1. Less worrying, more being in the moment (more yoga, too).
2. Less meat, more vegetables (joining an organic farmer's co-op should help).
3. Less time-wasting, more time for daily writing and working on my book idea.
Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Jemma is Two
Dear Jemma,
Two days ago, two days after Christmas, you turned two years old. We were up north and I went in to get you from your crib while everyone else was downstairs having breakfast. I snuck in and sat on the love seat so I could watch you sleep, on your tummy with your fingers in your mouth and your little rump up in the air. "Hi, Birthday Girl," I said quietly, and you did what you almost always do when you wake up, which is: open your eyes, look around without moving the rest of your body, and then romp crazily around your crib on your hands and knees, giggling. Then I lifted you out and you put your warm head into the crook of my neck. This is how you are, both the silliest and the cuddliest of our two girls.
You are so busy lately, trying to keep up with Annie, trying to say every new word you hear. You run everywhere you go. You say "please" and "thank you" more than anyone else in the family. When you are being naughty, you give yourself a time-out in your room, then come out saying, "Sorry, Mommy." You love fruit. You hate every vegetable except squash. When you are finished eating, you stand right up in your high chair even though we have told you a million, billion times not to do that. You ask to brush and floss your teeth at least twice a day. You know the names of all the Disney princesses and love to see them on your band-aids and the mylar balloons at the grocery store. Your favorite color is purple. You love to take baths. You love to read books in the rocking chair. You kiss me on the lips before bed at night.
For weeks before your birthday, we talked to you about it. It got a little muddled up with the idea of Santa and baby Jesus and Christmas, but you finally got it: birthday cake, Jemma, two. On Saturday, we ate cake in Petoskey. Yesterday, we ate cake here with some more family. And tonight, we finished the cake off as dessert after a dinner where you ate only risotto (no shrimp, no salad, no vegetables). So, you have had plenty of cake. You are two. You are not our baby anymore. What you are is a sweet, silly, happy, uncomplicated toddler who our family loves fiercely. When you are sad, which is not often, we rally around you, we try to make it better. We are more patient with you than with one another, more forgiving, more amused. Your sunny little personality makes us a better family.
But in spite of all your goodness: You do this thing sometimes (I want to get it on video but I never can) when we ask you a question or ask you to do something that you feel you have already done. You gather your fury and your indignity. "I DID!" you say, with that mysterious, slight Southern accent. I worry all the time, feel guilty that your birthday will be lost in the shuffle of such a busy season, and hope that you won't feel overlooked in years to come. You are the peacemaker, the happy-go-lucky; it could happen. Then I see that little spark, that determination, and I feel better. You turned two. You DID. And we celebrated you, we celebrate you every single day. Happy birthday, little one. We love you so, so much.
Love,
Mommy
Two days ago, two days after Christmas, you turned two years old. We were up north and I went in to get you from your crib while everyone else was downstairs having breakfast. I snuck in and sat on the love seat so I could watch you sleep, on your tummy with your fingers in your mouth and your little rump up in the air. "Hi, Birthday Girl," I said quietly, and you did what you almost always do when you wake up, which is: open your eyes, look around without moving the rest of your body, and then romp crazily around your crib on your hands and knees, giggling. Then I lifted you out and you put your warm head into the crook of my neck. This is how you are, both the silliest and the cuddliest of our two girls.
You are so busy lately, trying to keep up with Annie, trying to say every new word you hear. You run everywhere you go. You say "please" and "thank you" more than anyone else in the family. When you are being naughty, you give yourself a time-out in your room, then come out saying, "Sorry, Mommy." You love fruit. You hate every vegetable except squash. When you are finished eating, you stand right up in your high chair even though we have told you a million, billion times not to do that. You ask to brush and floss your teeth at least twice a day. You know the names of all the Disney princesses and love to see them on your band-aids and the mylar balloons at the grocery store. Your favorite color is purple. You love to take baths. You love to read books in the rocking chair. You kiss me on the lips before bed at night.
For weeks before your birthday, we talked to you about it. It got a little muddled up with the idea of Santa and baby Jesus and Christmas, but you finally got it: birthday cake, Jemma, two. On Saturday, we ate cake in Petoskey. Yesterday, we ate cake here with some more family. And tonight, we finished the cake off as dessert after a dinner where you ate only risotto (no shrimp, no salad, no vegetables). So, you have had plenty of cake. You are two. You are not our baby anymore. What you are is a sweet, silly, happy, uncomplicated toddler who our family loves fiercely. When you are sad, which is not often, we rally around you, we try to make it better. We are more patient with you than with one another, more forgiving, more amused. Your sunny little personality makes us a better family.
But in spite of all your goodness: You do this thing sometimes (I want to get it on video but I never can) when we ask you a question or ask you to do something that you feel you have already done. You gather your fury and your indignity. "I DID!" you say, with that mysterious, slight Southern accent. I worry all the time, feel guilty that your birthday will be lost in the shuffle of such a busy season, and hope that you won't feel overlooked in years to come. You are the peacemaker, the happy-go-lucky; it could happen. Then I see that little spark, that determination, and I feel better. You turned two. You DID. And we celebrated you, we celebrate you every single day. Happy birthday, little one. We love you so, so much.
Love,
Mommy
Christmas 2008
I have to admit, I'm struggling today. It's Monday, Christmas is over, and I should be ordering my life into some semblance of normalcy. I thought (foolishly) that I'd breeze through today, able to clean up the remants of Christmas morning that still linger around my house because the girls would be so busy playing with all their new things. No need to plan an outing! No need to pile everyone into the car and head somewhere to burn off steam! I'll just sip coffee and stack the cardboard boxes in a tall tower by the back door. Instead, I spent the day accomplishing things in 2-minute increments in between breaking up fights over the new things. Nothing new there.
Three times today, Annie caught me taking down stockings or packing away the nativity scene and had a small breakdown. "Mommy, I want it to still be Christmas!" she wailed. I know how she feels. Most of me is annoyed that our now-droopy Christmas tree still stands in our front room simply because there hasn't really been an evening to take it down (and I refuse to let the girls "help" with putting away the ornaments and lights); a small part of me is sad to see it all go. I drive past outdoor Christmas lights and know that the winter landscape will be so bleak and dreary once they are down. I miss the sounds of Christmas music in our house during the day and in the car when we drive to the gym. I remember begging my parents to leave the tree up for just one more day.
I can see, too, how every Christmas is going to blend into the others, so that in twenty or thirty years, it will be impossible to remember what we did, where we were, how it was. We'll have our pictures, thank goodness, but before I forget, I want to note that this was the Christmas when:
-Annie wore a gold sparkly dress she picked out herself and Jemma wore a plaid taffeta dress that made her look so grown up.
-The girls set out cookies and milk for Santa on the floor next to the fireplace and ate the crumbs he left for breakfast the next morning.
-Annie woke up early, as usual, but didn't come out of her room. When we went in to get her, she said she hadn't wanted to come out because she never heard the reindeer on the roof, so she was afraid that Santa hadn't had time to come yet.
-Out of all her presents in her stocking and under the tree, Jemma would absolutely not let go of three small multicolored Twizzlers leftover from Halloween that I threw in her stocking at the last minute. "Hold them, have them," she kept saying, until we finally just let her eat them at 7:30 a.m. Later, when we asked her what Santa brought her, she said, "Candy canes" (which is what she thought they were) and when we asked her what else, she said, "Cheerios," which was totally untrue.
