Little One: "Mommy. Does you have some more money from Daddy?"
C: "Er...yes. Yes, Daddy works hard to earn money for us so that we can have all the things we need, which we do."
LO: "Daddy has do work to get some money for us?"
C: "Yes, he has to earn it. One day maybe you can learn about that by doing some chores, and earning money of your own to spend."
LO: "Oooohhh, yes! Yes, mommy, that really is a good idea, 'cause I need some money. I have lots of 'spensive things I want to buy."
C: "What? You do? Really. Well. What kinds of things are you planning to buy when you have money?"
LO (Shrugs Her shoulders. Grins): ""Spensive ones! Just, you know, whatever is 'spensive. I'm going to buy aaaaaaaalllll the 'spensive stuff!"
C: "Well! You certainly have high taste!"
LO: "What does that mean?"
C: "That you like things that are expensive."
LO: "Mommy. You got that right."
Monday, October 1, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Photo Time Out
I'm a Mac gal. I've been a mac gal since they had those fun colored ones which in my opinion were much more interesting than all this oooh-I'm-so-chic white and silver boringness.
Other than differing views on whether my laptop should be purple (purple!), Mac and I have generally gotten on quite well. We have a lot in common. We like things simple-ish. We like things new and frivolous, but don't always admit it. And it turns out we also have very similar parenting styles.
There are some magic words in this house. They are "this is the second time I've said this".
If those words leave my mouth, it means that I already said something else. And nothing happened. Which means if I say it again, well. I don't. If I "count three", I never count to four.
Why, just today I overheard Little One giving Missy some wisdom.
LO: "Missy! Psssst! Missy quick! You better clean up that book quickety-split, cause mama already asked you one time, and if you don't do it faster, she will have to SAY IT TWICE! Just go do it! Then we can play airplanes."
Of course it doesn't always work that well. But when it doesn't, the ignorer of the ONE allotted warning is usually pretty sure it's better not to ignore. Next time.
Turns out, Mac doesn't like nagging and bargaining and threatening either. Mac also gives ONE warning. And, as it turns out, if that warning is "You are running out of space in your iphoto memory" and you decide, pshht. Mac will probably give me a bunch more warnings before it really means it. Or maybe it will get sick of nagging me and just forget about the whole thing. If you decide that, then Mac is all "Lady, I have told you twice. Now. Consequences!"
And the next thing you know, your photo library is "unreadable" and needs to be "rebuilt" and by the way, Mac certainly hopes that you have backed up recently. Or else.
Luckily, I think I have. And so all my hundreds (ok, thousands. Thousands and thousands. Don't judge!) of photos, mostly of Littles of course, are in there...somewhere....but, like the un-cleaned-up book high, high on the shelf, those photos are unreachable at this time.
I've been put into photo time-out. For not listening. Sigh. Mac is so strict.
Until I have the time to deal with the royal pain in the mac this is going to be to figure out, this will be a picture-less blog. Sorry. I know most of you come here for that and the words are kind of like a nice black-and-white photo matte to gloss over. But for now that's all you get.
And next time Mac gives me a warning, I'm going to make like my wiser, smarter daughter and give it a solid "Yes Ma'am!" Mac does not mess around.
Other than differing views on whether my laptop should be purple (purple!), Mac and I have generally gotten on quite well. We have a lot in common. We like things simple-ish. We like things new and frivolous, but don't always admit it. And it turns out we also have very similar parenting styles.
There are some magic words in this house. They are "this is the second time I've said this".
If those words leave my mouth, it means that I already said something else. And nothing happened. Which means if I say it again, well. I don't. If I "count three", I never count to four.
Why, just today I overheard Little One giving Missy some wisdom.
LO: "Missy! Psssst! Missy quick! You better clean up that book quickety-split, cause mama already asked you one time, and if you don't do it faster, she will have to SAY IT TWICE! Just go do it! Then we can play airplanes."
Of course it doesn't always work that well. But when it doesn't, the ignorer of the ONE allotted warning is usually pretty sure it's better not to ignore. Next time.
Turns out, Mac doesn't like nagging and bargaining and threatening either. Mac also gives ONE warning. And, as it turns out, if that warning is "You are running out of space in your iphoto memory" and you decide, pshht. Mac will probably give me a bunch more warnings before it really means it. Or maybe it will get sick of nagging me and just forget about the whole thing. If you decide that, then Mac is all "Lady, I have told you twice. Now. Consequences!"
And the next thing you know, your photo library is "unreadable" and needs to be "rebuilt" and by the way, Mac certainly hopes that you have backed up recently. Or else.
Luckily, I think I have. And so all my hundreds (ok, thousands. Thousands and thousands. Don't judge!) of photos, mostly of Littles of course, are in there...somewhere....but, like the un-cleaned-up book high, high on the shelf, those photos are unreachable at this time.
I've been put into photo time-out. For not listening. Sigh. Mac is so strict.
Until I have the time to deal with the royal pain in the mac this is going to be to figure out, this will be a picture-less blog. Sorry. I know most of you come here for that and the words are kind of like a nice black-and-white photo matte to gloss over. But for now that's all you get.
And next time Mac gives me a warning, I'm going to make like my wiser, smarter daughter and give it a solid "Yes Ma'am!" Mac does not mess around.
Why Do They Have To Call It That?
Missy: "Uuuuuhhh.....this?"
C: "That's squash".
Miss: "...no? THIS?"
C: "Yes, Missy. It's for dinner! You like it! SQUASH. "
Miss: "S'kaash?"
C: "Yes! *Try it*".
Miss (looking very dubious): "Um. Um...ok. OK!"
She scoops up two fistfulls of soft, orange vegetable matter. Raises them above Her head. Flexes Her muscles. And yells.
"S'KAAAAAAAASSSSHHH!"
While squeezing as hard as She can. Orange goo oozing between pudgy fingers and glopping down into Her hair.
She looked very proud.
An the shocked moments of silence before ubiquitous laughter erupted,
LO: "Squash. Squash. Mommy, I think it's time to teach Missy 'bout homonyms."
C: "That's squash".
Miss: "...no? THIS?"
C: "Yes, Missy. It's for dinner! You like it! SQUASH. "
Miss: "S'kaash?"
C: "Yes! *Try it*".
Miss (looking very dubious): "Um. Um...ok. OK!"
She scoops up two fistfulls of soft, orange vegetable matter. Raises them above Her head. Flexes Her muscles. And yells.
"S'KAAAAAAAASSSSHHH!"
While squeezing as hard as She can. Orange goo oozing between pudgy fingers and glopping down into Her hair.
She looked very proud.
An the shocked moments of silence before ubiquitous laughter erupted,
LO: "Squash. Squash. Mommy, I think it's time to teach Missy 'bout homonyms."
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Preschool Lessons
When I picked Little One up, at first She came at me running, grinning.
Then a lightbulb went on and She screeched to a halt.
"Uh..uh n-no thanks! Hi mommyloveyoubut no thanks I want to stay here in this GREAT PLACE!"
So. I wonder if She liked it?
With promises to return tomorrow, She thanked Her teacher "for the SO much fun" and literally skipped out the door. She was a stream of auctioneer-speed storytelling as we made our way through the parking lot.
"oh-my-guh-ness-mommy-it-was-so-fun-and-there-were-two-balls-and-a-balance-beam- and I balanced!- and-a-swing-and-some-monkey-bars-and-lots-of-toys-and-so-much-works-to-work-on-and-a-sink-I-can-reach-with-soap-and-everything- just my size!-and-water-I-can-get-myself-and-girls-and-boys-and-one-boy-ran-with-me- A LOT!- and-I-learned-a-new-lesson-and-when-the-bell-rings-it-means STOP. and-listen-quietwee-and-guess-what-mommy-I-DID-and-I-sat-nicely-with-my-hands-in-my-lap-and-a'haved-myself-and-I-LIKE-my-teacher-and-I-ate-some-apples-and- OH! Missy! Whatever matter?!"
Arriving at the car She finally noticed Her little sister, who had been staring, wide-eyed, at this outpouring of vocabulary and emotion. With Her tiny lip trembling. When Little One's attention finally turned on Miss, She held Her arms out as far as She could reach, and fat tears rolled down Her cheeks. "SISSSYY!!!!!" She wailed.
Little One was aghast. She looked at me.
"Oh, Little One. We are so happy you had fun and did great at school today! But we missed you while you were gone. Little Miss has been asking for you and missing you a lot this morning."
Little One put Her backpack down and gathered Missy into Her arms.
