Fast Lane

I find Little Miss quietly crying by herself. 

C: "what's wrong?!"

Miss: "oh! I hab a problem!"

C: "what is it?"

Miss: "I weely, weely NEED a black moto-cycle. But I on'y hab a twy-cycle!!"
Hysterical tears. 

High school is going to be not boring.

Low. Ri. Der. 

Missy Goes To School!

Our first big news in 2014 was that Little Miss, my baby (who will always be my baby no matter how many babies I have) started school.  Her enthusiasm for this endeavor can be illustrated by a line graph of housing market prices since 2006 (when we so cleverly purchased our town home) accompanied by the sound of a Wile E. Coyote film, just after he freezes in mid-air and then looks down.
Beee-oooooooooooooooooo-PSHBLAM!
By the time we had only a week to go, Miss was most definitely, absolutely, obstinately, vehemently opposed to going to school.  She was sit-down, cross-armed, frowny-faced, glowering, foot-stomping NOT GOING TO GO STAYING WITH MOMMY.
Well, in an effort to save Her enthusiasm from the fate of our mortgage, I kept talking it up.  I took Her on a special Mommy-Missy date to pick out Her new lunch box and house shoes.

What's a girl date without (steamed soy milk from) Starbucks?

She was just a little excited.  

Big kid lunch box and slippers

I got Her coveted backpack ready, and let Her pick out Her own outfit- and Her sister's, since She was adamant that they be "matchies" on the first day.

I think these things helped.
But the real credit for the sudden spike on Missy's metaphorical graph goes to Little One.  In Montessori school, the classes are mixed-age from 3-6, so Missy and Little One are in the same class.  Little One talked on and on about how great the teachers are, how nice the kids are, how fun the work is.  On the way to school, She was a salesman making the pitch of Her life, effervescently describing the many wonders of Pre-School and how much Miss was sure to love it.  Missy listened raptly.  Silently.  When we arrived Miss followed Her sister shyly but hopefully, hanging Her jacket, changing Her shoes.  In the chaos of the first-day drop-off foyer, the director stopped to ask me a question.  I was answering, I was waving to parents, smiling at students.  Then I looked for my Littles, who were just there a second ago, and they were missing! After a second of panic, I peeked in the classroom, and there they were.

 Little One had an arm around Miss's shoulders; She was introducing Miss to a gaggle of friends.  Miss was smiling shyly and saying, "Hi.  I'm two."  I watched awhile as Little One toured Her around the classroom, the gaggle trailing along.
Missy looked up and I froze- Oh no! She saw me! Now She'll run to me and cry!
But no.  She grinned.  Ear to ear! Waved conspiratorially.  And went back to Her new friends.
I didn't even get a good-by hug, Peanuts!  Not a kiss! Not a see-ya-soon.
Afterwards She was all giddy and thrilled and full of stories of adventures.  And so, thanks to the cheerfulness and shepherding of a kind, protective older sister, and the brave awesomeness of Little Miss Herself, my baby breezed into Her first day of school and loved it.  My baby!
There were tears on Her first day, after all, but all of them were mine.

New Years

Yep, still catching up.  "come on, guys, one more game? You're not going to bed already?!", and I looked at her with bloodshot eyes and knew that, yes.  It has happened.  My mother is too cool for me.  As much as I wanted, for the honor of the memory of my high-school self, to fight on and party (or at least play board games) until dawn (or at least midnight), I was beaten.  I could not.  Could not do it.  Sorry, Mom.  I can't keep up!
This year we rang in the new year at like ten.  (Because people who get up and nurse every one to two hours don't give a rat's pacifier about fireworks or balls dropping.)  It's only because we tried really hard and rode part of the way on the coat-tails of my mother's never-ending energy that we made it that far.  And then, in a great thunder-clapping moment of cosmic justice, my mom said,
J made some awesome home-made eggnog, so at least we had a good toast.
And the next day, to celebrate 2014, the Littles joined us in a champagne toast!  Cheers!
Ok it was actually sparkling grape juice but They begged to call it champagne because that is so much fancier, and I acquiesced.  Which will surely bite me in my 2014 behind when They go to school all giddy and inform Their  teachers that Mommy liquored them up.  This year I resolve not to be investigated by social services.

