Today is my little blog's one-year birthday! In less than an hour, I'll be headed up north for the week, girls in tow, with the fervent hope that Jason will, indeed, be flying in on time on Monday night and will drive up to meet us on Tuesday morning at the latest. We all miss him. But in the meantime, I wanted to jot down a few things this past year of blogging has given me:
-a way to write down the high- and low-lights of Annie and Jemma's childhoods, getting in the mundane daily details as well as the big events. It truly is going by so quickly and I especially want to remember the words they say, the obsessions they have, and the moments we experience together. I hope they'll treasure some of these posts when they're all grown up.
-a way to re-connect (or stay connected) to far-away friends and fellow bloggers. It sure beats sending out a mass e-mail every few weeks to let them know what I'm up to!
-a form of therapy for myself. Writing has always been one of the ways I work through difficult issues, and no issue (for me) is more complicated than motherhood. It's nice to have a place to actually vent my frustrations or celebrate my successes. I love getting feedback from other people who have gone through the same things, and I enjoy the sense of perspective I get when I go back and read old entries.
-a way to practice writing daily - to sharpen my skills, to play around with words, and to think like a writer again after so many years of thinking like a teacher and/or a mom.
And now, off to spend the 4th of July holiday up north - the only place I'd really want to celebrate one of the best weeks of summer. Lots of red, white, and blue-themed pictures to come upon our return next weekend!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Jemma, 18 Months
Today is Jemma's 18-month milestone, and it was a really good day. This morning, we got to spend some time with wonderful old friends - Di, Oliver, and Amelia - playing at the park and just hanging out. This afternoon, we hit Jonathan's new sprinkler pool and then I took the girls out to dinner. Annie sat in a big-girl chair, ordered her own food, cleaned up her spot, and helped me keep Jemma entertained as we watched the fountain and the people go by. She is getting so big. And so is Jemma.
I can't believe she's 1 1/2. When she runs, her whole body still swivels side to side and it is a miracle that she doesn't fall down all over the place. She is obsessed with shoes and cups and could spend her whole day trying on shoes and stealing other people's drinks. (I don't know what this says about her college days . . .) She is saying new words every day and tries to repeat almost anything we say to her; she's getting good at: please, thank-you, baby, shoe, truck, more, mommy, dada, boppa (grandpa), hat, waffle, bubbles, book, snack, up, down, help, and so many more.
Tonight after baths, the girls were busy putting all of the dolls to bed - tucking them in with blankets, kissing and hugging them one by one. Jemma was so into it that I asked her to sing the dolls a night-night song. Then Annie and I watched, smiles on our faces and occasionally glancing at each other to confirm that it was, indeed, so darn cute, as Jemma swayed back and forth in front of the doll bed and sort of yodeled a long, drawn-out song to the babies. It was consolation, after a long day, that working this hard is so worth it.
I can't believe she's 1 1/2. When she runs, her whole body still swivels side to side and it is a miracle that she doesn't fall down all over the place. She is obsessed with shoes and cups and could spend her whole day trying on shoes and stealing other people's drinks. (I don't know what this says about her college days . . .) She is saying new words every day and tries to repeat almost anything we say to her; she's getting good at: please, thank-you, baby, shoe, truck, more, mommy, dada, boppa (grandpa), hat, waffle, bubbles, book, snack, up, down, help, and so many more.
Tonight after baths, the girls were busy putting all of the dolls to bed - tucking them in with blankets, kissing and hugging them one by one. Jemma was so into it that I asked her to sing the dolls a night-night song. Then Annie and I watched, smiles on our faces and occasionally glancing at each other to confirm that it was, indeed, so darn cute, as Jemma swayed back and forth in front of the doll bed and sort of yodeled a long, drawn-out song to the babies. It was consolation, after a long day, that working this hard is so worth it.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Pink Bargaining Chip
We had dinner at the Kett's last night (yummy chicken enchiladas by Heidi, yummy mojitos by me . . .) with some neighbors. What Annie loved even more than the food was her discovery of a Pink Princess Cell Phone that Jonathan had apparently found and brought home from a park a few days ago. When I got there, mojitos in tow, she came running over:
"Mom!!!! Look what Miss Heidi has at her house! A Princess Phone!!!!!" Big eyes, very excited. You can imagine her glee when, at the end of the evening, Miss Heidi whispered to her that she could bring the princess phone home. We walked back to our house, Annie clutching the phone to her chest and muttering to herself about "crying in a happy way" . . . I am so sure. She had to show it to Jason immediately when he got home last night, then spend most of this morning talking on it, mostly to Miss Kelly, who she told about her day. Towards the end of the morning, she got it taken away because she wouldn't come wash her hands before lunch, and we talked about how she would lose favorite things if she couldn't listen to directions on the first try.
