It's 6 A.M., do you know where YOUR chicken is?

Anna had an assignment at school this week to write several sentences using contractions and some of her spelling words. Here's what she came up with. Let me know if you sense a theme:

• I didn't catch a whale.
• I won't light a match.
• They've come for your chicken!!
• I can't whip the cream.
• You've caught my chicken!!
• I've come for some whip cream.
• Don't touch my chicken!!

The Infamous Chicken Grab Nabber (Doesn't every family have one?)

Halloween

This year, Anna wanted to be a bat. I tried to talk her into any number of other things, but she was set on it. So Terry stepped in and put together some spooky wings. PERFECTION. Anna was thrilled, she was adorable. Best bat ever. :)

Silvia was a pink princess because she is always a pink princess.

Jack was a baby in pajamas because... he is always a baby in pajamas and I am lazy.

We saw some seriously creepy house decorations, too. There was one house that had the front set up as a gruesome body part store, complete with shelves of dripping arms and feet and blood spatters on the sidewalk. The lady handing out candy kept calling out, "Come on in for a special treat! Watch out for the blood... it's FRESH."

Needless to say, my kids did not go anywhere near that candy dish. Cici wouldn't even stand by the house, we had to go wait a ways down until everyone else was done. I spent the rest of the night explaining that it wasn't REAL blood, ha ha, so silly, no really kids, it wasn't real. Yes, probably ketchup. No, Anna, someone did not kill their pet. Remember, ketchup?

All in all, a fun time had by all and the candy was delicious. Ummm, I mean, I'm sure the kids enjoyed the candy because of course I didn't steal half of it.

Anna the Bat

Silvia, Anna and Dhanushri (our neighbor and Anna's classmate)

Jack is SO impressed... and he wants her Twizzlers.

A little shopping, anyone?

"No, really, kids. No one was murdered."

Who's a pumpkin?

Instead of trying to play catch up, I'm going to jump to the highlights of the past two months and then try to keep up from here on out. We'll see how well I do. Cross your fingers.

Biggest and best and most life-altering things first-- Jack is walking. He is a tumbling, toddling little Frankenstein, moving with arms held out in front for balance. He often doesn't seem to know which direction he'll end up going. Sometimes his feet move to fast ahead of him until he finds himself in an inadvertent run, which he resolves by the simple expediency of plopping down on his butt, grinning and starting over.

Next, though equally life-altering, the heat here in Texas has finally broken. Around the 2nd week in September, 80 and 90 degree days became the norm. Now at the tail end of October, the mornings are a brisk 45 or so and most days have settled nicely into the mid-70's. It makes a world of difference. The comfort is marred a bit by the onset of fall allergy season. It seems a strange thing to be sneezing and runny-eyed at Halloween, something more appropriate for Memorial Day. But that's Texas.

Speaking of, Halloween! It's the beginning of the end-of-year craziness. Anna has decided to be a bat. I have tried to talk her into many other things: witch, butterfly, spider, cat, anything. But she is adamant; it must be a bat. Since, strangely, bat costumes are not all the easy to come upon, Terry has once again stepped in to save Halloween and give Anna some spooky wings. Silvia is much easier. She will be, as usual, a pink princess. This year she has a fancy store bought dress which she has already worn into the ground, but she couldn't care less. It's pink, it's pretty and she's thrilled. Jack, as the baby, will be a pumpkin, simply because there are pumpkin PJ's to be had everywhere you turn. I suppose I could have asked Monica for the frog costume Anna, Silvia and Ryan all wore, but pumpkin is easier. So a pumpkin he shall be.

Then the big day comes. November 3rd, 2011. Anna will be 7 years old. It's a big thing. Something about 7 has always made it seem like that turning-point age where she is no longer a little kid. Of course, that's been true and evolving for some time now, but just the official day of it, 7th birthday, feels so strange.

After much thought, we had to accept that this house is simply NOT set up for entertaining. There's no real way we could easily have a party here, so Anna lucked out big time. On her actual birthday we'll do a small family thing, but the following weekend the REAL event will take place. She is having a Fancy Nancy party at a fancy little party place called Sugar and Spice, made exclusively to throw the girliest, pinkest and silliest parties ever with everything from hair, nails and glittery make-up to fashion show dress up and karaoke. She is thrilled. This is also the first year where she's inviting friends from school, people we don't know. See? All grown up now. Told ya.

