Bahama Mama

Where have we been?
Well, since we've been home for a whole month now, it was obviously time to pack up and take another trip!
For me, that is.  J is confined in the brig of residency and gets no days off.  So it had to be a solitary confinement last week, while I whisked the kids away on a family reunion cruise to the Bahamas!
Rough life, right?  
Now, try to follow me here.  This reunion was put together by my step-father's step-mother.  So...that's what? My dub-step-gramma?  The kids' step-great-step-gramma?  Whatever she is, she rocks.  This is the first family reunion without her husband (my step-dad's father), and he was missed by all of us.  But it's a wonderful tradition, and I don't take for granted that even with all the "steps" between us, she has never made me or mine feel like anything other than family, period.  This is further fortunate for me because she is an extremely fun, kind, smart lady who I look up to very much and love to be around.  Thank you doub-step!

There are distinct levels of maturity going on here...

Since it was a reunion, there were cousins, my sister and her fiancé, my parents;  a whole team of people to help me keep my Littles from drowning!  And, Peanuts, I used them all.  I have never in my life relied so much on so many other people to keep eyes on my progeny, but with all the water hazards, partying, and partiers, it was a good thing I had so much back up.

 Mister pretty much got passed around like a hot potato.  Cute one.  Teething one. But cute.

Thanks team!


The kids had an absolute blast getting to basically live in swimsuits.

Little One and even Little Miss went down the giant water slide

They played mini-golf, blew bubbles, played games, and went to real tea parties

 Tea Time!

Sweeties

Little One and GQ here played some life-sized chess! Missy rode the pony.  

Top Deck Wind!

They rocked it on the cruise when there was dancing- check out my babies getting low:

 

Little One lost Her second tooth (and by "lost" I mean She wrenched it out Herself) at sea, and we were all very curious to see whether there would be a tooth fairy so far from home.  It turns out that there was! We can't be sure whether it was an ocean fairy, or ship fairy, but in any case it left a rhinestone anchor necklace as treasure, and also an adorable half-lisp for Little One.

 

On one island, we took a glass-bottomed eco-tour of a lagoon and got to see lots of sea life, including a shark!

  

One of the highlights (for me) was getting to swim with dolphins.  Unexso is one of the only three open-ocean dolphin centers in the world. While dolphin captivity is controversial and I have mixed-to-negative feelings about it in general, I did some research on this particular organization ahead of time, and I was impressed by the facility, staff, and appearance of the dolphins. It made it possible to really enjoy the time these amazing fellow-creatures allowed us to spend in the water with them.  All the Littles got to play with them, pet them, and give and get a kiss!

 The Sisters were thrilled, and Little Mister even splashed and giggled when the dolphin came near.  The only part He didn't like?  When the dolphin gave ME a kiss.  
No worries, J! I may have left you to go on a tropical vacation, but your little Mister man is lookin' out.  Not even slimy sea mammals will sneak in a smooch on His watch.  Apparently, Little Mister was chaperoning me.  
We also had a little time to explore, and made friends with some parrots.
Not to mention spending long, peaceful hours in the sapphire waters of caribbean beaches.

Exactly what "Vacation" is supposed to look like

 I didn't get into the night-life aspect of cruising around.  I had three Littles to tuck into their cabin bunks!

But with no phone or internet access, those quiet evening hours were the most peaceful I've had in a long time.  I read books! I slept actual sleep! For consecutive hours.  One of my young cousins expressed pity for me at my having to retire so early, when the rest of the crew were up partying past one AM.  I could only laugh.
It wasn't my first cruise; it wasn't the first 1AM I've lived through.  Trust me, I know what I was missing.  And I didn't miss it at all! Chasing after three small crazy people with a can of spray-sunscreen, making sure no one eats too much sand, squealing with them over the slimy feel of a sea cucumber and digging through bananas and plastic mermaids in the bottomless beach bag for passports?  Actually, yes, that is my idea of fun.

Doing it with the help and company of a couple-dozen lovely family-members, plus some guy cleans my room twice a day? I'll take it!

Now.  For when I'm doing the laundry amassed during this trip.  For when school starts.  When it's February in DC and I'm to my knees in freezing mud-

Let's just hang on to that thought.  

