My Windows Are Sooooo Sparkly!

It was another gorgeous fall day, and we spent it . . . cleaning. While I do admit to having a certain sense of satisfaction now that the garage has been swept, the yard edged, trimmed and mowed, and the windows washed, another part of me feels like we wasted a perfectly good day. It's frustrating to try to juggle the girls and get things done at the same time, so any cleaning task takes approximately 8 times longer than it would have before kids.

When you first have a baby and your life is turned upside-down, you are faced with a few choices about how your cleaning will proceed. They are:

1. Keep your house less clean than you used to.
2. Use most of your "free" time for cleaning (in the evenings and any time the kids nap or are not around).
3. Pay someone else to do it.

So far, I've been using a combination of #1 and #2. When I find myself with a few moments during the day or after the girls go to bed, I try to throw in a load of laundry or clean a bathroom. However, the house just never really seems "together," so I'm probably keeping things less clean than I used to. After all, if I spent all my "free" time cleaning up, when would I talk to my husband? When would I read a book? When would I blog? =)

I try not to care, but I do have the good, clean Dutch genes in me somewhere. And those Dutch genes are what's keeping me from using solution #3. The guilt! The horrors of paying someone hard-earned money to do what you could do better than they would do it! Seriously, though, after one recent Saturday cleaning-spree episode, I sank onto the couch at night and asked Jason, "Does it really take this much work to run a household?" We thought about it, and then decided that, yes, it does. A little depressing, I think. How many more years until Annie can wash floors?

Go, Jemma!

Today marks Jemma's 9-month birthday. Truly, the time is flying by (and I never thought I'd say that about any part of raising an infant). She celebrated by puking a little on the Cook's carpet and taking two, 30-minute naps total today. Also, by rubbing her pear-and-pea-covered hands vigorously through her hair at dinnertime. She's adorable and spunky, and I love watching her turn from a baby into a toddler.

Last night's dinner out was a treat. We tried a new restaurant in East Hills called the Green Well, and it was a great combination of good drinks, interesting food, and a fun atmosphere. It's so exciting to go somewhere and feel like grown-ups for an hour or two. Plus, the girls never knew we were gone . . .

Tonight, by contrast, was the first night this week that Jason's been home early enough to eat dinner with the family. We had chicken stew while Annie filled him in on her day, which was full of Twinkle Toes dancing, a grocery store trip, and playing with Ben, Alex, Grace, and some other friends in the Cook's toy-filled house.

After putting Jemma to bed, I came upstairs to find Annie in the shower, happily singing "Doe a Deer" to Jason and mostly getting the words right. We are finding that bath/shower time is some good one-on-one time with Annie, and we usually have some notable conversations. Last night in the tub, for example:

Annie: "Mom, why doesn't that frog have cheeks?" in reference to the frog-head on the hand soap dispenser.

Me: "I don't know, I guess frogs don't really have cheeks."

Annie: "Why, Mom? Whyyyyy?"

Me: "That's just how God made frogs." (This is a variation of my standard answer when I have no idea . . . blame God.)

Annie: "Who's God?"

Me: "You know, God's the person who made the world and you and me and frogs"

Annie: "Like at church and Sunday School?"

Me: "Yep, that God."

Annie: "When?"

Me: "When, what?"

Annie: "When did God make the world?"

Me: "A very long time ago."

Annie: "Oh. Before Sunday School?"

Me: "Yes, before Sunday School."

Perhaps I am not so qualified to be helping in Annie's Sunday School classroom if this is the best I can do with the God explaination . . .

Honorary Anniversary

Nope, it's not our wedding anniversary (that was back in June). It is, however, the 11-year anniversary of our very first date. For some reason, as silly as it all is, Jason and I kind of hold a special place in our hearts for September 25th, a.k.a. The Day It All Began.

Well, technically, it all began the previous New Year's Eve (that would be 1995!), when Jason caught my eye at a dirty Treehouse basement party and we made out at midnight on the dance floor. Right before I made out with some other guy . . . and then we mostly ignored each other until the following September, when he came knocking on the door of Gilmore 207 to ask me out. Hilarious.

To put it mildly, times have changed. But on September 25, 1996, we were having burgers and Cokes together (I couldn't even drink at restaurants! I was a baby!) and having an amazingly great first date. Jason was driving his old Civic (yes, there was another, older Civic than the current one) known as "old one-mirror," I wore this giant Abercrombie flannel shirt, and I believe there was a mix-tape involved on the ride home.

Who knew we'd date, get engaged, get married, move to the tiniest, ugliest Ann Arbor apartment, run a marathon, travel to France, buy a house, have a baby, buy another house, have another baby, and build this fun little life together?