Walking, cooling off, growing up. Time just keeps slipping by with or without my permission. Funny, that.

Anna, 81 months and counting

“How much time does it take the Earth to go all the way around the sun? I better look that up in my planets book after dinner."

***

“Mom, come look at this cloud! I think it’s a funnel cloud, it has ominous striations all over it!”

***

“I can’t find a book! I’m supposed to bring my favorite book and I can’t find one!”

“Anna, you have a dozen books all over, just pick one.”

“But I can’t find ONE, Mommy! I’m only supposed to bring ONE!”

In lieu of any other description, that is Anna in her own words. She checks out encyclopedias from the library, just for fun. She has a lightening quick memory and picks up little facts everywhere, dropping them casually throughout her conversation, as innocently as a toddler reciting the alphabet. She would sit, oblivious to the world, all day if we didn't tell her to just, "put down the book and step away", words I never thought I would utter.

Of course she’s still a little kid and just as gullible as your average 1^st grader. “Harushi in my class says her parents are out of town and she gets to drive herself everywhere and go to McDonald’s all by herself and see movies at the theatre (pronounced thee-A-ter) every night! True, she does! REALLY!”

Since she was born, Anna has been more sensitive than the other kids. She has a thinner skin. She feels insults more deeply, empathizes with others to the point of her OWN tears and can (more rarely now as she gets older) have violent fits of temper over strange things that leave her hysterically inconsolable for hours. When this happens, Kurt and I just give each other the look and, depending on the circumstance, either let her settle herself alone in her room or just hold her until the storm passes. We've learned it's basically unkind to try to punish her or tell her to "just stop it and calm down". She is an emotional sponge and sometimes things, often just little things, start to wring her out. She gets that from me, actually.

In the same vein, her love is extreme. She hugs, she kisses, she holds on tightly for longer than is almost comfortable. At any given opportunity she will snuggle in against us as comfortable as a kitten. Throw in a story and she’s in heaven on high. Her gap-tooth smile (she's lost 4 teeth and plays constantly with the loose ones, to my disgust. Ew.) is just about my favorite thing ever.

If you ask her, Anna will tell you she wants to be a scientist or an artist when she grows up. I keep telling her she can be both. For the moment, she remains undecided.

Most of all, Anna is a big sister, a caretaker. She teaches Silvia what she has learned, though sometimes the lessons come with a certain air of condescension and impatience. I find them sometimes curled up together as she reads her sister a story. The love to play “Tea Cafe” with made-up menus where they set up the house as a restaurant and, together, make fabulous dinners for us (I wonder if it’s bad that they always put beer on the beverage menu?). She loves all things Jack, wanting to hold him and carrying him around when I’m not looking. If he’s in his crib or high chair while I try to get something else done, she will happily entertain him with dancing, singing, random screeching and anything else that wins a smile. 

At a play area yesterday I saw a little baby girl, not yet two, wearing a dress exactly like one Anna had at the same age. So tiny. It made me smile, a little sadly, but mostly just with pleasure. I still remember the clothes she wore back as a baby, yes, but that is just the cover of the book. What she’s come to be inside those pages is so much more a wonder to me. She is beautiful, precocious, tempestuous, caring and bright as a star. 

And, for now, those are my kids at six, four and one… and counting.

Silvia, 54 months and counting

Princesses. Pink. Dresses. Parties. Pink. Adventure. Singing. Drawing. Pink.

Pink princess doll parties in dresses and skirts having adventures all over the world, captured in pink-centric art scattered to the winds in every direction.

Silvia is a girl’s girl. She spends her every moment (between sibling tiffs, artistic retreats and pouting fits) taking her dolls all over the house on fantastical journeys, singing them little nonsense songs with wardrobe changes at every destination. If I dare to interject a question about what they’re doing, she stares at me with a vaguely affronted look and says, “Mooooommy, I’m just plaaaaying”.

As in, leave me alone, woman, you’re interrupting my princess tower rebellion.