Yes For Dessert

I have this artist friend.  I love the way she mothers.  She and I parent the same in some ways, differently in some ways, but we find the same kind of joy in it, I think.  So when she talks about her Way of parenting, I listen.  And when she posted some random link on Facebook today, I clicked.  I read it.
The article was about how it is important to say "yes" to children, when as parents we are so constantly saying "no".  Important to say yes; not "maybe", "I'll think about it", "if you this" or "after that".  But really, truly, "yes that's a great idea"; "absolutely".
Ok, whatever, that's nice.  I clicked on.
But that article popped into my head today, every time I admonished my girls for using their hands instead of a fork, or the tablecloth instead of a napkin.  Every time they asked if we were done waiting for the doctor, or could go to the zoo today, or have skittles for lunch.
They say Eskimos have 100 words for "snow", but moms have at least 1000 ways of saying "no".
Today was a long day.  The kids were up early.  We spent four hours at the allergy clinic, waiting and meeting Little One's new top doc.  We grabbed lunch and drove through DC traffic to the commissary where we shopped for the next month (because I'm not doing that again all the time, Peanuts.  I mean really) and hauled it all back home and unloaded.  Because J has an overnight shift tonight (which started at 5am today), I made him dinner- a new Chinese recipe requiring lots of pots and pans- and brownies for the whole resident team.  I packed it up, fed the kids, washed the dishes, bathed Mister- because no matter how busy we may be, this face:

needs a bath after dinner- got the Sisters faces washed and hair brushed.  Got the text that J didn't want dinner (another resident went out for Chinese), but loaded all the kids and the brownies into the car anyways.  We drove 45 minutes through rush hour, and Missy fell fast asleep.
So I put Her in a stroller, brownies in the basket, Mister on my hip, and pushed Her in, with Little One holding the handle.  We waited 20 minutes in the lobby while J finished helping a patient, and saw him for about 10 minutes.
By the time we left, the sun was setting, Missy still fast asleep with Mister following suit, and I was thinking of how much I had to do as soon as I could get the kids into bed.  As we made our way to the parking lot, Little One said,
"So, mom.  I was thinking...how 'bout since the kids are asleep and it's past bed time, how 'bout you and me do something fun? Like have a girls night? 
"We-elll....we might still have time to read our special book.  But it's already after bed time, love."  (We've been reading chapter books lately, after the younger kids are in bed.  We're currently in the middle of "The Little Prince").
"But.  But...well...I was thinking more like, you know, like a game, or something, or....Oh! I KNOW! Let's BAKE something! Something from my new cookbook Aunt Sherry gave me?  Just us two? 'Cause, 'cause you know, mom.  You know, you and Dada have been working a LOT lately....and Missy has been reading the Little Price wif us, and that's ok because She likes it and that's great She does, and so we also shouldn't read any more wifout Her, you know, but well.  So we haven't had that much time.  With us, just.  Please?  Please could we just have a fun girl night and bake some stuff?  Us two?"  
I began preparing a good version of No in my head- after all it was already past bed time and I had a lot of cleaning up to do and some other chores to get done.  But that article flashed through my mind. I asked myself why I was saying no.  Did it really, truly, need to be a no?  Or was I just used to saying it?  We had nothing to do in the morning; there was nothing waiting for me at home that couldn't wait a little longer.  Besides which: there will be a time, soon, when Little One might not want to hang out with me "just us two".  A time when I will wish She would.  Here I had Little One, offering Herself up to me on a silver platter, offering me a whole evening of time together having fun.
So I said, "Little One.  I think that is a terrific idea! Absolutely.  Let's do it!"
She lit up like a firefly.  "Ok! Great! Oooohhh I can't wait to decide what we are gonna make! There are TONS of great recipes in my book, mom.  We are gonna have fun just deciding which one!"
 We did.  We put the littler Littles to bed, dawned our matching aprons, and pored over the book until we found the perfect thing.  We adjusted it to allow for the fact that Little One really wanted to use strawberries and bananas.  Then we measured and mixed- Little One doing almost all of it Herself.
We chatted about our day, about kindergarten coming up, about lots of things.

While they baked, we read The Little Prince, just us two.  When they were done, we split one in celebration.

"Little One, thanks for a great idea.  That was fun! And tomorrow we will surprise everyone with tho special breakfast!"
"Yeah, mom.  They will be happy, right? I guess I do have good ideas sometimes.  Hey mom.  I love you."  
We brushed teeth and tucked Her in.
I didn't really get any chores done.  I didn't get to call and chat with my sister or a friend like I'd planned.  But I did get to spend some excellent time with a wonderful, fun person who is becoming more and more a friend every day.  Plus, our strawberry-banana muffins turned out to be delicious.  