"Oh Little Miss. My sweet wittle Missy-miss. It's ok! My wittle precious angel. Don't you know I will never leave you? I never never ever will! I'll NEVER leave you my precious, sweet Missy. I'm your sister and I love you forever all the time. So don't cry tears! Come on. Let's go home and I will read some stories with you. You can pick all the stories for ours nap today. Ok?"
Miss sniffed. Nodded. And smiled up at Her sister.
We had a picnic at the park and explored the playground. Ran errands, read the stories and had a nap. They spent the rest of the afternoon playing together as if they'd been separated for months.
At bedtime, Little One picked up Her parking lot dialogue.
She went on and on about Her new friends and all the cool stuff at school. And She talked about how She'd seen some girls pointing at Her and whispering, and She knew they were talking about Her.
"What do you think they were saying?" I asked.
"Well. I think prob-a-lee they was saying... that they just love my fancy dress. I did a lot of twirls today mommy, and I'm pretty sure everyone thought it was a great, great dress."
She told me how She'd made sure to sit by those girls for snack and talk to them. She showed them how to count to thirty. And they told Her it was great, and that Her dress looked like a princess.
I hope She always expressed Herself without a care about what other people are doing.
I hope whenever She finds Herself pointed at and whispered about, She assumes the words are meant kindly.
I hope She always has the confidence to approach new friends and find out that sometimes whispers are meant kindly.
I hope She is always so brave, so open to new experiences, so appreciative of everything.
I hope She's always this excited about learning.
I hope She always tells me about the parts of Her life I'm not in, especially as those parts grow like wisteria and overtake the parts I'm there for.
I hope She always stops to comfort and love Her sister, no matter the situation.
And I hope She stands by the promise to never ever leave Her. Not really, not forever.
I'm pretty sure if Little One follows the precedent She has set for Herself, on Her first day of Preschool, at 3 years old... She'll do just fine.
She may be the brand-new student.
But from where I sit, She's a pretty good teacher, too.
Then a lightbulb went on and She screeched to a halt.
"Uh..uh n-no thanks! Hi mommyloveyoubut no thanks I want to stay here in this GREAT PLACE!"
So. I wonder if She liked it?
With promises to return tomorrow, She thanked Her teacher "for the SO much fun" and literally skipped out the door. She was a stream of auctioneer-speed storytelling as we made our way through the parking lot.
"oh-my-guh-ness-mommy-it-was-so-fun-and-there-were-two-balls-and-a-balance-beam- and I balanced!- and-a-swing-and-some-monkey-bars-and-lots-of-toys-and-so-much-works-to-work-on-and-a-sink-I-can-reach-with-soap-and-everything- just my size!-and-water-I-can-get-myself-and-girls-and-boys-and-one-boy-ran-with-me- A LOT!- and-I-learned-a-new-lesson-and-when-the-bell-rings-it-means STOP. and-listen-quietwee-and-guess-what-mommy-I-DID-and-I-sat-nicely-with-my-hands-in-my-lap-and-a'haved-myself-and-I-LIKE-my-teacher-and-I-ate-some-apples-and- OH! Missy! Whatever matter?!"
Arriving at the car She finally noticed Her little sister, who had been staring, wide-eyed, at this outpouring of vocabulary and emotion. With Her tiny lip trembling. When Little One's attention finally turned on Miss, She held Her arms out as far as She could reach, and fat tears rolled down Her cheeks. "SISSSYY!!!!!" She wailed.
Little One was aghast. She looked at me.
"Oh, Little One. We are so happy you had fun and did great at school today! But we missed you while you were gone. Little Miss has been asking for you and missing you a lot this morning."
Little One put Her backpack down and gathered Missy into Her arms.
"Oh Little Miss. My sweet wittle Missy-miss. It's ok! My wittle precious angel. Don't you know I will never leave you? I never never ever will! I'll NEVER leave you my precious, sweet Missy. I'm your sister and I love you forever all the time. So don't cry tears! Come on. Let's go home and I will read some stories with you. You can pick all the stories for ours nap today. Ok?"
Miss sniffed. Nodded. And smiled up at Her sister.
We had a picnic at the park and explored the playground. Ran errands, read the stories and had a nap. They spent the rest of the afternoon playing together as if they'd been separated for months.
At bedtime, Little One picked up Her parking lot dialogue.
She went on and on about Her new friends and all the cool stuff at school. And She talked about how She'd seen some girls pointing at Her and whispering, and She knew they were talking about Her.
"What do you think they were saying?" I asked.
"Well. I think prob-a-lee they was saying... that they just love my fancy dress. I did a lot of twirls today mommy, and I'm pretty sure everyone thought it was a great, great dress."
She told me how She'd made sure to sit by those girls for snack and talk to them. She showed them how to count to thirty. And they told Her it was great, and that Her dress looked like a princess.
I hope She always expressed Herself without a care about what other people are doing.
I hope whenever She finds Herself pointed at and whispered about, She assumes the words are meant kindly.
I hope She always has the confidence to approach new friends and find out that sometimes whispers are meant kindly.
I hope She is always so brave, so open to new experiences, so appreciative of everything.
I hope She's always this excited about learning.
I hope She always tells me about the parts of Her life I'm not in, especially as those parts grow like wisteria and overtake the parts I'm there for.
I hope She always stops to comfort and love Her sister, no matter the situation.
And I hope She stands by the promise to never ever leave Her. Not really, not forever.
I'm pretty sure if Little One follows the precedent She has set for Herself, on Her first day of Preschool, at 3 years old... She'll do just fine.
She may be the brand-new student.
But from where I sit, She's a pretty good teacher, too.
Dressed for Success
She woke up extremely early and wouldn't go back to sleep. She sat at my heels while I got ready, She picked at Her food and whined and sulked. She stared me in the eyes while deliberately doing what She'd been told not to, and was shocked to find that even on the First Day of School, the rules apply as usual. She was excused from breakfast and cried Her way upstairs. She came back a few minutes later, calm and tear-streaked, and climbed into my lap. She sat rocking gently with Her head on my shoulder while Her sister finished eating. Her tummy hurt.
But then She remembered something. The dress. The dress!
She raced upstairs and came back on tiptoe, arms out like a belle at a ball, with a sparkle in Her eye.
"Want to watch me spin this dress?!"
She spun and the skirt fluffed out to a glorious 180 degree angle to the floor, swishing and rustling around Her knees when She stopped.
"This dress. Is WONderful." She knew with complete certainty how to finish the look. She combed Her hair and crested it with a sparkly rainbow princess crown. She glammed up Her feet with jeweled sandals. She donned the "most decorated ever" backpack.
"Ready to go!"
A commute is new for us. The drive there was time to reflect and worry. She begged me to come with Her, to stay in class by Her side, or at least nearby, or at least in the corner of the room. Not for a minute, all day. She practiced asking the teacher if Mommy could please stay. She clutched the backpack tight. Adjusted Her crown.
When we arrived the school was a zoo. With one entrance for toddlers through middle schoolers, the melee at the door was overwhelming. She shrank into Her backpack. She held my hand.
She saw Her teacher. The teacher exclaimed over the dress. Little One beamed. Teacher greeted Her as if they were old friends and the warmth of her laugh visibly melted Little One's fear.
We found Her hook and hung up the backpack. We turned over the medical supplies and forms. I wondered what would happen next, as I knelt down to Her level.
"Have a great day today sweetie. We love you so much!"
She threw Herself at me, and Her sister in my arms, and hugged us both so tight. Then with a laugh She turned and flounced into the classroom.
And that was it.
Missy for Her part thought the whole thing very exciting. She ate the special breakfast with oohs and aahhs. She requested and proudly selected Her own fancy dress-dress, Her own crow'n. She clapped as we headed out the door. She posed grinning for pictures and followed Little One to the car crying "Go-go! Go-go!" She was thrilled with the noise and commotion of the school.
She kissed Her big sister goodbye and with me, watched the first 10 minuted of class from the one-way mirrored observation room. She loved pointing, "Sissy! Sissy! Sissy there!" giggling at me like we were sharing an inside joke. Then I told Her to wave bye-bye, and we walked away.
She waved slowly, brow furrowed. Wait. What's going on here?
And when we hit the parking lot- just us two- She fell to pieces. She wailed and screamed.
"NO! Nonononoooo! SISSY! SIIISSSYYY!!!!!!" writhing and struggling to get back inside. She cried and whimpered for Sissy halfway home, sulked silently the rest of the way. At home She refused to read stories. "Sissy. Want sissy booka." After bribing Her with milk and cuddles, She read halfway through a story then cried again. She went to bed still upset.