Last year, we actually celebrated our 10-year first-date anniversary by going and doing the same things we'd done ten years earlier - same restaurant, same walk afterwards, different clothes. We might even have resurrected the mix-tape. This year, Jason's working late, so we're headed out tomorrow night instead. I can't let the day go by, though, without taking a minute to be glad for all the things that came my way because of that first date.

Unusual Objects of Our Affection

I realized today that Annie, Jemma and I have all recently been "into" some unusual items. So, in no particular order, the objects of our affections:

1. Anytime Annie gets a balloon (choking hazard, I know - we keep them far from Jemma), she must have someone tie a string around it and drag it around as though it's a dog on a leash. Last week, she was busy playing with the two sad, sorry remaining balloons from her party. She had named them Baxter and Bao (?) and was very busy getting bowls for them to eat from, tucking them into bed, reprimanding them for yelling in the house, etc. Then, Saturday, she must have looked extra-cute and deserving at the grocery store with me, because an employee spontaneously gave her a blue balloon. Now, she has three balloons, and they're all named Baxter. As I type, they're on the upstairs couch, carefully covered with a big blanket. Asleep for the night, I guess.

2. Jemma, in her newfound mobility and speed (she stood up by herself today a few times in the yard!), mostly enjoys licking and touching things that she really should be leaving alone. To be specific, the toilet and the kitchen garbage can. I know, disgusting. But she really, really loves both of these items and no amount of redirection on my part can distract her! So now, we've taken to keeping the toilet lid down at all times and the bathroom door closed as much as possible. As for the kitchen garbage can, it's so shiny and sparkly, she can't resist. I've resigned myself to the fact that she's going to lick the outside of it and giggle at her reflection in it. I guess I'll just have to keep it as clean as possible, which I'll be able to do because of . . .

3. My new Dyson handheld vacuum! In yet another scary sign that I'm slowly turning into my mother, I can't stop vacuuming with it. Jemma had been making such a huge mess at every meal, and I was so tired of hauling the big vacuum out every day, so we bit the bullet and bought the Root 6. It's spectacular. My cleaning has gone beyond the dining room floor and right out into the front entry, the fireplace tile, and the baseboards in the hallway. Who knew you could feel so much cleaning satisfaction in just 6 minutes with a cordless vacuum? This weekend, I might even vacuum the carpet on the stairs, which I will admit here that I have not done once since we've lived in this house. (Don't anybody tell my mom!)

Sunday Sermon by Steph

I'm glad to say that I'm starting this week feeling ready for it: clean house, clean laundry, clean dishes, stocked groceries, and happy children. So worth a weekend at home! And, we did manage to do lots of fun things, too - a tailgate party on Friday night, neighborhood barbeque on Saturday night, and some good outdoor/park time with the girls.

Annie's mood today was inexplicably good, and so we treasured it. So many people lately have been telling me, "Three is worse than two" in reference to their now-three-year-old girls that I'm bracing myself for more ridiculousness and treasuring the days that are like today, when she gives out lots of unprompted "thank-you"'s and "I love you"'s and remembers that Jemma is a real, live person instead of a Weeble to knock over.

Jemma was adorable today. She really wants to stand up and does this crouching/squatting thing in the middle of the yard all the time. After dinner tonight, she got a second wind and was crawling and cruising all around the house as though she was seeing it for the first time, touching everything, squealing with glee while banging on the glass panes in the door, hiding under the dining room table and giggling when I played peek-a-boo with her. We are slowly trying to push her bedtime back to 7:00 (it's been 6:30 for the longest time) and I think it is working. Hopefully, she'll make up for the lost sleep by taking a slightly longer afternoon nap so I can managed to sit down, eat my lunch, and perhaps read a little during the day instead of at bedtime, when I'm exhausted. We'll see.

And speaking of reading, I read the most depressing story on npr.org today. It's called "Why Women Read More Than Men," but the main premise of the article was not what bummed me out. What did make me do a double-take were these statistics:

-Only 57% of Americans had read a book during the entire year of 2002

-Among people surveyed who identified themselves as "avid readers," the typical woman had read 9 books in the previous year, while the average man had read 5.

What?????? That would be like saying you were an "avid" sports fan and then admitting you'd only watched 9 (or 5) games during the whole year. And, I am especially concerned that nearly half of the US population can go for an entire year and not even read one book. People should be throwing their TVs out the window and reading something, anything! So, in the spirit of inspiring my broad readership to enjoy a fantastic book, here's a random list of some of the best things I've read in the past couple of years:

A Girl Named Zippy by Haven Kimmel
Theory of Relativity by Jacquelyn Mitchard
Empire Falls by Richard Russo
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night by Mark Haddon
Feast of Love by Charles Baxter
The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
Saturday by Ian McEwan
short stories by Alice Munro
poetry by Billy Collins
anything by Ann Patchett, but especially Truth and Beauty
anything by Barbara Kingsolver, fiction and nonfiction, but especially Small Wonder
Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
The Hours by Michael Cunningham
Nickel and Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich
Freakonomics by Stephen Dubner and Steven Levitt
The World is Flat by Thomas Friedmann

So go! Read! And write me to tell me what you're loving, too.

