all the feeding of my children that you did, Tricia and Jessie. You guys may be bankrupt now but my kids are fully fed. And I digress again...).

I think we've decided that the getting to wherever we are going is half the fun -- or at least that's the bill of goods we're trying to sell Molly and Jack. After fun and very-patient-with-her-mini-stalker Auntie Holly left this weekend (after a very enjoyable Saturday of sledding with the cousins and getting Katy and Emmy up on Molly's skis... which went over much better than when John dropped Molly because she clocked him in the knee cap with the skis), we took the ferry over to Bainbridge Island and wandered around, played at the playground, and scouted the beach for the best rocks out there to throw in the water. We found a snail with no shell that Molly very, very thoughtfully used her newly acquired "science finger" to gently touch (the nice staff at the aquarium taught Molly all about using her pointer finger to gently touch the sea creatures. The no manhandling rule went over much better from them than it would have from me) and just generally wandered around the beach. I could do that all day, every day. I love the beach during the shoulder seasons (or approaching the shoulder seasons). It's quiet, usually peaceful, and there's just lots of interesting things to discover.

It's good to be back out doing new and fun stuff and to get to be tourists in our own backyard. I just hope the small ones are ready to experience whatever random event we cook up because really, that's our specialty and probably the type of trip planning we're best at.

Note: I am really that unprepared... while it was a very mild day on Monday, I managed to bring two hats for Jack and none for Molly. Thankfully, Jack's giant head came to the rescue again since his hat fit her just fine. See, it all works out.

Jingle Bells

2011-02-18T16:20:00.001-05:00

You know who helps set the world a little straighter when things are feeling a little bit stressful? Johnny Jingles (we keep calling him that despite it sounding like a creepy name... not that we go around calling him that all the time but when the shoe fits...). My musical talents, like my gift for foreign languages, is rather non-existent. I'm definitely more of an observer/appreciator than a participator in this arena (I get nervous whenever we have to sing the hello song at the library). Thankfully, because Molly and Jack both love to groove (and sing. Jack has just started to sing and it's very funny to hear him warble out a completely non-recognizable tune. His current favorite is "Stayin' Alive". I can only tell that it's that song because he sings very high notes and does his little finger pointing dance.), John can morph into Johnny Jingles and get the wiggles out with these most wiggly of creatures with just a few strums on the old guitar. Aside from the peace of mind knowing that they are happily entertained in a mostly non-dangerous or bruise inducing activity, it's also really fun to have them share something special with their dad. I'm not sure "Wheels on the Bus" was what he was anticipating being his claim to fame when he spent all those summer days practicing on his guitar in the bike shop, but it's where life has taken all of us now. There are lots of activities that I get to participate in with these monkeys but Johnny Jingles doesn't get the same opportunities since he's bringing home the bacon. It thrills me that this is something that I can keep my mitts out of and let these three at it. Having both kids at an age when they can laugh and dance and have fun with stuff like this is really neat. I love babies but I also love this stage where they can be wacky kids and are more engaged and starting to figure out what is interesting and fun and giggle-inducing. I also love to sit back and watch and not wrangle someone's finger out of a light socket. It's rare that we get to truly observe and not participate with our kids and it's a spectacular gift.

Thank you, finally, for all the calls and emails -- the support is incredible.

Mea Culpa

2011-02-17T00:45:00.001-05:00

It's funny... I haven't felt much like writing a lot lately, which is not like me. I am an external processor -- my inner dialogue is pretty lame and I need to say things out loud, even if it's just between me and the shower (although, let's be honest, the number of showers I've had by myself lately are about, hmmmm, none). I love to talk things out but I also really need to write. I use this blog, I use a *gasp* paper journal on and off, I use email, I use post-it notes, I use lists, I use the backs of envelopes... some of it is organized, most of it isn't, and a lot of it is making notes and lists that the mom-I-want-to-be would be very proud of because it means I have my stuff together, which I most certainly do not. It's all writing, though, and it's all ways for me to feel like I'm living my life productively.