As for me, I'm happy to say that Little One looked pretty content in Her circle, watching the other children closely, listening to the teacher intently. Occasionally preening and arranging the skirt of the Fancy Dress. Taking comfort in it, I think. A silk suit of armor. I'm happy to see Her surrounded by future friends in a classroom bright and neat as a pin.
I'm not happy that Missy cried and felt such as sting over having Her best friend yanked from Her. I'm not happy that She threw a fit over it, either. But I didn't scold Her. After all, to tell you the truth, I know just how She feels. In time it will be easier for all of us, as we get used to this new routine. Missy and I will enjoy our quiet time together. Little One will enjoy Her own world of friends and learning.
I think we'll always be happy at pick-up time, though.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Heavy Backpack
Tomorrow is Little One's first day at a new school.She was sad to learn, at registration, that She won't be allowed to bring Her special pink backpack from Grandma. The one with Her name on it.
All the kids at Her school are required to carry the same standard-issue, boring black backpack with the school logo. For the low, mandatory price of $30. Ahem. But! The headmistress explained to me, they are allowed to decorate them. However they want. 
So we've gone around to various thrift and craft stores, we've raided our art cabinet. Little One made all the choices. And today during Missy's nap, we had a special project time. Just Little One, me, boring backpack, and a glue gun. We made pins of everything deemed pretty by Little One, and then She very carefully, deliberately, showed me precisely where each pin was to go. In the end, we have this backpack.
Which is anything but ordinary. She also chose Her own first-day-of-school outfit. She was allowed to pick whatever She wanted. Because She is Little One, She immediately chose the dress I bought Her, second-hand for practically nothing, but haven't let Her wear yet. Because it is white silk dupioni and dry clean only. But it is a frothy, shimmery confection of a dress. Cut to look like it is made of flower petals, with pink silk roses along the waist. It has been coveted by Little One for months.
Together we filled the dazzling backpack with all the necessities; epipen, inhaler, medical forms. Together we laid out the fluffy dress for the morning, giggling with excitement.
But today Little One has been off. Distracted, quiet. Scolded for not listening, following me like a puppy. When we talked about school tomorrow She'd say how excited She is, then chew Her nails.
I realized. She's nervous.
"I don't know any persons here", She fretted at dinner, picking at Her food.
I realized my almost four year-old is just about to step into that unending world of Caring What Other People Think. Of cool and uncool. All that. For the first time I thought about the crazy backpack, the outlandishly fancy dress, with a drop of trepidation. What if.... what if She's old enough to fit in or not fit in? What if She's teased for being unusual? At not-yet-four, at a Montessori school, I can't think it will really matter so much. Right? But I feel a little tug at my heart, a tiny hint of what will come in another five years. Being a kid can be hard.
I thought about it through the afternoon. I thought about it while they played in the dirt, while I washed them and lotioned their mosquito bites. I decided that the last thing I want to do is plant an insecurity. So as far as I'm concerned the backpack and the dress and anything else She likes to express Herself with is awesome. Because as far as I'm concerned, SHE is awesome.
But just in case. I talked to Her after dinner.
C: "Little One, look at that lovely dress you chose for school! You will be so shimmery tomorrow! You will look lovely in that dress."
LO (blushing a little): "Oh, t'ank you mamma! I'm going to wear it all the day and I will do great spins in that dress!"
C: "You surely will. But can I make sure you know something?"
LO: "Yes, Mamma. Tell me."
C: "You will look pretty in that dress, because you are always pretty. The dress is fun, but it doesn't make you pretty. What makes you so beautiful, my pretty girl?"
LO: "Aw....I don't know..."
C: "I do. What makes you pretty is that you walk tall and proud. That you act with kindness. And you smile from your heart. That is what makes a person beautiful."
LO: "I do like smiling."
C: "Yes. Your smile is great! And you can wear it any time. So if you want to wear that dress tomorrow because you feel comfy in it and you like it, that's great. But you are beautiful with or without it, ok?"
LO: "Ok."
C: "One more thing. That dress is fun, and very fancy. But sometimes it is hard to play in very fancy clothes. So, I packed you some nice, regular clothes in your new backpack. At school tomorrow, if you find it's a little hard to play or be comfy in your dress, you can change any time. But you don't have to. Ok? It's up to you."
LO (beaming): "Ok thank you mommy! That's a great idea you have there. I can just do anything, right?"
C: "Yes. You can choose whatever you want. Tomorrow I want you to listen to your teacher, and to just have fun!"
LO: "I will!"
We read our stories and brushed teeth and I tucked Her in. But when She gave me the usual goodnight hug, She locked Her arms and wouldn't release me. After a few seconds, my reaction was to get impatient. It was getting late, I had chores to finish, She had an early morning coming. But before I shook Her off, I quieted my mind and listened. She was breathing hard and really squeezing tight. Like She needed that extra hug. So I cozied in and asked Her if She was ok.
LO: "Yes mommy. Yes. But. Well just...I just want to hold on tight! I.Just.Love.You.More.Than.Anything!"
C: "Angel, I love you too."
LO: "But I just LOVE you Mommy and I don't WANT to EVER let you go! I won't! I won't let go! I don't want to let you ever ever go!"
C: "Oh, Little One. I understand. Sometimes, I feel like I don't want to let you go, either."
Little One relaxed, but still circled my neck.
LO: "Yeah, mommy. Me too."
I stayed with Her for about five minutes, in the silence. Finally, She squeezed extra tight, counted to ten, and then unlaced Her fingers.
I looked at Her and saw Her eyes squeezed shut, as if She had jumped and was bracing.
I kissed Her forehead, and held Her in a hug.
"Goodnight, my Little One. I will see you in the morning".
Little One smiled and pulled the blanket up to Her chin. She told me goodnight and nestled in.
My how complex things become as they grow. How much of it is them and how much is me, who knows. But there are butterflies in all our stomachs. Tomorrow I will take Her to a new place, filled with strangers, knowing how much I'll miss Her all morning, having gotten so used to Her constant presence. Having loved it so much. But because She is Her and I am, separately, Me, I will hug Her, in Her fancy dress and decked-out backpack, very tight. Close my eyes as if I've jumped and am bracing.
And then let go.
August
So for the sake of the family album, I should start back in Florida. But I won't. That was like forever ago, people. That's like deciding to ride the Tour D'France on a Saturday morning. So if I get to the last five months, good for me. In the meantime, I think I'll start with a few laps around the block. Like maybe, August. Let's just start with what happened in August.
In August, some awesome awesomeness happened, that's what!
First, my Dad and baby sister came to visit. Ok fine. Baby sister is actually my pre-teen sister (expletives withheld). Her pre-teen-ness boggles the mind. But it's tempered by the fact that she's turned out to be an exceptionally fun and cool pre-teen and also is into babysitting. Can I possibly describe the joy of going to one of the nicest lunch spots in town, and sipping a glass of wine on the verandah, chatting with dad, while contentedly watching Pre-teen sister wrangle both of my adorable-because-they-weren't-strapped-into-booster-seats children in the garden just outside? Ahh. We had a great visit. Partly because Sister played with my kids like, all the time, and when she stopped, Grandpa started swinging them around. If he wasn't busy fixing stuff around my house. There were tears from all of us when they had to leave.
But we were cheered up soon after by the next lot of guests, the Recastle Princesses and their mom. With four littles, swimming lessons, and some serious cooking missions, it was a bit boisterous. And extremely fun. We spent a couple of entire days cooking Ethiopian food and baking desserts while the children ran wild. We invited other friends over for dinners to amp up the fun-chaos even more. The car broke, the sink broke, the dishwasher broke. And even though we were all worn out by the end of the visit, I tell you with all honestly that every second was a blast. Those princesses, they steal my heart. They are awesome and I wish they could make like the castle they helped build, and become a permanent fixture here.
Tears again when they left, but again we were instantly cheered by another visitor. My mom came and jumped into the swirl of life here while I, momentarily, hopped out. J and I have had our separations, you know. But this, being our first deployment, is our longest time apart yet. In nearly a decade guys! So to celebrate what we hope will be roughly the halfway point in his absence, we decided I should go meet him when his boat docked in port. And you know me, right? Can I ever do something the simple way? Especially if it involves traveling? Nope. So I took a trip. I visited cities in four countries, on three different continents, in less than two weeks. I did it flying coach in the middle-goshdarn-seat every time, and still had all kinds of fun.