Fisher Price Dollhouse Rant

I noticed something interesting the other day about our plastic Fisher Price dollhouse. It came with some removeable items, such as: Mommy, Daddy, baby in a stroller, cat, bed, table, and chairs. We've had this toy for at least 9 months, but here's what I just noticed.

The Mom figure is holding a bottle, with a burp cloth slung over her left shoulder.

The Dad figure is holding a newspaper and a to-go coffee cup.

Thanks, Fisher Price, for promoting to a new generation the idea that, even when both parents are home for the day, the Mommy is taking care of the baby while the Daddy enjoys a latte while browsing his Sunday paper. Seriously, couldn't the mommy have gotten to hold at least one of the fun items?

That's all.

Frosting

For the second time this month, I made some cupcakes. I love to bake, and cupcakes seem like a good treat for all ages. And, for the second time this month, the cupcakes themselves were nothing to write home about, but the frosting . . . . my goodness. Or, as Annie would say, "What the heck in the world?????" (Don't ask.) Tonight, the cupcakes were pumpkin and the frosting was the most scrumptious cream cheese concoction, spiked with a little cinnamon. I'll post the recipe here, courtesy of Williams Sonoma, because I really think that anything pumpkin would benefit from a quick spread of this. Make it, please, and then write me to tell me you loved it, too.

Cinnamon Cream Cheese Frosting

8 oz cold cream cheese
1 stick unsalted butter, firm but not cold
1/8 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
3 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar, sifted
1/2 tsp vanilla

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the cream cheese, butter, salt and cinnamon on medium-low speed until smooth and creamy, about 2 to 3 minutes. Reduce the speed to low, gradually add the confectioner's sugar and beat until incorporated. Add the vanilla and beat just until incorporated. Do not overmix or it will incorporate too much air; it should be creamy and dense, like ice cream. Add milk, 1 tsp at a time, if frosting is too hard to spread.

On other pumpkin-related notes, I tried the pumpkin ice cream at Jersey Junction this week, and it is not as good as the Sherman's brand that I used to get in South Haven. (But I'll eat it anyway.) Also, I might have to boycott Starbucks because they won't sell me their Pumpkin Spice syrup so I can use it in my lattes at home. Either that, or I might have to go there every day between now and Thanksgiving, because nothing I squeeze out of my FrancisFrancis tastes quite like the Starbucks PS latte. And lastly, we had a family outing to an adorable, family-run nursery this morning where there's a whole fall kids' thing going on: hayride, inflated pumpkin to jump in, pumpkin painting (with glitter paint! Lucky Annie!), hardy mums galore, popcorn and apples to eat. It was the highlight of Annie's day and a great photo op.

Jason's off being a rock star, so I'm headed downstairs to enjoy 'What Not to Wear' and eat some of the leftover, aforementioned frosting straight out of the fridge. Yummy.

Twinkle Toes

This morning was our first day of Twinkle Toes, Annie's fantastically hilarious and adorable ballet and tap class. She was very serious after she got dressed in the outfit and tights and I was worried that she'd morph into mute, shy Annie for the class. Oh, not to worry . . . she thoughts she was the star of the show. Instead of hanging back and watching the other girls (the ones who had been in class last week, unlike Annie), she could barely wait her turn at the start of every activity. As soon as the instructor would demo the exercise, out pranced Annie to be first! first! The instructor, a very patient woman, kept dragging her back to wait her turn in line. We'll look for some improvement next week. In the meantime, she had the best time stretching, running on tiptoes and waving a ribbon, and learning how to make the right sounds with her tap shoes.

Later this afternoon, while Annie was napping, Jemma and I had a little twinkle toes time of our own. She was so cute and engaging: pulling herself up to stand on her tiptoes on a chair, squealing with glee, banging a toy on the floor, smiling big smiles, and putting on her own little performance. She's going to be dancing, too, before long.

Things Can Only Get Better . . .

As it almost HAD to be, today was a better - much better - day. It wasn't without a few sketchy moments, but at least it wasn't a string of one ridiculous moment after another, like the last week has been. I was beginning to think that everyone in our family would be happier if I went back to work and let someone else who was more competent and less emotionally invested deal with the daily battles here. I mean, I expect there to be moments, lots of them, when things aren't going perfectly. But when those moments run together into whole days, and then the bad days add up to nearly a week, you start questioning your choices.

