Happy Birthday Ryan!

From 2008_12_19

Hold still for the camera!

2nd Christmas

Anna keeps asking for her second Christmas. While Kurt's family was visiting this past weekend, we had a great mini-Christmas for the three kids- Ryan, Anna and Silvia. They each got a few presents and we adults were able to sit back and just enjoy the delight and excitement that only young children seem to glow with on that most-anticipated of holidays.

Opa took them all up to the playroom so that Santa could come with their goodies and then they came boiling down the stairs, running straight for the tree. Silvia's reaction was my favorite. She simply walked up, grabbed the nearest package to hand and brought it to me, ordering firmly, "OPEN IT, Mama. OPEN." It was for Ryan, but that didn't seem to slow her down at all.

At some point, we must have said that this was the 1st Christmas so we could celebrate with our family. Now Anna is very confused and adamant that it is now time for the 2nd Christmas. She comes home from school-"Is it 2nd Christmas yet"? Or the same after dinner every night, after any brief naps she might condescend to take. "Is it? Now?"

I sure hope we don't have to expect a 3rd or 4th Christmas after the 25th.

Broken Glass

The other day, as Silvia and Anna were chasing each other like puppies through the house, Anna bumped into a table and knocked a glass vase onto the floor where it shattered in a spray of shards. I think the average adult's response to this is to step away and find a careful way of cleaning it up. Anna is neither average or an adult.

By the time I got to the scene, she had reached down and scooped up a handful of pieces and was holding them out to me in supplication. "Mommy, I broke the vase! Here!"

And me? I instinctively reached out and took the handful of glass into my own bare hands. Ouch.

We both ended up with small cuts along our palms and it could have been much worse. Best of all, I got to add to that list of things, either too obvious or too bizarre, you never think you'll say- "Never pick up broken glass! Wait for mommy and daddy, ok?"

Beds

I've had a list sitting on my desk for weeks. I jot down things that I mean to post here. That list has been growing... and growing.... and growing. Time to do some catching up.

First off, for Anna's birthday we moved her to a grown-up bed. She had reached the point where her feet were bumping and into the bottom of her toddler bed and her hands would get tangled in the sideboard every night. She'd end up sleeping curled in a ball or with half her limbs hanging off the mattress.

Now she has a big queen size bed where she looks about as small as a stuffed animal , swimming in all that space. We considered buying her a smaller mattress, but figured we'd just use what we already had lying around. (hehee... sorry for the pun) While she loves her new big bed, we still struggle with her new tendency to come into our room in the middle of the night. First we put a sleeping bag down on the floor to keep her out of her bed, but she started sneaking into it about two seconds after we'd put her to bed in her own room.

Our solution resulted in a night practically out of a Pink Panther movie, there was so much traveling back and forth between bedrooms. She'd sneak in, I'd walk her back and put her in her bed. She'd sneak back in about 10 minutes, and so on and so on. After a few nights of that she started to settle, but it's still going on at least once a night. As cute as she is, there is something inherently creepy to wake up in the middle of the night to a silent, though small, figure standing directly over your head in the darkness.

Snow White and Prince Charming

My hair is falling out...

because I am pulling it!

My four-year-old daughter was feeling playful today. She was so inspired, in fact, that she ran upstairs, poked her head into the baby's room and screamed, "BOO!", at her sister.

Who is one. Who was barely 45 minutes into her two hour afternoon nap. Who refused to go back to sleep. Who has six different levels of hysterics that she was kind enough to display for the rest of the afternoon. (Insert hair pulling here).

And then? THEN? Anna comes up to me and says, "Mama, Silvia needs to be quiet and stop crying. You should go put her down." Seriously?!

In case you're wondering (and if you are a mom, I know you are), no, I did not break any laws today. I was tempted, but with great strength of will and a little help from my friend Advil, I restrained myself.

Snow

Snow on the mountain, snow white, snow sisters, snow hats and mittens, snow boots, snow jacket. All that's missing? Snow.

Aquarium

"Anna, what was your favorite part of the aquarium?"

Pause for deep thought and then...

"I liked the fishes."

An Historic Night

This truly is a time of change and I'm overwhelmed with hope that no longer feels so audacious. I have now lived to see a time for my children where everyone really can grow up to be president.

Let's Play Hugs!