So when we headed to playgroup at Connie's this afternoon, of course her cell phone had to come along. She talked on it the whole way there while Jemma crammed goldfish in her mouth. When we arrived, I made Annie leave it in the car, imagining the drama that would ensue if she were forced to share her phone with others. It was hot and sunny, and the kids had a great time playing in the water park extravaganza Connie had set up in her backyard: sprinkler pool, water table, slide, swings, juice boxes, fruity snacks (the real reason Annie likes to go there). Jemma entertained herself for about 20 minutes, just climbing up and going down the little slide by herself. Annie let Ben give her a hug (even though she is SO not a cuddler), so everyone was happy. Until it was time to go. After I stripped Annie down and changed her back into dry clothes, got Jemma's shoes on, and gathered all my gear, I looked at the lawn to see Annie making a last-minute break for the swingset again.
"Annie!" I yelled, "It is time to go. Right now!" She turned around, looked at me, and started climbing the swingset steps anyway. On step number two, I yelled, "Annie! Princess phone!"
She froze, turned around, ran straight back up the yard and walked to the car. Princess phone, you will get me through this weekend.
"Mom!!!! Look what Miss Heidi has at her house! A Princess Phone!!!!!" Big eyes, very excited. You can imagine her glee when, at the end of the evening, Miss Heidi whispered to her that she could bring the princess phone home. We walked back to our house, Annie clutching the phone to her chest and muttering to herself about "crying in a happy way" . . . I am so sure. She had to show it to Jason immediately when he got home last night, then spend most of this morning talking on it, mostly to Miss Kelly, who she told about her day. Towards the end of the morning, she got it taken away because she wouldn't come wash her hands before lunch, and we talked about how she would lose favorite things if she couldn't listen to directions on the first try.
So when we headed to playgroup at Connie's this afternoon, of course her cell phone had to come along. She talked on it the whole way there while Jemma crammed goldfish in her mouth. When we arrived, I made Annie leave it in the car, imagining the drama that would ensue if she were forced to share her phone with others. It was hot and sunny, and the kids had a great time playing in the water park extravaganza Connie had set up in her backyard: sprinkler pool, water table, slide, swings, juice boxes, fruity snacks (the real reason Annie likes to go there). Jemma entertained herself for about 20 minutes, just climbing up and going down the little slide by herself. Annie let Ben give her a hug (even though she is SO not a cuddler), so everyone was happy. Until it was time to go. After I stripped Annie down and changed her back into dry clothes, got Jemma's shoes on, and gathered all my gear, I looked at the lawn to see Annie making a last-minute break for the swingset again.
"Annie!" I yelled, "It is time to go. Right now!" She turned around, looked at me, and started climbing the swingset steps anyway. On step number two, I yelled, "Annie! Princess phone!"
She froze, turned around, ran straight back up the yard and walked to the car. Princess phone, you will get me through this weekend.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Near-Perfect June Day
Morning: coffee, breakfast around the table together, shower before Jason leaves for work. Play outside, walk to the grocery store with the girls in the wagon. Annie gets a "bleeding boo-boo" falling on the sidewalk on our way home, but is immediately placated by her snazzy new princess band-aids.
Afternoon: lunch, girls nap, I clean up and read my book, sprinkler pool and popsicles, happy baby news from Koop.
Evening: feed the girls, walk to the library, ride bikes around the block, baths, bedtime, grill lemon rosemary chicken and zucchini, Colbert Report with Jason, walk to Jersey Junction, sit outside as the sun sets.
Perfect weather, outdoors all day, happy kids . . . the only thing missing is a run, but I somehow did two of those yesterday (?) and I think all the walking makes up for it. This is what summer should be: lots of good, old-fashioned, unscheduled fun and being outside as much as possible.
Afternoon: lunch, girls nap, I clean up and read my book, sprinkler pool and popsicles, happy baby news from Koop.
Evening: feed the girls, walk to the library, ride bikes around the block, baths, bedtime, grill lemon rosemary chicken and zucchini, Colbert Report with Jason, walk to Jersey Junction, sit outside as the sun sets.
Perfect weather, outdoors all day, happy kids . . . the only thing missing is a run, but I somehow did two of those yesterday (?) and I think all the walking makes up for it. This is what summer should be: lots of good, old-fashioned, unscheduled fun and being outside as much as possible.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Weekend Up North
We've returned from our first of a few summer weekends up north at Jason's parent's house. It is a big bonus to have in-laws who live on a gorgeous lake, own a boat, and love to cook for you and take care of your kids. They're not perfect by any means, but it's a great (free) summer getaway, and we do take advantage.
Because we estimate that Jemma must weigh at least 19.59385 pounds by now, we went ahead and turned her carseat around for the drive up on Thursday night. With the DVD player in place blasting The Sound of Music to the backseat while we all ate our Olga's wraps, we hit the road. We were optimistic; we thought, sure, Jemma's hated the car ride before, but we haven't been on a long ride since April and plus, we turned her carseat around!!!! She can see the movie, now! What's not to love?
Apparently, Jemma does not care which direction she is facing in the car. After about 15 minutes, she hates it. Period. So, Jemma cried for the three hours going up, and then she cried for the three hours going down. We gave her all manner of food, drinks, suckers (total mess), toys, songs, blankets, books . . . no luck. I am seriously considering slipping her the tiniest bit of Benadryl on our next trip (when I am solo) and see if we can't calm down just a LITTLE bit for the car rides.