There's a line from the Elton John song "I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues" that I try to sing/hum to myself when times are tough: Don't wish it away/Don't look at it like it's forever (and you can bet I sang it on repeat in the middle of the night for the first 3 months of Jemma's life). I think it's a good reminder that these phases and stages, hellish as they might be, are so fleeting, and it's true. Next year at this time, I'll be dealing with a whole new, exciting set of challenges and joys; these last weeks of Annie tantrums will be a distant memory.

In the meantime, we enjoyed our day today, and that's the whole point. Annie was full of stories when I picked her up from school today and I almost wished our ride home was longer so she could tell me more details: Ella brought a birthday treat (cookies with white chocolate - a novelty); they read "Brown Bear, Brown Bear," her favorite toy is Mr. Potato Head; she made a book . . . very PLG adorable. We had some more gorgeous weather, some social time with the neighbors this afternoon, and a good dinner together before Jason got home. So fortunate, so blessed to have healthy children and good things all around me.

PLG

Okay, so there had to be a post about this abbreviation, which has been introduced to me via my friend and neighbor, Sarah. I think it officially stands for "poor little guy" or "poor little girl," but it's typically used to describe someone or something that is either very pathetic or so adorable that you have to make a little face about it. If Sarah would ever teach me how to do hyperlinks on my blog, I could link to hers for appropriate examples of PLG in print.

I digress, because tonight, I wish to use the favored term to describe myself. That's right, and I'm using it in the first sense (very pathetic). It's 9:12 p.m., and I'm finally getting around to making some dinner for myself . . . and it's macaroni and cheese. This is because I've been unable to make it to the grocery store yet this week, so choices are limited. I only wonder what Jason fed himself earlier, while I was dashing madly around Target buying exciting things like a dustbuster, wart-freezing kits, Purell, and shampoo.

I've been up since 6:00 sharp, and I had to get up with Jemma two times last night instead of just the usual one. Also, Annie is being horrible. No way to sugarcoat it; she's going through some funk and I just can't take it anymore. I've used all my coping methods (ignoring, time-outs, taking away favored items, diversions both indoors and out, extra-focused one-on-one time to prevent neediness) and still: almost constant, daily, unrelenting whining, disobeying, and tantruming.

Also, I'm hot. Also, my hair is frizzy and ugly today. Also, I'm going to head downstairs and wallow in my self-pity while I eat my mac & cheese. PLG me.

More Birthday

The birthday celebrations continue . . .

Today, Annie brought her birthday treat, cider and donut holes, to preschool. As the mom of the honored birthday child, I was invited to come and "do snack" with the class after watching them sing to her, etc. I was there for maybe 15 minutes, and just watching the 2 teachers try to wrangle 14 kids made me exhausted.

When I got there, they were singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" in a circle. Absolutely nobody was doing the correct motions (Annie was staring off into space and practicing holding up three fingers; Ben was bounding into the middle of the circle every 45 seconds, doing a handstand, and then rolling on the ground with glee until one of the teachers made him go back to his spot on the circle). Then, they sang Happy Brithday to Annie, during which she looked at the ground.

They Purelled, and then made their way over to the snack tables, where an immediate chorus of "I want more juice" began before anyone had even finished it. One teacher went around, refilling cider, while the other one redirected everyone who was trying to travel around the room with their donut holes. When they had finally finished eating, drinking, and throwing away their cups (this took another full 5 minutes), they lined up to go outside to the playground. Jemma and I hung at the back of the line as they went down the stairs - slowly, tediously, forgetting to hold on to the railing - and I marvelled that preschool teachers do their jobs so well for so little pay and recognition. Also, I seriously reconsidered going back to teaching any time soon. I'm just not sure I have the energy for it anymore.

Today is Jason's birthday, too. Happy 32, cute husband! We're not doing much beyond having a quiet night together, eating take-out and sharing some good Belgian beer. I can hardly believe I knew him back when he was turning 22! I'm so thankful that we still laugh together just as much; I think we're good at keeping each other young.

My Philosophical Justification for Girls' Night Out

Another gorgeous fall day - 65, party cloudy, football on the TV, cinnamon cider candle burning in the kitchen, comfy new jeans. I took a great little run this morning and actually wished I had worn something on my ears, which froze. But, for the first time, it really smelled like fall outside. And I do love fall.

Other events of the day included a massive children-clothes re-organization involving many Rubbermaid tubs and some quality time in Jemma's closet, some vacuuming (Jemma make a fantastic mess at each meal!), and a trip to the Farmer's market, some antique stores, and Wealthy St. Bakery with Jemma. (Notice none of the events involved me spending lots of time with Annie. She's spending quality time with Jason today, and we're getting a much-needed break from each other.)

