Bright Spot in My Day Yesterday:

Staying up late to watch Barack Obama's acceptance speech at the DNC. YouTube it; it is worth watching, even if you are not already a big fan, simply for the excellent speaking. Get a cup of coffee, first; it's 43 minutes long.

Hearing Impaired

We were planning to go to the football game tonight. It's the very first one of the season, and I specifically wanted to go because I never made it to any of last year's games due to Jemma's very early bedtimes. I've been excited to get into all the school spirit around here, to check out the infamous hometown games. We've talked it up all week, glad that our Labor Day plans don't require us to leave until tomorrow morning.

But . . . it's now been a full 7 days since Annie last napped in the afternoon. It's been 9 days since gymnastics ended, and therefore since she's had any type of outside-the-house, regularly-scheduled activity. She's out of sorts, to say the least. We've been to various parks, to the pool, on outings to favorite places, around the neighborhood with friends, but there is definitely something missing. Also, her hearing seems to have been affected by her lack of scheduling. I'll say something like, "Hey Annie, could you please go change out of your jammies so we can get ready to go?" and by the way she runs away, shrieking, I believe she hears something more like, "Hey Annie, could you please go outside and cut off your own foot?" Every single, minor request is met with a total fit of noncompliance. In between refusing to cooperate, she spends her time laughing maniacally at Jemma after taking something away and running around with it. Also, making a spitting noise with her mouth. Also, playing with her food at the table. Also, singing nonsense songs. Also - hey! Writing this out, I see more clearly what's happened: Annie and Jemma have switched ages!

So this morning, after some hitting and then some laughing-about-the-hitting instead of apologizing, I revoked the long-promised football game. Hard to say if it did the trick by shocking her into putting forth more of an effort; our afternoon was better than our morning, but still not great. We took a walk, we saw the band, we put the girls to bed. And here I am at home, at least with a few extra minutes to PACK, because who doesn't want to take their misbehaving preschooler up to show off for the extended family for the weekend? Wish me luck.

Jemma, 20 Months

It's the 27th again, so another month has gone by in the timeline of Jemma's little life. I was running this morning, thinking about that, and thinking about how she's changed over the course of this summer. Nothing big stuck out to me then, but as the day went on I found myself noticing little things: how she doesn't need my help to climb up her slide; how I don't automatically jump up and run towards her, breath held, when she descends our cement steps out front; how she tells me she needs to have her diaper changed and runs over to lie down on her changing pad; how she eats with a fork and spoon more often than not. So I guess she really is growing up, even though, seriously, pretty much all her clothes from May still fit fine.

I was really looking forward to that infamous 18-20 month "language explosion," and she has added some words to her vocabulary over the last month or two. I wouldn't call it an explosion, though; it's more like a few geysers spouting feebly across a barren dessert ("thank you," "digger," "Ah-dee," and "more" being the most faithful) and, in the middle, one giant, constant stream of hot, sulfur-tinged water representing her word of the month, "MY." All day long, she says it while reaching for a pretzel or claiming a toy from Annie, and all day long I correct her: "We say 'more, please' and 'turn, please.'" She runs down the hallway, "My my my my my."

Mention going anywhere and she comes running towards the back door, getting her shoes on herself and bringing me my flip-flops, too. Mention snacks of any kind, and she stands at the snack cupboard or follows me around incessantly until I have given her something, preferably a "teet." Mention the fact that, in four short months, we'll be celebrating her 2nd birthday and I really, really won't have any babies around here, anymore, and I am 99% shocked and saddened. It's all going by too quickly. But there is 1% of me that revels in her capability, in the curious, generous, hilarious person she's becoming right before our eyes. For now, luckily, she's still "my."

The Last Nubbin of Summer

Our summer is truly winding down, like the little nubbins of sidewalk chalk lying sadly on our front steps. I remember stocking up on summer stuff at Target back in April or May - sidewalk chalk, bathing suits, sunscreen, bubbles, popsicles. And now, the chalk is in fragments, the bathing suits are stretched and sandy, the popsicles are gone from the freezer, and I used the very last of our sunscreen at the pool this afternoon (likely the last time we will go this summer). Even though we've been running around, trying to do everything one last time, the routine of summer has, somehow, gotten a little old.