However, once we were there, we had a great time. Fitting the Van Deven family in the house with us was a little tricky (PLG: Carter and Clara slept in their pack and plays in the bathroom and a closet, respectively), but the kids did great and we had fun. We even escaped to Aaron Smith's wedding for a few hours on Saturday morning while Jason's parents watched all the kids (!). It was lovely: outside on the bay, brunch reception, Jason playing a little Beatles on the guitar, time with some long-lost college acquaintances and friends. The rest of the time, the kids loved playing at the waterfront park, playing with tennis balls in the tennis court, going out on the boat, eating cookies in the park, and eating popsicles on the deck. We decided to make it a tradition to rent a house together each summer . . . once our youngest child is 3 or 4 years old. After just two days together, with Jason's parents doing all the cooking, we were exhausted. We're going to save the week-long adventures for a few more years!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Happy Anniversary . . . From My Basement
I had a moment yesterday . . . a moment of clarity, perhaps, or of self-pity, or maybe just really being "in the moment" and realizing how absurd that moment was:
1:30 p.m., in my sketchy cement basement, using an actual pliers to turn the dial of my 20-year-old washing machine because the handle broke off in the morning, wearing a shirt that smelled like puke (because Jemma choked on a Teddy Graham and threw up a little milk and peaches at lunch) and the same yoga pants I'd been wearing since 3:30 the previous afternoon and had been run in TWICE, unshowered (but this goes without saying, doesn't it?), explaining to my sister-in-law's answering machine why HFM disease only SOUNDS horrible and scary, surrounded by more un-washed laundry and boxes upon boxes of "bargains" from Costco.
This, I thought, is what my life has come to. This, on the day Jason and I planned to celebrate our anniversary with a lovely, grown-up dinner. This, I guess, is what marriage looks like 9 years in: a little messier, less pretty than the wedding day by far, but infinitely so much more interesting. It's sort of like Cinderella, but backwards: first, the beautiful white wedding; next, the years of housework and wearing a lot of brown.
And instead of feeling sorry for myself, I (luckily? peversely?) felt OK about the chaos of it all. The laundry, the semi-sick kid, the giant boxes of Goldfish crackers, the need to ready myself for a dinner out . . . it all just means that I have an abundance of kids and food and clothes and family and health (I use the term loosely, this week) in my life. And I'm strong enough, now, that I can take a situation like that, pull things together, and somehow manage to toast our 9th wedding anniversary with a cozy dinner at Louis Benton in clean clothes and makeup, with children sleeping safely at home. Keeping the magic alive, a little bit.
1:30 p.m., in my sketchy cement basement, using an actual pliers to turn the dial of my 20-year-old washing machine because the handle broke off in the morning, wearing a shirt that smelled like puke (because Jemma choked on a Teddy Graham and threw up a little milk and peaches at lunch) and the same yoga pants I'd been wearing since 3:30 the previous afternoon and had been run in TWICE, unshowered (but this goes without saying, doesn't it?), explaining to my sister-in-law's answering machine why HFM disease only SOUNDS horrible and scary, surrounded by more un-washed laundry and boxes upon boxes of "bargains" from Costco.
This, I thought, is what my life has come to. This, on the day Jason and I planned to celebrate our anniversary with a lovely, grown-up dinner. This, I guess, is what marriage looks like 9 years in: a little messier, less pretty than the wedding day by far, but infinitely so much more interesting. It's sort of like Cinderella, but backwards: first, the beautiful white wedding; next, the years of housework and wearing a lot of brown.
And instead of feeling sorry for myself, I (luckily? peversely?) felt OK about the chaos of it all. The laundry, the semi-sick kid, the giant boxes of Goldfish crackers, the need to ready myself for a dinner out . . . it all just means that I have an abundance of kids and food and clothes and family and health (I use the term loosely, this week) in my life. And I'm strong enough, now, that I can take a situation like that, pull things together, and somehow manage to toast our 9th wedding anniversary with a cozy dinner at Louis Benton in clean clothes and makeup, with children sleeping safely at home. Keeping the magic alive, a little bit.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
And the Disease of the Month Is . . .
Hand Foot and Mouth Disease!!!!! Yet another, random, third-world-type illness to make its way into the Doublestein house. I swear: I clean my house. My children wash their hands before each and every meal, after they use the bathroom, and after being someplace "germy." They take baths every single night. Yet: ringworm. Stomach flu, two times. Ear infections. Colds with coughs that last three weeks. And now, HFMD. Good grief.
We knew something was up with Annie on Sunday morning. I got up early, hiked it to the grocery store before anyone woke up, and brought home donuts for the fam to eat in bed for a special Father's Day treat. Annie didn't take one bite. Instead, she went to lie down on the couch, saying she was "so tired" - this, at 8:00 a.m. after 12 hours of sleep. When Annie doesn't eat a donut, you know something is very, very wrong. She spent the rest of Sunday on the couch with a fever of 101.something, complaining of a sore throat and mouth, and eating next to nothing.