I Seem To Have Acquired A Cat. And A Teenager.

On the way home from preschool, Miss tells me about Her day:

Miss: "...and then the teacher was so funny cos she said, 'sit down mistah Holmes!'"

C: "Mr what?"

Little One(rolling eyes): "Holmes. P Holmes."

C: "Oh I see. But it's MISTER Holmes is it? So then you are MISS Little Missy. I suppose I will call you that now."

Miss(indignantly): "I not! I. am. not.  I am a KITTY." 

C: "Oh ok. Miss Kitty, then?"

Miss: "Yes. That is ok."

C: "And you back there? Are you MISS Little one?"

LO: "Noooooooo."

C: "No?! Well who might you be then?"

LO(red and giggly): "Miss-is Holmes!"

Be Optimistic

Our Little One was born with Her arms stretched wide, greeting the world at the top of Her lungs.

I know, now, that She was singing.  

She's rarely stopped since.  A chance whim of mine to let Her watch Mary Martin's Peter Pan  during one of Her fevers, at two, hooked Her deeply and forever on musicals and broadway show tunes.  This genre, never present in our home before Little One, has become a permanent Pandora station, and in a way serves as background music for much of our last few years.  

Some time ago, I accompanied the Little's lunch (soup) with a song I recalled from childhood (concerning monkeys and rabbits that loop the loop), and the giggles it produced compelled me to play the original version for them on YouTube.  

There was Shirley Temple, tapping her toes, bouncing her curls, and singing away to adulation.  Little Miss loved it.  She couldn't get enough.  As for Little One?  She seemed to see in Shirley a soul cut of the same cloth.  They both fell in love.

Who hasn't?  I remember watching those curls bounce and trying to tap along when I was little.  I remember my mother humming along, surely transported to her own childhood dreams of the good ship lollipop.  And one of my dearest memories is of sitting in the guest room with my grandmother, as she reverently brought out the Shirley Temple paper dolls she had played with as a child- and saved all those years, they were that precious.  We played with them for hours; Shirley Temple could close the gap of two generations so simply.  

She's hemmed in another generation in this family now, too, encompassing my children.  We keep a lookout for Shirley in the movie section of the library, and even though there are no animations, no special effects, sometimes not even color, they easily compete with the flashiest modern productions for a place in my Little's interest.  

Most recently, we watched (and re-watched, and again) Little Miss Broadway, and a part of that movie twirled out of the screen and affixed itself to our daily lives like a sequin on one of Miss Shirley's flouncy dresses.  

It began with Little Miss.  You are familiar with Missy?  Of the world-infamous frowny face?  There was one episode in which this face which was particularly stubborn and I could not seem to remove it, no matter what solvent I tried.  Then Little One swept in- Her own curls bouncing- regaling Missy with their favorite song from Little Miss Broadway.  

"Be optimistic!" Little One crooned at Her sister, "Don't you be a grumpy! When the road gets bumpy, just smile!"

Like a magic spell, Missy broke out in laughter.  It has been our lucky charm ever since.  Whenever one of us begins to pout or get cranky, someone pipes up with the little song and, if you can believe it, we just about always end up all smiles, the lot of us.  It's a silly, old fashioned song.  Which is just the point.  You can't hear it or sing it without laughing.  Try it!  

I'm not much for the worship of celebrity.  I mean, I don't know these people, and I find it odd to be transfixed by someone I've never met.  So I can't say that I'm personally affected by the death of Shirley Temple Black, as a person.  But I can say I feel a gratitude for the uncommon manner in which she managed to serve as a positive role model her entire life.  And I do have a tenderness in my heart for the idea of Shirley Temple- the idea of generations of people cherishing innocence and simple fun despite themselves. 

So, to commemorate this legacy and honor the ray of sunshine her childhood curls have reflected into my own family's life, here is our Little tribute.