I'm sad about all this, of course. I love summer. But these last few days have been perfect, temperature-wise. It's cool enough to play outside without getting sweaty, sunny enough to make me happy, and chilly enough at night to sleep under the covers with the windows open. I am starting to want fall things: pumpkin spice lattes at Starbucks, football games, apples, soup, school projects, the leaves changing their glorious colors. Just now, I hear the high school band practicing down at the field, and it sounds . . . right. Like the sound that heralds my absolute favorite month of the year should sound: plucky, optimistic, full of tradition and a little nostalgia for the simpler things in life.

And next summer, when the girls are one year older, one year more experienced, one year more independent? Next summer is going to be even better.

My Weekend Didn't Suck

I had the total privilege of seeing Jerry Seinfeld at DeVos with Connie on Saturday night this weekend, and one of my favorite parts of his act was about how, when you go out, it's sort of to prove that your life doesn't suck. And, when you're out, it's only a matter of time before you want to be back in. I laughed so hard, my face hurt. That's kind of how our weekend was: that perfect balance of being "out" and being back "in" - mostly reminding us that our life is pretty great.

Besides seeing the funniest man on the planet with my BFF after a girls' dinner at San Chez, we also spent some time at Lake Michigan on Saturday morning (before the storms hit) with our neighbors; we had Chris and Sarah over Friday night for what has evolved into a summer tradition of sushi by candlelight on our front lawn (Annie got to feel the baby kick before being packed off to bed); we bought a new outdoor slide set at a garage sale and watched the kids play on it for the last two days; we hit the pool and TCBY this afternoon; we had pancakes and bacon for breakfast two times this morning. I'm so worn out by all the late-summer fun, I can hardly write about it. Instead, some pictures!

Jemma's First Haircut

It was raining this morning, and Annie declared it a good day to "go to Snip-Its" to get haircuts. It was high time for me to part with Jemma's long, fine baby hair, anyway. I sometimes forget how hilarious her hair used to be, back around 3-4 months, when it just stuck straight out all over and wouldn't lie down at all. Strangers used to point and laugh. Today she sat perfectly still with her little cape on and kept pointing to Annie, over in her chair, asking "Ah-dee? Ah-dee?" and smiling proudly in the mirror. Now, my little girl has a sweet little bob and I have a tiny baggie of wispy blonde hair to tape into her much-neglected baby book.

Cleaning as Therapy

We let Annie stay up late-ish last night to watch Olympics. She rewarded us by acting like a total brat all morning today. Literally nothing I said, did, threatened, or ignored was stopping that trainwreck. Jemma, for her part, ran around the house finding things she wanted, pointing at them, and saying, "Mine!" 452 times. So, in frustration, I decided to go with a strategy that my mom often recommends when I lament about how hard it is to entertain my children AND get things done. Namely, I ignored them and cleaned my house. I swiffered the floors, vacuumed all the carpeted rooms, cleaned the bathroom, sorted two loads of laundry, and even got out the Windex and cleaned mirrors and windows. I have to say, after an hour or so, I felt better. And they had sort of figured out that they could find something constructive and fun to play together in the meantime. Lesson learned? Ignore your children more during the day, especially when they're already being horrible. It just might let you get something done, and they just might turn the trainwreck around when they see you've given up.

Then, at 11:00, we went to the pool, where all was glorious and sunny and strawberry-smoothie-filled. Ahhh, summer. What will I do when you are over?

The Thanks I Get for Raising Punky Brewster

At gymnastics on Monday morning, we walked in the door and ran smack into Miss Colette, Annie's beloved preschool teacher from last year. She was there to sign her son up for a class and she immediately got down on her knees to give Annie a big hug. Which Annie did, tentatively. Then, she hid behind my legs while I said things like, "Can you even believe Miss Colette is here?" and "Wow! Look! It's baby Maya, who you have always wanted to meet, like when you threw a penny in the fishpond at Breton Village and wished that baby Maya would come to our house so you could meet her. And now it's really happening!!!" I mean, seriously, Annie has talked about Miss Colette and baby Maya on a DAILY basis since school ended at the end of April. We have sent her three little plg notes that Annie dictates and then signs her name to and draws elaborate pictures on. When Annie "has a baby in her tummy," it is always named either Baby Maya or Baby Marta (her cousin) when it is "born." And now, at the moment to end all moments of wishes-coming-true, Annie hides behind my legs. She went off to gymnastics, I said good-bye to Miss Colette, and the day went on as usual.