-Annie's favorite presents were the new Baby Alive doll from Aunt Lisa and Uncle Trevor (which she named "Ormandy" and later changed to "Elizabeth Ormandy"); the big dollhouse she and Jemma got from my parents; the Ariel doll head from Santa; new swim goggles; the book Madeleine; red dress-up shoes from Aunt Bonnie.
-Jemma loved her new Baby Alive doll, too (named "Baby Marta"), as well as a Dora tent, princess slippers, the Curious George movie, and Cinderella figurines.
-We spent Christmas Eve in Holland with my parents, woke up with the girls at our house for a cozy breakfast and presents, then left for Petoskey before 10:00 a.m. on Christmas Day.
-We were able to connect with some old, good friends from dental school for spontaneous sledding and lunch while in Petoskey. Theron and Jennifer's daughter, Carolyn, and Annie were instant friends, sitting next to each other at the restaurant and grinning ear to ear while saying things like "I love Tinkerbell!" and "Your little sister is cute."
-We drove home two days later through some intense fog, wind, and rain to find almost all our snow gone and the thermometer on the car reading 56 degrees.
There is just nothing else as magical as Christmas morning with little children. And even though it's already a blur, already a memory, I tried to treasure every single second this year because there are going to be so few years when they really, truly believe in the magic of it all.
Three times today, Annie caught me taking down stockings or packing away the nativity scene and had a small breakdown. "Mommy, I want it to still be Christmas!" she wailed. I know how she feels. Most of me is annoyed that our now-droopy Christmas tree still stands in our front room simply because there hasn't really been an evening to take it down (and I refuse to let the girls "help" with putting away the ornaments and lights); a small part of me is sad to see it all go. I drive past outdoor Christmas lights and know that the winter landscape will be so bleak and dreary once they are down. I miss the sounds of Christmas music in our house during the day and in the car when we drive to the gym. I remember begging my parents to leave the tree up for just one more day.
I can see, too, how every Christmas is going to blend into the others, so that in twenty or thirty years, it will be impossible to remember what we did, where we were, how it was. We'll have our pictures, thank goodness, but before I forget, I want to note that this was the Christmas when:
-Annie wore a gold sparkly dress she picked out herself and Jemma wore a plaid taffeta dress that made her look so grown up.
-The girls set out cookies and milk for Santa on the floor next to the fireplace and ate the crumbs he left for breakfast the next morning.
-Annie woke up early, as usual, but didn't come out of her room. When we went in to get her, she said she hadn't wanted to come out because she never heard the reindeer on the roof, so she was afraid that Santa hadn't had time to come yet.
-Out of all her presents in her stocking and under the tree, Jemma would absolutely not let go of three small multicolored Twizzlers leftover from Halloween that I threw in her stocking at the last minute. "Hold them, have them," she kept saying, until we finally just let her eat them at 7:30 a.m. Later, when we asked her what Santa brought her, she said, "Candy canes" (which is what she thought they were) and when we asked her what else, she said, "Cheerios," which was totally untrue.
-Annie's favorite presents were the new Baby Alive doll from Aunt Lisa and Uncle Trevor (which she named "Ormandy" and later changed to "Elizabeth Ormandy"); the big dollhouse she and Jemma got from my parents; the Ariel doll head from Santa; new swim goggles; the book Madeleine; red dress-up shoes from Aunt Bonnie.
-Jemma loved her new Baby Alive doll, too (named "Baby Marta"), as well as a Dora tent, princess slippers, the Curious George movie, and Cinderella figurines.
-We spent Christmas Eve in Holland with my parents, woke up with the girls at our house for a cozy breakfast and presents, then left for Petoskey before 10:00 a.m. on Christmas Day.
-We were able to connect with some old, good friends from dental school for spontaneous sledding and lunch while in Petoskey. Theron and Jennifer's daughter, Carolyn, and Annie were instant friends, sitting next to each other at the restaurant and grinning ear to ear while saying things like "I love Tinkerbell!" and "Your little sister is cute."
-We drove home two days later through some intense fog, wind, and rain to find almost all our snow gone and the thermometer on the car reading 56 degrees.
There is just nothing else as magical as Christmas morning with little children. And even though it's already a blur, already a memory, I tried to treasure every single second this year because there are going to be so few years when they really, truly believe in the magic of it all.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Half Empty, Half Full
Half Empty:
1. The average December snowfall in Grand Rapids is 18 inches. As of two days ago, we'd received 38, and it's snowing steadily outside my window right now. Even worse, the ridiculously low temperatures that accompany it have ended our previously fun afternoons playing outside in it. Today I actually let the car idle in the driveway with the girls strapped in when we got home from the gym so I could shovel the front steps while they watched.
2. Not only has Annie completely stopped napping (except, you know, once every two or three weeks on a day that we specifically wouldn't want her to do it), but she has also begun waking up at 6:00 a.m. sharp!
3. I was (unfortunately) at the mall yesterday (getting the last-minute things I had meant to get the previous Friday morning but couldn't - see item #1 - ) and I noticed that J. Crew had approximately one winter item in their store. The rest of the floor space already seems to be reserved for New Spring Lines and Fancy Cruise Wear.
4. We have been far, far exceeding our Daily TV Quota.
5. I went upstairs for two minutes this afternoon and came back downstairs to find Jemma naked from the waist down. Is she going to be That Kid?
6. Annie asked repeatedly today if Santa is going to bring her "lots and lots and lots of presents." And the answer is not what she's hoping it is.
Half Full:
1. It sure is Christmassy out there! And I'm sure that because it's snowing three times the usual amount in December, it's just not going to snow AT ALL in February or March or April.
2. There is so much time to accomplish grown-up things when you put your four-year-old to bed at 6:30 p.m.!
3. At least I will be able to find plenty of cute items for our February trip to Florida.
4. We have discovered a hilarious - yet educational! - new show called Sid the Science Kid on PBS. Annie is super into it; every day there is a different little lesson with the hip Latina teacher about something science-related (today's was why/how things grow). She pays attention to every detail, asks tons of questions, and wants to try things out (like measuring with a ruler) after the show is over. I love it because it lets me clean up lunch and accomplish a few things from 12:30 - 1:00. I also secretly love the songs Sid sings upon arriving at school every day. One is a little rap about his mom, the other is a dance number called "I'm Lookin' For My Friends." Seriously, check it out.
5. Maybe she'll love the idea of potty-training (in six months when I actually want to do it) and won't fight me about it like someone else I can think of . . . . .
6. Annie will learn at an early age to embrace the concept of Quality over Quantity after receiving three perfectly-chosen gifts from Santa.Two days till Christmas!
1. The average December snowfall in Grand Rapids is 18 inches. As of two days ago, we'd received 38, and it's snowing steadily outside my window right now. Even worse, the ridiculously low temperatures that accompany it have ended our previously fun afternoons playing outside in it. Today I actually let the car idle in the driveway with the girls strapped in when we got home from the gym so I could shovel the front steps while they watched.
2. Not only has Annie completely stopped napping (except, you know, once every two or three weeks on a day that we specifically wouldn't want her to do it), but she has also begun waking up at 6:00 a.m. sharp!