One of the girls' newest and cutest games ins "hugs". They chase each other around the house hugging and tumbling left and right.

halloween, car wash and birthday fun

Pictures of the girls at their silly best. Happy birthday, Anna and Auntie Mo!

swings and wiggleworms

Why we buy washable markers

Can you tell she's a lefty?

Kurt's famous squash risotto with sage

He was so proud, I decided to immortalize the moment with an action shot. It's as tasty as it looks, my friends! YUM!

She is SO playing us

Silvia's tiny, plump little hands have been weaving a subtle spell lately. That child is NOT a baby anymore. Kurt and I have sort of been parenting her on auto-pilot, not holding her responsible, not forcing confrontations, challenges or expectations. But yesterday, that "little tiny baby who doesn't understand" somehow ended up eating strawberry shortcake for dinner. Strawberry-sugar-processed-completely-void-of nutritional-value shortcake. How could that happen, you ask?

Here it is. We went out to the salad bar place we like. It's very kid friendly and has loads of options for our picky eaters. Anna had mac n' cheese with a large helping of fruit on the side. Silvia cried and shook her head and wriggled to climb out of her high chair and tried to throw everything we offered her.

So, rolling our eyes and not even thinking about it, we handed her a bowl of dessert and a bread stick. You know, to settle her. As we were getting ready to leave, she started fussing again, this time for chocolate milk, whining that she was messy and then not letting me clean her up. Kurt and I looked at each other. It was an epiphanic parental moment. You could practically hear the boot of reality kicking us upside the head.

Re-read that previous sentence about all the things Silvia was saying and doing. Saying and doing implies communication and understanding. Oh, that's no baby, my friends. That's a toddler with very well duped parents. She knows exactly what she's doing.

I picked her up, plopped her on the floor, staring into the distance just past her head as I wiped off her protesting little face and hands. Then I frog-marched her out the door, ignoring the constant whine for something, anything, on the ride home. Guess what? Slowly, with a tone of confusion, she got quieter and spaced her demands out more and more.

"I think maybe we need to turn up the toddler discipline," Kurt said on our evening walk. "She's not really an innocent baby anymore." Silvia reached over and smacked Anna, giggling. Anna screamed and reached over and pulled her hair. Then the whine for chocolate milk picked up from both sides.

"I think we need to plop her in a separate room and walk away every time she makes a noise above a certain decibel level," I said.

Staring at each other over their heads, we finally identified that heavy weight that has been pulling down against our shoulders. It is not gravity, friends and neighbors. It's the passage of time. The next stage is not tomorrow, it's here right now. And it's shrieking.

Never fear. We've done this before, it just took us a little longer to catch on the second time around, blinded as we have been by the age difference between the two girls. We're on the offensive now. Mommy and Daddy can play this game, too. Failure is not an option. So forget the shortcake and open wide, sweetie pie. You're about to get a mouthful of consequences... and broccoli.

Velveteen Rabbit Syndrome

Every couple months I get all revved up to clean out the toys- gather up the little odds and ends that accumulate from who knows where, toss what's broken, and send anything obsolete to Goodwill.

But the stuffed animals? I have trouble with the stuffed animals. We have several, lots, one might even say quite a few. Even between the two girls, they only play with a select group and I know there are some forgotten stuffed friends that need to move on to another destination. But...

I look at their little embroidered faces with their little button eyes and I just can't let go. I don't really believe that they come to life when we're not looking or that they have their own little personalities. I know it's silly. Still, I just can't help myself from wanting to give them a chance.

Poor little things. They just want to be loved. They just want to be real.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side
near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean
having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing
that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not
just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful.
"When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by
bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You
become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to
people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully
kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been
loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very
shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real
you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Excerpt from "The Velveteen Rabbit", by Margery Williams

A happy memory to brighten a sad day

Click Here: "I'm a walker now, y'all! Watch out!"

pictures! 'bout time, right?

Finally remembered to post some cuteness, hope you enjoy!

First bee sting, hopefully LAST bee sting

Poor Silvia. While playing outside at my mom's house yesterday, she decided she wanted to go back in and we headed up the steps to the side porch. What I didn't realize was that the porch was full of bees that were not happy to have us walk right into their new territory.