This morning, I took the girls to the farmer's market. Annie had chosen her own outfit for the day and was wearing: a white tank top, a hot-pink skirt, a slightly-different-shade-of-hot-pink sweater with various colored buttons, one orange sock, one green sock, and brown suede shoes with light pink flowers on them. We bought some great-looking corn and green beans, and I let the girls each pick a fruit (strawberries and blueberries). We had fun, even stopped to listen to some guy who was playing guitar and singing. I got a silver dollar back as change and gave it to Annie to put in her piggy bank when we got home. As we were loading up into the car, we decided to go to the park next and I let Annie choose which one. (All of this to say: Hey! I try. I really try to be a fun, adventurous mom who gives my kids interesting experiences and lets them have choices in their days. But you'll see where this gets me.)

We're turning out of the parking lot to go to the park when Annie says, "Mom! Remember yesterday? Remember that we saw Miss Colette at gymnastics????"

"I do."

"I love Miss Colette."

"I'm glad. Isn't it so special to have a teacher you love so much?"

"I love her so much, Mom. I love Miss Colette more than you." Pause, shrug. "I just do."

I will take this with a grain of salt, with the knowledge that Annie's concept of love can be swayed with an ice cream cone or a piece of gum, with the additional knowledge that she told me this afternoon that she intends to marry "Uncle Trevor, or maybe - how about Ben? Or Tommy?", and with the hope that she finds many more teachers to love in her life.

My Fifteen Minutes of Fame . . .

Hey! I am guest-posting today on one of my favorite blogs, Secret Agent Josephine. She's usually full of crafty ideas, art projects, and amazing photos, but she's taking the month off, and I'm honored to have been chosen as one of the fill-in-posters. So, head on over and check it out!

Bookworm

I was doing dishes yesterday morning (have I mentioned how much I hate hate HATE our dishwasher and how tired I am of doing 90% of our dishes by hand?) when Jemma came into the kitchen to climb my legs. "Jemma, go get a book!" I said, just on the off-chance that she might be distracted by that, or any other thing, for long enough for me to finish. And what did she do but march straight to her room and come back with "Curious George and the Bunny," plop down on the kitchen floor, and start paging through. She got stalled at the part where George, having let the baby bunny run away, sits sadly in the grass; "Uh-oh," she said, over and over, pointing to George's sad face. "All gone. Uh-oh." But she finally made it to the end of the book, closed it triumphantly, and said, "Okay!" before running off to get another one. By the time I was done with the dishes, she had made her way through "Good Dog, Carl," "Go, Dog, Go!," "The Big Red Barn," and "Five Little Monkeys." I was happy to have the dishes done, but I was even more glad to see her, really for the first time, choose to spend time with books. It's one of my few, specific hopes for my children - that they enjoy reading, that they see how it can transport them to new places and teach them so many things.

Speaking of books, I am in desperate need of a few good ones. The last two I had from the library were terrible in a "how-could-this-have-been-published?" kind of way; I actually returned them without finishing them, which is a rarity for me. I ask a lot of a book. Good writing is just as important to me as a good plot. I've already read my book club's next-month's selection, and nothing much at the library appealed. So, I ask you, many readers: What should I be reading during these dog days of summer? Anything you've loved, recently or long-ago? Send suggestions my way, please!

Becoming One With Our City

Since we've moved here, nearly two years ago now (!), we've been mostly staying in our little comfort zone, which is about a four-mile radius around our house where we run, bike, eat, and shop. I mean, of course we DO venture out occasionally, to meet friends or when something catches our eye, and we are always up for a drive to Saugatuck or Holland or anyplace, really, on the water. On the whole, though, I'm a creature of habit, and we do have these two children with us 99% of the time, so we've been less adventurous than we'd like.

That is starting to change. Ever since Jason got back from his trip to Belgium at the beginning of July, he's been all about hopping on his bike and exploring our town. Apparently the bed and breakfast that he, his dad, and his brother stayed at let them use bikes to get around the city of Bruges, and he's become a huge fan.