Tonight, appetizers and drinks with the girls. Even though I'm pretty tired from what has somehow been a tiring day, it's something I'm looking forward to. When I quit teaching to stay at home full-time, one of my fears was that I'd invest absolutely all my time and energy in my kids and then look up one day, when they graduated from high school/moved away/grew up, and notice that I had no "self" left and no "life" outside of my kids. So in spite of the limited energy and there being only 24 hours in a day, I am determined to continue to carve out time for the things and people I love: running, reading (non-child-related books!), having dates with Jason, writing, spending time with friends, cooking and baking, and traveling, among others. Not only do I want to preserve my own interests so that I have a life to live in twenty years or so, but I want my kids to grow up seeing that being a Mommy doesn't mean you stop being a person, too. When they have kids someday, I want them to feel good, not guilty, about the things they do to nurture themselves.

Plus, I love a good drink with funny friends at the end of the day. Or two, or three . . .

The Witching Hour

If you're a parent, you probably know the time of day I'm talking about. That's right, the dreaded 4:00 - 5:00 p.m. time slot when, no matter what kind of day you've been having, all bets are off and the kids are probably going to cease functioning rationally. I'm not sure why it's called "witching" hour, but I've been thinking of some more-appropriate, rhyming terms, like "fit-pitching" hour (for the kids) or "bitching" hour (for the moms) . . .

I do know, though, that it's a problem. It sure is hard to make dinner, for example, when someone is clinging to your leg, crying, "Put Jemma down!" only to knock Jemma over on purpose when you do. Also hard to play outside with the neighborhood kids when they're all simultaneously unable to take turns, share, talk nicely, or cooperate on the swing because they're all "bewitched."

Usually, Jason is still at work solidly through this special time of day. On weekends, when he's home, our family is often out and about doing something "really, really fun" like playing at a park or riding bikes, so he misses it then, too. Today, though, he had a staff meeting from 12:00 - 3:30, so he arrived home just as it was beginning. We had just come inside (not without a scene from Annie, who didn't want to stop playing on the slide even though my hands were freezing) and were in the middle of a meltdown about I-don't-remember. Jemma was clinging to my arm, in full finger-sucking mode, whimpering approximately every minute and a half for no apparent reason. Things degenerated from there, with Annie finally being sent to a time-out during which she screamed at the top of her lungs and beat on her door. It took both Jason and me to assemble the chicken enchiladas for dinner while running interference between the girls. At one point, he looked at me across the kitchen counter and said in a puzzled way, "Is it like this here every day?"

Well, not every minute of every day, but, yes, I think there's usually a good hour or so of chaos and drama every day, and it's usually right when I'm trying to unload the groceries or get dinner started. So, maybe now Jason will realize that it's a major achievement when I have a hot dinner on the table when he gets home. Or maybe he'll stop asking me, like he did last night, "What do you want to do later, when I get home from the gym around 9:00?" Do????

As for the witching hour, are there any solutions? And, if not, at what age will this end?

A Loooooong Day

Things Jemma did today:

-ate two whole pieces of bread, plus numerous other things, including Cheerios, banana, cheese, pear, macaroni and cheese, sweet potato fries, yogurt and . . . a woodchip. Yum. (Just chewed, not swallowed, that last one!)

-woke up at 6:00 a.m., forcing me to zip her into a winter snowsuit (it was freezing this morning!) and plop her in her stroller for a walk to Starbucks. I know, I know . . . I own a fancy espresso machine, but I have not yet been able to duplicate the Pumpkin Spice Latte. Weekend project?

-pulled Annie's hair so hard that Annie cried. Then Jemma cried because Annie was crying. And that's basically how the whole afternoon went . . .

-started trying to walk around behind Annie's little plastic red car. This is fun to watch, but it makes me very, very nervous.


Things Annie did today:

-missed her first Twinkle Toes dance class because she still has a pesky fever. =(

-had meltdowns about the following things: the toilet seat being too cold, her headband being too tight, her headband falling out, her scooter lights not being on, the grass being wet, her macaroni and cheese taking too long to cook, wanting me to carry her halfway through our walk around the block, not wanting to wash her hands before dinner, not wanting to walk to the grocery store, wanting a glass of milk . . . and I could probably think of more if I sat here for another 5 mihutes. It was a rough day, and the only reason I had plenty of compassion for her is because I know she's feeling so yucky because of her fever. At least twenty times, I said, "I'd like you to tell me what I can do to make you feel better" or something similar, but still, nothing. Arggghhhh.

-received a pair of strap-on rollerskates (and matching Disney princess elbow- and knee-pads) from Miss Kelly and the Ketts for her birthday. She is beside herself with pride and wants to learn to skate immediately. Jason took her out with them just before dinner, and she loved it, although it's definitely going to be a while until she can do it by herself. Like, maybe 2 years.