Two Months

While I've been catching up at the pace of a snail, or a turtle, or a mother with three monkeys climbing her back at all hours, an entire month breezed by, yelled "see ya!" and skipped out the door into a getaway car.  Gone.  And so, unbelievably, this abandonment has left me with a two month old!
Even though He was one month old about 3 hours ago, a lot has happened.
Little Mister is no longer an (adorable) amoeba.  He's turning into a little human!  He looks around at things with interest, he gets in daily workouts on his play mat, he has developed preferences.  And, best of all, he sees us.
You know how newborns never really look at you? They just kind of stare creepily at something right over your shoulder until you start thinking of calling some ghost hunters out to investigate.  But a couple of weeks ago, Little Mister got bored with whatever spot on the wall was so interesting and took a peek at the big face making noises at Him right in front of His nose.
He was like, whoa. That mug could use an espresso and some sephora action right away.  What is that thing?!  But once we got to know each other, He began to look up and smile.  Now we have little chats, where He looks up all smiley and amused, and I talk, and He says "a-goo" and I talk, and He says, "Brrrr" and I talk, and He blows spit bubbles, and then we all giggle about it.  It's pretty awesome.
It is even a little awesomer (sure that can be a word, what the heck) than the other awesome thing which is the NO COLIC.  AHHHHHH!!  That was the angels singing.  Yes, the No Colic is a wonderful thing.  And guys, I think He actually feels really bad about that whole business.  Because He's tried to atone for the errors of His youth by putting Himself on a schedule for me.
In a short month, we have gone from hours of inconsolable screaming every evening, to a mild fussy sound each night at 6:45 which means "I'm tired now".  At which point He is changed, swaddled, kissed, and put into His cradle.  With His sleepy little eyes still open.  And that's it.  Out cold by 7 every night (I will now cross myself and turn in a circle seven times to avoid jinxing this). He wakes once or twice to quietly nurse and go back to sleep until around 6.
He'd be a solid napper, too, if He wasn't always getting hauled around all over the town on the trail of His sisters.  To be a third child is to be constantly dragged to stuff that has nothing to do with you.  Mister protests this injustice by despising His car seat.  He can get good and angry in there.
Otherwise, though, He is a pretty easygoing guy.  He doesn't complain about much, and He puts up with a lot.  His new preferences are mostly on the positive side.

Such As:

Bathtime
Little Mister is partly a marine mammal.  He loves a bath.  Loves.  Sometimes He actually laughs when His feet go in.  He looks around with wonder like He just cannot believe His luck.
Getting out, then, is no bueno.  Because the fun is over, it's cold, and now she's going to stuff me like a sausage into one of those girly sleep sack thingies that get bunched all up.  Who invented those things, they are awful.

Nakedness
Part of the bath love is probably that He gets to be nekkid in there.  Maybe because one of His greatest dislikes is an even slightly soiled or wet diaper, a great way to make Little Mister happy is to strip Him down.  I'm sure He'd like to just be starkers all day, but! He is a boy, and mama says NO.

Working Out
Mister has a couple play mats with those dangly toys that rattle or crinkle or whatever when you biff them.  Mister loves those things.  He works His whole body out trying to get them.  He smacks them (on purpose? by accident?) and keeps at it until He wears Himself out entirely.  Then He gives his mewing little sleepy cry for me to rescue Him and put Him down for a nap.
One of them, though, has these butterfly things at the top, way too high for Him to reach.  They are for looking at, I tell Him, but He is not amused.  He stares at them and wiggles and squirms and flails His arms about.  And then He gets frustrated and gives the Lip (you have to see this Lip face) and starts to scream at them.  They taunt Him.  They are mean, evil butterflies.

Working ME Out
Sometimes, for no reason at all, or maybe air bubbles lodged somewhere in His system (there are tons of those in there.  He may have swallowed an aquarium aerator at some point), Mister gets fussy.  He just does.  And then, what He wants most in the world is to be held to me, very close, while I do lunges or squats.  Down, up.  Down, up.  Until my legs burn and I have to choose between leg pain or ear pain, because He will not let me cheap out and do little bounces or pansy half-squats.  He's a little drill sergeant, I tell you.  When not all fussy cranky pants, He also likes dancing, chilling in the carrier while I do my chores, and rocking chairs.