(On a side note, she just realized that Ken’s clothes come off. Princesses and a naked prince all a mix at the party. Ah, the innocence of youth.)

None of this is to imply that she is faint of heart or in anyway dainty. Dainty does not apply to Silvia. Cute, pretty, devilish and temperamental, yes. But not dainty. These adventures often have her princesses dangling off cliffs, jumping canyons and going off to college (all dangerous activities). She herself spends much of the day running laps around the house, up the stairs, down the stairs, across the couch, ad nauseum. Literally, her circling leaves me queasy.

Silvia cannot sit still. For the most part, unless enthralled by the magic of TV, she is constantly twitching, bouncing and twirling. This, hopefully, explains my somewhat guilty over-use of kid’s shows in the afternoon. If I don’t turn on Backyardigans, then she doesn’t turn OFF until she passes out in a lump somewhere in the house.

These impromptu naps are another one of Silvia’s trademarks. At four and a half years old, most kids have outgrown the afternoon nap, but not my blonde whirlwind. While she will vehemently refuse me if I ever dare to suggest it, Silvia puts herself down for a little rest more days than not every week. She will make a bed of pillows with a neatly straightened blanket, tuck herself underneath and sleep, oblivious to the world. Sometimes it comes on her stealthily and I will find her curled up on the hard tile of the front hall with her hands still outstretch towards a doll or asleep in the rocking chair of Jack’s nursery from one moment to the next when I turn away from her to change him.

In her last year of preschool now, Silvia is very excited for kindergarten next year, mostly so she can ride the bus with Anna. She’s more physically focused than Anna ever was and hasn’t started reading at all. That’s not to say she doesn’t know her letters and numbers, but it’s not in anyway the focus of her day. Still, she has her favorite stories half-memorized and will take the rare break during the day to sit and read two or three books cuddled up against me on the couch. She will be the athlete to Anna’s scholar.

An artist, a singer, a fighter, a lover, a darling and terror all at once, Silvia is my wonderland of childhood rolled up into one perfect little body.

On the move and feelin' fancy.

Jack, 13 months and counting

Jack's favorite foods are:
bananas
carrots
peaches
bagels
raisin bread with jam or peanut butter (MESSY)
pancakes
chicken
applesauce
hot dogs (nitrate-free and cut up, just in case you were worried)
raisins
spaghetti
pizza
cheddar cheese pieces, but not slices
cake, ice cream, cookies, etc. (in moderation)

Jack's most-hated foods are:
carrots
peaches
bagels
raisin bread with jam or with peanut butter (MESSY)
pancakes
chicken
applesauce
hot dogs (nitrate-free and cut up, just in case you were worried)
raisins
pizza
cheddar cheese pieces, but not slices
cake, ice cream, cookies, etc. (in moderation)

In case it's not immediately clear, the only things Jack will eat consistently are bananas and spaghetti. And yes, sometimes with one in each hand. To say he's picky, well-- that just about covers it. We rotate what he's offered throughout the week to try and keep everything in some level of favor, but there are times when he just won't eat anything except a banana and bottles of milk for days.

Little kids just DO that, though. They survive on air in between gorging on everything in sight including that ages old cheerio dug out from behind the couch. For all this appetite confusion, he is a happily growing boy. Even though he's still small for his age, falling around the 7th percentile for height and weight, he's perfectly healthy. I actually kind of like his smallness, just because it makes me feel like I can still enjoy the baby-ness of him a little longer while still having the fun of a near-toddler talking and grabbing and exploring.

And boy does he ever! Nothing in the house is safe. We had to buy a safety gate on practically a moment's notice when he went from being oblivious to the stairs to climbing up three steps and trying to stand up (he can't). Once the stairs were off limits, he turned to conquering the bathroom. We now have to keep the door closed at all times or he will, literally, climb into the toilet bowl. Charming.

Jack says hi, he waves, he smiles and giggles and thinks his sisters are the most wonderful thing in the world. When Kurt comes in the door at the end of the day, Jack crawls over lightening fast and gets up on his knees in front of his daddy, arms reaching high up and firmly crying to be held. He plays on his own, loves books and maracas and spends more time than I'd like blowing on the harmonica and toy recorder.