And even though it was a sort of tough day with the girls, the weather was absolutely perfect and, somehow, I didn't let the absurdity get me down. We spent as much time outside as possible, I made a yummy dinner which involved roasted butternut squash, I just had a glass of wine outside after the girls went to bed, and I'm looking forward to this weekend. Our plans are minimal and I think we'll enjoy just being together before next week's routine kicks in again with preschool, dance, and Sunday School starting, too.

As promised, the little poem from preschool this past week. Corny, I know, but try to read it on your child's very first day and see if you cry, too. You totally would.

You bring to us your child so dear,
Not without a touch of fear.
You both might want to shed a tear.
We promise we will love her here.

We'll teach her she's a special one.
We'll teach her school is lots of fun.
We'll teach her how to share and play.
We'll teach her something new each day!

Relax, go home, feeling free
To have yourself this cup of tea.
Within days, you will see,
School is where she wants to be.

A Letter to Annie

Dear Annie,

I intended to write this to you yesterday, on your 3rd birthday, but, even though it was my birthday, too, there were somehow no breaks at all during which I could sit and think. So . . .

You're so proud to be three. Almost every day you spend some time telling me or yourself how big you are now and how you're "just like Kate" or "like a grown-up." You want to do absolutely everything yourself and become furious if I try to speed things along; while the time it takes to wash your hands or get into your car seat sometimes borders on double-digit minutes, I admire your persistence and independence. It truly seems like only minutes ago that I was in labor with you, so I'm amazed by all that you do and achieve.

One of the things I love best about watching you grow up is seeing your little talents and personality emerge. It's so fun to guess and speculate about what you'll be like - how you'll be like me, how you'll be like Daddy, and how you'll be totally unique. Lately, I'm noticing how compassionate you are, how quick your sense of humor is, how much you pick up on fashion details, how good you are at handling a soccer ball, how you're still not quite sure which hand to use when drawing, how curious you are about new things, and how quickly you make connections between your experiences. I can't wait to see what you learn this year!

Truth be told, you drive me a little crazy sometimes, too, in ways that I probably drove my mom crazy. With your constant chatter, questions, challenges, and desire to "go somewhere," you wear me out, but I love you anyway (this is from "Olivia," one of your favorite books). Even during the most difficult moments of the longest days, I still appreciate you because you push me to be more patient, generous, and wise than I ever thought I could be. Having you here makes me a better person. Thanks, Pippi.

My favorite moments of almost every day are these two: the early-morning seconds when you stumble out of bed, doop in hand, and come find us to cuddle; and the last few minutes of the evening when I read to you and sing you "the night-night song" before kissing you goodnight. Yesterday, our birthday, Daddy and I rushed into your room at the first sound of your voice so we could wish you happy birthday and bring you your presents in bed. This meant I had to stay up late, wrapping and setting things out for your special breakfast, and then hop out of my warm bed at the first sound of your voice on my birthday, when I should have been sleeping in or having breakfast in bed. But there you were, in your pink flannel polar bear jammies and a smug little smile on your face as you peeked in the gift bags, and I was so glad. Sharing a birthday with you is like sharing a life with you: one part sacrifice, a million parts privilege. Happy birthday, little one. I love you sooooooooo much.

Love,
Mommy

First Day of School (For Us!)

Annie's first day of preschool was spectacular! She woke up in a good mood this morning, helped me get our whole crew out of the house on time, and was "so excited" about going. I was worried about the drop-off, thinking that she'd be a little weepy the first time, but she was just low-key and happy when we got there. Miss Karen and Miss Colette met us at the door, she went potty on the teeny-tiny toilet in the classroom, started playing with an art project, and said good-bye without any drama. I watched her for a few minutes through the two-way glass and was so, so proud of my little schoolgirl.

At home, I didn't quite know what to do with myself after putting Jemma down for her morning nap. I wrote a few thank-you notes, talked to Connie on the phone, cleaned up the kitchen, cried a tear or two, and watched some Ellen after Jemma woke up. (Yes, that's right. Cried a tear or two, even though I've been waiting for this day for months. I was holding it together just fine until I read the little poem the teachers handed out to the parents for the first day. I'll post it later . . . you'll see.) The respite was glorious, but then again, I couldn't quite wait to get back and see what she was doing.

When I got back to pick her up, she was sitting on the circle rug with a few other kids, singing a song and doing the motions with her hands. Adorable. When she walked out of the classroom and saw me, she gave me a little "I'm so proud of myself" look and told me she couldn't wait to go back again next time. Exactly what a mommy wants to hear! I'm so grateful that this is going to be such a good experience for her; and, in her words, "I'm so glad I did such a good job at school, Mommy" (as I tucked her in for her nap this afternoon).

I'm posting a couple pictures. Note the knee-socks, please. They're my favorite.