I arrived home tired and happy, to one Little One who flew into my arms with the picture she'd made me, all chatter about how much fun she'd had with Nana, how much she loved me, missed me, wanted to hug and hug and squeeze me, and one Little Miss. Who would have NOTHING to do with me. Who shrieked for Nana when I came near, who refused to let me bathe, change, hold, feed, or tuck Her in. And who, at my attempts to cajole Her, literally turned up Her nose, "hurumphed" and looked away. This from my Mama's girl?! It was not until two days after my mom left that She began to forgive me. And She still calls for Nana when I dare to cross Her by, say, not allowing Her to pull Her sister's hair or attempting to feed Her anything other than watermelon.
It didn't help that the day after I got back I abandoned Her again to spend the whole day doing allergy testing with Little One at the hospital. A post of it's own. And then the following day, I did spend the whole day with Missy...but also doing testing at the hospital (another post of it's own). A lovely day which included 12 needles in Her skin. What a great way to win Her over, huh? Hopefully, in time, She will forgive me.
Maybe it will help that we will have a lot of one-on-one time in the mornings from now on. Because tomorrow is another big day! Little One will have Her first day of school. A new school, with new friends and teachers in our new town. I'm not at all sure which of us is more nervous.
But after the craziness of the last few months; the transitions of moving, deployment, visitors and travels, it will be nice to have the routine of school days as we settle in for the beginning of fall. I hope it will help us find a nice calm rhythm for the days to click by to, counting down to the one in which J comes home, and we can find a new normal again, as a whole family.
I want those days to pass quickly, I want my J back home with us. But not too quickly. These long summer days, just us three girls together all the time, have not been without their trials. But they have been so precious too. I'm reminded constantly of how fast they are growing, how soon Two and Four are sneaking up on me. And how lucky I am to be here for all of it. We've learned a lot about each other and ourselves, I think, going through this sort of upheaval together. As much as I will be happy to share with J, and willing to share with school, I can't really wish to rush a single day in this time of life, where the days are filled with block-towers, fairy tales, dancing in the kitchen, and snuggles that smell like soy milk and apples.
I'm looking forward to the months ahead. It will all be an adventure. It always is.
In August, some awesome awesomeness happened, that's what!
First, my Dad and baby sister came to visit. Ok fine. Baby sister is actually my pre-teen sister (expletives withheld). Her pre-teen-ness boggles the mind. But it's tempered by the fact that she's turned out to be an exceptionally fun and cool pre-teen and also is into babysitting. Can I possibly describe the joy of going to one of the nicest lunch spots in town, and sipping a glass of wine on the verandah, chatting with dad, while contentedly watching Pre-teen sister wrangle both of my adorable-because-they-weren't-strapped-into-booster-seats children in the garden just outside? Ahh. We had a great visit. Partly because Sister played with my kids like, all the time, and when she stopped, Grandpa started swinging them around. If he wasn't busy fixing stuff around my house. There were tears from all of us when they had to leave.
Tears again when they left, but again we were instantly cheered by another visitor. My mom came and jumped into the swirl of life here while I, momentarily, hopped out. J and I have had our separations, you know. But this, being our first deployment, is our longest time apart yet. In nearly a decade guys! So to celebrate what we hope will be roughly the halfway point in his absence, we decided I should go meet him when his boat docked in port. And you know me, right? Can I ever do something the simple way? Especially if it involves traveling? Nope. So I took a trip. I visited cities in four countries, on three different continents, in less than two weeks. I did it flying coach in the middle-goshdarn-seat every time, and still had all kinds of fun.
 |
| I got to see J!!! |
 |
| Missing Daddy |
I'm looking forward to the months ahead. It will all be an adventure. It always is.
To Blog or Not to Blog...
So.
I've had a hard time knowing what to do with this blog. What is the point of it, really?
I use it mostly to keep far-flung friends and family (say that five times fast!) updated on what's going on, though I'm really never sure how much of what I end up posting is of interest and how much of it is like those people who post pictures of their dinner every night on Facebook. Sorry if you do that... but seriously who cares about your kraft mac n cheese, you know? I'm often certain that I'm mac n cheesing this blog, as well. So sometimes I just don't mention things, or I throw them out on facebook with everyone else's mental scraps.
I started this blog before I even knew about facebook. Dark ages, right? And now it can seem a bit redundant. Except that I can be so much more long winded here! So fun for me! Maybe not anyone else. Hmm. What to do?
But then again, it's also turned out to be a nice therapeutic way to to talk to myself, address it to you, and escape asylum commitment on a technicality. And believe me, Peanuts. Being in a city where I know exactly two other adults and spend all day with people under 3 years old means I need to talk whether anyone is actually listening or not. Otherwise, I might forget how to. I might go all feral and when J comes home I'll be like Nell, swaying like a Tay in the Win.
And, as I've mentioned, this is the best version of a family scrapbook I have managed to sort of keep up with. But it's sort of public, though, so it's patchy. I'm just not sure what to add.
If it's just for me, just to talk, I have all kinds of whining and celebrating to type out about deployment and how much it is not fun, and how proud I am that we are still mostly alive and sane nonetheless. If it's a scrapbook, I have a lot of arduous uploading of photos to do and should probably backtrack to hit at least some of the major family events I've missed recently. And if I'm trying to put something up that other people care to bother with....uh....I got nothin. Which is what I've been posting. So for the sake of the family scrapbook argument, I think I'll keep adding random ho-hum "here's what we've been up to" posts. For now.
But I'd like to take a Peanut poll! All three of you, please chime in. What do you think? In the days of Facebook and overexposure and creepy online stalkers and such, what really is the point of the family blog? Is there one? I am careful not to use real names or be too specific about where we are going to be, but is it better to make it private? Skip the pictures? What do YOU think? Throw your two cents in or I threaten to stop this blog altogether. Or post three times a day. Whichever would annoy you most.
I've had a hard time knowing what to do with this blog. What is the point of it, really?
I use it mostly to keep far-flung friends and family (say that five times fast!) updated on what's going on, though I'm really never sure how much of what I end up posting is of interest and how much of it is like those people who post pictures of their dinner every night on Facebook. Sorry if you do that... but seriously who cares about your kraft mac n cheese, you know? I'm often certain that I'm mac n cheesing this blog, as well. So sometimes I just don't mention things, or I throw them out on facebook with everyone else's mental scraps.
I started this blog before I even knew about facebook. Dark ages, right? And now it can seem a bit redundant. Except that I can be so much more long winded here! So fun for me! Maybe not anyone else. Hmm. What to do?
But then again, it's also turned out to be a nice therapeutic way to to talk to myself, address it to you, and escape asylum commitment on a technicality. And believe me, Peanuts. Being in a city where I know exactly two other adults and spend all day with people under 3 years old means I need to talk whether anyone is actually listening or not. Otherwise, I might forget how to. I might go all feral and when J comes home I'll be like Nell, swaying like a Tay in the Win.
And, as I've mentioned, this is the best version of a family scrapbook I have managed to sort of keep up with. But it's sort of public, though, so it's patchy. I'm just not sure what to add.
If it's just for me, just to talk, I have all kinds of whining and celebrating to type out about deployment and how much it is not fun, and how proud I am that we are still mostly alive and sane nonetheless. If it's a scrapbook, I have a lot of arduous uploading of photos to do and should probably backtrack to hit at least some of the major family events I've missed recently. And if I'm trying to put something up that other people care to bother with....uh....I got nothin. Which is what I've been posting. So for the sake of the family scrapbook argument, I think I'll keep adding random ho-hum "here's what we've been up to" posts. For now.
But I'd like to take a Peanut poll! All three of you, please chime in. What do you think? In the days of Facebook and overexposure and creepy online stalkers and such, what really is the point of the family blog? Is there one? I am careful not to use real names or be too specific about where we are going to be, but is it better to make it private? Skip the pictures? What do YOU think? Throw your two cents in or I threaten to stop this blog altogether. Or post three times a day. Whichever would annoy you most.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Oh, Peanuts.
Have I got news for you. There has been a lot going on.
I had guests up until I traveled to several different countries, and then spent lots of time in doctors offices with littles, and now it is time to gear up for school next week. whew!
The good news is that everyone is doing fine and as full of attitude as ever.
Little One is excited about school and Missy is talking in adorable little sentences. And I will have more stories here soon, for those who can stand to sit all the way through them.
Have I got news for you. There has been a lot going on.
I had guests up until I traveled to several different countries, and then spent lots of time in doctors offices with littles, and now it is time to gear up for school next week. whew!
