First day: First and Third Grade

The kids woke up bright and early today, dragging me from my sleep at 5:45. Oh, that first day excitement! They were all dressed and raring to go by 6-- which was about an hour and fifteen minutes BEFORE we need to head out.

 

I managed to slow them down a little with pancakes and friendly chatter but mostly they spent the morning running around as loudly as possible. Jack was confused and got upset about the backpacks, so we packed him a "lunch" into his little robot backpack for him to wear to school with us. 

 

The walk, when we finally set out the door, was really nice. It's about 20 minutes or so on a nice path through the neighborhood and a park. Kurt took the morning off to come with us for the big day, so we all got a chance to be together and enjoy the energy. We were surrounded by other kids and families on their way as well, lending the whole trip a really festive feeling, like a parade.

 

Drop off was quick: we walked the girls to their classes, snapped a few pictures, kissed, hugged and headed out. I surprised myself with just a little bit of teariness. I've been very excited for the school year to start, but that doesn't change the fact that I always miss them when they're gone.

We dropped Silvia first and she smiled and waved us off, showing barely any nervousness. I always forget that when the moment arrives, it's Silvia that leaps and Anna that hesitates.

 

And hesitate she did. We brought her into class to find that her desk is tucked up in the corner under an old board with the hand sanitizer dispenser right in her ear. She was squished between the wall and a rambunctious boy. After we hugged, she started to giggle nervously and she kept trying to hold on to us like a little monkey. When she was hugging Jack I half-thought we'd have to leave him there since she wouldn't let him go. When we finally made it out the door with a big wave, she hopped up, ran to Kurt and asked for "just one more hug". At that point she was a little bit misted up and trying to hide it. That's, of course, always what gets me. I hate having to leave her while she's upset. But of course we did leave, just like all the other parents, and walked home through the rapidly warming, moist air.

 

I'm off to pick them up in a little bit, after a day of Jack having me all to himself. He was upset after the girls were gone-- at first. Then I think he realized the new situation and did his best to take advantage of being Numero Uno for the day. So begins the school year, 2013-14. Let's hope it's a great one!

 

 

In Memory:

 

Today my friend's little daughter Isobella would have turned 3 years old. So here's a candle lit for a birthday that should have been.

 

A year off?

I seem to have somehow skipped a year in my kids' lives. I mean, I know I was there and I remember stuff happened but since moving to Texas, and really since that whole 3rd baby bit (ah, Jack. How you have rocked our world.) the timeline has a lot of hiccups and all 'round misses.

So be it. I think that's how life goes sometimes: you blink and it's been a month. Hours, days of your life swallowed up in the day-to-day tussles that carry you through from morning coffee to exhausted bed time. Then there are the days where you blink... and blink... and yawn... and stare at the frozen clock waiting for the sibling squabbles to somehow stop, your wine glass to fill up and your husband to miraculously walk through the door two hours early with an armful of flowers and a surprise babysitter. (That doesn't happen all that often either, but it doesn't stop me from hoping when those looooooong days hit.)

We're still here. The girls wrapped up the school year with mixed feelings of excitement and sadness. After 15 long months on the market, our home in Colorado Springs finally sold, freeing us up to buy a new place here in Texas. In March we moved from our rental into our very own home and they are changing schools. It's hard to leave friends and this will be the third school Anna's attended since she started elementary. We've been in the new house most of the spring and summer and they met some neighborhood kids and sorted out their favorite stomping grounds, which makes a world of difference when you're lonely.

Jack is still Jack. He just turned three, is wildly rambunctious, super adorable and oh-so-boy. I know, I know, setting gender stereotypes is a terrible thing and I'm ruining him. But it's true! It's just different raising a boy. The energy and physicality, the way he expresses himself, the way his emotions run in fits and starts, the aggression, the total "that's MY mama" possessiveness, it's all distinct from what I knew with the girls. He picked up a stick and made it a sword long before he'd ever seen or heard of one. My girls picked them up and made them into magic wands. Of course, he does that, too. There's no way he could grow up with two big sisters and not spend a lot of time dressed up as a princess.

This summer was our 10th wedding anniversary and we decided to celebrate where it all began, at The Cliff House in Manitou Springs, CO. We had a big party with all our friends and family and it was amazing. We spent the week leading up to the party visiting family and then ventured out on our own for a week to Telluride. Neither Kurt nor I had ever been there before. It's amazing, a truly beautiful place.

The whole vacation left the Schwartzes with our hearts aching for the mountains. It was hard indeed to drive back as the land grew flatter, the air hotter and steamier. We've been in Texas two years now, but it's still not home. That's something we need to work on.