3. I was (unfortunately) at the mall yesterday (getting the last-minute things I had meant to get the previous Friday morning but couldn't - see item #1 - ) and I noticed that J. Crew had approximately one winter item in their store. The rest of the floor space already seems to be reserved for New Spring Lines and Fancy Cruise Wear.
4. We have been far, far exceeding our Daily TV Quota.
5. I went upstairs for two minutes this afternoon and came back downstairs to find Jemma naked from the waist down. Is she going to be That Kid?
6. Annie asked repeatedly today if Santa is going to bring her "lots and lots and lots of presents." And the answer is not what she's hoping it is.
Half Full:
1. It sure is Christmassy out there! And I'm sure that because it's snowing three times the usual amount in December, it's just not going to snow AT ALL in February or March or April.
2. There is so much time to accomplish grown-up things when you put your four-year-old to bed at 6:30 p.m.!
3. At least I will be able to find plenty of cute items for our February trip to Florida.
4. We have discovered a hilarious - yet educational! - new show called Sid the Science Kid on PBS. Annie is super into it; every day there is a different little lesson with the hip Latina teacher about something science-related (today's was why/how things grow). She pays attention to every detail, asks tons of questions, and wants to try things out (like measuring with a ruler) after the show is over. I love it because it lets me clean up lunch and accomplish a few things from 12:30 - 1:00. I also secretly love the songs Sid sings upon arriving at school every day. One is a little rap about his mom, the other is a dance number called "I'm Lookin' For My Friends." Seriously, check it out.
5. Maybe she'll love the idea of potty-training (in six months when I actually want to do it) and won't fight me about it like someone else I can think of . . . . .
6. Annie will learn at an early age to embrace the concept of Quality over Quantity after receiving three perfectly-chosen gifts from Santa.Two days till Christmas!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Adventures in Potty-sitting
Act One: 10:00 a.m. Saturday morning, Doublestein household
Characters present: Jason, Annie, Jemma
The scene: After a long, snowy day inside on Friday, Stephanie decides to go to the gym with neighbor Sarah for a morning run and rowing tutorial. Inside the house, Jason eagerly awaits the delivery of their new, bought-with-five-years-of-credit-card-points leather chair, scheduled to arrive between 8:00 and 10:00. While he waits, he decides abruptly that he absolutely MUST shovel the bottom of the driveway (the part where the street plow deposited one ton of snow) to aid the deliverymen. (Note that his general shoveling philosophy is, "Why shovel? It's just going to snow more;" as a result, Stephanie does 90% of the winter shoveling.) Seized by this sudden burst of devotion to shoveling, he decides to just leave the children inside the house, coming in to check on them every five minutes. They are wearing dance outfits and re-enacting the Nutcracker Sugar Plum Fairy dance. They are happy. What could happen?
The delivery truck pulls up just as Jason is finishing his shoveling chore. He leads the men inside the house. He hears Annie talking to Jemma from an unseen location.
Annie: "Jemma, come here! I have to put your diaper back on!"
Jemma: "New dipe! New dipe!" Runs into living room, completely naked, followed closely by Annie, holding a diaper.
Annie, seeing Jason: "Dad, I'm just changing her diaper. She just went poop on the potty."
Jason: "What????!!!??"
Deliveryman: "Ah, where do you want the chair?"
Annie: "Yeah, dad. She kept saying, 'poo-poo, potty' so I asked her if she needed to go poop and she said yes and I asked if she wanted to sit on the potty and she said yes so I took her pants and diaper off and put the potty seat on the toilet and lifted her up there and now there's a little poop in there. So I need to put a new diaper on her."
Deliveryman, to Jemma: "Aren't you cold?"
*************************
Act Two: Saturday evening 5:30 p.m., Blue Water Grill restaurant
Characters present: Jason, Stephanie, Annie, Jemma
Scene One: After spending the afternoon at Meijer Gardens looking at the reindeer, the train, and the Christmas trees, the family goes out for dinner. Jemma orders chocolate milk, Annie orders a Shirley Temple, and Jason and Stephanie order house cabernet. Annie's drink arrives accompanied by four flavors of maraschino cherries, which she and Jemma promptly (stickily) eat. Annie then drinks down half her beverage in the 10 minutes it takes for the food to arrive. The family begins to eat.
Annie, squirming: "Mom, I'm not hungry. I want to go home."
Stephanie: "What?? And miss all the special Christmas lights we're going to go see?"
Annie: "I have a tummy-ache. I feel like I'm going to throw up."
Stephanie shoots knowing glance at Jason. "Do you have to go potty?"
Annie: "No."
Stephanie: "Let's just go try."
Annie: "Nooooooooooooooooooooo! I'm afraid it's going to be a loud flush! I'm afraid it's going to flush by itself! No Mommy No I'll just wait and go at home!!!!"
Stephanie: "Fine." Takes large swallow of wine.
Five minutes later:
Annie: "Mom, I have to go potty really bad."
Stephanie: "Yeah, I know. Let's just go SEE what kind of toilets they are, and if they're noisy, you can cover your ears and I can make them so they don't flush by themselves."
The two walk to the bathroom, Annie whimpering the whole way.
Scene Two, in the bathroom:
Annie, digging her heels in as Stephanie attempts to drag her into the stall: "Mommy, no, I don't have to go anymore! It's an automatic flush! Noooooooooooooooooo!!!"
Stephanie takes a napkin (which she has brilliantly brought along for just such emergency use) and covers the flush sensor of the toilet. "See, I put the napkin over it and NOW," (waves hand in front of toilet repeatedly) "Now it won't flush until I take the napkin away. See? So come sit down and go."
Annie, trying to climb the corner of the stall to get as far away as possible from the toilet while still covering her ears: "Mommy, noooooooooooo."
Stephanie reaches with her free arm to collar Annie and try to coax her slowly to the toilet. "Annie, I promise I'm not going to let it flush while you're on it."
Annie looks up warily. "Promise?"
Stephanie: "I promise."
They repeat this coversation for approximately 13 minutes until Annie reluctantly climbs on and pees, still covering her ears, then sprints back to her corner before allowing Stephanie to let the toilet flush. They wash hands, exit the stall, and walk back to their table, where the food has been boxed up. Stephanie sits down, raises her glass of wine to Jason, and says, "Cheers!" before drinking down the remainder of the drink in one gulp.
The end.
Characters present: Jason, Annie, Jemma
The scene: After a long, snowy day inside on Friday, Stephanie decides to go to the gym with neighbor Sarah for a morning run and rowing tutorial. Inside the house, Jason eagerly awaits the delivery of their new, bought-with-five-years-of-credit-card-points leather chair, scheduled to arrive between 8:00 and 10:00. While he waits, he decides abruptly that he absolutely MUST shovel the bottom of the driveway (the part where the street plow deposited one ton of snow) to aid the deliverymen. (Note that his general shoveling philosophy is, "Why shovel? It's just going to snow more;" as a result, Stephanie does 90% of the winter shoveling.) Seized by this sudden burst of devotion to shoveling, he decides to just leave the children inside the house, coming in to check on them every five minutes. They are wearing dance outfits and re-enacting the Nutcracker Sugar Plum Fairy dance. They are happy. What could happen?
The delivery truck pulls up just as Jason is finishing his shoveling chore. He leads the men inside the house. He hears Annie talking to Jemma from an unseen location.