So yesterday morning, instead of heading to gymnastics, we flailed around the house to make it to the doctor's office before the walk-in hours (7:30 - 8:45) were over. Jemma slept so late that I actually had to wake her up and plop her in her carseat in her jammies, with no shoes, with a dry waffle to eat on the way. PLG. (Bonus: ran into Sarah with the twins there, pulling into the parking lot at the same time. I guess a trip to the pediatrician isn't a total loss when you get to run into good friends and see their cute kids!)
The doctor looked in Annie's throat, swabbed to rule out strep, and made the diagnosis casually, as if this virus doesn't sound like something you would get along with Mad Cow disease. I guess it's super-contagious, especially among kids during summer months (who knew?) and, really, it just involves a sore throat and mouth, diminished appetite, a fever for a couple of days, and sometimes a rash on the hands and feet (we don't have that going here). As viruses go, I'll take it over the stomach flu any day of the week.
So, now that Annie's getting over it but Jemma is likely to get it within a day or two, we're confining ourselves to places where the girls can be strapped into the jogging stroller or the wagon. Yesterday morning, we did a big walk and got groceries. This morning, we hit the zoo (which, in my opinion, is already filthy anyway) and the girls ooooohed and aaaahed at the new lion exhibit, the tiger, the penguins, and the baby goats for a couple hours before having a picnic lunch and making it home in time for naps. This afternoon, I bribed them with snacks so I could do a run with the jogging stroller before making some dinner. HFM disease, you have not stopped us from enjoying our summer. But please, no more third-world illnesses here for a while.
We knew something was up with Annie on Sunday morning. I got up early, hiked it to the grocery store before anyone woke up, and brought home donuts for the fam to eat in bed for a special Father's Day treat. Annie didn't take one bite. Instead, she went to lie down on the couch, saying she was "so tired" - this, at 8:00 a.m. after 12 hours of sleep. When Annie doesn't eat a donut, you know something is very, very wrong. She spent the rest of Sunday on the couch with a fever of 101.something, complaining of a sore throat and mouth, and eating next to nothing.
So yesterday morning, instead of heading to gymnastics, we flailed around the house to make it to the doctor's office before the walk-in hours (7:30 - 8:45) were over. Jemma slept so late that I actually had to wake her up and plop her in her carseat in her jammies, with no shoes, with a dry waffle to eat on the way. PLG. (Bonus: ran into Sarah with the twins there, pulling into the parking lot at the same time. I guess a trip to the pediatrician isn't a total loss when you get to run into good friends and see their cute kids!)
The doctor looked in Annie's throat, swabbed to rule out strep, and made the diagnosis casually, as if this virus doesn't sound like something you would get along with Mad Cow disease. I guess it's super-contagious, especially among kids during summer months (who knew?) and, really, it just involves a sore throat and mouth, diminished appetite, a fever for a couple of days, and sometimes a rash on the hands and feet (we don't have that going here). As viruses go, I'll take it over the stomach flu any day of the week.
So, now that Annie's getting over it but Jemma is likely to get it within a day or two, we're confining ourselves to places where the girls can be strapped into the jogging stroller or the wagon. Yesterday morning, we did a big walk and got groceries. This morning, we hit the zoo (which, in my opinion, is already filthy anyway) and the girls ooooohed and aaaahed at the new lion exhibit, the tiger, the penguins, and the baby goats for a couple hours before having a picnic lunch and making it home in time for naps. This afternoon, I bribed them with snacks so I could do a run with the jogging stroller before making some dinner. HFM disease, you have not stopped us from enjoying our summer. But please, no more third-world illnesses here for a while.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Father's Day 2008
You know those pictures from when you were little, when your dad, with his 70's sideburns, is holding you on the lawnmower or carrying you on his shoulders? And you know how it takes your breath away - he looks so young! It hit me the other day: that's what our girls are going to think, looking through photo albums, about 2008 - and, really, the few years before and after, too. In fact, they might not have any memories at all of this particular summer; I know I don't remember much of anything before preschool when I was four. So I want to tell them that, yes, I guess he is still "young," and full of energy to ride bikes, play lion, and give chase at a moment's notice. He's patient, too, and so kind, generous, and compassionate that it's almost unreal. You girls, you don't know now, but you will: there are so few people with whom your daddy doesn't get along, you could list them on one hand. Everyone loves him (including me) and you are so, so blessed and lucky to have someone this happy doing his best, day in and day out, to raise you and teach you about life. This morning, we all hung out in our bed with coffee, Father's Day cards, and presents - taking a few moments to just BE as a family. I'm so glad to be doing this parenting gig with such an excellent father.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Little Bits O' Humor
-I saw a car covered in bumper stickers in a parking lot today. The most interesting one? "Mother Nature Always Bats Last." Hmmmmmm . . .
-Annie informed me today that her doop is a girl. Because it is pink. And everything pink is a girl, and girls wear pink. I thought this was notable because we have had several, several conversations about how boys and girls can both wear any color they want, etc. So I said, "What about when Daddy wears his pink shirt to work?" (and for the record, he has two. And one purple. Perhaps not coincidentally, these were his two favorite colors for several of his childhood years . . . I digress.)