Cuddles
He likes the carrier and the rocker and all such stuff because it's less boring than sitting still, and also involves being held.  Now at night, He wants to be put in bed and left alone. But otherwise He loves, I mean LOVES to snuggle and be carried.

Sisters
Little Mister already loves time with His sisters.  He likes to sit with us at story time and watch the colorful pages. He likes to listen to Little One read to Him or practice piano, and to have Missy sing to Him.  They go talk to Him and pat His tummy when He's waiting for me and getting impatient, and He rewards them with smiles and giggles and "a-goo" and wiggles.  He likes to sit in my lap watching the chaos that is the Littles, putting on dance shows or parades, or being dinosaurs.  He watches intently thinking either, "that is so fun I can't wait to get to play!" or, "holy pacifier those ladies are crazy.  Thank goodness I'm safe in this cushy lap".  Either way, at least they're interesting, and even when He gets loved a little too much, He can never say He's not loved enough.

In a month Little Mister has made all these changes and we've learned so much about Him.  He's outgrown His first outfits, He's outgrown the sink.  In a way, because He's the third, I've been more prepared for how fast this sweet, precious newborn time flies.  I'm less shocked by it, but still it's amazing how quickly the changes come.  It know that there is greatness ahead and look forward to it, I know that the bliss of this stage is finite and so I cling to it when I can.  With older siblings and busyness going on, the days are extra short, my attention divided into ever skimpier slices.  But because I Know, I stop whenever I can and try to charm a giggle out, put a few miles on the rocking chair, or just breathe Him in and feel the tiny softness on my shoulder.  Oh Little Mister.  You are only two months, but you are treasured beyond measure.  Happy Birthday Little Guy!

Christmas

Speaking of Christmas, Little Mister's first was a success.  We had a nice, quiet day at home, which is how we like it best.  Especially now that I've finally discovered that the key to avoiding totally overwhelmed children is to open stockings and see Santa's gifts, then break for breakfast before unwrapping packages from friends and family.  Let me never forget this.  Last year Little One ended up laying face down under the tree like a drunken sailor before we were even done unwrapping.  Too…Much…Christmas! Totally shorted out.  Bless Her heart.
This year we rationed out the Merry and everyone kept their blessed little heads.  Little One and Missy were thrilled to find that Santa had granted their wishes  for a piggy bank and batman.

Interestingly, the piggy bank has received near constant use and attention since, while Batman spends quite a lot of downtime hangin' with the princess dolls on a shelf.  Not that he minds, I'm sure.  Santa brought Little Mister a bathtub, which turns out to have been perfect given the fact that while we are just getting to know Mister, we can say for sure that He loves a good bath. We spent the day enjoying the new treats, eating cinnamon rolls, and just being together.
I have to say, I think Christmas is a wonderful time to have a baby.  It's a busy time, it's an expensive time, but who cares?! It's a perfect time.  There are decorations and everyone is all jolly and excited.  It seemed like the world was appropriately joyful when Little Mister came home.  And to be able to start his induction into the family with some of our most treasured traditions was a perfect initiation.  It was fun to open all the packages labeled "baby" and have a real, actual, wonderful person to give them to.  It was awesome to hang an extra stocking next to the rest, a visual decree that there was a new and permanent soul in our home.
This year we were spoiled silly by our generous family; reminders in boxes of how many wonderful people we have in our lives and how far they go to give us tokens of happiness.  The Sisters were old enough for the holiday Magic to be as tangible as wrapping paper and as sweet as sugar cookies.  And this year, we had Little Mister.  A new baby, the most magical thing there is; a perfect reminder of another new baby who started this whole shebang long ago.  I have had a lot of really great Christmases in my time, Peanuts.  But this one was the best.  

Little Mister

Of course, the biggest news was the arrival of Mister.  

After His rather dramatic entrance, His sisters and Grandma came to meet Him.  

Counting Toes

Family of FIVE!

