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.