"Then he's a girl," Annie responded.
"No, Daddy is never a girl," I declared. Maybe a metrosexual, but not a girl. =)
"Well, then he LOOKS like a girl." Ahhh. If his hair gets much longer, he might.
-We've been doing lots of swimming, sprinkler-running, and bathing-suit-wearing lately, and I usually just rinse the suits out and hang them in the shower to dry for a few times before I wash them. This morning, I went to grab Annie's cherry bathing suit and noticed that it stunk. I threw it in the dirty laundry and grabbed a different one for this morning's post-run sprinkler session. Annie must have noticed this (and remember, she's a smeller) because she spent the rest of the day occasionally returning to smell the stinky swimsuit, trying to get everyone else in the family to smell it, and asking me why it was stinky. THEN, after dinner tonight, Jason's parents called and wanted to talk to Annie. She loves to talk on the phone. She got on and immediately said, "Grandma, I have a cherry bathing suit, and it is SO STINKY!" Great.
-I posted a picture a while back of Annie with her new dolly, Ce Ce Bingo. The big draw with her is that she has a pacifier that is attached to her by a string and which can be popped in and out of her o-shaped mouth. Today, Jemma was cuddling CCB and toddled over to me, held CCB up to me, and sort of grunted like she wanted me to do something. I took the paci out. Jemma nodded. I returned to the dishes, and Jemma was bothering me again. "Do you want her paci in?" I asked. Vigorous head nodding. So I put it back in . . . and this happened about 10 more times before I said I was "All Done" with CCB's paci and Jemma had a high-pitched screaming fit on the floor of the kitchen. If Jemma got to choose, her days would apparently be filled with putting CCB's paci in and out of her mouth, blowing bubbles and then dumping the bottle of bubbles on the ground, and being held by Mommy while eating an entire banana in less than 1 minute.
-Annie informed me today that her doop is a girl. Because it is pink. And everything pink is a girl, and girls wear pink. I thought this was notable because we have had several, several conversations about how boys and girls can both wear any color they want, etc. So I said, "What about when Daddy wears his pink shirt to work?" (and for the record, he has two. And one purple. Perhaps not coincidentally, these were his two favorite colors for several of his childhood years . . . I digress.)
"Then he's a girl," Annie responded.
"No, Daddy is never a girl," I declared. Maybe a metrosexual, but not a girl. =)
"Well, then he LOOKS like a girl." Ahhh. If his hair gets much longer, he might.
-We've been doing lots of swimming, sprinkler-running, and bathing-suit-wearing lately, and I usually just rinse the suits out and hang them in the shower to dry for a few times before I wash them. This morning, I went to grab Annie's cherry bathing suit and noticed that it stunk. I threw it in the dirty laundry and grabbed a different one for this morning's post-run sprinkler session. Annie must have noticed this (and remember, she's a smeller) because she spent the rest of the day occasionally returning to smell the stinky swimsuit, trying to get everyone else in the family to smell it, and asking me why it was stinky. THEN, after dinner tonight, Jason's parents called and wanted to talk to Annie. She loves to talk on the phone. She got on and immediately said, "Grandma, I have a cherry bathing suit, and it is SO STINKY!" Great.
-I posted a picture a while back of Annie with her new dolly, Ce Ce Bingo. The big draw with her is that she has a pacifier that is attached to her by a string and which can be popped in and out of her o-shaped mouth. Today, Jemma was cuddling CCB and toddled over to me, held CCB up to me, and sort of grunted like she wanted me to do something. I took the paci out. Jemma nodded. I returned to the dishes, and Jemma was bothering me again. "Do you want her paci in?" I asked. Vigorous head nodding. So I put it back in . . . and this happened about 10 more times before I said I was "All Done" with CCB's paci and Jemma had a high-pitched screaming fit on the floor of the kitchen. If Jemma got to choose, her days would apparently be filled with putting CCB's paci in and out of her mouth, blowing bubbles and then dumping the bottle of bubbles on the ground, and being held by Mommy while eating an entire banana in less than 1 minute.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
I Have a Theory About That
I have many theories. Some involve sunscreen, some involve how the amount you sweat during a run can make you not have to pee anymore even if you actually had to pee right when you started running . . . we will get into those fascinating theories at another time. Possibly. Today I need to write about a theory that can be observed often in my life right now. It is:
On the days you take time to shower first thing in the morning, blow-dry your hair, and get appropriately ready for the day, you will not run into any people you know. If you do run into people you know, they will not even notice or comment on your appearance. Conversely, on the days when you decide it will not be worth showering, dressing well, or pulling yourself together in any way, you will somehow be humiliated by ending up in a very public place, running into people at the grocery store who actually say, "I didn't even recognize you!" or inadvertently hosting half the neighborhood in your yard or home.