Sometimes, as moms, we have to force ourselves to do something nice for ourselves, to treat ourselves to something purely fun.  But it's worth it to take the time.  Saying "yes", is sweet.

Moving Forward

Little Mister, as I have mentioned, has been working hard.  VERY hard.  Very, very, very hard, for the last few weeks, whenever He has had a chance.  Trying (so hard!) to figure out how to get There.
"There" being a place or object, always in front of Him, and always barely beyond reach.
His expression during these times is just as a lion would have, if starved for a month, and placed on one side of a plexiglass wall, with a herd of Zebra on the other.
Or, even better, imagine there is no plexiglass, but the lion is put into a straightjacket.  Imagine the contortions and exhausting flopping about this ravenous lion would throw himself into.  If our lion were bald, we wouldn't know the difference between him and Little Mister.
For about a week now, I have observed this circus act suspiciously, shaking my head and murmuring to J, "We have GOT to get this place child-proofed fast! He's going to figure it out any day now.  Any day!" 
Well, Peanuts.
Today was that day.
And, if you can imagine the lion bursting through his straightjacket and finding himself to be free, FREE! in a field of zebra- the crazed free-for-all, pouncing here and there and laughing hysterically (sure, lions laugh) and tearing around until he's so tired he can't.move.another.muscle- well.  Then you will know how Little Mister spent His afternoon.
He's not got a proper crawl going yet; He's still commando-style.  But He can get from Here to There with almost alarming alacrity, and nothing (I mean NOTHING) is safe from His curious, pudgy little fingers.
Guess what I did today?  I followed Him around, saying, "Oh, yikes, Mister, not that! Here, play with thi- NO! No thank you, sweetie not that.  Take this toy inste- NO! No, let me have that and I'll just move you over here, ok.  Now I can- NO! Nonnonoo that is NOT good for babies and now, Little One, I can get your-NO! NOT THAT EITHER!" while extracting various treasures such as barbie crowns, bits of paper, electronic cords of every diversity, a shoe, and so very many plastic strands of disembodied pom-pom.  
There will be no rest, Peanuts.  No rest.  For YEARS.  There will be no peace.  There will be worry, and paranoid checking of things.  All the things.  There will be much lifting and relocating and chasing and floor-cleaning.  It is a new era of wow-three-kids-huh-how's-that?
But. If you can imagine the face of a lion, who has been starved, in a straightjacket, in a field of zebra and then freed- freed among the zebra and the big, wide, wonderful world, well.  You can picture the face of my Mister.
So, I can't help it.  I cheered Him on.

Pat-Pat

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker man.
Bake me a cake as fast as you can!
Roll it, pat it, mark it with a "B", and...
THROW it in the oven!
For Baby and me.


This little nursery rhyme and game are a great love of Little Misters.  This boy loves to pat some cakes.  He also loves the book, "pat the bunny".  He loves to pat in general.
I guess, without realizing it, I have always tended to gently pat Him on the back when I pick Him up, when I rock Him, when I'm comforting Him.  He likes that.  It soothes Him when He's sleepy or upset, makes Him giggle when He's playful and happy.
Once He got old enough to start controlling His limbs a little, He began to spread the love by returning the favor to me.
When I pick Him up after He calls me, when He's feeling snuggly or sleepy, or silly and giggly, He reaches out and pat pat pats my back.  He's proud of this.
It is pretty sweet to see such a little thing patting His mother on the back, with a goofy grin.  My mom was enamored with the process.  And so She'd coo at Him, "are you patting mama?  Pat-pat! How sweet! Pat-pat!"  He ate up the attention and soon learned to put the words "pat-pat" together with the action, so that now He has a fun party trick!  We can say, "Little Mister! Can you give Sister a pat-pat?" And He will joyfully oblige.
In fact, not long after acquiring this fabulous skill, we noticed that He began to also mimic the sound.  Until it has become undeniable that Mister is not only doing His "pat-pat" party trick, He's saying it!
When He pats me on the back, or when anyone makes His day by initiating pat-a-cake so that He can clap His hands together, at the same time He burbles, "Pat-pat, pat-pat!" over and over.
Which means that (drumroll please.  Crashing cymbals.) He's said His first word!
It's kind of a random one.  But given the context, also sweet, I think.
I love that His first word began as affection and fun.  I love that it is so Little Mister's baby personality to have His first word be such an interactive one.  I think that when He says "pat-pat", clapping His hands together and looking up at me, He's really communicating.
Mister's other sounds are many and diverse, and while no others have materialized into decipherable English, I have a feeling that (as is typical for Him, we are learning) now that He's started, there will be no stopping Him!  I can't wait to hear what else He has to say!