Mister then spent the ENTIRE first night like this:

Seriously, I don't know why the nurses didn't come running to see why I was pulling His toenails out.  Maybe they were concerned they'd get hearing damage if they came in.  But eventually, sometime the second day, He finally got a meal in His tummy and settled into being His sweet self.  

Little One brought us this carefully constructed gift; it is a box which, when opened, revealed pop-up signs that said, "I love you Momme (mommy)" and "I love you Babe (baby)" and a taped on string of plastic pearls.  It also included a collage of pictures for Baby made by Missy.








Since this was not my first bundle of joy, the hospital let us go home a bit early, and since it wasn't exactly the Ritz in there, we were happy to.  J and Missy came to pick us up.


J's mom very thoughtfully gave us the outfit we brought Him home in.  It is the very same outfit J wore home from the hospital when he was born!  I love the sweetness of that.  Here they both are-

Mister

Baby J

Missy was very excited to help bring Her brother home.  She had Her baby too, and together we nursed and changed our babies and got them ready to go.



We rode together in the wheelchair (such a funny requirement) while poor J somehow pushed us and carried all the bags at the same time.  Then we clicked car seat number three into place, and Mister headed off into the big world.

We went straight to Little One's school and picked Her up so that we could all go home together as a family.  Waiting for us were the doggies (who were pleased to meet their new person), the sparkly decorations, all kinds of pictures and posters from the Sisters, and flowers from my thoughtful step-dad.

 Home sweet home!

Firsts

Since Little Mister came home, He has had many Firsts.

His first Doctor visit

Best pediatrician in the world. Ever. 

His first bath

This child LOVES a bath

His first outing- sushi of course. 

Welcome to the family, Mister.  Learn to love seaweed. It's our thing. 

And of course, His first Christmas.  In which He was most definitely the very best gift for us all.

Nutcracker

This is becoming one of my very favorite holiday traditions.  It was Little One's third, and Little Miss's first, year to go with me to the Nutcracker.  My mother took my sister and I when we were little, and I have such precious memories from that, so the nostalgia is like thick buttercream icing on the cake of a night out with my Littles. I wasn't super sure about Missy's attention span, especially as the show didn't even start till after bedtime, but She was transfixed.  Until She finally fell asleep in my lap during the second act, She was completely absorbed in the magic of the ballet, as was Little One of course.  I loved watching their faces even more than watching the show, and had fun making it a special night for all of us.  At intermission I brought out cookie sandwiches for them, and as we waited for the second act to begin I surprised them with little nutcracker dolls wrapped in shiny tissue paper.  It was one of the sweetest evening I've had, and since that night there has been much twirling about the living room, and Miss frequently spends entire days answering to nothing but Clara.

Cookies!

My Little ballerinas

Didn't quite make it to the finale

Sprinkle

As the sand in my pregnancy hourglass began to run low, some friends and I decided to squeeze in one more girl's night.  We met up for dinner and they surprised me with a baby "sprinkle" for Little Mister!  Because I apparently have friends with excellent taste, the gifts were all fabulously cute.  I never want to hear again that "boy stuff" isn't as cute or fun and "girl stuff" because I know now, for sure, that it is a lie.  The cuteness is out there!  There was also cake and good company, and much celebrating of the Mister.

Swimming Lessons Smell Like Polka

C: "...the pool must be in here somewhere..."

Little One: "let's follow ours noses! It's this way! I can smell the 'cordian!"

C: "great! Wait, you smell the what now?"

LO: "the 'cordion!"

C: "The accordion? You smell it?"

LO: "Yes from the pool water!"

C: "...oh! The chlorine?"

LO: "Mom. That's what I said."

Tells It Like It Is

Missy: "No.  I don't want eat this dinnah.  I want some dessert, a'stead.  I'm NOT goin' eat it!"

Little One (shocked): "But! But Little Miss, you HAVE eat yours dinner! Why, don't you know?  There is kids out there, places, what don't have any dinner.  They don't have any good food like this to eat.  So, if you eat all yours dinner, then, you can grow big and strong, so you can go and help them. See?" 