Annie: "Jemma, come here! I have to put your diaper back on!"
Jemma: "New dipe! New dipe!" Runs into living room, completely naked, followed closely by Annie, holding a diaper.
Annie, seeing Jason: "Dad, I'm just changing her diaper. She just went poop on the potty."
Jason: "What????!!!??"
Deliveryman: "Ah, where do you want the chair?"
Annie: "Yeah, dad. She kept saying, 'poo-poo, potty' so I asked her if she needed to go poop and she said yes and I asked if she wanted to sit on the potty and she said yes so I took her pants and diaper off and put the potty seat on the toilet and lifted her up there and now there's a little poop in there. So I need to put a new diaper on her."
Deliveryman, to Jemma: "Aren't you cold?"
*************************
Act Two: Saturday evening 5:30 p.m., Blue Water Grill restaurant
Characters present: Jason, Stephanie, Annie, Jemma
Scene One: After spending the afternoon at Meijer Gardens looking at the reindeer, the train, and the Christmas trees, the family goes out for dinner. Jemma orders chocolate milk, Annie orders a Shirley Temple, and Jason and Stephanie order house cabernet. Annie's drink arrives accompanied by four flavors of maraschino cherries, which she and Jemma promptly (stickily) eat. Annie then drinks down half her beverage in the 10 minutes it takes for the food to arrive. The family begins to eat.
Annie, squirming: "Mom, I'm not hungry. I want to go home."
Stephanie: "What?? And miss all the special Christmas lights we're going to go see?"
Annie: "I have a tummy-ache. I feel like I'm going to throw up."
Stephanie shoots knowing glance at Jason. "Do you have to go potty?"
Annie: "No."
Stephanie: "Let's just go try."
Annie: "Nooooooooooooooooooooo! I'm afraid it's going to be a loud flush! I'm afraid it's going to flush by itself! No Mommy No I'll just wait and go at home!!!!"
Stephanie: "Fine." Takes large swallow of wine.
Five minutes later:
Annie: "Mom, I have to go potty really bad."
Stephanie: "Yeah, I know. Let's just go SEE what kind of toilets they are, and if they're noisy, you can cover your ears and I can make them so they don't flush by themselves."
The two walk to the bathroom, Annie whimpering the whole way.
Scene Two, in the bathroom:
Annie, digging her heels in as Stephanie attempts to drag her into the stall: "Mommy, no, I don't have to go anymore! It's an automatic flush! Noooooooooooooooooo!!!"
Stephanie takes a napkin (which she has brilliantly brought along for just such emergency use) and covers the flush sensor of the toilet. "See, I put the napkin over it and NOW," (waves hand in front of toilet repeatedly) "Now it won't flush until I take the napkin away. See? So come sit down and go."
Annie, trying to climb the corner of the stall to get as far away as possible from the toilet while still covering her ears: "Mommy, noooooooooooo."
Stephanie reaches with her free arm to collar Annie and try to coax her slowly to the toilet. "Annie, I promise I'm not going to let it flush while you're on it."
Annie looks up warily. "Promise?"
Stephanie: "I promise."
They repeat this coversation for approximately 13 minutes until Annie reluctantly climbs on and pees, still covering her ears, then sprints back to her corner before allowing Stephanie to let the toilet flush. They wash hands, exit the stall, and walk back to their table, where the food has been boxed up. Stephanie sits down, raises her glass of wine to Jason, and says, "Cheers!" before drinking down the remainder of the drink in one gulp.
The end.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Snow Day
Our morning began at 6:00 a.m. sharp, which is when Annie has been starting her day lately. We woke up to almost a foot of snow that had fallen in the previous few hours; schools everywhere (including hers) were closed for the day. She cried for about thirty seconds about missing her Gingerbread party, then moved on to making new plans for the day. Since we really, truly couldn't go anywhere in the car, our options were limited to our neighborhood. We invited Heidi and Jonathan over to hang out for the morning. It was nice; grownups drank coffee and talked, kids ran around and self-amused for over an hour. After that, we braved the outdoors. The girls absolutely loved all the snow (it came up to Annie's mid-thigh, and Jemma couldn't even walk in it except where it had been trampled down by feet or shovels). Jason and I sort of loved it, too, party because it felt a whole lot like the infamous winters of our childhood, the ones where people ventured out only via snowmobile and babies were born after dramatic drives to the hospital.
The rest of the day, we played inside, drank hot cocoa, danced, drew, took a big walk outside right down the middle of streets, and made Christmas cookies. I used a sugar cookie recipe of Nigella Lawson's from my How To Be A Domestic Goddess cookbook. The dough turned out sort of sticky, the baked cookies tasted fine, but my favorite part of the recipe was her statement at the end regarding letting children ice them in all different colors of frosting: "Let the artistic spirit be your guide, remembering with gratitude that children have very bad taste." Indeed. Annie dumped half a pound of pale pink sanding sugar on her Christmas tree cookie after dotting it with green sprinkles; Jemma chose hot pink for hers. They were very excited about the project, though, and for the second time today I felt transported back to my childhood, doing something I'd done over and over as a kid, now with kids of my own.
Now they're snugly in bed, and Jason and I are readying ourselves to decorate batch #2 of the grown-up-made cookies. This kind of decorating is a different kind of fun than the chaos with the girls - more alcohol, less flour on the floor, and colors that actually go together.
***Post amended (and first two photos added) to show that, upon going back downstairs after writing this post, Jason was found deeply involved in some decidedly un-manly cookie-decorating while listening to Christmas music by Wham! As you can see from the photos, he was getting a little carried away.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
(Mis)adventures
Wednesdays in winter tend to be loooooong, long days, so I try to attack them with some type of action plan in the hopes of enjoying the time instead of sitting on the couch while Meet Strawberry Shortcake plays on repeat and my house becomes trashed by the dragging out of every single stuffed animal and dress-up item we own. Yesterday after naps, we headed to the pool. It was especially warm, the girls were especially happy to splash and play and jump in to me, and Lucy plus family showed up half-way through our time there. She and Annie spent almost half an hour racing one another, chasing, paddling, and having a blast. I had just started the "Five More Minutes" countdown and was on minute three when I noticed the lifeguard sauntering over to get the big net-on-a-pole thing lifeguards use to fish things out of water. Holding Jemma, I watched as he stuck it down to the bottom and brought it back up with something that looked suspiciously like a turd on it. I caught his eye and raised my eyebrows questioningly. He nodded affirmatively. I had the girls out of the pool in 2.4 seconds and had Annie out of there before her hysteria could set in.
*************
After the pool, I made an executive decision to eat dinner at Panera since I knew we wouldn't see Jason any time before bedtime. We got there, ordered our food, and found a quiet table. The girls were being adorable with each other and were just happy to be doing something different for dinner. We started to eat our food when, two tables over, a 2 or 3-year-old girl started losing it. Full-on tantrum in the middle of the restaurant. I'm pretty tolerant of minor meltdowns, but the mom (who was with a friend) pretty much ignored it and it went on for a good 15 minutes, at which point the entire restaurant was shooting her pointed looks. Annie had a lot to say about this. Her (loud) comments included:
"Mom, why is that girl crying?"
"Mom, she is making so much noise it's hard to think."
"Well, SOMETHING'S wrong with her."
"Maybe she's SICK."