Oh, and I was right: I was up all night last night. Not because I was anxious about Annie's day at school, but because Jemma woke up at 11:30, screaming her head off, and wouldn't settle back down no matter how many times I went in to rock her back to sleep. So I broke all my "sleep rules" and took her upstairs into the twin bed that's jammed against the wall. We slept there, together, fitfully, until 5:45 this morning, when she decided she was wide awake for the day. I'm not loving the lack of sleep/newborn baby feeling, but it was kind of delicious to sleep with her sweaty little head in the crook of my arm . . .

Cupcakes & Cocktails

Whew! What a weekend! We all have party "hangovers" in one form or another, and we have officially decided to shut down the Doublestein Hosting Machine until the winter holidays, at least. Where to begin?

Saturday dawned clear and cool - perfect for our outdoor events. I ran the lake with Sarah in the morning, then did frantic party-planning right up until the minute before everyone arrived (frosting 50 cupcakes, making ONE LAST TRIP to D&W, hanging balloons, cleaning the bathroom . . .). How do party preparations always expand to exactly fill the amount of time you have until the party begins? Anyway, by the time the party rolled around, it was 70-ish, sunny, and perfect cosmopolitan-drinking weather. The neighbors strolled over, the friends and relatives arrived, and cupcakes and beverages were happily consumed by all. At one point, there were approximately 20 children under the age of 7 in our front yard and yet, magically, nobody got in a fight or had a tantrum or went home crying. A little birthday miracle.

After the Cupcakes & Cocktails concluded, we had grandpas and grandmas plus Trevor, Lisa, and Berit stay to eat pizza and open presents. Annie, who had enthusiastically yelled out, "Thanks! I love it!" during our very silly practice session earlier in the week, could barely make eye contact or utter a "thank you" when she was finally opening her presents. Maybe she was overwhelmed, but it was making me crazy. Favorite gifts received include a Groovy Girl doll, an art easel, puzzles, books, a beautiful 3-pearl necklace, and some great dress-up jewlery. We saved the big one for last: a pink and purple Disney Princess scooter. She had to hop on it immediately and go scooting up and down the sidewalk. The neighbors, who were gathered en masse across the street, came running out to watch Annie's scooting debut, and Lucy absolutely had to run home and get hers so they could scoot together for a moment. So precious.

She was so tuckered out that we hardly had to convince her to get into bed. She loved that all her best friends came to play with her for an hour or so; I loved having some of the people nearest and dearest to me gather to enjoy a gorgeous afternoon. All in all, a decent 3rd/30th birthday party. The house may never recover from all the various wrapping paper, but that's another story.

Today, Jason's parents generously offered to take us out to brunch (I think they could sense my desperation when faced with the prospect of cooking a giant meal after getting everyone ready for church and cleaning up the house). Jemma was hilarious at the restaurant - she just kept shoveling the food in her mouth and making a huge, huge mess on the floor - and the waiters had to keep coming over to smile at her. She loved the attention. Annie was a little lady wearing a cute corduroy jacket and some of her birthday jewelry. She, of course, is pleased with any meal in a restaurant where the waffle with whipped cream can be followed by some equally sugary desert. Jaso and I got to take a walk together while the girls napped afterwards, and then we all spent some quality time together at the park before dinner. A lovely day.

And now that the sugar and alcohol are slowly leaving our systems, we're really trying to get ready for her first official day of preschool tomorrow. She's nervous, I'm nervous, and it's just a big question mark in my brain. I might cry, I might celebrate - who knows? I do know I won't sleep a wink tonight.

Oh, How I Dread a Doctor's Appointment . . .

and today was Annie's three-year check-up. Had I known how hellishly it was all going to go down, I would have pawned Jemma off on some kind friend, but no, she was there, too, climbing my left shoulder and crying to be let down as Annie took two separate trips to the bathroom and approximately 17 minutes to pee 1/8 oz. into a plastic cup and 3 oz. onto my right hand. You can imagine my great relief when the nurse generously assured me that it was "enough."

As if the managing of the children in the small office bathroom wasn't enough, Annie also had to have a bonus Hepatitis B booster today, because somehow she never got her third shot back when she was two. This part went exactly as you would guess, including a lot of squirming, hysterical crying, and trying to rip the syringe out of her leg.

Then there's the part where the doctor noticed Annie has lost a pound in the last six months in addition to having sporadic, weird diarrhea and started saying things like, "Does cystic fibrosis run in your family?" and, "I'd like to do some blood work to rule out celiac disease;" you know, the kinds of things that you have to pretend are so ridiculously impossible or else your heart would simply stop beating.

Breathe . . . . . .

I'm sure everything is fine. We just have runty children with sensitive stomachs, right?