Missy: "You want help the kids, Little Wan?"

Little One (gravely): "Oh, yes, Miss.  Yes, I do."

Missy: "Great! You can eat my food.  I don't want help people.  I want appa'sauce." 

What Sisters Are For

C: "No, Missy.  Not until you make your bed."

Miss (wringing Her hands): "Oh! Oh Oooooohhhhhh!"

Little One (walking up and putting an arm around Miss's shoulders): "Ok, Missy.  It's ok, come on.  Let's go see 'bout that bed up there.  I'll help you." 

Missy (brightening up and squeezing Little One): "Oh yes! Oh yes T'ANK you! B'cuz, b'cuz it can be weally hahd.  It can be weally hahd to make a bed wif'out a sistah.  Some-times, you need a sistah to help you wif things, right Little Wan?"

Little One: "Oh yes, Missy.  That's what we are there for!  And after we make your bed, we can play baby and Mama!"  

Miss: "OK!  And Little Wan?  YOU can be the Mama."

Portrait of a Family

As the baby-belly days dwindled, I asked a truly talented friend to take some photos of us.  Aren't they sweet?

Family love. Bliss. Happy, smiley, sweetness. Didn't my friend make us all look so cheerful and loving? I told you she is talented. She did, and it was no easy feat.  Because Missy.

Oh, Missy.  My girl with a curl.
I woke Her from Her nap for this activity.  She was not at all amused.  Not even a tiny bit.
Those photos above are some of my favorites.  But in the interest of honesty?  This is about how it really went:


And in a way it's a favorite, too.  It's nice to preserve the loveliness of a family's smiles.  But if a portrait is supposed to capture the true essence of something, a moment of life and personalities as they really are?  This one is prize winning.  I'm keeping it.  So I can always look back, laugh, and remember- yep. That's how it was.

Rocket Launch

Rocket launch
A few hours from where we live, there is a launch pad where real rockets really go into actual outer space.  Really!  As we are a proud family of science geeks, we all think that this is super cool.  So when a launch was scheduled that we could actually witness, we could not resist.  My mom was visiting and because she is awesome she hopped on board when we heard about the launch and quite immediately piled into the car and drove three hours into the late, shivery night in order to hop out just exactly long enough to say, "OOooooohhhh!  Aaaaaaahhhhhh!" watch the streak of fire fade into the sky, and then drive three hours back home.  All that driving and we got in around midnight on a school night, all for about 8 seconds of rocket.  And I tell you, Peanuts, it was worth it!  Because it was a real rocket going to actual space!!  The coolness.  It boggles the mind.

You know you're impressed.

We also made a fun trip out of it, watching Mary Poppins in the car and stopping at a diner so full of character we could taste it in the fried food.  The batter is made of bread crumbs and character.

It was almost as cool as the rocket, although I would not recommend the clam fritatta.  TOO much character.

Veteran's Day

My Veteran

Just over a year ago we were standing on a dock, waiting to welcome J back home.  In the moments just before we saw him, when the sailors began filing down the gangway, everything that had been forced behind doors and under stones in my heart rose like floodwater and began to sting my eyes.  All the worry, the hope, the proud moments and the weak ones.  I will never forget that moment, the one in which it seemed ok to let those things exist because it was going to be over.
We're a lucky family.  J has been gone only once, not for too long, and he came back. Since that moment I have never stopped being thankful for that, and never stopped crying a little in the deep parts of my heart for all the families who are not so fortunate.
For me, though Veteran's Day has always mattered, it will never be the same. This year, I took time to be extra thankful both for J, for the fact that we were able to spend the day together, and for the sacrifices made by those who never will be tangible to their families again. We celebrated all this deep meaningfulness (and also the fact that J got the day off) by taking a trip to Montecello.
We picked apples in an impossibly picturesque orchard on a hill, and then learned all about one of the most influential men in our nation's history- Thomas Jefferson- by touring his home and museum. A fascinating character.  In interesting estate.  A lot of hard questions to answer like "what's a slavery?"  It was a full, educational, and lovely day for us all.

Hot Cider!