The good news is that everyone is doing fine and as full of attitude as ever.
Little One is excited about school and Missy is talking in adorable little sentences. And I will have more stories here soon, for those who can stand to sit all the way through them.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Sweet Sour
Like somewhere in there on a molecular level, there's been this teeny, tiny little immunological UN conference and a peace deal finally gets brokered between the Histamine Republic and the Empire of Soy, for example. Isn't it nicer when we can all just get along?! Yes. It is. But since those little proton-sized newspapers are too small for us to read, there's no way to know if such a deal has been reached except to throw the two sides together, take cover, and see what happens.
Since Little One's person is the battleground, it's best to do it in the doctors office, and this is what we call the Food Challenge. Sounds serious, huh?
In a food challenge we take a miniscule amount of something we expect, suspect, or just hail-mary hope a person has stopped being allergic to, and we have them eat it. Then everyone sits and watches all intently for 20 minutes or so. If everything seems ok, we give a slightly bigger bit to them, and again watch and wait. Sometimes, like when Little One tried egg last year, there is a reaction and the whole thing is called off. But if all goes well, they eat a little more and more until they have had a large enough "dose" without reacting that we can safely say they are no longer allergic.
Little One hasn't passed a food challenge in a while, but last week we went ahead with Her new allergist and tried to see whether She had made peace with lemons yet. And, as it turns out!!
Little One is beyond excited. She asked me to take pictures and a video to send J immediately. She stopped people in the hospital hallways to cry out joyously, "Guess what? Guess what guys?! A-scuse me, guess what I CAN HAVE LEMONS!!!!! Is. That. So. Great?!" And sang about Her love of lemons all the way home in the car.
To celebrate, we fixed special dinner of salmon with lemon dipping sauce and lemon-pepper roasted veggies.
Lemon is an ingredient which tends to sneak into the strangest places and is rarely labeled. So if I could have chosen an allergy from Her list to cross off, this would have been it. I'm almost as excited about it as She is! Yay for Little One! We have one less thing to worry about.
And from now on, when life gives Her lemons, She can just eat them!
Recastle
We had some friends visiting this week. We did lots of fun stuff but on the last day there wasn't time to go anywhere, and the playroom had been played out.
What to do with four bored princesses and a bunch of leftover moving boxes?
Who knew recycling could be so royally fun!
Friday, August 3, 2012
Let The Missy-Isms Begin!
Since hearing my reaction to Her rash awhile back, Missy's new favorite expression is,
"Jeeeeeeze!"
Which is a good teenage warm-up, I think. As in:
"Miss, you have a lot of blocks to pick up."
"Jeeeeze!"
"Sorry Miss, no more broccoli until you at least try your bread."
"Jeeeeeezze!"
"Miss, you need two shoes, love, not just one. Please find your other shoe."
"Jeeeze. Jee-eeeeezze!"
Or. Several times a day:
Little One: "Wow, Missy! We sure maked a BIG mess togever!"
Missy: "Awwww.... JEEEZE!"
"Jeeeeeeze!"
Which is a good teenage warm-up, I think. As in:
"Miss, you have a lot of blocks to pick up."
"Jeeeeze!"
"Sorry Miss, no more broccoli until you at least try your bread."
"Jeeeeeezze!"
"Miss, you need two shoes, love, not just one. Please find your other shoe."
"Jeeeze. Jee-eeeeezze!"
Or. Several times a day:Little One: "Wow, Missy! We sure maked a BIG mess togever!"
Missy: "Awwww.... JEEEZE!"
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Between Letters
I have a big catch up post coming soon. Or posts. The problem is that these days I spend about 99.93454837% of my computer time emailing J. Approximately.
It turns out that taking the trash to the curb, and doing all the things J used to do at home, and minding munchkins by myself isn't so rough after all. In fact, don't tell, but it's sort of a breeze! I was kind of surprised by that! Easy peasy!
Uh..but. It also turns out that holymolyohmygoodnessgeezelouise I miss that J. It's sappy and a little pathetic and really not a breeze at all. I was kind of surprised by that! Also! In not such a good way!
And so I spend like all my free time writing him emails and letters like a lovesick teenager, because it makes me feel better somehow to talk towards him, if that's the best I can do.
Little One is in the same sappy love-boat. She still wakes up crying for him. Her stack of colorful letters to Daddy closely rivals my volume of emails. She creates elaborate plans in which She is building the BIGGEST boat EVER in the wor-wold and soon, maybe after nap, She's going to sail all through the ocean to J and get him and bring him back. And he will have to come, because Her boat is the BIGGEST. She asks me to show Her where we are on the globe, and where he is. She offers to go and help him do his job with teamwork so that he can get done faster and come home. We both sulk a little.
Even Little Miss misses J. Sometimes something will remind Her of him, usually Her sister's pouting, and She'll go wandering the house, "Dada! DaDA! Daadeeeeeee!!" looking for him. Sometimes the two of them pound into my brain from the back seat, wailing "Dada Dada Dada Dada!!" until I crash into a tree to make it stop. Just kidding. I say what I really mean, "I miss Daddy too."
Really, it's all beautiful. Because how lucky can a bunch of girls get, to have a J who is so wonderful that we miss him this hard, and it has nothing to do with what he does for us, and everything to do with just having him there.
And of course, we have each other. We keep each other pretty busy. Plus, as Little One said, "We have to give our'chothers lots and lots and extra hugs, to fill up the daddy spots that are running out hugs, till he comes back with some more." And we do!
Tonight Little Miss, who loves a bedtime snuggle but otherwise isn't really the huggy-kissy type, looked up at me and squinched up Her lips. She held onto my ears, and planted a kiss right on my nose. Then She leaned back, gave me a million-dollar Little Miss smile, and then placed a tiny kiss on my cheek. My other cheek, My forehead. My chin. Both shoulders, and my nose once more. Then She gave me another grin, and went to bed.
I tucked in Little One who asked (as She always does) for extra extra snuggles and put Her arms around my neck. Hugged me tight. And told me that I am the BEST momma, ever the world had a momma, and She loves me SSOooooooo much. And She will even love me when I'm very very old, when She will carry me around- because She'll be so big- and do all the nice things I do like make breakfast and color with me.
After those sweet goodnights, I went off to bed in a house that was very empty, very quiet. Very J-less. But I was thankful that my babies had given me such sweet reminders that I am not at all alone. That I have the best fortification a heart could have- the love of children. My girls are wonderful. A big part of why they are, is that they have J for a father. What a gift that even when J is an entire world away from me, I have two pieces of him right here, to kiss goodnight.
It turns out that taking the trash to the curb, and doing all the things J used to do at home, and minding munchkins by myself isn't so rough after all. In fact, don't tell, but it's sort of a breeze! I was kind of surprised by that! Easy peasy!
Uh..but. It also turns out that holymolyohmygoodnessgeezelouise I miss that J. It's sappy and a little pathetic and really not a breeze at all. I was kind of surprised by that! Also! In not such a good way!
And so I spend like all my free time writing him emails and letters like a lovesick teenager, because it makes me feel better somehow to talk towards him, if that's the best I can do.
Little One is in the same sappy love-boat. She still wakes up crying for him. Her stack of colorful letters to Daddy closely rivals my volume of emails. She creates elaborate plans in which She is building the BIGGEST boat EVER in the wor-wold and soon, maybe after nap, She's going to sail all through the ocean to J and get him and bring him back. And he will have to come, because Her boat is the BIGGEST. She asks me to show Her where we are on the globe, and where he is. She offers to go and help him do his job with teamwork so that he can get done faster and come home. We both sulk a little.
Even Little Miss misses J. Sometimes something will remind Her of him, usually Her sister's pouting, and She'll go wandering the house, "Dada! DaDA! Daadeeeeeee!!" looking for him. Sometimes the two of them pound into my brain from the back seat, wailing "Dada Dada Dada Dada!!" until I crash into a tree to make it stop. Just kidding. I say what I really mean, "I miss Daddy too."
Really, it's all beautiful. Because how lucky can a bunch of girls get, to have a J who is so wonderful that we miss him this hard, and it has nothing to do with what he does for us, and everything to do with just having him there.
And of course, we have each other. We keep each other pretty busy. Plus, as Little One said, "We have to give our'chothers lots and lots and extra hugs, to fill up the daddy spots that are running out hugs, till he comes back with some more." And we do!