So tonight, we strapped the girls into the back of our Chariot jogger/bike trailer and headed out of our comfort zone. We stopped first at Cherry Deli, where I seriously wanted to order every single sandwich on the menu. (Okay, maybe not the pastrami, but pretty much everything else.) We got our food and then biked the rest of the way downtown GR, winding through neighborhoods and bumping over brick streets as we went. We parked the bikes, spread out our blanket, and enjoyed Blues On The Mall. Jemma shimmied and bopped around while eating her fruit, and Annie took forever to finish her plain turkey sandwich, but we didn't care. We were watching interesting people (read: bikers), listening to some genuine live music, and happy to be having a new, fun experience in a city we're just getting to know.

At one point, Jason took a restless Jemma off to wander around and see things, and I stayed on the blanket while Annie took 19,000 tiny bites of sandwich. She looked over at a group of women sitting a few yards away, smoking.

"Mom, what are those?"

I looked where she was looking. "What are what?" I asked, stalling, stalling.

"Those wands." (Leave it to Annie to somehow connect cigarettes to a princess-related item.)

I looked around for some way out of this, then said, "Yeah, those are called cigarettes, and they're not good for you." (Casting about in my brain for some way to be more specific without using the word "die" or anything similar . . . ) "If you breathe them in, like that, it makes it so you cough and can't run as fast." I sat back to see how this would sink in.

Annie stared for another minute, made a face, then waved her hand dismissively. "Hot," she added, as though this would explain all the reasons you wouldn't want to smoke. Okay . . .

All in all, a good experience for the girls, who went to bed tired and happy, a semi-workout for their parents (biking back home, uphill all the way, trying to speed through the sketchy areas, was a little tricky). And I have half a turkey/dill havarti/grilled peppers and squash/pesto mayo sandwich in the fridge, leftover for lunch tomorrow.

Details

Just an ordinary August Monday. A few things I was up to:

-drinking Simply Limeade straight out of the container until I got a stomachache

-running the lake with Bona at the perfect time of night (8:00)

-reading Curious George and the Bunny and Go, Dog, Go! to Jemma before bed

-listening to Annie sing, "Moooomy and Daaaady, I'm Uuuuup" in her bedroom for a full hour this afternoon. She didn't come out; I didn't go in: she fell asleep at 2:30. Victory!

-slicing the most beautiful red cabbage for fish tacos for dinner

-reading Cookie Magazine and thinking I should submit some writing to them

-feeling like an old lady because I was fantasizing with friends about a new dishwasher AND a deep-freeze in the basement

-watching both girls eat decent helpings of dinner, including black beans - a new protein source!

-listening to my new fave CD, the soundtrack to the movie Once

Watching the Olympics

If you ever want to answer a lot of questions, watch the Olympics with an almost-four-year-old. Annie and I caught some men's swimming yesterday afternoon, plus some of the opening ceremonies highlights that were being rebroadcast. Tonight, the whole family watched synchronized diving and women's gymnastics, both of which were a total hit with Annie. She was unable to sit on the couch and watch with the rest of us. Instead, she stood, hands clasped in front of her stomach, shoulders back to watch each move. When the dive or routine was over, she did her own imitation involving spinning and handstanding on the living room floor. After each dive, Jemma turned to me, nodded her head vigorously, and asked, "More? More?"

So if I'm not posting regularly these next few days, I'm either: 1. Watching the Olympics (and by watching, I mean covering my face with my hands and peeking through my fingers, especially if it's diving or gymnastics) or 2. Researching the answers to questions such as, "Why do those divers take a shower after every single dive?," "How do the girl swimmers put all their hair into those hats?," "Why do people blow a horn to cheer for the swimmers?," "Why do those girls put chalk on their hands before they do a cartwheel?," and "Why is that boy the fastest one?"(Michael Phelps). Google, don't fail me now . . .