School starts next week for the girls, a couple weeks after for Jack. It's a new beginning, in a way, at another new school in another new neighborhood. As such, I'm embracing a new chapter for the kids' blog, to try and keep up on all the adventures they seem to tumble into on a day-to-day basis.

Pictures from this summer soon to come.

Are you happy?

"Are you happy?"

For Jack, throughout the day, it's important to do a quick check of the family state. It matters to him. It's personal. "Mommy, are you happy? Daddy, are you happy? Anna, Cici, are you happy?". I often get an even sweeter treatment when, at a random moment, he will crawl in my lap and say, "I do so love you" and give me a hug. This is followed immediately by, "Are you happy?".

But the question is only part of the puzzle. You can't say no, not really, right now I'm tired/sad/annoyed/worried. If you do, he gets upset. "No you're not! You're happy!". My boy NEEDS you to be happy. He wants it, he revels in it, not just for how it reflects on him but for his sense of security in all things. Knowing this, that by simply feeling good I can make everything alright for him, makes me happy.

Last week we learned that a friend's little girl, just Jack's age, died in an incredibly tragic accident. I spent the days after in a haze of sadness, every moment wondering in the back of my head how her mother keeps breathing, how she ever stops crying, if she could ever stop going back over and over those lost moments trying to turn back time and make it different.

I was folding some laundry on the floor and Jack came over, climbed straight through a tidy pile of towels and sat in my lap. Until that moment I hadn't even realized I'd been crying. "Mommy, I do so love you. Are you happy?".

No. I wasn't happy. Not at all. But I gave him a hug and said, "Yes. I'm happy", because that's what he needed. It is a gift I can give him, something simple that makes his day. Being able to do that, having that chance in that moment of sadness, made me happy.

I pray that my friend can someday find some measure of that happiness again, though surrounded by her grief. Somehow, I hope it is possible. Until then, send up a prayer for innocence lost too soon. Then go find something beautiful, like a superhero playing outer space and wearing a pirate hat, and remember to be happy, even if it's just a tiny little spark on an otherwise dark day.

She was a happy child, too.

You'll be grateful... and you'll like it!

Anna’s 8th birthday was a few weeks ago and, boy howdy, did she make out like a bandit. She received several gift cards, games, books, clothes and a brand new bike, not to mention a fun outsourced birthday party at a local bounce house place. The bike, actually, was sort of a necessity—she’d reached the point of ridiculousness on her little girl bike with her knees practically bopping her in the chin.

That was at the beginning of the month, a few short days after a Halloween extravaganza of new costumes and insane amounts of candy. Then there were the exciting trips to the bookstore to use the gift cards resulting in MORE presents, followed immediately by was the book fair at school.

Oh, the book fair.

In general I try to get rid of those monthly Scholastic flyers as soon as they reach my doorstep, but their school promotes non-stop, building up excitement and expectation for weeks ahead of time. I understand it’s to raise money for the classroom but to be honest, their school is not lacking in funds. Calling the PTA zealous doesn’t quite cover it.

After some discussion, we agreed to go. I took all the kids to the weekend hours with these rules: They could each pick ONE book, any book, as long as it was less than $15 dollars (Scholastic books are notoriously expensive).

Silvia picked out a book of Christmas stories and Anna got a biography on Taylor Swift (oh, my!). We paid and trooped home happily, mission accomplished.

The following morning, though, all hell broke loose.

“MOM! You forgot my book fair money! Today’s my class visit day, I have to have the money in this envelope!”.  Anna impatiently waved the plastic baggy and class form for cash-carrying.

Confused, I reminded her we’d done the book fair YESTERDAY.

“But... but... it’s class day! I want to get a book! Everyone will be getting a book! IT’S CLASS DAY AND I WANT ANOTHER BOOK!”.  Then the crying and wailing started.

I ignored her. I had breakfasts to make and two other kids to get ready for the day. She just got louder.

Finally, unable to tune her out anymore, I loudly declared that there was no way on Earth she’d be getting anything at all and if she didn’t get it together immediately she’d be losing her book from the weekend as well. I sent her off to wash her face and took some deep breaths. Her theatrics continued, though, and we actually ended up missing the bus.

I was so upset, y’all. Seriously, not even so much mad as upset. Disappointed, not just in her, but in myself. Where have I gone wrong that my daughter so easily forgets everything she’s been given in her life?