"Mom, I'm tired of that girl crying. I want her to leave."
Jemma merely pointed, said, "Sad," and nodded at me meaningfully.
*************
This morning, we spent a little time at the bookstore (Annie's request) before heading to get groceries. I made time for a little detour to see the trains and let the girls throw a penny in the fish pond. (Side note: When I asked Annie what she was going to wish for, she said, "To have a baby." When I explained that she could someday in a long, long time, she said, "No, to have a baby right now when I'm a kid." Her back-up, second wish was "To get married" and her third wish, when I pressed her to name something - anything! - that might actually happen, was "To watch a real wedding." I need to get this child some career-woman role models.)
We were kneeling down watching our pennies disappear amongst the fish when who should walk by but SANTA. Apparently he was coming back from a break and was heading to his chair for photos. He kindly stopped to talk to us from across the little fish pond. He and Annie chatted about the weather while Jemma gaped, open-mouthed, until I asked her who it was. "Santa," she whispered.
"And what does Santa say?" I asked.
Right on cue, Santa let out a hearty "Ho Ho Ho!" and Jemma broke into the biggest smile I have ever seen. Later, as we were leaving the fishpond, Annie remarked to herself, "Santa is everywhere."
*************
Today was our niece Marta's first birthday and the girls wanted to call her on the phone. So we called and Trevor held the phone up to Marta's ear while Jemma mumbled "Birthday" and Annie said, "Happy Birthday, Marta!" Then the girls pretended to bake a birthday cake and our after-dinner time was spent pretending that it was each member of the family's birthday in turn. We talk all the time about how it will be Jemma's birthday soon, plus we have a book called "What is Christmas?" where it talks about Christmas being Jesus' birthday, so there is a lot of birthday talk going on in the house lately.
I was putting Jemma to bed tonight and she had chosen two books: Carl Goes Shopping (which we read every. single. day.) and What Is Christmas. When I got to the end, Jemma pointed to the baby lying in the manger and brought it all together for herself: "Baby. Jesus. Birthday. Cake. Jemma. Two." Birthday cake for Jemma and Jesus, coming right up.
*************
After the pool, I made an executive decision to eat dinner at Panera since I knew we wouldn't see Jason any time before bedtime. We got there, ordered our food, and found a quiet table. The girls were being adorable with each other and were just happy to be doing something different for dinner. We started to eat our food when, two tables over, a 2 or 3-year-old girl started losing it. Full-on tantrum in the middle of the restaurant. I'm pretty tolerant of minor meltdowns, but the mom (who was with a friend) pretty much ignored it and it went on for a good 15 minutes, at which point the entire restaurant was shooting her pointed looks. Annie had a lot to say about this. Her (loud) comments included:
"Mom, why is that girl crying?"
"Mom, she is making so much noise it's hard to think."
"Well, SOMETHING'S wrong with her."
"Maybe she's SICK."
"Mom, I'm tired of that girl crying. I want her to leave."
Jemma merely pointed, said, "Sad," and nodded at me meaningfully.
*************
This morning, we spent a little time at the bookstore (Annie's request) before heading to get groceries. I made time for a little detour to see the trains and let the girls throw a penny in the fish pond. (Side note: When I asked Annie what she was going to wish for, she said, "To have a baby." When I explained that she could someday in a long, long time, she said, "No, to have a baby right now when I'm a kid." Her back-up, second wish was "To get married" and her third wish, when I pressed her to name something - anything! - that might actually happen, was "To watch a real wedding." I need to get this child some career-woman role models.)
We were kneeling down watching our pennies disappear amongst the fish when who should walk by but SANTA. Apparently he was coming back from a break and was heading to his chair for photos. He kindly stopped to talk to us from across the little fish pond. He and Annie chatted about the weather while Jemma gaped, open-mouthed, until I asked her who it was. "Santa," she whispered.
"And what does Santa say?" I asked.
Right on cue, Santa let out a hearty "Ho Ho Ho!" and Jemma broke into the biggest smile I have ever seen. Later, as we were leaving the fishpond, Annie remarked to herself, "Santa is everywhere."
*************
Today was our niece Marta's first birthday and the girls wanted to call her on the phone. So we called and Trevor held the phone up to Marta's ear while Jemma mumbled "Birthday" and Annie said, "Happy Birthday, Marta!" Then the girls pretended to bake a birthday cake and our after-dinner time was spent pretending that it was each member of the family's birthday in turn. We talk all the time about how it will be Jemma's birthday soon, plus we have a book called "What is Christmas?" where it talks about Christmas being Jesus' birthday, so there is a lot of birthday talk going on in the house lately.
I was putting Jemma to bed tonight and she had chosen two books: Carl Goes Shopping (which we read every. single. day.) and What Is Christmas. When I got to the end, Jemma pointed to the baby lying in the manger and brought it all together for herself: "Baby. Jesus. Birthday. Cake. Jemma. Two." Birthday cake for Jemma and Jesus, coming right up.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Ballerina
Annie did spectacularly well at her dance recital on Saturday. When we got there, the auditorium was a total zoo (just like the last two recitals): parents with cameras milling everywhere, tiny dancers prancing around and finding their seats, and at least one three-year-old crying on a mommy's shoulder because of the chaos. As we sat in our seats with both sets of grandparents waiting for it all to begin, I got more and more nervous. I kept standing up and contorting my body around to peek at Annie, seated in the back with her class. She'd smile, wave, and bounce around on her seat next to her friend Kate. Not nervous AT ALL.
When it was their turn, she was all concentration and seriousness, tapping earnestly and following Miss Amy before throwing her Santa hat up in the air at the end, on cue. I snuck down to the front row to snap some pictures while she was dancing; she noticed me a few seconds into the song and threw me an embarrassed half-smile, like, MOM, what are you doing there? Can't you see I'm busy DANCING? So cute. So proud. We celebrated by going home, getting burgers from Wealthy Station, and eating in the living room while watching the video of her performance.
On Sunday, Jason's parents took her to see the Nutcracker at DeVos. In preparation for this big event, Jason's mom had sent Annie the book a couple weeks ago so she'd know the story when she was watching the ballet onstage. Unfortunately, the book had a couple very creative, graphic illustrations of The Evil Seven-Headed Rat King, so after the first reading of it, where I tried to gloss over any scariness, Annie's response to me asking, "Want to read The Nutcracker tonight?" was "NOOOOOOOOO THERE'S A SCARY RAT BUNNY IN THAT BOOK!!!!" We were unsure about how she'd do when Scary Rat Bunny was dancing right in front of her. She did great. She was in love with the various princesses and queens and fairy-types. She asked tons of questions about the orchestra. And at one point, when the brother and sister fought over the nutcracker and the brother broke it, the brother went off stage. Annie turned to her grandma and said, "Grandma, where did Frederick go? Is he in a time-out?"
So, my tiny dancer, my little ballerina, when you came up to me at the end of that weekend, asked for a hug, and said, "Mommy, want to squeeze my guts out?" the answer is yes, of course I do.
When it was their turn, she was all concentration and seriousness, tapping earnestly and following Miss Amy before throwing her Santa hat up in the air at the end, on cue. I snuck down to the front row to snap some pictures while she was dancing; she noticed me a few seconds into the song and threw me an embarrassed half-smile, like, MOM, what are you doing there? Can't you see I'm busy DANCING? So cute. So proud. We celebrated by going home, getting burgers from Wealthy Station, and eating in the living room while watching the video of her performance.
