Brave

Monday will be the first day of Kindergarten.
It's true that Little One has been going to school for three years now, but this will be public school.  All day school.  With hundreds of kids.  With lunch time. It's a whole new thing.
Tonight Little One and I walked through the drizzling evening to attend the "back to school" info session.  It was mostly hum drum, mission statements and conduct codes and pick-up schedules and such.  It was late (and boring) and Little One leaned on my shoulder, lacing Her arm through mine.
When the teacher got to the part about lunches and snacks, I perked her up to listen.
Hearing the talk about how all the kids get milk, about the class eating breakfast each morning in the classroom,  class-provided snacks (the ubiquitous goldfish crackers being the example),  the various options for lunches on long tables in the cafeteria, caused knots to form in my stomach, slowly tightening with each paragraph.
One parent in the back asked, "is this a nut-free school?"  
"No, no it isn't" answered the teacher.
At that, she got the biggest reaction from her listeners she'd had all night.
"YES!!" exclaimed several parents in the crowd, one pumping his fist in the air.  "Awesome!" "great!" "Oh that makes everything easier!"
Everything easier? Really?
Now, I am actually not an advocate for nut-free schools.  There are nuts in the world, and kids like mine have to learn to navigate that fact.  I also understand the fairness issue with asking many to be inconvenienced for the sake of one.
But it is, after all, the sake of one life.  
How can I explain this to someone who doesn't live with life-threatening food allergies?  Imagine the teacher saying that all the children would be allowed to carry loaded handguns, and all the parents going, "Yes! I'm sending mine with a semi-automatic!"   Only worse.  Because if kindergarteners did carry guns, at least they might have been told to be careful with them.  At least the teachers would know they were dangerous and would instinctively supervise to some degree.
But for my kid, the peanut butter sandwich and the cups of milk are just as dangerous.  And no one handles pizza with caution.  Meaning that the burden of staying safe in an actual minefield of danger, all day long, will fall on the shoulders of a five-year-old.
Hearing all those parents exalt over getting to send nuts into the place my Little One will be spending the majority of Her time,  watching Her innocent little eyes get big and round, feeling the delicacy of Her hand pressed into mine... I felt a wave of real terror.
I put my arm around Her shoulders as if I were sheltering Her from an attack; for a moment I thought I was going to be sick. I can honestly not remember the last time I felt so afraid.  And that's me.
How must She feel?
I squeezed Her hand and the talk moved on to folders and homework.  Afterwards She thanked the teacher and we started for home.  By now it was late, late enough to be dark out.  To get home, we take the short-cut around the back of the school, behind the baseball field and down a little path through a wooded area.  But we've never walked it at night.
As we turned the corner of the school, the back was unlit, littered with broken chairs, flat basketballs, and overflowing dumpsters.  The thought was just flashing through my mind, that this was pretty sketchy looking and I was a bit uneasy about it, when Little One stopped short and grabbed my hand.  "Um, no way Mom.  No way we should go through here, it's too dark! I'm scared.  This looks like a place where Bad Guys come out from."
I looked again.  It did look like a scene that might be accompanied by creepy music.
But it was the way home.
"Little One, it's ok.  This is our own, safe neighborhood.  I have a flashlight, and we know the way.  We are tough and brave, and I am right here.  We're just going to keep going." 
She looked a bit doubtful.
"If a bad guy jumps out, I will whack him with this umbrella. I'm not afraid of anything. Let's go!"
She held my hand tight, and we walked.
Even though what I said was true, that it was a short familiar walk in our own, safe neighborhood, if I'd been by myself, I might have run through the dark part, or gone the much longer way through the lit streets.  But sometimes when you're mom, you don't have the luxury of being scared.  You have to be rational, you have to be brave.  Because it's one thing to teach my child to be cautious, and another to make Her afraid of the dark, of Her own shadow.
So I walked with confidence; I smiled and pointed out the lovely song of the crickets, the beautiful pattern of the moon through the leaves.  I kept a careful watch and I held onto Her hand- but we walked right into the dark and kept walking until we were home.
I wish I could walk Her like that through life.  I wish I could hold Her hand in every darkness.
Kindergarten and school and the wide frightening world are right around the corner.   They are shadowy with Unknowns and there are dangers to navigate.  I would give anything to make every back alley and lunch room safe and sunny for Her! But I can't, and there's no way around it.
Still, even if I can't always be there with Her, I will always be there for Her.
All we can do is hope things aren't so dangerous as they seem, to navigate as smartly as we know how, to walk into the darkness and keep walking.  And be brave.

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.