Tonight Little Miss, who loves a bedtime snuggle but otherwise isn't really the huggy-kissy type, looked up at me and squinched up Her lips. She held onto my ears, and planted a kiss right on my nose. Then She leaned back, gave me a million-dollar Little Miss smile, and then placed a tiny kiss on my cheek. My other cheek, My forehead. My chin. Both shoulders, and my nose once more. Then She gave me another grin, and went to bed.
I tucked in Little One who asked (as She always does) for extra extra snuggles and put Her arms around my neck. Hugged me tight. And told me that I am the BEST momma, ever the world had a momma, and She loves me SSOooooooo much. And She will even love me when I'm very very old, when She will carry me around- because She'll be so big- and do all the nice things I do like make breakfast and color with me.
After those sweet goodnights, I went off to bed in a house that was very empty, very quiet. Very J-less. But I was thankful that my babies had given me such sweet reminders that I am not at all alone. That I have the best fortification a heart could have- the love of children. My girls are wonderful. A big part of why they are, is that they have J for a father. What a gift that even when J is an entire world away from me, I have two pieces of him right here, to kiss goodnight.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Pray-rer
Walking past Little One's room at nap time I hear:
"H-hello? Hello? Mr God...Ms God? My name is Little One, I'm three. Hi. Um. Well I have a very 'portant pray-rer for praying you right now. And my pray-rer is could Daddy please come home? From the boat? 'Cause Daddy's boat is REALLY far away. I want him to come home now, and jump me up and swing me around. 'Cause you know God I like that when he does that and it's fun sometimes and I miss mine Daddy. And...um...ok. 'Member it is very. 'portant. Thank you. ...ok love you, bye-bye."
Amen.
"H-hello? Hello? Mr God...Ms God? My name is Little One, I'm three. Hi. Um. Well I have a very 'portant pray-rer for praying you right now. And my pray-rer is could Daddy please come home? From the boat? 'Cause Daddy's boat is REALLY far away. I want him to come home now, and jump me up and swing me around. 'Cause you know God I like that when he does that and it's fun sometimes and I miss mine Daddy. And...um...ok. 'Member it is very. 'portant. Thank you. ...ok love you, bye-bye."
Amen.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Call Me Crazy
I thought that I'd have all this free time while J is gone. I figured I'd be posting stuff on here like, all the time! As it turns out there is very little time for anything other than errands and unpacking, organizing, cleaning, keeping everyone fed and safe, and the occasional something fun to pull us all back a few steps from the precipice of I've Had It!. And sleeping. Because at the end of a day here Peanuts I am TIRED.
I've been up before the sun each day, hitting the yoga mat before the Littles rise in order to maintain a semblance of sanity. And by the time I crawl into bed at the late hour of, oh, say...10pm, I feel like I've been balancing boulders on my head all day.
Which is why I feel so bad for the confused (but perfectly nice) elderly gentleman who had the misfortune of thinking I am Jim. And calling me- SEVEN TIMES IN A ROW after MIDNIGHT until I finally blurted out "Please. Please! I really, really, am not Jim. I don't know Jim, this is not his number and-its-after-midnight-here-and-I'm-REALLY-TIRED and could you please. Please. Stop. Calling me!"
There was a long stretch of shocked silence. And then the poor guy went on for several minutes about how the number is a central time zone area code so he just could not fathom how it could be after midnight and he really did think he was calling Jim and do I have his number? By then I had recovered my senses enough to politely tell him to leave me alone for the love of mercy. He was apologetic. And then he blessed me.
And now I am a big big meany who tells off innocent old people who are perfectly nice and probably still praying for my mean, meany soul.
But I do have some massive catching up stuff to post on here and I will get to it, I'm hoping, in the next week or so. Before my tired little brain heaves it all overboard in an attempt to preserve it's sinking self. And before I get hit by lightning or something, since Karma clearly now owes me one.
Come back around in a bit, guys, I'll have something up. It might even be something exciting, like how I got hit by lightning, or how Jim showed up and kicked me in the shins for not taking any messages. Could be interesting.
I've been up before the sun each day, hitting the yoga mat before the Littles rise in order to maintain a semblance of sanity. And by the time I crawl into bed at the late hour of, oh, say...10pm, I feel like I've been balancing boulders on my head all day.
Which is why I feel so bad for the confused (but perfectly nice) elderly gentleman who had the misfortune of thinking I am Jim. And calling me- SEVEN TIMES IN A ROW after MIDNIGHT until I finally blurted out "Please. Please! I really, really, am not Jim. I don't know Jim, this is not his number and-its-after-midnight-here-and-I'm-REALLY-TIRED and could you please. Please. Stop. Calling me!"
There was a long stretch of shocked silence. And then the poor guy went on for several minutes about how the number is a central time zone area code so he just could not fathom how it could be after midnight and he really did think he was calling Jim and do I have his number? By then I had recovered my senses enough to politely tell him to leave me alone for the love of mercy. He was apologetic. And then he blessed me.
And now I am a big big meany who tells off innocent old people who are perfectly nice and probably still praying for my mean, meany soul.
But I do have some massive catching up stuff to post on here and I will get to it, I'm hoping, in the next week or so. Before my tired little brain heaves it all overboard in an attempt to preserve it's sinking self. And before I get hit by lightning or something, since Karma clearly now owes me one.
Come back around in a bit, guys, I'll have something up. It might even be something exciting, like how I got hit by lightning, or how Jim showed up and kicked me in the shins for not taking any messages. Could be interesting.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Power Hour
Nine years ago today, I was in a rustic cabin on a mountain in New York. It was a summer camp. Like all the other staff, I had arrived early to prepare before hundreds of children from the shelters and foster care systems of Newark and NYC came flooding in. Which nothing at all could have prepared me for, but there I was. The others had gone on a team-building camp-out. But as the medical director, I had to stay put in case there was some kind of emergency and someone had to be rushed back to the clinic. No one did.
All of my friends back at college spent the eve of their 21st birthdays partying and staying up until midnight to have their "power hour"; drinking like a loon the minute they turned the magical legal drinking age of 21. Not something I was at all opposed to at the time, I might add.
Me? There I was, many miles from the nearest party scene or alcoholic beverage, turning 21 at midnight in a sleeping bag on a rusted cot. With no one around at all except for Speedy, the mouse who shared my room that summer. It wasn't quite what I'd had in mind.
But though it was by no means my first job, it was one I'd worked really hard for. It was the first one I had sought out, applied and interviewed and been hired for, without a bit of help from anyone. I hadn't known it was a Director's position until I arrived, and it was my first job being In Charge of something- with no guidance, no on-the-job training, no supervisor to tell me how to do it. It was by far the most responsibility I'd ever had. It was the first time I'd been so far from home for so long. It was the first time I had cohabitated with a rodent.
That summer turned out to be life-changing for me. When I sat up till midnight that first week of it, watching myself turn 21, I knew it would be. I was excited, I was proud. I felt ready to be Grown Up. Ready to be part of something much bigger than what party to go to on Friday night. Ready to believe in myself.
I thought about all of those things as Speedy and I watched the moon rise high. And I realized that I was experiencing the gift of a Power Hour that lived up to its name. I still think of it as one of the best birthdays I ever had.
Tonight my kids are sleeping restlessly after a loooong day of fevers and vomit and boogers and tears. I've scrubbed the soup pot, I've mopped the floors. Far from some night-club "dirty thirty" extravaganza, I'll probably ring in my new decade in a rocking chair under a hot sweaty toddler, feeling snot ooze down my shoulder. My friends and family, even my husband, won't be around to set any confections on fire for me, and my three-year old wept in pity tonight that I was having a birthday and there would be no party.
Now. I did have a high-style celebration already, and I'm swimming in cards over here. But even if those things things were not there, my three-year-old wept for me. Because she loves me so. Far from being alone, I have two of my favorite humans on earth by my side this birthday, and germy as they may be they are mine. As tired and cranky and sick of cockroaches and boxes as we all are, we are together and we are doing fine.
This milestone birthday in many ways reminds me of the one I spent on that mountain. It's the first time I've lived alone (without another grown up) in my whole life. Ever. It's my first real go at parenting and house-running and bill-paying and living without a partner to back me up. My first time to try to help my child through something that really, truly hurts Her. It's again a new level of personal responsibility, a new and foreign terrain, a feeling of being on my own to Figure It Out.
And, just like last time, I'm not sorry.
Like before I feel ready to learn, and stretch and grow, ready to jump into the next year (decade!) stronger and wiser and faster and more able. Ready to believe in myself. I suppose with all the gooey stuff my kids are exuding tonight, I could still call it a dirty thirty and be technically accurate. But instead I think I'll just reach back to that 21st birthday and have myself another Power Hour.