On Sunday, Jason's parents took her to see the Nutcracker at DeVos. In preparation for this big event, Jason's mom had sent Annie the book a couple weeks ago so she'd know the story when she was watching the ballet onstage. Unfortunately, the book had a couple very creative, graphic illustrations of The Evil Seven-Headed Rat King, so after the first reading of it, where I tried to gloss over any scariness, Annie's response to me asking, "Want to read The Nutcracker tonight?" was "NOOOOOOOOO THERE'S A SCARY RAT BUNNY IN THAT BOOK!!!!" We were unsure about how she'd do when Scary Rat Bunny was dancing right in front of her. She did great. She was in love with the various princesses and queens and fairy-types. She asked tons of questions about the orchestra. And at one point, when the brother and sister fought over the nutcracker and the brother broke it, the brother went off stage. Annie turned to her grandma and said, "Grandma, where did Frederick go? Is he in a time-out?"
So, my tiny dancer, my little ballerina, when you came up to me at the end of that weekend, asked for a hug, and said, "Mommy, want to squeeze my guts out?" the answer is yes, of course I do.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Twelve Days to Go
and, no, I am not finished Christmas shopping. Mostly, but not completely, because my husband is a difficult person to shop for. There are a few things he wants that are too expensive (new laptop, Nintendo Wii with Guitar Hero); a few things that I do not want us to own (giant coffee grinder which would be one more thing to sit on our kitchen counter, slow cooker); and the boring standards (clothes that he does desperately need, socks, music). Ideas, anyone?
The girls are at a particularly fun age this year - the most fun they've been, yet, at Christmas time, and it's all I can do not to buy up everything in sight for them to open on Christmas morning. Jason took them to see the Christmas trees at Meijer Gardens this morning and they came home full of stories and wonder. I love driving places with them right now (when Annie isn't kicking Jemma, that is), looking in my rearview mirror to see their happy faces bobbing along to Holly Jolly Christmas or Rudolph. (They do not get the concept of "radio" versus "CD" and are constantly asking me to find a certain song on the Christmas station, or to play one "again" that was just on. If I have to explain the impossibility of this one more time . . . .)
In an hour, we'll be down the street at the auditorium, wating for Annie's dance recital to begin. This year, she's tapping to "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" and, though she was not really paying attention at all during rehearsal on Thursday, I am sure it will be adorable no matter what. She's been in such a great mood all day, so excited to get up on that stage and tap her heart out in front of a couple hundred strangers. I can't wait. Pictures to come, I promise.
The girls are at a particularly fun age this year - the most fun they've been, yet, at Christmas time, and it's all I can do not to buy up everything in sight for them to open on Christmas morning. Jason took them to see the Christmas trees at Meijer Gardens this morning and they came home full of stories and wonder. I love driving places with them right now (when Annie isn't kicking Jemma, that is), looking in my rearview mirror to see their happy faces bobbing along to Holly Jolly Christmas or Rudolph. (They do not get the concept of "radio" versus "CD" and are constantly asking me to find a certain song on the Christmas station, or to play one "again" that was just on. If I have to explain the impossibility of this one more time . . . .)
In an hour, we'll be down the street at the auditorium, wating for Annie's dance recital to begin. This year, she's tapping to "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" and, though she was not really paying attention at all during rehearsal on Thursday, I am sure it will be adorable no matter what. She's been in such a great mood all day, so excited to get up on that stage and tap her heart out in front of a couple hundred strangers. I can't wait. Pictures to come, I promise.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
So Many (Unanswerable) Questions
"Mom, what makes the rain decide to come out of the clouds?"
"I feel like I only see ants during the spring and the summer. Where do they go during the winter? Are they in tunnels underground this road right now???"
"Mom, who do you love the most - me, Jemma, or Daddy? No, not all the same, but (wink, wink) who do you REALLY love the most?"
"Where exactly IS this Winter Wonderland?"
"I feel like I only see ants during the spring and the summer. Where do they go during the winter? Are they in tunnels underground this road right now???"
"Mom, who do you love the most - me, Jemma, or Daddy? No, not all the same, but (wink, wink) who do you REALLY love the most?"
"Where exactly IS this Winter Wonderland?"
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Nine More, For Good Measure
Because I am just so damn interesting (or, because once I started thinking like this in the morning, my brain was coming up with random facts all day and I must get them out - OUT! - of my brain before they drive me crazy):
-My favorite book is Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury, and I read it every year in June as a ritual to kick off summer.
-I have never, not even when I was little, picked my nose and eaten it.
-When I was in middle school and high school, I thought I would totally snag a cool boyfriend if only I was good at volleyball.
-The one food I am unable to eat rationally is Oreo cookies. It is best if I never have them in the house. When Jason occasionally buys them, he hides them from me. Then I search the house until I find them and eat a whole row in 10 minutes.
-I scored a perfect 36 on my ACT verbal. (You can see that's getting me all sorts of high-powered jobs these days.)
-If I were president, the first thing I'd do would be to eliminate NASA (what is the point of it?) and allocate all the money to underprivileged schools.
-Jason and I had two "first kisses" - one on New Year's Eve of my freshman year at Hope, one on our third date in September of the following year.
-I really love to open a new container of something with a seal (like peanut butter or margarine) and be the first to scoop into the smooth, pure surface of it. I get sad if Jason does it. Understandably, he mocks me for this.
-I never tried smoking until a camping trip during my freshman year of college, and then I went all in with a Marlboro Red and passed out on a log.
-My favorite book is Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury, and I read it every year in June as a ritual to kick off summer.
-I have never, not even when I was little, picked my nose and eaten it.
-When I was in middle school and high school, I thought I would totally snag a cool boyfriend if only I was good at volleyball.
-The one food I am unable to eat rationally is Oreo cookies. It is best if I never have them in the house. When Jason occasionally buys them, he hides them from me. Then I search the house until I find them and eat a whole row in 10 minutes.
-I scored a perfect 36 on my ACT verbal. (You can see that's getting me all sorts of high-powered jobs these days.)
-If I were president, the first thing I'd do would be to eliminate NASA (what is the point of it?) and allocate all the money to underprivileged schools.
-Jason and I had two "first kisses" - one on New Year's Eve of my freshman year at Hope, one on our third date in September of the following year.
-I really love to open a new container of something with a seal (like peanut butter or margarine) and be the first to scoop into the smooth, pure surface of it. I get sad if Jason does it. Understandably, he mocks me for this.
-I never tried smoking until a camping trip during my freshman year of college, and then I went all in with a Marlboro Red and passed out on a log.
I've Been Tagged
My friend and neighbor, Sarah, tagged me in a game of blog tag. I have to list six random things about myself, then tag six other bloggers to do the same.
1. When I was little (5th grade?) I fell in love with one of those very tiny toads you see outside in the summer. I named it Pepper and I kept it in a large bucket in our garage for the entire summer. I created a pond out of a Cool-Whip container and a rock-and-grass area off to one side. I killed flies and bugs to feed Pepper daily. I cried when my parents made me let him go at the end of the summer.
2. When I was in Vienna, Austria in 1997, a man with a briefcase came up to me while I was reading on a park bench and asked repeatedly to be allowed to lick my toes. I refused; he got angry and left. (I later saw him doing it to someone else!)