But, lately, I haven't been writing. My receipts are very unsullied and kinda organized and I don't even have post-it notes anywhere that I can find them. I have been rolling this thought around in my head -- what does it mean that I haven't been writing -- and I finally came to a place tonight where I decided that while I've just been riding along with a natural ebb and flow, it's time to ebb back toward scribbling on my post-its. Part of me knows that because I don't have an everyday companion to talk about things with right now, I have been more internal, that the mundane things don't casually come up in chatty conversation and therefore the deeper things don't creep out either. On the positive side, however, it feels like our family has finally turned a corner in what has turned out to be a very difficult preceding couple of months. Our living situation in Penticton was stressful and the the move itself, while welcome, came at a difficult time and was a little busy to coordinate. I also missed being home in New England because my brother's family was going through their own difficult time and I couldn't do anything to help out. Now, though, for lots of different reasons the proverbial light is blinking away at the end of the proverbial tunnel. Our house is cozy and cute and homey and doesn't have a dozen strangers trouping through it every week since it's not on the market. John's workload is lighter, we have family close by, we're finding stuff to do -- there is so much to do here, wow -- and I'm just that much closer to being able to get on a plane home should I need to. All of this indicates to me that there was too much going on to be able to process any of it. At the risk of sounding dramatic (there's already a little too much drama in my house these days), life had become a lot about getting up and getting through the day, more about existence, rather than really -- oh, I'm going to say it, get ready -- sucking the marrow out of life. I feel the marrow-sucking itch returning, though. I feel more ready to laugh and say "sure, go ahead if it makes you happy" to my wild and crazy daughter who is very hilariously cranky sometimes (but keeps hitting her brother, grrrr) yet still impossibly funny and clever (and cute, she reminds me). I feel more ready to hold and snuggle Mr. Beefcake rather than absent-mindedly pick him up and put him down a dozen times a day. I feel very ready to enjoy Jack's own Oscar-worthy performances when we throws himself on the floor because he really needed those grapes or to give Molly the undivided attention that she needs rather than being continually exasperated and getting my knickers in a twist about little things. My munchkins deserve a better mom than they've been getting, frankly. I was doing too much managing and not not enough examining where they were coming from. I didn't stop and stoop down to their level enough over the past few months and I really was looking at the world from five feet in the air rather than three feet, and three feet is where all the good stuff happens. It was a vicious cycle of not processing my stuff and unknowingly getting tangled up in it. It meant nothing good for anybody, but I hate the disservice that it does to my kids the most.

I don't know why I'm writing all of this, exactly, other than to say thanks (again) to all those who have been stuck reading kinda lame blog entries or who are wondering why I don't email back for two days. I haven't felt like thinking, or I couldn't really think because there was too much stuff bubbling right below the surface that I didn't want to look at. I wasn't sad or angry or pissy every day or anything, but I wasn't really present. Being present is what I strive for -- I know that I will continue to make a million mistakes a day with my little people but if I can at least be present for them, well, than I feel successful.

This blog is a little over three years old and it's a treasure trove for John and me. We love looking back at pictures and seeing what life has morphed into since we started recording it in this way. I'm not sure what I'll think about these past few months a year from now, but I needed some public cleansing for myself and to take this opportunity to scratch beneath the surface a little bit. I'll save you all from any more of my babbling, random thoughts but the act of putting fingers to keyboard here jump starts the whole process for me. This probably won't make sense to anyone else but thank you for bearing with me. I don't know if I'll post anything more interesting in the near future, but maybe you'll at least be interested in hearing about our cute neighborhood or, just to stick it to you easterners one more time, our lack of snow (there is snow in the forecast for the weekend so you can laugh at me then). I'm not a super writer, please don't think that I believe that about me-self, but I do like it and, apparently, need to do it. I also can actually stomach to re-read what I write here most of the time as opposed to some of my journal entries from high school -- those are just painfully awful.

This is what my climbing monkey likes to do all day long -- up, down, up, down, up, down.

And this was what my domestic diva fixed for herself for breakfast the other morning. I heard rustling in the kitchen sometime around 6:30 and came out to this scene. Proud as punch of herself to have rummaged up some carrots and hummus... I'm just glad that she has outgrown cracking eggs on the kitchen floor.