In three hours I'll be another year older, another decade older. I'm celebrating on my own. Because I know how to do that now- be on my own. Celebrate myself. In the morning mirror I'll see some wrinkles here and there; I'll see the gray hairs creeping in. I'll also take a step back, take in the bigger picture. And see that power there, too.
Happy 30th birthday to myself. It's going to rock.
All of my friends back at college spent the eve of their 21st birthdays partying and staying up until midnight to have their "power hour"; drinking like a loon the minute they turned the magical legal drinking age of 21. Not something I was at all opposed to at the time, I might add.
Me? There I was, many miles from the nearest party scene or alcoholic beverage, turning 21 at midnight in a sleeping bag on a rusted cot. With no one around at all except for Speedy, the mouse who shared my room that summer. It wasn't quite what I'd had in mind.
But though it was by no means my first job, it was one I'd worked really hard for. It was the first one I had sought out, applied and interviewed and been hired for, without a bit of help from anyone. I hadn't known it was a Director's position until I arrived, and it was my first job being In Charge of something- with no guidance, no on-the-job training, no supervisor to tell me how to do it. It was by far the most responsibility I'd ever had. It was the first time I'd been so far from home for so long. It was the first time I had cohabitated with a rodent.
That summer turned out to be life-changing for me. When I sat up till midnight that first week of it, watching myself turn 21, I knew it would be. I was excited, I was proud. I felt ready to be Grown Up. Ready to be part of something much bigger than what party to go to on Friday night. Ready to believe in myself.
I thought about all of those things as Speedy and I watched the moon rise high. And I realized that I was experiencing the gift of a Power Hour that lived up to its name. I still think of it as one of the best birthdays I ever had.
Tonight my kids are sleeping restlessly after a loooong day of fevers and vomit and boogers and tears. I've scrubbed the soup pot, I've mopped the floors. Far from some night-club "dirty thirty" extravaganza, I'll probably ring in my new decade in a rocking chair under a hot sweaty toddler, feeling snot ooze down my shoulder. My friends and family, even my husband, won't be around to set any confections on fire for me, and my three-year old wept in pity tonight that I was having a birthday and there would be no party.
Now. I did have a high-style celebration already, and I'm swimming in cards over here. But even if those things things were not there, my three-year-old wept for me. Because she loves me so. Far from being alone, I have two of my favorite humans on earth by my side this birthday, and germy as they may be they are mine. As tired and cranky and sick of cockroaches and boxes as we all are, we are together and we are doing fine.
This milestone birthday in many ways reminds me of the one I spent on that mountain. It's the first time I've lived alone (without another grown up) in my whole life. Ever. It's my first real go at parenting and house-running and bill-paying and living without a partner to back me up. My first time to try to help my child through something that really, truly hurts Her. It's again a new level of personal responsibility, a new and foreign terrain, a feeling of being on my own to Figure It Out.
And, just like last time, I'm not sorry.
Like before I feel ready to learn, and stretch and grow, ready to jump into the next year (decade!) stronger and wiser and faster and more able. Ready to believe in myself. I suppose with all the gooey stuff my kids are exuding tonight, I could still call it a dirty thirty and be technically accurate. But instead I think I'll just reach back to that 21st birthday and have myself another Power Hour.
In three hours I'll be another year older, another decade older. I'm celebrating on my own. Because I know how to do that now- be on my own. Celebrate myself. In the morning mirror I'll see some wrinkles here and there; I'll see the gray hairs creeping in. I'll also take a step back, take in the bigger picture. And see that power there, too.
Happy 30th birthday to myself. It's going to rock.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Sunshine State
There are things about Florida that I will not miss.
I will not miss the spray-painted K's strewn about the neighborhood. Not a fan.
I will not miss the small replica of the Dust Bowl on permanent display in the yard. I will not miss the turquoise toilet or the wood paneling in our fabulous rental home. I won't miss the lack of options, particularly when it comes to health care for the Littles. I clearly won't miss the dang zombies.
However. I will miss the weather, both rain and shine. I will miss the Southern manners. I will dearly miss the (lack of) traffic. I'll miss Joe Patti's fish market extraordinaire and the way they recognized us each Sunday and slipped Little One a free pink sorbet gelato. I'll miss the quaint, New Orleans-style downtown with the lacy wrought iron and the espresso and beignets. I'll miss my beloved yoga studio, our church, and with my heart bleeding will miss the preschool. I'll miss the lazy familiarity of a small-ish town, the plethora of festivals and street fairs, and of course the incomparable beaches. I'll certainly miss the easy flight school hours J kept while we were there. It was kind of like a very extended Florida vacation for us all.
But what I will miss the most, for sure, is some of the people. Especially these ones:
These people who sipped coffee in my living room on Friday mornings, gave me someone to bake for, and let me try out my rookie yoga teaching skills on them. These people who listened and advised and commiserated and seriously cracked me up. Friends whose lovely children were Little 
One's friends, so that they will be double missed. Friends who have interesting things to say, who are fun to be around, and who bring over truck-loads of gorgeous hand-me-downs, stop by with spackle and breakfast on moving day, surprise me with jewelry just out of sweetness, or offer to let 
me (and my kids and my mother) sleep upstairs for a week and feed us everyday.
The kind of friends who arrange for your husband to watch the kids before he leaves. So they can whisk you off to a fancy brunch replete with mimosas, and a walk on the beach collecting shells to complete a gift that will always contain a piece of Florida. To remind me of the beauty I found there.
Funny but in the moving and traveling I've done so far, I've noticed that what I always miss most about a place isn't the places at all. It's the people I happened to cross paths with as we were passing through. I hope ours cross again soon.
I will not miss the spray-painted K's strewn about the neighborhood. Not a fan.
I will not miss the small replica of the Dust Bowl on permanent display in the yard. I will not miss the turquoise toilet or the wood paneling in our fabulous rental home. I won't miss the lack of options, particularly when it comes to health care for the Littles. I clearly won't miss the dang zombies.
However. I will miss the weather, both rain and shine. I will miss the Southern manners. I will dearly miss the (lack of) traffic. I'll miss Joe Patti's fish market extraordinaire and the way they recognized us each Sunday and slipped Little One a free pink sorbet gelato. I'll miss the quaint, New Orleans-style downtown with the lacy wrought iron and the espresso and beignets. I'll miss my beloved yoga studio, our church, and with my heart bleeding will miss the preschool. I'll miss the lazy familiarity of a small-ish town, the plethora of festivals and street fairs, and of course the incomparable beaches. I'll certainly miss the easy flight school hours J kept while we were there. It was kind of like a very extended Florida vacation for us all.
But what I will miss the most, for sure, is some of the people. Especially these ones:
One's friends, so that they will be double missed. Friends who have interesting things to say, who are fun to be around, and who bring over truck-loads of gorgeous hand-me-downs, stop by with spackle and breakfast on moving day, surprise me with jewelry just out of sweetness, or offer to let 
me (and my kids and my mother) sleep upstairs for a week and feed us everyday. The kind of friends who arrange for your husband to watch the kids before he leaves. So they can whisk you off to a fancy brunch replete with mimosas, and a walk on the beach collecting shells to complete a gift that will always contain a piece of Florida. To remind me of the beauty I found there.
Funny but in the moving and traveling I've done so far, I've noticed that what I always miss most about a place isn't the places at all. It's the people I happened to cross paths with as we were passing through. I hope ours cross again soon.
ZOMBIES -the sequel
Peanuts,
I know I have much better and more important things to talk about. (I said more important- it's all relative right?) But do you want to know what it on my mind right now? What is the all consuming concern in my frenetic brain at the moment?
It's this guy:
and his friends and family.
I THOUGHT I DEFEATED YOU IN FLORIDA!!!!
No.
They are back. As in, They're baaa-aaaaaaack! Between the roaches and the mosquitoes here in Virginia, I'm starting to be very glad I don't have any first-born sons. There is like some biblical plague business going on around here. This can't be normal.
As I've explained to Little One, Cockroaches are just part of nature. They can't harm us, they don't bite. They just come in looking for food, or whatever. I know this; I even managed to explain it in a calm. tone.of.voice. and look placid (or creepily like someone trying too hard to look placid, but hopefully the former).
But seriously. EEW EWW YUCK ICKY YUCK YUCK EEEEEWWWW!!!!
They are the size of like, elephants people. practically. And they keep popping up. And today.
Today there were TWO skittering about downstairs within five minutes, just as Little Miss began whining "Nap! Nap-nap! Milk! Naaaap!"