They angrily swarmed right at my head level, several tangling in my hair. I eeked and jumped back, hitting at my hair- and, like a total idiot, left my baby standing right under the buzzing cloud. As I headed quickly back to grab her, they descended and several settled on her head, one stinging her right on her ear.

She shrieked and grabbed at it just as I swept her off the porch and swiped the other bees away from her. We ran from the furious swirling mass, quickly moving away and inside using the BACK door. We had come out that way and I felt like a moron for trying get back in another way. Ah, maternal guilt, how well I know thee.

Silvia's ear doubled and tripled in size in just a few moments, throbbing a painful red as she wailed and squirmed. Thankfully, she didn't show any signs of an allergic reaction, though we gave her some Benadryl just in case. She calmed down after a bit sucking her thumb and then asking for some chips.

God bless Frito's.

Locked in or trapped out?

Anna knows how to open doors. She knows how to close doors. And as of this week, she knows how to lock doors. The trick here is that she hasn't figured out how to unlock them. Following several spectacular and Oscar-worthy tantrums one day, I sent her to her room to cool down. Silvia and I settled in the front yard to wait, playing with rocks and barking back at the neighbor's dog. You know, the usual. After the allotted time, I scooped up my littlest and headed back up the porch to reclaim her impressive sister.

The sister who we found looking in the window next to the door, face pressed to the glass, Joey the Bunny clasped tightly in her hands, serious expression on her face. "Come in, Mama," she said through the glass. I clasped the door knob, exasperation sinking in my stomach. The door refused to cooperate.

"Anna, were you playing with the lock? Turn the lock, honey. Go put it back like it was. Turn the lock, ok?" Her serious expression turning to grief, she fumbled at the door and the burst into hysterics, falling down on the carpet and gasping between cries, "Come IN, mama!"

Oh, dear. Instantly sympathetic, I tried to calm her down through the glass while Silvia watched, waving cheerily at her sister and repeating her favorite words, "Anna sad. Anna sad, mama."

Thinking quickly, (or actually, thinking without a clue), I called Anna over to the back door windows, which were open. Here we could touch hands through the screen, which I discovered where very sturdily installed. This would have been a comfort to learn at another time, but had me cursing under my breath at that moment. After I had her calmed down, I told her to wait for me at the window and ran across the street, knocking on doors for a phone.

Thankfully, one neighbor works from home. I quickly called the Bearer of the Spare Key, who headed over with this magical object. Running back to Anna, all this time with Silvia in tow, I kept her entertained at the window.

Briefly calm, she smiled and announced, "Mama, I'll let you in! Let me get Silvia's keys!". She picked up the plastic rainbow keys and desperately hit them at the front lock. I was trying not to laugh but then she burst into another bout of hysterics when her scheme failed.

And then, Murphy's Law in full swing, she fell and hurt herself as I watched helplessly, calling out comfort as well as I could. Poor baby. Eventually, I talked her in to waiting on the couch. After that, Anna declined to meet me at the window anymore, instead reading her workbook, cuddled into the couch pillows, a bookworm in her element.

After the door was finally opened by Terry, Anna calmly told me not to trap myself outside again, with an air of responsibility-free condescension. Note to self: give spare key to neighbor.

Anna is a velociraptor

Remember that scene from Jurassic Park? The one where the raptors are in their cage, throwing themselves at the electric fence in search of weakness?

That's Anna right now. I kid you not. That child is testing her boundaries like nobody's business. Back-talk, rudeness, defiance, tantrums, pushing/tackling Silvia while pretending she's just "playing". Heaven help me, I'm about to lock her up. Or even better, lock myself up- with a good book and cup of hot cocoa. And earplugs.

Kurt and I are seriously struggling to keep our tempers in check, trying to either simply ignore the obnoxious attitude or respond calmly and promptly to the rude behavior. We know she responds better, and calms down quicker, when we are calm.

But calm is a distant place, a happy island of sunshine and clear blue water. A place far, far from our living room and perpetually OUT OF REACH. I spend much of the day fighting the urge to scream my head off. Which I can report from personal experience, doesn't work at all.

We love that little angel, but if she gives me any more diva-tude this week, I'm going to lose my mind. And my cool. And probably all my hair.