While he's not walking yet, Jack does push things around standing, lawnmower-style, and has progressed to walking unsteadily while holding only one of my hands. We travel in little gulps around the house through out the day as he tries to find and hold his center. He's almost there, I can just feel it. Because of the heat, he spends most of his time in just a diaper or, if he's feeling fancy, in a onesie. his knees have become rough from the hard floors and I imagine moving on to feet-based travel will be a relief.

He's still our little puppy, too, travelling around all the time with things tightly held between his 6 little teeth: paint brushes, his frog lovey, bagels, bottles, cups, socks, etc. Mostly it's cute and we leave him to it, but today I did draw the line when he came up to me with one of Anna's Crocs tightly between his lips.

My boy is a lover and I'm not bragging (ok, maybe just a little) when I say that I get the lion's share of that affection. He crawls all over me, climbs on me, hugs me, tickles me, dances with me... he loves me. He loves everyone else, too, but for the moment I'm still the special-est. I treasure every wet, slobbery kiss. Well, mostly. Sometimes the slobber is a BIT much.

"Would you like this paint brush? It's only a little drooly."

Belated Father's Day

Picture time and soon to come, a catch up

Here's a fairly random collection of recent pictures. I'm just getting my photos, internet and phone camera all sorted out here in Texas, so there will be more to come in explanations, especially concerning Silvia cleaning my house like a happy little not-so-downtrodden Cinderella.

And then there really were three

Our dear friend Charlotte at Trystan Photography snapped these pictures about 2 weeks before we left Colorado. Aren't my kids beautiful?

Jack's 1st birthday and...

Oh, yeah. Did I forget to mention? We moved to Texas.

We've been here in Dallas for about two weeks now and I can solidly say, without a shadow of doubt... it's hot. Like, STUPID hot. The air conditioning in Kurt's car went out this weekend (having never actually been put to the test before it died of shock) and our response was not, "Oh, well, better get that looked at," but instead, "OH NO! NOOOOO!!!!".

It's hot, yes indeedy. But Kurt's new job, the one we dropped everything for, is great and he's really enjoying it. The kids and I are settling in slowly, a little bit forward, a little bit backward, depending on the day (and the temperature). We joined the YMCA and that's been a great help. They have a splash park as part of the child watch. So while I work out, the girls run around and get soaked. Jack is, big surprise, the darling of the daycare and spends the time being cuddled, passed around to many loving arms and generally deliciously spoiled.

Speaking of whom-- Jack. One. A year gone by.

Crazy.

This time last summer I had no idea, NO IDEA, we'd be celebrating this inaugural birthday in a little rental house in the Lone Star State. I probably would have laughed nervously and looked for a quick exit if anyone had tried to convince me of that possibility. Yet here we are, a year later, and my baby boy is one in Texas.

He's so great. He's such a fun baby. He talks all the time now and has taken to pointing at things and making important sounding pronouncements. We only wish we could hook up to a universal translator and be privy to his wisdom. He started crawling in late May, the day we left for our first Texas house-hunting trip, actually. Now he's a pro with callused knees and a top speed we like to call "Jack, no, stop!".

He's recently started pulling up on things, but his center of gravity is still very wobbly and he mostly gets himself up, locks his knees and gets stuck holding on and leaning forward. Usually Anna comes to his rescue, hugging him around the waist tightly until he  plops down solidly on the floor.

Even at one, though, I feel like Jack is a little more baby-like still than the girls were at this age. I'm sure that has a lot to do with him being my last but there's just something more infant-like, innocence or trust or something, than toddler-like. As soon as he's up and at 'em, ripping around the house, base jumping off furniture and terrorizing the neighbors, I'm sure that feeling will change.

For now, though, Jack is still my little one. He likes to be held, he smiles with his toothy grin (4 on top, 2 on the bottom), his sisters are his favorite source of amusement and he points and crows out happily whenever he sees Kurt after a day at work. Jack Stephen is a darling.

And now he's gonna grow up to be a Cowboy... wait. Isn't there a song about NOT letting your babies do that? Too late now. We're all in a Lone Star state of mind now. (Hahaa. Ok, I'll stop.)

Trying out his new wheels. And check out the jammies, courtesy of Auntie Mo!!