Also today, we took Annie to meet her teachers and see her classroom in preparation for next Monday's first "real" day of school. The whole process took less than half an hour but was somehow very draining. The teachers both seemed nice enough, but normally-can't-be-quiet-for-one-second Annie became mute and wouldn't even smile in a picture while we were there. Hmmmm. I sense some deep anxiety. Luckily she met a new little friend on the playground while we were there and she gets to bring a birthday treat to the first class session, so I think she might get excited, after all. No knee socks yet (it was 100 degrees here today), but she was pretty cute standing on the steps and checking out her cubby.

Jemma ate a ton for dinner tonight: a bunch of pasta, a whole container of kid yogurt, about 10 raspberries, and some asparagus. Pigtails again today, which I can't get enough of. She's also decided that she's getting too old (and too busy) to take naps. Suddenly, she's crying and protesting for 15 minutes every time I put her down and only sleeping for 45 minutes! I have to smile, though, when I go in there and she's sitting up in her crib, bopping forward and back, and reaching for me to pick her up.

Here's hoping tomorrow is a happier and easier day!

First Day of School (But Not For Us)

Labor Day fun behind us (a great day at Lake Michigan with some neighbors), Annie spent this morning in her jammies, perched on a chair in her playroom, watching all the kids walk to their first day of school. Her eyes were big and round, and she was uncharacteristically quiet. Was she thinking about how, someday, she'll be walking a couple blocks to school, too? Was she wondering about preschool? Was she just completely worn out from 6 hours of playing on the beach yesterday?

In any case, it brought out lots of the usual emotions for me. I distinctly remember September 2004 - the very first September in my whole life when I hadn't been headed off to school as a student, substitute teacher, or bona fide teacher myself. I was fully 9 months pregnant with Annie, desperate to birth that child and see what being a mommy was all about, and yet . . . a little part of me missed that back-to-school feeling. Now that it's been a few years, I often forget how it was to be "in the classroom," but the beginning of September, with the school busses and the new backpacks and the fall energy, still makes me a little wistful.

So this morning, while Annie was pondering God-knows-what out the front window, I was, for the millionth time, thinking about the trade-offs we make when we decide whether to work or stay home, when to have kids, what kind of a mom to be. For me, there is really no "right" answer, because I truly miss teaching and yet I can't imagine not being here with the girls, either. For every time that I'm sweating through a hellish moment, swearing under my breath, giving a zillion time-outs, or changing a disgusting diaper, there are unimaginably sweet and irreplaceable moments that seem to balance it out. Like this afternoon, when I decided to celebrate the continued summer weather and our decidedly un-scheduled day with an impromptu trip to get ice cream. Watermelon for Annie, coffee for me, none for Jemma. Annie pedaled her little heart out on her tricycle the whole way there and back (this would NEVER have happened at the beginning of summer) and Jemma was content in the stroller. As I was walking home, watching all the high-schoolers get in their cars and drive away from their first day of school, I thought, How lucky am I to savor another summer day at home with my girls? So maybe I'm especially glad, this year, that nobody at our house is having their first day of school quite yet.

Current Obsessions

Things I am currently obsessed with:

-drinking Grayson Cellars Cabernet (and I found it at Russo's for $8.99!)

-eating Dancing Goat Creamery pesto goat cheese

-cleaning my floors (daily) since Jemma has combined her crawling speed with her pincer grasp and uses her skills to put every teeny, tiny bit of dirt in her mouth

-hearing Annie say, "Mommy, I love you really much"

-the caramel sauce Andrea brought over for our Mexican feast dinner tonight

-Jemma's pigtails

-borrowing as many cake stands as possible for next weekend's birthday extravaganza

-preparing Annie for a positive preschool experience - new backpack, locket necklace w/family picture inside, knee-high socks, paperwork completed, cheerful and encouraging comments . . .

-doing everything "summer" one more time until next June (so, so sad . . .)

Fall . . . .

In honor of September 1, some of the many reasons I love fall:

-Pumpkin Spice lattes at Starbucks (and, really, anything "pumpkin" to eat, drink, or smell)

-Those few glorious weeks when you can wear everything in your wardrobe in some combination

-Running outside when it's the perfect temperature

-The decorative possibilities of pumpkins, gourds, leaves, etc.

-Football games and tailgates (even when Michigan, sadly, inexplicably, loses)

-Chunky wool sweaters and cute jackets

-My birthday, Jason's birthday, Annie's birthday

-James Taylor's "October Road" CD, which is in heavy rotation at our house from Sept - Nov.

-Apple orchards, pumpkin patches, hayrides, and all those cheesy things we can do "for the kids"

Also on this first day of September, it was Jemma's first day of pigtails. Her hair, incidentally, is approximately as long as Annie's was at age 15 months. Freakish, but fun to play with. I think the pictures say it all.

Off to date-night with my husband. Rose's on the deck . . . ahhhhh . . .