So I capped those suckers under plastic cups and put Miss to bed. I gathered up my composure, I steeled myself for the double-ick, and I slid cardboard under cup #1. I buried him at sea, said a little "sorry to kill an animal, bless the poor thing" prayer with a shudder, and moved on to cup #2. Sitting exactly where I left it, undisturbed. Slid the cardboard under, carried it gingerly to the ....sea. Dumped it. NOTHING. NOTHING in there guys! HOW. How did it escape?! Without moving the cup?! And, more importantly, WHERE IS IT now?!?
Wandering around my house, spawning more zombies, that's where.
So now, every time I see a little shadow or a speck on the floor, I jump like a mile. I hope no one is peeking through the windows, or I might see a big white van pull up to the curb with a couple brawny orderlies pretty soon.
Deployment is a humbling experience. It reveals weaknesses and fears that I would otherwise not be forced to admit to. Hopefully, in the end, it will make me stronger because of that.
When J gets home, he's quite likely to see me with a bandana around my forehead, wearing combat boots and a studded tool belt stocked with Raid. I'll probably have a steely glare and some leather accessories. I'll be a time-worn, battle-hardened roach-zombie warrior.
I'm looking into theme songs.
I know I have much better and more important things to talk about. (I said more important- it's all relative right?) But do you want to know what it on my mind right now? What is the all consuming concern in my frenetic brain at the moment?
It's this guy:
and his friends and family.
I THOUGHT I DEFEATED YOU IN FLORIDA!!!!
No.
They are back. As in, They're baaa-aaaaaaack! Between the roaches and the mosquitoes here in Virginia, I'm starting to be very glad I don't have any first-born sons. There is like some biblical plague business going on around here. This can't be normal.
As I've explained to Little One, Cockroaches are just part of nature. They can't harm us, they don't bite. They just come in looking for food, or whatever. I know this; I even managed to explain it in a calm. tone.of.voice. and look placid (or creepily like someone trying too hard to look placid, but hopefully the former).
But seriously. EEW EWW YUCK ICKY YUCK YUCK EEEEEWWWW!!!!
They are the size of like, elephants people. practically. And they keep popping up. And today.
Today there were TWO skittering about downstairs within five minutes, just as Little Miss began whining "Nap! Nap-nap! Milk! Naaaap!"
So I capped those suckers under plastic cups and put Miss to bed. I gathered up my composure, I steeled myself for the double-ick, and I slid cardboard under cup #1. I buried him at sea, said a little "sorry to kill an animal, bless the poor thing" prayer with a shudder, and moved on to cup #2. Sitting exactly where I left it, undisturbed. Slid the cardboard under, carried it gingerly to the ....sea. Dumped it. NOTHING. NOTHING in there guys! HOW. How did it escape?! Without moving the cup?! And, more importantly, WHERE IS IT now?!?
Wandering around my house, spawning more zombies, that's where.
So now, every time I see a little shadow or a speck on the floor, I jump like a mile. I hope no one is peeking through the windows, or I might see a big white van pull up to the curb with a couple brawny orderlies pretty soon.
Deployment is a humbling experience. It reveals weaknesses and fears that I would otherwise not be forced to admit to. Hopefully, in the end, it will make me stronger because of that.
When J gets home, he's quite likely to see me with a bandana around my forehead, wearing combat boots and a studded tool belt stocked with Raid. I'll probably have a steely glare and some leather accessories. I'll be a time-worn, battle-hardened roach-zombie warrior.
I'm looking into theme songs.
Monday, June 18, 2012
....Hello?
....Peanuts? Anyone still here? Remember me? Ya me either. But here I am.
We all made it safe and sound to our new home. There was much chaos and confusion, and plenty of hopping as the US Navy screamed, "DANCE, MONKEY, DANCE!" and it all swirled around in a giant tornado of unanswered questions and packing paper and phone calls and remembering to breathe, and then somehow or other, it all settled out. And so. The Littles and I are here; we are Sorting Things Out. J is on a boat, bobbing about in a big ocean somewhere in the world, and the doggies think they have ascended into doggie heaven in the enormous back yard.
I'm a bit shell-shocked.
I have stories for you Peanuts, I mean I have things to tell you people! But I'm also really trying to get into early bedtimes, since Little Miss has an almost eerie, uncannily precise internal clock and is up hollering "milk!" at exactly 5:50am rain or shine.
But in the meantime. Here are a few random thoughts since our last chat:
-It is really, really fun to explore a new place. There is tons of cool stuff here! It's so exciting!
-It is really, really nice to have a good friend here. It makes life at the moment feel a bit like riding a runaway elevator. It still feels like falling, but at least there is a floor beneath my feet.
-I miss my friends in Florida. They rock.
-There is a lot of support in a military community. Especially during a deployment. I have had random strangers practically falling all over themselves to give me their liver, if ever I should need it.
-There is nothing like sisters. Mine are the best, and that's a whole post of its own.
-The trash does not take itself to the curb. This has been a really disappointing discovery.
-I am both proud and slightly disturbed by how good I am getting at dealing with cockroaches.
-My kids are the most fun, amazing, fantastic, incredible little people ever. If I had to be stranded on a deserted island (or, less hypothetically, in a foreign suburban jungle) with anyone, I would pick them.
- There's not much sweeter than witnessing the tangible potency of your child's love for Her family.
-There's not too much harder than seeing your child sad and hurting and missing.
-Thank the high heavens for email.
-A good way to cheer up small children is to take them to the park. And stand on an ant hill. In skinny jeans. Turns out ants-in-your-pants actually is as funny as it sounds. If it's your mom's pants, of course.
-I miss J.
-I can live on not too much, not too fancy. But coffee is a must.
-"I'll just paint it!" is NEVER as simple as it sounds.
-"I'll do it on my own" is never as scary as it sounds.
Well it's time to get to that early bedtime. I hope you haven't given up checking in here, because your words and keeping in touch and saying hello mean a lot all the time, but especially now. It's good to have friends no matter how far-flung they may be; it's good to have a Peanut Gallery to hear from, too.
We all made it safe and sound to our new home. There was much chaos and confusion, and plenty of hopping as the US Navy screamed, "DANCE, MONKEY, DANCE!" and it all swirled around in a giant tornado of unanswered questions and packing paper and phone calls and remembering to breathe, and then somehow or other, it all settled out. And so. The Littles and I are here; we are Sorting Things Out. J is on a boat, bobbing about in a big ocean somewhere in the world, and the doggies think they have ascended into doggie heaven in the enormous back yard.
I'm a bit shell-shocked.
I have stories for you Peanuts, I mean I have things to tell you people! But I'm also really trying to get into early bedtimes, since Little Miss has an almost eerie, uncannily precise internal clock and is up hollering "milk!" at exactly 5:50am rain or shine.
But in the meantime. Here are a few random thoughts since our last chat:
-It is really, really fun to explore a new place. There is tons of cool stuff here! It's so exciting!
-It is really, really nice to have a good friend here. It makes life at the moment feel a bit like riding a runaway elevator. It still feels like falling, but at least there is a floor beneath my feet.
-I miss my friends in Florida. They rock.
-There is a lot of support in a military community. Especially during a deployment. I have had random strangers practically falling all over themselves to give me their liver, if ever I should need it.
-There is nothing like sisters. Mine are the best, and that's a whole post of its own.
-The trash does not take itself to the curb. This has been a really disappointing discovery.
-I am both proud and slightly disturbed by how good I am getting at dealing with cockroaches.
-My kids are the most fun, amazing, fantastic, incredible little people ever. If I had to be stranded on a deserted island (or, less hypothetically, in a foreign suburban jungle) with anyone, I would pick them.
- There's not much sweeter than witnessing the tangible potency of your child's love for Her family.
-There's not too much harder than seeing your child sad and hurting and missing.
-Thank the high heavens for email.
-A good way to cheer up small children is to take them to the park. And stand on an ant hill. In skinny jeans. Turns out ants-in-your-pants actually is as funny as it sounds. If it's your mom's pants, of course.
-I miss J.
-I can live on not too much, not too fancy. But coffee is a must.
-"I'll just paint it!" is NEVER as simple as it sounds.
-"I'll do it on my own" is never as scary as it sounds.
Well it's time to get to that early bedtime. I hope you haven't given up checking in here, because your words and keeping in touch and saying hello mean a lot all the time, but especially now. It's good to have friends no matter how far-flung they may be; it's good to have a Peanut Gallery to hear from, too.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
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