Just One

Annie spent yesterday (and last night) at my parents'. Once a summer, my mom likes to take Annie for the day and do special things with her; this year, they went to a Hope Summer Theatre play, took a boat ride, and went to get ice cream with my dad. Annie had a great time, and we got to spend a whole day with just Jemma. We almost don't remember, anymore, what it's like to have just one, and we were giddy with the ease of it all: no fighting or squabbling, one schedule, half the stuff to drag around with us. Of course, Jemma's at such a great age right now. She's mostly happy, and when she isn't, she's easily distracted. She kept asking, "Ah-dee? Ah-dee?" We'd tell her Annie was at grandma's, and she'd say, "Ooooh" and nod slowly, comprehendingly. Half an hour later, we'd do it again.

So we took her downtown for the afternoon and walked by the river, looked at ducks, checked out some new restaurants that look interesting. We ate dinner at Little Mexico, where our food came in 3 1/2 minutes and Jemma flirted with the waiter and with the little kids seated at a nearby table. We walked to Jersey Junction and let her have half our vanilla malt in the stroller so we could have adult conversation. Then, we put her promptly to bed and watched the opening ceremonies of the 2008 Olympics in awe. I was sprawled out on the couch, watching continuously through my allergy attack/sneezing fit and Jason was walking in and out of the room, half-ass practicing his guitar. Every time he came back in, he asked, "How are they doing that???" Indeed. It was unbelievable; I'd say the Chinese are all set to take over the world, now.

Freeze

I walk past the high school sign almost every day, going to get coffee or groceries or ice cream with the girls. Since June, it's said, "Have a Good Summer!" This morning, it said, "Fall Sports Begin August 11." And the air was sharper today, cooler somehow in spite of still being 75 and sunny. When we took the girls to the park tonight, we talked about how it felt like early fall; we talked about home football games and Annie's birthday and Labor Day weekend. Even though fall is my absolute favorite season, I am so not ready for it be here, yet. I am still reveling in summer! I want to freeze time. These last few days have been particularly full of moments with the girls where I look around, hoping to catch another person's eye to say, "Did you see that? Wasn't it precious?" A few examples:

-Checking in at the pool today, we were waiting to get our cards swiped when the phone at the desk rang. Jemma perked up, stood on her tiptoes so the guy working the desk could see her, and said, "Hello! Hello! Hello!" until he answered the phone.

-Leaving the pool, we were waving good-bye to Connie, Ben, and Sam. "Bye-bye!" Annie yelled. "Ove you!" yelled Jemma, not to be outdone.

-Walking home from the park tonight, the girls sat side by side in the jogging stroller without fighting at all. This is a rarity. Then, to add to the surreal cuteness, they both inclined their heads toward the middle until they were touching, resting together and smiling as the world went by.

-When Jemma woke up from her nap today, Annie was still sleeping. Jemma kept saying, "Ah-dee?," nodding her head, then saying, "Shhhhh!" loudly in the hallway outside Annie's room. (I lured Jemma away to the playroom for about 10 minutes, at which point Annie came out of her bedroom and announced that she had been playing with Play-Doh. But that is another story.)

-Taking a walk this afternoon, Jemma was in the stroller and Annie was on her scooter. Annie noticed a big, gray cloud in the distance, so she was asking lots of questions about the weather and if I thought it would rain. After I finished explaining, she cocked her head, made a face, and said authoritatively, "You just never know!"

-In the car today, Annie was humming a tune that sounded like "Oh My Darlin Clementine." I asked her what song she was singing, and she busted out "The Days of the Week Song," singing them to the Clementine tune. (Simultaneously, Jemma was singing the only song she ever sings in the car. She has to be holding Annie's little Cinderella figurine in her hand, and then she'll sing, "Rella, Rella, Rella, Rella" for about 15-20 minutes at a time.) On a related note, the song the girls and I are currently dancing to in the car is "Stuck in the Middle With You."

I could list 10 more, but it's all the same, really: I'm just enjoying them so much right now that almost everything they do (ALMOST) is amusing to me and I want to remember it. This is not always the case, so I'm going to note it, enjoy it, and keep it going for as long as possible.

Block Party 2008

We just got in from our neighborhood block party. It was just as hot as last year, but without the abrupt ending due to a torrential downpour. The adults stood around and sweated while eating; the kids ran around and sweated so much that they all looked like they had taken showers when it was over. The firetrucks (yes, more than one) came, plus McGruff the crime dog, a police cruiser, and a whole herd of public safety officers who were very nice to us but really just wanted to eat our food. (We let them.)