Seven Months

Well. Little Mister.  His sixth month of life was so crazy that He got almost to eight before I knew what had happened.
When He turned seven months old, we had just arrived in a new home and were bravely conquering hordes of boxes.  We had just wrapped up two months on the road, and we were all in a whirl of sorting and settling, exploring and adjusting.
Except Him.
He had His own world of stuff going on.
At seven months, Mister had acquired the cutting edge of His first tooth.  He was not super thrilled with this.  He had come to the conclusion that there was a world beyond Him, full of wonderful things to gnaw on and shake, but it was always (always man!) just barely beyond reach.
He was coming around to the general conclusion that there might be a way for Him to move in such a way as to get at this big wonderful world, but the means were still elusive.
On His tummy He would stare with incredible focus at some object of ardent desire, and reach- rreeeeaaaaacccchhhhh- for it....wiggle the fingers and ssstttreeeettttccchhhh them as far as they could go (about 3/4 inch).  But no.
So He'd swoop His arms forward and back, kick furiously, and call to it.  We're not sure; He was either attempting to swim or to fly to it.  But again, no.
Finally, after long days of intense effort, He got His chubby little motor going so hard, that He started moving! Inching, slowly, along the floor!.... Backwards.
This was the first time I've ever seen His patient nature fail Him.  He would put such a heroic, all-out effort into getting to something just inches away, only to watch it slowly get further and further from Him, the harder He tried to reach it.  Finally He'd just screw up His face and give it a scream, then flop His face on the floor and lay there flat.  Giving up. A moment later mewing, "mamamamamamama" until rescued.
Never to give up completely, Mister would always rally to try, try again.  Finally, He perfected the art of forward locomotion in a style which, after caring for dozens of babies I have actually, truly, never witnessed before.
He would get up on His hands and knees (woo hoo!) and start rocking.  As He rocked, the Coveted Object would get closer, further away, closer, further away.  After awhile, He'd realize He was stuck in a vicious cycle and would just give it one huge, Hail Mary, 100% effort and lunge His whole body forward!  Landing squarely, flat on His face.  After a second of still recovery, prone, He'd peep up and check.  His eyes would light up- YES! VICTORY! Coveted Object was closer! So He'd get His arms back under Him, pull His legs back in, zero in on the target, start to rocking....and start the whole thing over again.  Until, two inches at a time, He would *face-plant* across the floor and reach His prize.  He was darn proud of Himself when He got it, too.
At seven months He also mastered jumping in His jumper, holding things out to show off, throwing stuff (all the stuff), waving "hi", and banging on things with every degree of enthusiasm imaginable.
Seven-month-old Mister didn't really care about all the moving in, He was just happy when finally He got a quiet room and a crib to sleep in at night, and room to stretch out and face-crawl during the day.
He continued to love snuggles, though His desire to see the world made Him quite wiggly to hang onto as He was toted around.
He still loved baths/swimming, silly antics by His Sisters, and being talked to more than anything, and still disliked practically nothing.  Mister at seven months was an easygoing, independent, but super sociable and friendly, guy who was (not that I'm biased) completely delightful to be around.
The best description I could give would be that of a great big, beaming, toothless smile, surrounded by cheerfulness, extending into playful curiosity, and really cute toes.
Plus, He truly was calling me Mama, and calling out for me when He wanted me.  Despite the fact that He mostly wanted me to be His minion and fetch Him things, the magic combination of sunshine and "mama" made me only too happy to minion whenever He wished.
Seven Has always been Mister's special number.  And this month was a sort of a crossroads for Him.  As Mister turned seven months old, He was beginning to leave infancy behind Him.  Rather than merely being the center of the world, He was heading out into the vast uncharted territory of becoming an interactive part of an infinitely larger world around Him.
It is clear that my days of containing all of His squishy cuteness and all of His attention inside the circle of my arms are waning, and already He's off on the long and inevitable road children travel- away from their parents.  Still, as much as I miss the tiny bundle of baby to snuggle, I can already tell that being a spectator, cheerleader, and guide along His way is going to be a whole lot of work.
Oh, yeah, and fun.
Happy seven months, Little Mister.  