This morning, I set off for Holland with the girls to make batches and batches of strawberry freezer jam with my mom. We do this almost every June and then stock the freezer for the whole year. Although this is very messy and time-consuming, I am now a jam snob and will not eat store-bought strawberry jam. Ick.
I throw the girls in the car, along with their crap for a day away. We're getting on the highway and I'm on the phone with my mom to tell her we're on our way when my oil temperature light comes on. (This, when we just had the oil changed on Monday.) I picture my engine overheating and my car in flames on the side of the road (I have seen this, in Detroit. Of course, in Detroit.) So, I drive straight to the dealership, get out, and beg them for car-fixing mercy, grumpy girls in tow. Here is what I am wearing as I try to charm the head of the Delta Imports service department: J. Crew khaki shorts, circa 1996, that are so short and frayed at the bottom I would never dream of wearing them in public, a hunter-green T-shirt, size XL, that I bought in Vienna - again, in 1996. It says, "Billy's Bones Irish Pub. Everbody Has to Learn to Drink Somewhere." Classy! Not showered. Hair in ponytail. No makeup. Flipflops. No snacks in the diaper bag. No toys.
After nearly 2 hours at the dealership, waiting for them to check out my car, we were on our way to Holland. Did the oil temp light come on for the mechanic when he took my car for a spin? No, it did not. Anyway, thank goodness for the vending machine and the kids' play area at the lovely dealership. The end result: we made jam. We are now home. And I need to shower more, lest my theory rear its ugly head again.
On the days you take time to shower first thing in the morning, blow-dry your hair, and get appropriately ready for the day, you will not run into any people you know. If you do run into people you know, they will not even notice or comment on your appearance. Conversely, on the days when you decide it will not be worth showering, dressing well, or pulling yourself together in any way, you will somehow be humiliated by ending up in a very public place, running into people at the grocery store who actually say, "I didn't even recognize you!" or inadvertently hosting half the neighborhood in your yard or home.
This morning, I set off for Holland with the girls to make batches and batches of strawberry freezer jam with my mom. We do this almost every June and then stock the freezer for the whole year. Although this is very messy and time-consuming, I am now a jam snob and will not eat store-bought strawberry jam. Ick.
I throw the girls in the car, along with their crap for a day away. We're getting on the highway and I'm on the phone with my mom to tell her we're on our way when my oil temperature light comes on. (This, when we just had the oil changed on Monday.) I picture my engine overheating and my car in flames on the side of the road (I have seen this, in Detroit. Of course, in Detroit.) So, I drive straight to the dealership, get out, and beg them for car-fixing mercy, grumpy girls in tow. Here is what I am wearing as I try to charm the head of the Delta Imports service department: J. Crew khaki shorts, circa 1996, that are so short and frayed at the bottom I would never dream of wearing them in public, a hunter-green T-shirt, size XL, that I bought in Vienna - again, in 1996. It says, "Billy's Bones Irish Pub. Everbody Has to Learn to Drink Somewhere." Classy! Not showered. Hair in ponytail. No makeup. Flipflops. No snacks in the diaper bag. No toys.
After nearly 2 hours at the dealership, waiting for them to check out my car, we were on our way to Holland. Did the oil temp light come on for the mechanic when he took my car for a spin? No, it did not. Anyway, thank goodness for the vending machine and the kids' play area at the lovely dealership. The end result: we made jam. We are now home. And I need to shower more, lest my theory rear its ugly head again.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Blogging at Midnight
So, it's 11:42 p.m., and I thought it seemed like a good time to write. Some ridiculous things are happening with the tenants in our South Haven house, things that make me question the decency of people and raise my blood pressure to unhealthy levels. I have tried to lull myself to sleep by: watching Food Network, reading, having a large glass of red wine, doing downward dog, breathing deeply, pacing, and, now, writing about all the good things that happened today. We'll see how that works. In the meantime, a lesson: Never, ever rent your house. Just let it sit, empty, draining money straight out of your bank account.
Being agitated and up this late does give me a chance to recount a few of the magical moments of our day today. It was finally SUNNY (!) after what feels like a week of monsoons and tornadoes, so the girls and I hit the farmer's market, where we bought the most luscious, perfect Michigan strawberries - the first pick of the summer. Ate some for dinner; will be buying more to make jam with my mom on Friday. We also spent some fun time at the library (checked out all the Maisy books, which is a new obsession for Annie) and had a little Father's-Day-present-making adventure with Heidi and Jonathan. Then tonight, we hauled the whole family down to see Quadraphonic playing at the lake. Annie flailed with a few friends, Jemma begged for Rose's caramel corn from perfect strangers, and Jason and I enjoyed the music.
But my proudest achievement of the day was the completion of a random art project I become determined to make yesterday. I read about it on another blog I love, Secret Agent Josephine, and, instead of letting her crafty ways make me feel all guilt-ridden about not doing more artsy stuff with my kids, I decided to just do it with Annie. We were supposed to use watercolors, which I couldn't find, but it turned out cute, anyway. Annie loved the painting and the glueing; I loved feeling all Andy Warholish pasting random strips down on notecards. And we've already used two of the cards. One is a thank-you for Annie's new, slightly PLG bike that is sooooo going to get us through the summer until her birthday; one is for Miss Colette, who Annie continues to worship and stalk from afar. (Case in point: I let her throw a penny into the Breton Village fish pond today to make a wish. The wish? "I wish Miss Colette could come to my house and show me baby Maya." Yeah, that's probably not going to happen.)