We're Back to Reality

. . . and it's really good. I got huge smiles and gigantic continuous hugs from the girls upon their arrival home last night, and today was a nice, normal Monday in our world. Jemma is continued silly, happy, and adorable; Annie is somehow even more independent and curious than she was just a week ago. Except for one hellish moment at 5:00 p.m. when Annie decided to strip off her bathing suit and run naked laps around our entire front yard rather than come in the house, a good day.

Girls' Weekend, as usual, was a great time. It was our 7th one (this took at least 12 minutes of conversation to figure out). Since we haven't really learned from our past mistakes, we again stayed up until 2:00 a.m. each night, talking in the living room until we were actually speaking to each other with our eyes shut. And since our internal clocks are set to All Mommy, All The Time, we mostly woke up promptly at 7:00 a.m., sending us into the week on a total 10 hours of sleep for the weekend. (Carrie might be going on about 7 hours, as she was still on baby duty with 5-week-old Anders in her room. We made an exception and let this sweet little boy crash our all-girl gathering.) Being tired is worth it.

Highlights included dinner on the deck at Bostwick Lake Inn, having pedicures on the back porch while drinking pina coladas Saturday afternoon, a lazy pontoon boat ride on Silver Lake, and the extensive, gourmet dinner that we watched being made (and assisted with) on Saturday night. Goat cheese and pesto, homemade hummus and pita chips, shrimp with saffron rice, asparagus straws in phyllo, tenderloin with horseradish cream, and an amazing chocolate tart with lavender cream that Heather paired with my favorite wine of the weekend. Heather, Gina and I got to do one set in our ever-more-demanding sets of push-ups together - a little flashback to Pull practice.

Of course, it's the intangibles of the weekend that make it so special. We got to welcome the newest baby of the group into the world: hold him, smell him, jiggle him up and down and try to smash his paci into his mouth so Carrie could take a shower. We got to help Andrea dream up ideas for her new little one, due in just a few short weeks. We caught up on family dramas, Hope gossip, husbands, kids, books, and travel. It's probably the one weekend of the year when I talk the most and sit down more than any other time, when I feel the most sure of who I can turn to for real answers outside of my own family.

Every year, we come to a moment, usually right before dinner, when we've brought all our favorite foods to the table and we sit down, look around, and realize: Hey. It's Girls' Weekend. We fight about who should have to say the prayer. We hold hands. Someone prays. And when we look up, we're often all crying. We don't even really know why. It's not sad; it's actually, somehow, sacred.

This year, we were at a big, noisy outdoor restaurant on Friday night (and we're not really the pray in public kind of group), and we knew we'd have chef-type people with us on Saturday. So we realized as we were setting out Saturday morning breakfast that it would be our only "real" meal alone together and decided, spur of the moment, that someone should say a short prayer as we stood around the kitchen island. I thought: breakfast, standing up, not holding hands - I'm fine. Andrea prayed. I cried, anyway.

Because I'm Not Sure If We'll Have Enough Food

My week of self-indulgence continues today with the kick-off of my annual Girls' Weekend. Right now, I'm baking a chocolate raspberry cheesecake to contribute to our breakfast menu for Sunday. That's right, breakfast. At Girls' Weekend, there should be chocolate at breakfast. Other items on the menu include bruschetta; crab cakes; grilled turkey sausage skewers with red peppers, pineapple, and pancetta; eggs with goat cheese; and a variety of trail mixes which will be eaten continuously from 8:00 a.m. to midnight daily. Also, we're having a personal chef come to cook us dinner on Saturday night. And did I mention that we're having someone come do pedicures while we drink wine on the porch that overlooks the lake? Yeah, it's going to be really taxing.

I met my parents at the Farmer's Market on Wednesday after class. We were wandering around, buying blueberries and sweet corn, and my mom asked idly what we'd be doing at our girls' weekend.

"Not much," I said. "Mostly just hanging out at the cottage and talking. We are having a personal chef come and cook dinner on Saturday ni-"

"How much does THAT cost?" my mom said.

I stopped and looked at my dad. He looked at the ground. "Can't you just be happy for us?" I said.

"Well." my mom said, "You girls just don't know how lucky you are. You are just soooo lucky."

Lucky, indeed.