Settling

The good news is that the basement is painted.
Little One would tell you that it took, like, sixty-five million-baJIllion-GILlion cans of paint! But it only really took six.  In the end, I really needed one more, but decided I'd just cover that wall with some finger-paintings or something.  It just needed another coat...but who cares?
In some light it looks like daiquiri ice, sometimes like mint chip.  But it's cool and it's clean and, frankly, anything is better than dirty plywood.  Anything.
Today my super-mom and I took off the tape, scrubbed some splatters from the floor, and arranged the furniture and what-not.  It looks like a room! A play room!  The best kind of room.
The Littles lost no time at all in getting some major playing on in there.
It's still not perfect; I still don't feel "settled".  It's funny how, in this military life, taking more than two weeks to completely move my entire family and household into a new home/neighborhood feels like a failure. I guess I'll embrace my civilian side and let it go a month before I get pictures on the walls and call it done.  At least it's mostly safe, pretty much live-in-able.  And since it has most all of my favorite people inside it, I'd say....yeah.  Feels like home!

Vacation

I've spent the last two days in a basement dungeon trying to paint some ugly plywood walls. Have you ever painted plywood? Cause if you haven't, and you're thinking of it, my best advice is to not to.
I'm five gallons in and can't turn back now- but you can save yourselves, Peanuts!
In the meantime.
My mom is superheroing on, helping paint and taking Littles on grand excursions while I do plywood torture in the dungeon.
And J? Has started residency in earnest.  It's been such a nice, long, three year break since we last did this that I almost forgot.  But I'm getting reminded of what the coming years will be like.
Here is how I know that J is really back in residency:

1)  I am awakened in the dark by a kiss on the cheek and have no idea whether he's just getting home, or leaving for work.

2) sometimes his dinner sits on the back of the stove for three hours before he gets home to eat it

3) sometimes it sits on the stove for three hours before I wrap it up and put it in the fridge for tomorrow.

4) he gets home one night just in time to give the Sisters a goodnight hug in their beds. Eventually I go looking for him and find him sprawled on the floor in their room, fast asleep on top of a giant pink teddy bear.

5) the three-year-old asks when he's coming back from "vacation".


Yeah, sorry Miss. Vacation is over.

Cut To Scene

I think it's so annoying, in movies, how there will be this one scene, and then suddenly the next scene makes no sense because there's a terrible discontinuity. But then the movie tries to get you to waive all that by flashing a little subtitle... "*Two Months Later*".
Lazy.  That's what it is guys.
But that's basically what this post is.  I want to share more about our Great American Road Trip! But for now lets just say that we left off somewhere in Indiana, and now:
*Two Months Later*
Here we are in Maryland.  Ta Da!
The scene begins in total and utter chaos, with me wondering about without even decent shoes on, looking a little like the survivor of a zombie apocalypse.  Moving piles of Things up and down stairs, and here and there, and drinking a little too much coffee.
Of the six we have made together, this was the roughest move we have had so far, for several reasons.  Add that to also trying to unpack and recover from a two month trip, and add that to the fact that J has started residency in earnest and now only exists in our scene as one of the aforementioned zombies, shuffling and groaning occasionally through the background, and what you get is overwhelmed.
Oh no, sorry, that's me.  I get overwhelmed.  I get overwhelmed and drink some more coffee.  (Because caffeine is great for raw nerves.)  What you get is nada, because who can type when the laptop is lost in a sea of ohmigoshwehavewaytoomuchSTUFF?!
Thankfully, the scene has a hero, and it is my mom.  My mom who is taking children to zoos all day, cooking, cleaning, painting walls, sewing curtains, and making some more coffee.  She understands me, Peanuts.  Thanks, mom.
Add mom to the fact that my kids are amazing and rolling with the punches (like how I rearrange their room every day), and J somehow in the little time before he turned into a zombie built a whole ton of stuff and bought food, to the fact that the neighbors are super nice, the neighborhood is cute, and we have already been welcomed in the most generous ways by good friends, and what you get is hope.  Ok, right, that's me again. But hope is good for all of us, Peanuts, amiright?
We're going to work it out.  As for the trip and some pictures and maybe something interesting (the last one might be too hard), let's just say...
*To Be Continued* 

