Island Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.