Cuteness

Easter sugar high.

Sleeping baby, never gets less cute.

Jack, getting in touch with his Italian roots. "This-a spaghetti is-a molto buono!"

First spaghetti dinner is a success... and a mess.

Picnic on the porch.

Jack: 9 months

Updates being far behind, I figure I'll just start with where we are and work my way backwards as needed. Jack is 9 months old. Not sure how that happened, but I'm still befuddled by the blossoming of spring all around me. I think my sense of time passing has been compromised.

Jack is loud. He talks a LOT, mostly just your standard, "dadada" but he's also recently added "annna" and (oh, I am so happy!) "mama". He's working on "uh-oh" and I swear I've heard a version of "what's that?" come from his drooly little lips. But I may have a case of maternal pride hallucinations.

Mostly, though, he's just loud. It can be happy loud, screaming for the fun of it and giggling at his sisters ("Look! They have toys on their heads! And then they jump and the toys fall off! AMAZING! Do it again!"). There is also angry, abandoned, tormented, sad, pained loud. We get that about equally as much.

He's not exactly what you'd call a peaceful baby. When he's cute, though... oh, is he EVER cute! See the picture above. Our friend Kim (of Kim Harms Photography) came over a couple weeks ago and managed to capture some of his best faces and smiles. I know, I know, I'm biased but wow, isn't he just the most beautiful boy? Am I right? I'm totally right.

Jack has been sleeping pretty consistently through the night since January, after a brief and painful bout of sleep "training" (also known as, he cries, mommy cries, and then we sleep). It makes a HUGE difference in our lives as a family. Kurt and I get some peace in the evening after all the little ones are in bed and we can wake up in the morning without feeling like total zombies. Most days, anyway. It also did a lot to improve Jack's general mood. As I said, he hasn't been a peaceful baby and not particularly an easy one. The first half of his life he basically just cried, screamed, slept, nursed, cried and then screamed a bit. In between we'd get these flashes of the absolutely charming boy he had buried inside, but it took some time for that little guy to make his way to the surface. Colic, how we hate thee.

He's been generally healthy, though, despite the tears, which is a true blessing. There have been a few ear infections but not so many as Silvia suffered through. Considering he's smothered daily with love by a kindegartener and a preschooler (both dripping germs of all shapes and sizes) it's pretty awesome he hasn't been more sick, in general.

There are a few points of concern right now, but nothing that really bothers me, despite the necessity of putting it down in his official medical records. Jack's normal height and head size for his age but his weight falls off the charts at below 2%. He's gained not quite one pound in the last three months. The verdict? FEED THAT BOY, which is convenient because he loooooooves to eat. Cheerios, baby food, oatmeal, little bites of banana and various adult foods-- all of these and more. If only I had such problems.

The other thing is he's sitting (literally) at a borderline developmental delay. He's not crawling, pulling up or pushing up with his belly off the floor. Again, I am just NOT worried. If I've learned anything at all in the past 6 years of parenthood it's that kids do everything in their own time. To hell with the charts and milestones. My pediatrician (whom I adore, by the way) was equally sanguine. He pointed out that with the family history of Anna's developmental delay, it's especially not a big deal. We know nothing was ultimately wrong with her and I'm positive there's nothing wrong with him. He'll get there when he gets there.

For the moment, I take great pleasure in the fact that when I set him down somewhere, that's where he stays. Another thing I've learned... enjoy the little things and NEVER try and rush to the next stage. You'll miss that time when it's passed!

More on the girls and our family as whole later, but it's all about Jack Stephen for now.

Kurt and Jack

Diana Barbour, 1939-2011

Aunt Diana was the stubborn, funny and sometimes (ok, often, but we loved her for it) cantankerous matriarch of our family. A true force of nature and smart as a whip, she was fiercely devoted to her family, friends and political views. We all loved her, I loved her, and she will be greatly missed.

Love Letter

Just found this letter Anna wrote to Silvia this week:

Silvia,

I love you so much. And I am full of surprises. You are the best sister I've ever had.

Love, Anna

Photo barrage! Take cover!

Okay, maybe it's not that many pictures, but it feels like it. Some are from Christmas, too, late but not forgotten!