My Birthday

I knowIknowIknow.
It's like I have no consideration for posting anything but birthday stuff.  Sorry, Peanuts. I get behind on Things.  On the eve of my not-so-young birthday I may as well admit- that's how it is.  It's how it's going to be.
I was probably meant to be a nurse, on so many levels.  I never was, but still- I triage.  Blogging things that probably only I care about doesn't often get to the top of the list.  Birthdays, though, well.  Those are sort of momentous.  I mean, if a person has a family blog, they can AT LEAST do the birthdays, amiright?
So.  This time, it's my birthday.
This birthday, I  have the exceptional gift in life to spend it with the person who gave it to me.  Mom.  Hi mom!
Tomorrow, Mom will be accompanying me on the last leg of this long, as yet un-blogged about journey. Because she rocks.
After I became a mother, I started sending my mother flowers on my birthday.  Because then, I finally Got It.  This year, the flowers would wilt in the car but I still want to say something to my mama on my birthday.
Mommy.
You did not always do everything right and make all the right decisions.  Nope.
Thank Goodness, because if you did how would you so totally understand when I come crying to you when I mess up? There are things you have done, or not done, that I have looked back on and given you and F for.  Being real.  Like there are things that I am doing already, and definitely will do when the Littles get older (this gig gets harder when they get big! Agh!), that I will be similarly graded on.
That is the thing about parenting, the thing about life.  You do the best you can; sometimes it works out better than other times.
But.
Looking back, here are the things I think you got totally right:
You found cigarettes in my room and instead of punishing me, left a note about how disappointed you were in my choice.  That was the end of that. Forever.
You told me I could go to any party any time, as long as I told you where I was and called if I needed a ride.  I did, and I recall a few times I left a rager (safely) in your blue minivan.  And lots of times my friends' moms thought we were "at a movie", while you alone knew the cross streets and what time I'd be home.
You let me read all the books I ever wanted.  And I loved learning because of it. Still do.
You worked at the school to afford me an early montessori education, which I credit with so much of my knowledge, personal development, happy memories, and love for nerdy science journals.
You took us out into nature.  Hiking, camping, skiing, biking, road-tripping.  You forced our tender little butts into the natural world, no matter how much we whined and sulked and protested.  And in so doing gave me some of my most treasured memories.
You drilled into my brain that girls can do Anything- and you lived up to that paradigm in every way.
You worked your still-hot-at-over-sixty patootie off to give me every advantage possible. Believe it or not, I take none of that for granted.
Most importantly?
You loved me unconditionally. Even when it wasn't easy.  Even when I didn't earn it.  I have not once in my life doubted that you would always be my biggest fan, and be there for me when the dust clears.  And you always, ALWAYS have been.  I don't take that for granted, either.
You taught me how to have fun. How to work hard.  How to embrace adventures.  How to have an open heart. How to look for the light ahead.  How to appreciate feminism, education, accomplishment.  How to appreciate being a mother, sticky hugs, splashing in puddles.
Tomorrow I will turn the same age you were when I was born.
Think of that!  Hard for me to imagine, with three Littles tugging at my hems.  In a lot of ways, I think you were younger at 32 than I am.  Maybe that's why you are still so young now- so young that people balk when you tell them your age.  At the same time, you raised me with a wisdom that I hope will become Little One, Missy, and Little Mister's lessons in life.
Be happy, be healthy, be strong.  Be who You Are.  Depend on YOU.  Find your own, unique, way in the world.  But, always, come home when you need some good lasagna and a hug.
On my birthday, I think of what it's like- trying hard, wanting desperately to do the Right Thing always and not always knowing what that is.  I remember what it's like bringing Life into the world- in a physical sense, in a philosophical sense.
I look back on a lot of flying and falling, stumbling and crawling, and I see the shadow of my mother's love beside me always.  All I can say is- thank you.
You made me and I'm not perfect. But I like being me.  You gave me life and it's not been perfect, but I love life.  You're my mother and I didn't choose you.  But I'm glad I got to be yours.
By the way. I love that you had me at 32.  It makes me feel, on this birthday that once seemed SO far away, that life is just beginning.  How fun that, once again, we get to begin it together.
Adventures await.