And here, at 11:57, I really am feeling a tiny bit better. Two nights in a row, up until midnight (saw Sex and the City last night) - who needs sleep, anyway? Bring on the 7:00 a.m. run!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Weekend at Home
It was a hot, humid, stormy weekend, and we had lots of little things going on - birthday parties, graduation open houses, and plans with friends. When it was 90 and sunny, we got out the sprinkler pool (of course) and had a great time watching Annie, Jemma, and Jonathan frolic in it in various stages of undress (there was complete nakedness by the littlest ones at one point). When it was pouring and we lost electricity, we stayed inside, ate Panera sandwiches for dinner, and watched the lightening. And when the storms subsided, we took walks outside, Annie on her new, big-girl bike (a pink Schwinn hand-me-down from one of Jason's co-workers, straight from the 1980's) and Jemma in her rain boots. She loves puddles; when she sees a particularly good one out in the street, she stops, turns around to look for me, holds her hand out to grab mine, and marches off to splash in it. I take this as a hopeful sign that she knows she couldn't otherwise go out in the street. And I love it when I can relax and be the kind of mom who takes time to splash in puddles with my girl, not caring that she's still wearing the little white dress she's had on since church in the morning.
Now that the never-ending Red Wings/Pistons sportswatch saga is finally over, Jason and I have been turning off the TV at night and making time to sit and talk outside, hang out with neighbors after all the kids are in bed, and have summer drinks together (so far: coconut mojitos and raspberry lambic). We're talking about plans for the rest of our summer weekend and realizing, as are other fellow bloggers, that we have lots of weekend plans already, straight through September! And while it's almost all good stuff, we started to freak out a little, too, about the lack of "free" weekends left on our calendar. We might just have to take the ones that are left and make a prohibition on plans for those few precious days. Because, for us, it's so often the unplanned weekends that end up making the most memories.
Now that the never-ending Red Wings/Pistons sportswatch saga is finally over, Jason and I have been turning off the TV at night and making time to sit and talk outside, hang out with neighbors after all the kids are in bed, and have summer drinks together (so far: coconut mojitos and raspberry lambic). We're talking about plans for the rest of our summer weekend and realizing, as are other fellow bloggers, that we have lots of weekend plans already, straight through September! And while it's almost all good stuff, we started to freak out a little, too, about the lack of "free" weekends left on our calendar. We might just have to take the ones that are left and make a prohibition on plans for those few precious days. Because, for us, it's so often the unplanned weekends that end up making the most memories.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Recently Overheard at Our Residence
1.
S: "Speaking of boobs, you know what really made me feel better about mine? The cover of that Blind Faith album you had up on the computer yesterday."
J, puzzled: "That's a pre-pubescent girl."
2.
S: "Jason Doublestein, your hair is out of control."
J: "I know. I just drove home from the gym with my head sticking out the window." (Why? Why? Like a dog . . .)
3.
S: "Annie, what do you want for breakfast?"
A: "Mom! It's a surpise and you're NOT SUPPOSED TO TELL ME!!!!"
and then, upon seeing the oatmeal placed in front of her covered face: "Mooooooom. I didn't WANT that. I wanted a waffle . . . wah . . . . wah . . . ."
S: "Speaking of boobs, you know what really made me feel better about mine? The cover of that Blind Faith album you had up on the computer yesterday."
J, puzzled: "That's a pre-pubescent girl."
2.
S: "Jason Doublestein, your hair is out of control."
J: "I know. I just drove home from the gym with my head sticking out the window." (Why? Why? Like a dog . . .)
3.
S: "Annie, what do you want for breakfast?"
A: "Mom! It's a surpise and you're NOT SUPPOSED TO TELL ME!!!!"
and then, upon seeing the oatmeal placed in front of her covered face: "Mooooooom. I didn't WANT that. I wanted a waffle . . . wah . . . . wah . . . ."
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Annie's World of Make-Believe
Annie has been into imaginative play for a long time, and it's something I really treasure about her. Lately, though, she's taken it to a whole new level. Recent scenarios that Annie has been acting out:
-Being Miss Colette, her previously-pregnant preschool teacher. Two mornings, now, she's emerged from her bedroom with Dinah stuffed up under her shirt. She sees me smiling questioningly in the hallway. "I'm Miss Colette," she whispers authoritatively. She later produces "baby Maya," who must sit at the breakfast table with us. (Yes, still with the "baby in my tummy" fantasy . . . )
-Re-enacting the entire book "Olivia and the Missing Toy." One of us is Olivia, one of us is Perry, the naughty dog who chewed up Olivia's favorite toy. Then we switch. Certain lines must be repeated, verbatim, from the book. This game can go on for 15 - 20 minutes, at least.