And so was the Gratitude Project born. When Anna got home, I cancelled her playdate. Then, after homework, we made a list of everything she’d gotten in the last two weeks (mostly birthday presents) and I sent her over the house to fetch it all as a visual reminder. THEN she sat down and wrote out a thank you note for every single thing (something she was supposed to have done already, anyway. Oops.). THEN I sent her upstairs with this directive.

Write a letter telling us what you are grateful for in your life and what that means. I was clear that she was not to scribble out something generic in five seconds She had to really THINK about it and go deep.

After about half an hour, here is what she came up with.

 

I will admit that the end had me a little misty. Afterwards, Anna was in a very good mood, kind to her siblings and sweet to me. At bedtime, she gave me an extra special hug and whispered in my ear, “I’m sorry I had a big tantrum this morning, Mom. I love you”, which left me feeling very grateful and blessed, too.

(The next day, Silvia came off the bus with a list from the book fair people after HER class day. They’d made her write out a receipt for the things SHE wanted, titles and prices, to “Take home and give to your Mommy so she can get you JUST what you want and send the money with you tomorrow!”. Wouldn’t if be nice if the school reinforced the right messages we’re trying to teach them at home? Grrr. In Silvia’s defense, she only cried a little and then agreed we should put it on her Christmas or birthday wish list for a later date. Delaying gratification is hard at any age, so I was pretty proud of my little five-year-old.)

After all this, I am reminded to stop and think about all our own blessings. We are healthy and we have good insurance in case that changes. Even if this house does feel too small sometimes, we DO have it over our heads. Kurt, though it demands long hours, has a good job that supports us. When there is a family emergency, we are able to respond and be there to support our loved ones. I have no illusions about the the privileged life we enjoy. I don’t think we have to be ashamed of it, but I don’t want to forget, or let my kids forget, how lucky we are, either.

So the Gratitude Project continues, for parents and children alike, in theory and in practice. We will build on it more and more as they grow... which could mean a lot more letters to look forward to in the future. Hopefully not all of them will be coerced!

First Day of Kindergarten

Silvia started Kindergarten this morning. The girls woke up at 5:30 all in a huff to get going right away. After breakfast (I made french toast in honor of the occasion. Cheerios from now on!), they put on their backpacks and danced around for the 40 minutes before it was time to leave for the bus. I had planned to drive them to school this morning so I could walk with Silvia to her class but she decided she wanted to just ride the bus with Anna instead. Rejection! It's probably for the best, though, in order to avoid having me wander the halls in tears as my baby girl leaves me behind. I tell you, these first days never get easier.

In order to avoid confusion for him, I woke up Jack to send the girls off on the bus. When he gets up and they're not around, he really worries. This way at least he got to wave bye and hand out kisses like free candy. From the pictures you can see that his major concern was having a backpack of his own. I grabbed an old bag off the close shelf and voila... big boy!

Happy first day to my 2nd grader and kindergartener (wow, that's a long word). Now off to try and fill Jack's time without his favorite playmates to distract him. I won't be the only one who finds it hard to let go.  

 

 

Flashback, Easter 2012

(I'm still trying to get caught up with everything that's happened this year. After some intense photo-induced-memory-therapy, I've recovered a lot of little things to hold on to. Out of order, but it still counts)

For Easter this year we had the wonderful surprise of a visit from Grandma. Since this also happened to coincide with my birthday, it was an extra special treat. Kurt and I were able to go out for a few date nights without going broke paying a babysitter and the kids got plenty of uninterrupted family time. The kids sparkled in their new Easter outfits from Grandma and spent the morning finding eggs in the front yard and the afternoon gorging on jelly beans. Jack made a fashion statement by wearing his Easter basket on his head for the next week or so.

For my birthday, Kurt got me a new bike, something I haven't had in more years than I care to count. It's purple (guess who helped pick it out!). I'm still hesitant riding after being so long with my feet planted firmly on the ground, but I love the thrill and speed-- makes me feel like a kid again.

Jack also got in on the thrill ride, literally. Kurt got him a baby seat that attaches to his bike so he can sit up in front of Kurt out on the road. To say he loves it doesn't come CLOSE to capturing the real emotion. He also got his own little bike helmet, which caused a bit of a kerfuffle later on in the day when he wanted to wear it everywhere and then NOT wear it and then have it and couldn't get it on and wanted it off, etc, etc, etc. A nice long nap (and then hiding the helmet) solved the problem.

Mom was only here for a few days but it was honestly one of the nicest visits we've had. The kids were calm and excited to have her to themselves with no distractions. They read lots of books together and told her very Long and Important Stories about their lives. Mom had brought along a little craft to make their own calendars, an activity that happily lasted long after her visit.