Inside Joke

On long driving days on this trip, we play games, do art, and enjoy the scenery in the morning.  But if we're still driving in the late afternoon (or if we did a hike early and then logged some miles after lunch), we let the Sisters watch a movie in the car.
We let them choose from a selection we brought along, and for some reason, they formed an obsession way back in Indiana and have chosen the SAME movie EVERY time.  Disney's "Cars".
The repeated viewing of this gem (They've probably watched it five or six times now) has ingrained it into their soft little brains in a way that is eerily impressive.  It's kind of cool (wow! How can they remember all that?!) and kind of disturbing (wow.  HOW can they remember all THAT?!).
We sort of wish we'd brought along a video of the theory of relativity or something instead.  They'd be applying to Harvard right now.  It has also given rise to the first notable existence of a new phenomena.
We were driving one day and the Littles were chattering.  Suddenly, they both hollered, "AND MY NAME IS NOT CHUCK!" and broke into insane peals of laughter.  J and I gave each other the "huh?" look, and turned to see what the heck.  We could see no signs of Chuck.
But it became a Thing.  One of them would randomly say, "Adios, Chuck." And the other would shout, "AND MY NAME IS NOT CHUCK!".  Crazy laughter.
After a while, and quite a few "huh" looks between me and J, I suddenly gasped.  "Ohmygosh!"
J did a double on his "huh?" look.  "What?" 
"I just realized.  They have this joke.  They have a joke, and they get it, and we are the un-cool parents and we DON'T get it.  We don't GET it, J.  It's their first inside joke!" 
J was quiet for a moment.  "It is."
It was!
After careful attention, and thanks to a five-year old who (thank you Lord, and let it last forever) can not keep a secret from Her parents for long, we realized they were repeating their favorite line from the movie.  Apparently that part is, like, reeeaaallllyyy funny.
Once we were clued in, it became the family inside joke. Now, any one of us is likely to suddenly say, "Adios, Chuck!"  leading to a chorus of "AND MY NAME IS NOT CHUCK! AHhhahaaahah!"
They also quote a ton of other lines from the movie.  including, most unfortunately, such gems as "what-a-heck?!" and (this one makes me freak out EVERY time for just a sec) "Ho-ly SHOOT!"
Thanks, Mater.  You've corrupted my innocent babies.  Now they say "holy shoot".  What-a-heck?!
Little Miss, also, has a thing for the "low-ridah" cars featured, likes to go around saying, "What UP? What Uuuupp?"  And even, upon seeing a sleeping person at my grandfather's nursing home, "Looks like we got ah-selves a NOd-dah!" 
Ok, see the movie if you don't get it.
Except for the holy shoot parts, it's pretty cute.  And, if you re-live it 5000234541 times, as we have, you will grow a special fondness for it.  Trust me.  You might even drive the country, looking out for cars that resemble the characters from the movie, and find random junkyards in Nowhere, New Mexico, really awesome because there are, like, 10 Maters and 14 Doc Hudsons in there.  Trust me.
At any rate, while I have heard each scene rehashed and dissected as nauseum, and while what-the-heck and holy-shoot are phrases I could live without a few years longer, I appreciate very much the fact that J and I were let in on the Sister's first inside joke.
There will be more- many more- and we will soon be left with our "huh" looks and nothing else.  As it should be.
But maybe, one day, when they are laughing at something that makes no sense to us, and they refuse to clue us in, J or I will holler at them- "Adios, Chuck!"  And, years having passed, the Sisters will give each other the "huh?" look, and J and I will laugh hysterically.

Six Months

With all the traveling and the business and the being away from the internet, I have not had a chance to tell you Peanuts so many things.  Looking back I'm not sure yet where to start, but in the mean time, Mister has reached a whole half year!  I had to take some time out of our trip to tell you all about the fun that is Mister at six months.

First of all, I have a whole post coming about the fact that Mister had a tongue tie fixed shortly before we left Virginia.  A whole post because it was that big a deal.  Since that momentous occurrence, Little Mister has been able to do this amazing thing: eat-for-the-love-of-goodness.
Now that He isn't half starved, and now that feeding Him is no longer an all-consuming, horribly stressful event for us both, He has stepped into the role He was destined for, free to be the Mister He has always been, inside.  Which is: The Happiest, Easiest Baby EVER.
Mister almost never complains.  He has to be way past due for a feeding, utterly and completely exhausted (sometimes not even then), or in actual acute pain of some sort in order to bother fussing about it.  The rest of the time, dude just sucks it up.

8 hours in a car seat? La-di-da, got His little crinkle toy, got His sisters' faces to look at, no prob.
4 hours in a backpack under the blazing sun, getting jostled around with wind whipping sand into His face? Sounds good, just along for the ride.
Sitting on a lap through an endless restaurant meal after skipping a nap? Hey, might as well enjoy slobbering on a nice shiny spoon.
Sleeping on the floor of a tent in 40 degrees?  Bring it on.