3. I have an overwhelming, irrational fear of vomiting. If I hear of anyone I know being sick with the stomach flu, I immediately begin calculating if we have seen anyone who they have seen within the last 10 days, then I disinfect door handles, light switches, etc. I am not clausterphobic, but I do sometimes get nervous if I am in a really crowded place and can't see a place where I could go if I needed to throw up . . . even if I am feeling 100% fine. I know, crazy.
4. I have had the same best friend for 27 years. I met Connie when we were both four years old and she moved onto my street. Things we have done together include: have a front-yard store selling candy called Are We Over the Rainbow Yet?; have a rock band called Blazing Paradise; play clarinet in the school band; spend whole afternoons eating Pizzeria chips and diet Rite White Grape pop; drive to Florida together; hike a snowy mountain in Wyoming in the rain and, afterwards, sleep in the same sleeping bag together to prevent hypothermia; room together and pledge the same sorority in college; watch Billy Madison almost every afternoon of our freshman year; be maid of honor at one another's weddings; hold one another's children on the day they were born; crack up during yoga class; and talk on the phone pretty much every day. Sometimes twice.
5. I hate Rod Stewart and Gloria Estefan's voices with a passion and can't listen to any song by them for more than 2 seconds.
6. Unless they are things that clearly go together (beef roast and mashed potatoes, turkey and stuffing), I do not like my food to touch on my plate.
So . . . . I'm tagging:
-My sorority sister and friend since freshman year of college, Team Pellow
-My sister-in-law, Pancakes for Breakfast
-My neighbor, Heidi, who hasn't updated her blog since August (with good reason), but who might enjoy doing a fun, easy post at The Kett Family.
-My other neighbor, Shawn, who hasn't updated his blog since August, either, and who owes the neighborhood a little entertainment.
-My friend and her sister, who have a joint blog, and thus count for two people.
1. When I was little (5th grade?) I fell in love with one of those very tiny toads you see outside in the summer. I named it Pepper and I kept it in a large bucket in our garage for the entire summer. I created a pond out of a Cool-Whip container and a rock-and-grass area off to one side. I killed flies and bugs to feed Pepper daily. I cried when my parents made me let him go at the end of the summer.
2. When I was in Vienna, Austria in 1997, a man with a briefcase came up to me while I was reading on a park bench and asked repeatedly to be allowed to lick my toes. I refused; he got angry and left. (I later saw him doing it to someone else!)
3. I have an overwhelming, irrational fear of vomiting. If I hear of anyone I know being sick with the stomach flu, I immediately begin calculating if we have seen anyone who they have seen within the last 10 days, then I disinfect door handles, light switches, etc. I am not clausterphobic, but I do sometimes get nervous if I am in a really crowded place and can't see a place where I could go if I needed to throw up . . . even if I am feeling 100% fine. I know, crazy.
4. I have had the same best friend for 27 years. I met Connie when we were both four years old and she moved onto my street. Things we have done together include: have a front-yard store selling candy called Are We Over the Rainbow Yet?; have a rock band called Blazing Paradise; play clarinet in the school band; spend whole afternoons eating Pizzeria chips and diet Rite White Grape pop; drive to Florida together; hike a snowy mountain in Wyoming in the rain and, afterwards, sleep in the same sleeping bag together to prevent hypothermia; room together and pledge the same sorority in college; watch Billy Madison almost every afternoon of our freshman year; be maid of honor at one another's weddings; hold one another's children on the day they were born; crack up during yoga class; and talk on the phone pretty much every day. Sometimes twice.
5. I hate Rod Stewart and Gloria Estefan's voices with a passion and can't listen to any song by them for more than 2 seconds.
6. Unless they are things that clearly go together (beef roast and mashed potatoes, turkey and stuffing), I do not like my food to touch on my plate.
So . . . . I'm tagging:
-My sorority sister and friend since freshman year of college, Team Pellow
-My sister-in-law, Pancakes for Breakfast
-My neighbor, Heidi, who hasn't updated her blog since August (with good reason), but who might enjoy doing a fun, easy post at The Kett Family.
-My other neighbor, Shawn, who hasn't updated his blog since August, either, and who owes the neighborhood a little entertainment.
-My friend and her sister, who have a joint blog, and thus count for two people.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
24 Hours Alone Together
So yesterday I surprised Jason by driving the kids to my parents' (and, due to the snow situation, this took far longer than it should have) and showing up at his work Christmas lunch. We had a giant, delicious meal with his staff and then went on to enjoy a leisurely afternoon of Christmas shopping, the downtown tree lighting and the art museum, cocktails and sushi at the JW Marriott, and a late dinner in front of the fire.
The girls spent the night at my parents', so we woke up this morning to a quiet house. We made coffee, ate chocolate croissants, addressed Christmas cards, wrapped Christmas presents, watched the Food Network, and organized over a year and a half worth of photos that have been lying around sadly, just waiting to be put in albums.
If this sound magical, it was. It was leisurely, luxurious, relaxing, fun, merry, spontaneous, and festive. None of our activities were planned; we just did what we wanted to do, when we wanted to do it. Not since last August have we had the house to ourselves while the girls were elsewhere, and even then, I was taking a class and Jason was working, so there were no late nights or lazy mornings. It might be the single thing I miss most about pre-children life - the ability to wake up on a Saturday morning (whenever your body wakes you up) and decide what to do with your morning. We still manage, with sitters and generous grandparents, to go out at night plenty. But mornings . . . .
Looking through all the photos as we put them in albums was like watching almost two years of our girl's childhoods fly by in a blink. Look! There's Jemma's baptism. Look! There's Annie's first dance recital. Look! There's brunch at Bay View on the fourth of July. Look! There's Jemma's first birthday. Look! Look!
I know people are always saying (and I'm always concurring) that it all goes by so fast. But for me, truly, it didn't used to. During that first winter of Jemma's life, I did not take kindly to the random strangers in the grocery store who would coo over my children (one of them a newly-sassy two-year-old, one of them a colicky, screechy, spitting-up newborn) and tell me how quickly it goes. IT WAS NOT GOING QUICKLY. And I admit that there were many, many dark days when I woke up in the morning and was filled with only dread at the thought of so many hours at home with them on so little sleep: no preschool, no gym, no dance, no playgroups, no outdoor play. It was literally freezing outside, we didn't really know our neighbors yet, and our pediatrician had scared us silly about letting Jemma be exposed to any germs for the first six weeks of her life. So it was us, inside, all the time.
But now. Now, although I have a few moments almost every day when I wish for my "old life" back - for silly reasons, mostly - those moments are outnumbered a bazillion to one by the moments when I am not only so glad to have them, but glad to be with them.
I talked to them on the phone this morning, their voices all high-pitched and elfin on the phone. In a half hour or so, my parents are going to be back with them. They'll pile in the house with all their bags of gear and clothes and snowsuits and dolls, and we'll eat dinner all together, three generations, and I won't mind the chaos a bit, no matter how magical and completely necessary the last 24 hours have been.
The girls spent the night at my parents', so we woke up this morning to a quiet house. We made coffee, ate chocolate croissants, addressed Christmas cards, wrapped Christmas presents, watched the Food Network, and organized over a year and a half worth of photos that have been lying around sadly, just waiting to be put in albums.