Rite of Passage- Again

As soon as you open the door to your child's room, you know. I mean, you really KNOW. It's the smell. Waking up to a baby (and crib, stuffed animals, mattress, walls, etc) covered in, well... POOP is one of the least fun rites of passage for any parent.

The bad news, as if that wasn't bad enough, is that it renews for EACH CHILD.

This morning, I found Silvia standing in her crib, hands raised in the classic, "Uh-oh" gesture, looking at me. "Poo-poo?", she asked, clearly a bit puzzled. Then, with a wide grin, so utterly charming except for the yuck all over her, "Uh-oh, mess." Ha. That's for damn sure.

I plopped her in the tub, which now has to be scrubbed with bleach during precious nap time hours. Holding my breath the entire time, I sent Anna down to raid the pantry while I cleaned... and soaped... and scrubbed. As I combed out her hair while trying not to actually look, I was visited by a vivid and nearly identical memory: the morning thrill of discovery with Anna in that very same crib and state of quizzical filth.

I know everyone says their babyhood passes too quickly, but these moments are ones I am happy to (hopefully) leave behind. No put intended.

What day is it?

"Mama, is it Tuesday? Daddy stays home on Saturday and Sunday, is it Saturday and Sunday? It's Wednesday, Mama! I go to school on Wednesday with my sister!"

The days of the week are Very Important around here right now. I've been working to set up a more consistent routine and, boy howdy, has Anna latched on to it like a drowning cat. She LOVES her routine. She loves knowing, as the first light of day touches her face, what today will be.

All throughout the day, too, she reminds me of her expectations. As we walk out of her classroom at school, she says, "Today is Monday, Mom. Now we go home and Cici takes a nap and we read a story and have a snack!"

Never before have I appreciated the full importance of a routine. Sure, I read the parenting tips, I listened to all the media mumbo-jumbo about creating a safe and certain daily path for your child to follow. Whatever. What about free spirit? What about creative boredom and adventure and fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants and leave the house without sippy cups or snacks or diapers?

Turns out, fancy-free is for people without kids. Routine is the way to go, my friends. Happy children and calm days are ALL ABOUT routine.

It's Monday. Monday, we Hula!

"What's that sound? Is it growling?"

Black squirrels. Bears. Fluffy white house cats. Cougars. Groundhogs. Porcupines. Terriers.

What do all these things have in common? Anna is now terrified of them.

This weekend, we went up to the Florrisant Fossil beds for a family adventure. The trails are relatively flat and well-kept, so it's easy for the kids to run amok. As we set off on one loop of the trail, Kurt says, (because he's all sensitive to three-year-old imaginations), "Okay, Anna! Watch out for bears!"

Anna stops. Frozen, wide-eyed, legs still bent in the step forward she was about to take.

"Bears? There are bears. Do you hear that growling, Mama? I see the bear!"

I promptly kick my husband in the butt and then tell Anna that kicking isn't nice, Mommy and Daddy are just playing. Riiiiiight.

"No, honey, Daddy is teasing, he's so silly! There are NO BEARS. It's fine, I promise."

After considering this for a moment, while I continue to reassure her as to her safety, Anna begins to slowly walk on the trail. Just as she finally starts moving again, we come across an educational photo stand that has a huge blown up picture of a black squirrel on it.

"Ooooh, Anna, look, I cute squirrel picture!", I say, trying to distract her a bit.

"NONONononono. Where is the squirrel, I don't like the squirrel! Squirrels are so big, do you hear that growling? Is it the bear?"

Oh, dear. As we made our way along the path that day, there was from knee-height an ongoing monologue of, "There aren't any bears, Mama. I'm not scared. There aren't any bears with the squirrels and I don't see any squirrels. There's just trees. I'm not scared of trees because there aren't any bears and you would tell me if there was a squirrel, okay? What is that sound? Is it growling?".

Anna has also generalized this fear to a large array of animals, big and small. At the zoo she is fascinated by the apes, the giraffes, the lions, the jaguars, the meerkats and the monkeys. She will not go near the wallabies, the birds, the cougars, the Pallas cats, or the grizzly bears. But the black bears are okay.

And Sappho? Grandma's cat of long adoration? Yeah. She was reduced to tears last time they came in close contact and needed help and support to walk around the living room where Sappho was lounging center stage.

While, most likely, this is just one of those stages kids go through (I recall being deeply terrified of our house cat as a child), I am going to take this opportunity to place all the blame on Kurt.