"You should be very proud"... and we are, but we're so much more, too.

I had Anna's end of year teacher conference today. I was seven minutes late. While that might not seem like a lot in the grand scheme of things, the appointment was only for 15 minutes, making me way past tardy.

Out of breath and trailing a grumpy 1-year-old boy, I burst into the room. Anna's teacher is ever graceful and calm, which made me feel even more flustered and unkempt. " Sorry, I'm late... here, Jack, you want your juice? Please? Here, take my purse, go nuts, have at it... shhh... shhh...".

Patiently, the teacher waited another three minutes while I tried to settle my son. In all, that left us five minutes for the conference until the next parent arrived (probably on time and with their hair smoothly styled).

Turns out, five minutes is exactly what you need when all that needs to be said is, "She's amazing. You should be so proud".

Anna is smart, Anna is ahead of her peer group, Anna is a wonderful writer with a vivid imagination and grasp of language, Anna is clever and delights in problem solving, Anna asks questions and looks for better answers, Anna is curious and self-motivated. Anna is a delight.

Smiling and nodding, I glanced briefly at her test scores and work samples, all the while keeping an eye on Jack. He'd stealthily made his way over to a supply shelf and was re-arranging water bottles and tissue boxes. With a pleasant thank you for all her work with Anna over the year, I gathered up the papers, roughly re-stacked the shelves and scooted Jack out the door, back to the car we'd only moments ago come running from.

Now maybe it sounds like my distraction meant I wasn't impressed by Anna's teacher's assessment. That's not the case. I am SO proud of Anna, immensely proud to the point of my heart bursting sometimes when I see her in action. But what focuses my attention isn't really test scores and worksheets from her classroom. What thrills me is that she epitomizes the idea of  "do what you love, love what you do". Even better, she's really GOOD at what she loves to do. Put those two together and I know my daughter is happy.

She can read all the books she wants. What she doesn't understand, she'll look up. When what she learns gives her an idea, she'll think of ways to experiment with it and make a game about it. Then maybe she'll sit down later, to relax, and write a story about it. And on and on and on. The whole time she's learning and impressing teachers and acing tests... she's happy.

I'm so proud of what she can do with that little head of hers, but mostly I'm just happy that she loves to do all those things in the first place. Now I've just got to think of some projects to keep up with her this summer. Any ideas?

"MIIIIINE!"

Jack is a tattler. His especial nemesis is Silvia. He wants whatever she's playing with, she deliberately plays with things he wants. It's a fiesty brew. Several times a day, Jack comes running over to tell me she's wronged him, mostly by pointing and accusingly declaring, "Cici [mumblemumblemumble] MINE!".

Today, I went in to get him up from his nap. I'd had to wake him a bit early so we could go pick up Silvia at school and he was still half-asleep and sweaty as he sat up.

"Hi, Mama", he said in a blurry, sweet voice. And then, sounding confused but firm, he moaned, "Cici NO! MINE!".

Gee, I wonder what he'd been dreaming about?

Pancake revelation

I am fairly honest when it comes to admitting I don't like to cook. I can do it, but it's not my happy place, not the way a trip to Bermuda in the spring time with frilly umbrella drinks would be. But when it comes to breakfast foods, I not only don't like to cook, I just can't.

I botch scrambled eggs, my french toast is soggy, and omelettes are just plain laughable. My waffles are ok, but that's mostly due to the machine and the batter I make is pretty inconsistent. Pancakes are my real debacle, though. I have NEVER made good pancakes. I burn them or serve them raw or they come out so runny they're practically just really bad crepes.

This morning, though... oh, my.

It's been raining hard since last night, a nasty 12 hour thunderstorm. No one slept well (except Kurt, who's immune to sound at night). We have some dentist appointments today so Anna's staying home from school, since the only time I could get the kids in was mid-day. We are all out of cereal and I couldn't even offer to butcher some eggs since we only had one.

In desperation, I flew to the 'nets and found this recipe. Doubtful but with hungry kids clamoring at my heels, I threw it together. And guess what? It took about 5 minutes to make and another 10, maybe, to cook the entire batch.

I poured them into the pan and they... fluffed up. LIKE REAL PANCAKES. They browned smoothly ON BOTH SIDES. Even with my failure at timing and flipping, they didn't burn or come off raw in the inside.

And then, miracle of miracles, my children actually ate them, even Jack, with gusto, asking for more. Murmuring through full mouths that they tasted like the best banana bread ever.