If this sound magical, it was. It was leisurely, luxurious, relaxing, fun, merry, spontaneous, and festive. None of our activities were planned; we just did what we wanted to do, when we wanted to do it. Not since last August have we had the house to ourselves while the girls were elsewhere, and even then, I was taking a class and Jason was working, so there were no late nights or lazy mornings. It might be the single thing I miss most about pre-children life - the ability to wake up on a Saturday morning (whenever your body wakes you up) and decide what to do with your morning. We still manage, with sitters and generous grandparents, to go out at night plenty. But mornings . . . .
Looking through all the photos as we put them in albums was like watching almost two years of our girl's childhoods fly by in a blink. Look! There's Jemma's baptism. Look! There's Annie's first dance recital. Look! There's brunch at Bay View on the fourth of July. Look! There's Jemma's first birthday. Look! Look!
I know people are always saying (and I'm always concurring) that it all goes by so fast. But for me, truly, it didn't used to. During that first winter of Jemma's life, I did not take kindly to the random strangers in the grocery store who would coo over my children (one of them a newly-sassy two-year-old, one of them a colicky, screechy, spitting-up newborn) and tell me how quickly it goes. IT WAS NOT GOING QUICKLY. And I admit that there were many, many dark days when I woke up in the morning and was filled with only dread at the thought of so many hours at home with them on so little sleep: no preschool, no gym, no dance, no playgroups, no outdoor play. It was literally freezing outside, we didn't really know our neighbors yet, and our pediatrician had scared us silly about letting Jemma be exposed to any germs for the first six weeks of her life. So it was us, inside, all the time.
But now. Now, although I have a few moments almost every day when I wish for my "old life" back - for silly reasons, mostly - those moments are outnumbered a bazillion to one by the moments when I am not only so glad to have them, but glad to be with them.
I talked to them on the phone this morning, their voices all high-pitched and elfin on the phone. In a half hour or so, my parents are going to be back with them. They'll pile in the house with all their bags of gear and clothes and snowsuits and dolls, and we'll eat dinner all together, three generations, and I won't mind the chaos a bit, no matter how magical and completely necessary the last 24 hours have been.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
While Watching 30 Rock
Jason: "Want to feel how dry my nipples are?"
Me, promptly: "No thanks."
And that, readers, is my 300th post. Profound.
Me, promptly: "No thanks."
And that, readers, is my 300th post. Profound.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Things She Does
1. Says most two-syllable words with a distinct pause between the syllables: "Hor. Sie." "Pun. Kin." "Ber. It."
2. Sings along to Rudolph with her own unintelligible words until it gets to the part, "Then one foggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say," when she does a very animated "Ho! Ho! Ho!" and then wanders off into reminiscing about when she saw Santa at the tree-lighting last week: "Santa. Ho ho ho! Horsies. Tree."
3. Says "Christmas!" excitedly ("Chris. Miss!") anytime she spys a lit tree, outdoor lights, wreaths, Santa, or hears the word "Christmas" in a song on the radio.
4. Asks for "sfruit" at the end of every meal.
5. Wants to stay in the bathtub for as long as possible to "fim."
6. Knows all her colors, recognizes the letter J, and thinks she can write her name with crayon.
7. Says "Eat" the minute we go in to get her out of her crib in the morning.
8. Takes fully five minutes to get her mittens on, but insists on doing it "self."
9. Yells, "Love you!" as we leave the room after tucking her into bed at night.
10. Obviously, has the best nap hair ever.
Secret Agent Josephine Strikes Again
Again, we were inspired by one of my favorite bloggers, SAJ, to create some homemade wrapping paper. She did lemons and limes; we did holly leaves and berries. The girls loved it and it wasn't too messy, considering the paint involved (possibly because I made them take their shirts off).
Monday, December 1, 2008
A Sucker Doesn't Really Make Up For It
After this morning's annoying snow day (annoying because we'd already had a week off school due to Thanksgiving, and doubly annoying because three inches of snow does not make the roads dangerous in Michigan, people), we had an even more annoying afternoon. We had Annie's long-put-off four-year-old well child checkup. Her pediatrician, whom I really love, had a baby at the end of August, so I opted to wait until she was back to do Annie's check so we could have our usual doc. That, and I had heard that the shot situation at this appointment was dreadful, so I was putting it off as long as possible.
The stats: 30 lbs, 6 oz (which is actually the 20th percentile for girls!), 40 inches tall (strangely, 60th percentile for height). Her doctor wanted to make sure she knew all her colors (um, were we talking about Jemma, because if so, YES) and could count to ten. "I can count to a hundred!" Annie interrupted.
Then, the shots. I told Annie before that there would be shots, and she's actually pretty OK about it all. She gets why she has to have them and she talks a good talk on the way there about how it'll just pinch for a minute and then she'll get a sucker when it's over. (The sucker is from me, not the doctor, who I doubt would be super-proud of a dentist's wife rewarding her children with inappropriate candy, but, whatever.)
There were FIVE. Two nurses came in so they could do it together and it would be over faster. And when Annie looked up at me when I got her on my lap and held her arms tightly against my chest, I pretty much wanted to kill myself rather than have to make her go through it. She screamed, and even though they did it as quickly as they could, it took waaaaaay too long. Jemma was sitting on a bench, watching, yelling, "All Done!" optimistically the whole time.
After it was over, they let her pick a super-special prize for kids who have to get FIVE shots in one day, and she chose a pink poodle dog that doubles as a purse. She's sleeping with it right now; its name is Miss Long Legs. And I did indeed give her a sucker for the ride home, plus let her eat chicken noodle soup for dinner in the living room while watching Strawberry Shortcake. She would whimper and look pitiful every once in a while, and I would sit next to her, stroke her hair, and tell her how brave she was. FIVE. Let's not do that again for a very long time.
The stats: 30 lbs, 6 oz (which is actually the 20th percentile for girls!), 40 inches tall (strangely, 60th percentile for height). Her doctor wanted to make sure she knew all her colors (um, were we talking about Jemma, because if so, YES) and could count to ten. "I can count to a hundred!" Annie interrupted.
Then, the shots. I told Annie before that there would be shots, and she's actually pretty OK about it all. She gets why she has to have them and she talks a good talk on the way there about how it'll just pinch for a minute and then she'll get a sucker when it's over. (The sucker is from me, not the doctor, who I doubt would be super-proud of a dentist's wife rewarding her children with inappropriate candy, but, whatever.)
There were FIVE. Two nurses came in so they could do it together and it would be over faster. And when Annie looked up at me when I got her on my lap and held her arms tightly against my chest, I pretty much wanted to kill myself rather than have to make her go through it. She screamed, and even though they did it as quickly as they could, it took waaaaaay too long. Jemma was sitting on a bench, watching, yelling, "All Done!" optimistically the whole time.
After it was over, they let her pick a super-special prize for kids who have to get FIVE shots in one day, and she chose a pink poodle dog that doubles as a purse. She's sleeping with it right now; its name is Miss Long Legs. And I did indeed give her a sucker for the ride home, plus let her eat chicken noodle soup for dinner in the living room while watching Strawberry Shortcake. She would whimper and look pitiful every once in a while, and I would sit next to her, stroke her hair, and tell her how brave she was. FIVE. Let's not do that again for a very long time.
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