Okay, Anna! Watch out for bears!"

Seriously, honey?!

Bumps, bruises, and "I will turn this car around!"

Here's the tally for the week:

Road rash on nose, upper lip, mouth, chin and corner of the eye. Second chipped tooth in the front, both scraped knees and elbows. Freshly grated shin on concrete corner. Sore butt.

And that's just Anna. Silvia has a slightly black eye from I don't know what, pinched fingers from a door, bruises on each of her chins and two deep scratches on her face, one on each cheek.

I swear to you all that I am not responsible! These girls are so accident-prone I've started lunging to catch or pull them back before they even take a step. All my shirts are slightly stained on the front shoulders from cuddling the weepy, bloody and runny-nosed injured. My gratitude is enormous that, so far, there have been no broken bones.

I wait with joyful anticipation for a sense of internal balance to develop. Doesn't that gawky, awkward phase settle down in the late teens? Tell me there is hope.

4th of July

We went down to Memorial Park last night, like we do every year, to enjoy the orchestra and fireworks for the holiday. It was a lovely show and Anna was absolutely enthralled by it all, running, jumping and shrieking with joy the whole time. Silvia was a little less thrilled. As soon as the fireworks started, she went over to the stroller and started patting her seat. Kurt popped her and gave her a blanket and then she started waving and saying, "Bye-bye! All done! Bye-Bye!". That kid was ready to go! She toughed it out for the rest of the show and didn't seem to really mind all the noise, but it wasn't exactly her favorite thing, either.

On a side note, as we were walking back to the car, Kurt realized his phone had fallen off at some point in the huge field full of thousands of people. We pretty much gave it up for lost, which was disappointing since it was his fancy birthday present phone from only a few months ago. On a last ditch effort, he got up early and went back to the park to take a look. He got there to find a handful of men searching the field with metal detectors for lost change and whatnot. He asked the guy closest to where we were sitting if he'd found a phone and he handed it over! That was a nice surprise to start the day right and give us a little hope, too, for an honest humanity.

Here's some pictures from our family night.

"Why?"

Oh, man. We've reached that stage, the stage I've always laughed about with other parents, but dreaded for myself. The "Why?" stage.

Anna: "Mommy? Where are we going?"

Me: "To the grocery store."

Anna: "Why?"

Me: "Because we need milk and bread."

Anna: "Why?"

Me: "Because we ate it all up and now we need more or we'll be hungry.

Anna: "I'm not hungry. Are you hungry, mommy?"

Me: "Not right now, but I will be later."

Anna: "Why?"

It goes on and on and on and eventually I can't answer the "why's" anymore. Then she gets mad, like I've denied her some precious gift. Then it turns into, "WHYYYYYYYYY????"

Times like these, I chant the Serenity Prayer in my head until it, hopefully, starts to drown out the questions. Poor Anna. It must be hard to live with a mommy who doesn't know all the answers to all the questions in the universe.

Maybe she should try asking DADDY.

Happy Father's Day

We had a great time this weekend for Father's Day, celebrating everything that Kurt does for this family. He is, in the plainest and simplest of terms, absolutely essential to all three of the girls for whom he so diligently cares.

Saturday we relaxed at the house, got caught up on chores and projects and had a fun evening with the kids. Sunday, we headed up to the Denver Botanic Gardens, a very beautiful place absolutely packed with fun little paths and garden nooks for the girls to run around in. The weather was probably the hottest it's been this year yet, but we had a great time despite the heavenly rays. Pictures will be, of course, forth-coming (once I snag them off Kurt's camera, which will be after I snag Kurt's camera in the first place.)

Happy Father's Day to all daddy's everywhere!

Queen of the One-liner's

One afternoon, when I had just arrived home from a busy weekend morning, Anna was crawling all over me while Kurt played with Silvia on our bed. Finally, I gave Kurt the look and he said, "Ok, girls, let's go downstairs and play, Mommy needs to take a shower."

Anna, looking me up and down: "You're going to take a shower, mama?"

Me: "Yes, sweetie, I won't be very long, I'll be downstairs in just a little bit."

Anna: "Okay, mama. Take off all your clothes and have a nice time!"

Oh, boy. I'm so not looking forward to the high school years.