Mister loves getting His diaper changed, literally laughing out loud.  He loves His bath, laughing and splashing and gurgling even when the water runs into His eyes.  He likes being put down to sleep, He likes being awakened from sleep.  He loves being held, cuddled, and talked to.  He's happy to chill on a blanket with something to play with until you almost forget He's there.  He loves everything about His sisters and grins just when He sees them coming.  He laughs when there is wind on His face, when He sneezes in the pool, accidentally dunking His head under the water, laughs when strangers get all up in His personal space.  He's just a happy-go-lucky kind of guy.

On this trip, He has been ripped from any semblance of a schedule and dragged though all manner of environments, confined to His car seat a lot and forced to tough out hot sun, cold days, wind, rain, and even hail.  He's gone through it all with a smile almost continuously on His face.  He loves everyone, He loves just about everything.  And His favorite thing to do is laugh.  He just wants any excuse.  His sisters' antics, His parents' conversation, even thinking about getting tickled.  The world is just hilarious.

Now, on the physical front I don't have a lot to report.  After all, it's as if we have made a conscious effort to stunt His development by restraining Him in the car seat and backpack all the time for the last month.  So, He continues to do His push-ups, He still rolls one way OR the other, but hasn't put them together yet.  He scootches. but not very far.
He seems like He may be teething soon, since He chews on ANYthing like a labrador puppy, and produces enough drool to alleviate the draught conditions of any arid regions we may pass though.
He is finally growing some hair, but it's so blonde you can't really tell.  He has had His first sun and wind burns, but those are hardly milestones to celebrate.  
But while His body has been held back, I fear, by our travels, His brain knows no bounds! He has been learning plenty.  For one, despite having a constantly changing life, He has learned a lot about what to expect.  He recognizes His sisters and parents, He knows when He's about to be changed, fed, or put to bed.  He has learned how to use His own pacifier- studying it, giving it a good shake (for luck?), orienting it properly, and popping it in.  He thinks He can swim, getting His booty going like a porpoise in the pool.  He has moved on from raspberries to full-out conversations with various facial expressions and exclamations in the form of "da da daaa daaa ta t-t-t-ba baaaa goo!" And has a LOT to say.

He is hopelessly attached to His pacifier and to a little blankie that He likes to curl around and snuggle His face into when it's sleep time.  Other favorite toys include a little football toy, and empty plastic water bottles.
Yes, He is so happy that He's perfectly pleased to play with trash.  That's our guy.  Easy, sweet, happy as can be.  He has been such a blessing on this trip (and in life in general) because even when the going gets rough, Mister finds joy and laughter, and shares it with us all.  His joy and delight in everything  (or in nothing at all) becomes joy and delight to all of us, and He keeps us smiling and giggling.
How ever did we get along without you, Little Mister?  I have no idea.  But we're all happy we don't have to do it now.  Happy half-birthday my little son-shine. We love you. 

Crazy Fun

Hey all.
I didn't disappear, exactly.  I've just been outside the sticky reaches of the Web.
I have some stories, I have pictures.  But at the moment, in a middle-of-nowhere hotel, I have only a quick moment to say that we are all surviving the trip so far.
In fact, can we be honest? Yes, lets.  There has been a misadventure or two.  But, so far, the only casualty is the screen on my fancy-fancy camera, and while I mourn that (a little too much, probably), if it's the worst hit our camp takes, then good for us.
Otherwise, we have had a phenomenally great time on this trip.  I am all for routine and consistency at home, but it really amazes me how adaptable my kids can be.  They have taken the constant changes and rootlessness like seasoned travelers.
Every now and then we meet someone along the way and they say something about how hard/crazy/ambitious it is to take three Littles on such a long and amenity-lacking trip.  I sort of give them a blank look and just smile, because as they talk I'm wondering.  Hmm.  It's possible.  It is possible.  I might really, be actually crazy.  Because I have NO idea what they are talking about.
For me, this experience has combined the two things I love most about being alive on this earth; my family, and traveling.  While there has been a moment or two of overtired whining, a couple of misadventures, and a lot of carrying of things (and Little people), there hasn't been too much.
All together it has been fantastic.  Tramping through new places, seeing new things all together, getting outside.... this is my idea of fun.  So maybe we are crazy, but who cares?!  I'm happy to trade in some boring old sanity for this kind of crazy fun.