-Playing Candy Store. Pretending various items are candy, setting up an elaborate display, shopping for the candy, putting it all in our purse. If Jason is involved, she very often gets a piece of actual candy, which I think is the real attraction. (I am guessing this game began because she took her first trip to the Holland Peanut Store a few weeks ago . . . very dangerous.)
She has lots of other little diversions during the day: putting all her babies down for a nap; having a slumber party with her favorite dolls; "feeding" the ants outside by carefully placing a helicopter-seed-thingie on top of each anthill; changing into each dance outfit and insisting on dancing to the same song over and over ("Land Down Under" by Men at Work, random acoustic version by Colin Hay, which she inexplicably calls "The Merry-Go-Round Song!); blowing bubbles all by herself; watering the flowers; drawing pictures to send to her favorite people . . . lately, she has been almost entirely delightful. Is she getting nearer to that even-keeled four-year-old I keep reading and hearing about? I certainly hope so. In any case, between that and the start of her new-favorite activity, gymnastics, the summer is off to a great start.
-Being Miss Colette, her previously-pregnant preschool teacher. Two mornings, now, she's emerged from her bedroom with Dinah stuffed up under her shirt. She sees me smiling questioningly in the hallway. "I'm Miss Colette," she whispers authoritatively. She later produces "baby Maya," who must sit at the breakfast table with us. (Yes, still with the "baby in my tummy" fantasy . . . )
-Re-enacting the entire book "Olivia and the Missing Toy." One of us is Olivia, one of us is Perry, the naughty dog who chewed up Olivia's favorite toy. Then we switch. Certain lines must be repeated, verbatim, from the book. This game can go on for 15 - 20 minutes, at least.
-Playing Candy Store. Pretending various items are candy, setting up an elaborate display, shopping for the candy, putting it all in our purse. If Jason is involved, she very often gets a piece of actual candy, which I think is the real attraction. (I am guessing this game began because she took her first trip to the Holland Peanut Store a few weeks ago . . . very dangerous.)
She has lots of other little diversions during the day: putting all her babies down for a nap; having a slumber party with her favorite dolls; "feeding" the ants outside by carefully placing a helicopter-seed-thingie on top of each anthill; changing into each dance outfit and insisting on dancing to the same song over and over ("Land Down Under" by Men at Work, random acoustic version by Colin Hay, which she inexplicably calls "The Merry-Go-Round Song!); blowing bubbles all by herself; watering the flowers; drawing pictures to send to her favorite people . . . lately, she has been almost entirely delightful. Is she getting nearer to that even-keeled four-year-old I keep reading and hearing about? I certainly hope so. In any case, between that and the start of her new-favorite activity, gymnastics, the summer is off to a great start.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Sprinkler Pool, Version 2.0
It's June 1 and a gorgeous day - time to break out this summer's sprinkler pool. Last year, we had one with a blow-up palm tree, an inflated slide, and some fun star-shaped floaties that kids used as frisbees. Sadly, the star/frisbees are all that remain of the Sprinkler Pool, Version 1.0. At the end of last summer, we decided it was so mangled and non-sprinkley as to merit the garbage can. That sprinkler pool was sooooooooo worth the $19.99 investment, and we were sad to see it go.
Today, we unveiled Sprinkler Pool, Version 2.0. It cost $14.99 at Target and is shaped like a giant frog. There is a spot near the frog's head where, when you've hooked it up to your hose, water squirts out and fills the rest of the pool. Jason started blowing it up during the girls' nap time. The minute he finished, there were 5 neighbor kids standing at the edge of our lawn, wearing bathing suits and toting beach towels. That's just what happens with the sprinkler pool; as Shannon says, "If you blow it up, they will come" a la Field of Dreams.
Annie hopped in, pondered the experience, and announced, "Daddy, I want it to be a heated pool." So Jason promptly hooked it up to our downstairs laundry sink via a very long hose, and the kids were warm enough to play for almost an hour while we parents lounged around and talked. Again, I predict that, after 20 - 30 afternoons this summer, the $14.99 investment is going to pay off pretty well for us all. Here's hoping 2.0 makes it to the end of the summer!
Today, we unveiled Sprinkler Pool, Version 2.0. It cost $14.99 at Target and is shaped like a giant frog. There is a spot near the frog's head where, when you've hooked it up to your hose, water squirts out and fills the rest of the pool. Jason started blowing it up during the girls' nap time. The minute he finished, there were 5 neighbor kids standing at the edge of our lawn, wearing bathing suits and toting beach towels. That's just what happens with the sprinkler pool; as Shannon says, "If you blow it up, they will come" a la Field of Dreams.
Annie hopped in, pondered the experience, and announced, "Daddy, I want it to be a heated pool." So Jason promptly hooked it up to our downstairs laundry sink via a very long hose, and the kids were warm enough to play for almost an hour while we parents lounged around and talked. Again, I predict that, after 20 - 30 afternoons this summer, the $14.99 investment is going to pay off pretty well for us all. Here's hoping 2.0 makes it to the end of the summer!
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