I made pancakes, everyone. And they were GOOD. I even got all wild and adjusted the recipe a little bit (not that adding vanilla is an adjustment, but it made me feel adventurous). Not sure how my day could get any better. They're so easy I'm going to go ahead and make a double batch up and freeze them. The possibilities are endless: topped with peanut butter or fruit or just warmed up to eat on the go as is.

It's a sad state of affairs in the kitchen when a fluffy pancake can make me so happy, but I don't care. I'll take it!

Banana Oatmeal Pancakes
(makes about 12)

1 cup flour
2 tsp baking power
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 cup oatmeal

1 egg, lightly beaten
1 cup milk
1 tbsp oil
1 tsp vanilla
2 tbsp sugar

1 cup mashed bananas (about 2)

Sift together dry ingredients and stir in oats, mixing well. In a seperate bow, mix together the wet ingredients and sugar. Fold wet into dry until just combined. Let batter stand for about 5 minutes to soften the oats. Over medium-high heat, pour 1/4 cup of batter for each pancake. Cook about 1 minute or until bubbles start to appear, flip and cook another 1 minute or so on other side. Serve.

Ta-da! As my grandmother used to say, easy peasy lemon squeezy. Only there's no lemon, but whatever.

The hanging tree

Our house here in Plano has an enormous backyard, full of fruit trees, roses and open space. Now that spring has come to Texas (yes, it has! In February! Insanity!), the kids play outside pretty much every day until they get tired or start to fight. Actually, these two tend to coincide most of the time.

A favorite game is swinging. Now, we don't actually have any swings out back, but the girls are nothing if not imaginative. They take their jump ropes, secure them up over some branches and get down to business, hanging like monkeys and attempting to climb up the ropes and swing about maypole-style. All in all, it's a fairly innocent game that keeps them occupied for long periods of time.

One instance, though, resulted in one of those parenting moments where you find yourself saying (or in this case, shouting) things you never could have imagined you'd say in your whole life.

Jack was out back with the girls while I cleaned up the kitchen. The arrangement of the house is such that I can fairly easily check on the kids from inside and the yard is basically safe for the baby, especially with the girls out there playing and keeping an eye on him.

Or so I thought.

Midway through the dishes, I heard an angry scream from Jack. Sighing, I walked over to the back door expecting a tantrum because someone took away his ball.  Instead I was greeted with the sight of my daughters trying to tie Jack up with the jump ropes and heave him off the ground. The ropes were wrapped all around his waist, legs and shoulders. Yes, shoulders. As in, inches from sliding up around his neck.

I slammed out the door, hollering, "Stop it right now! Do NOT hang your brother from the tree!".

They threw me some guilty glances, lowered him down while each babbling out explanations about how it was the other one who made her do it. Jack, all the while, was wiggling free and yelling in frustration. Once free, however, as I hustled over to pick him up and save him, he grabbed one of the dangling ropes and started pulling, trying to get back up.

We now have a basic rule against tying people up. We'll see how long that lasts... before the next thing.

I'm safe with them, right?

5 years and 18 months

Silvia and Jack had their wellness check-ups today. That's the pediatric idea of a birthday present-- here, let's stick a needle in you, or maybe two or three!

At 5, Silvia is a healthy little monkey. She's still smaller than average, but she always has been so that's not a big surprise. One stumbling block at any exam with her now is her incredible shyness. She just shuts down. She won't respond, won't whisper an answer to me and gets progressively more withdrawn the more someone pushes to get a reaction from her. This makes it hard to get vision and hearing tests done, but the doctor was very patient with her and they worked through it. She'd point at a star shape and ask if it was a fish or a house so Silvia would shake her head and then ask if it was a star to get a nod. After about 5 minutes of that down the chart, we decided she still has 20/20 vision.

This year was the first time Silvia's ever had her blood drawn. I was very nervous for her, mostly because I'm still in shock from when Anna was 2 and went to the hospital with rotavirus. They had to wrap her in a blanket and fully restrain her to get an IV in, it was awful. But this was a whole different bag of tricks and Silvia did great. I gave her a lollipop, held her hand and chatted to her about all the blood tests I had to have when I was pregnant. The nurses were very smooth, got the needle in, the vials filled and a band-aid on all in less than a minute. Impressive! Silvia didn't even cry. Shy, yes... but tough.

Jack, on the other hand...wow. He has some lungs! He's been sick and has about ALL his teeth coming in, but I've never seen him so upset at the doctor, usually he's a charmer. He screamed the whole visit, from the weigh-in to the shots finale. He, too, is under-weight but more so than Silvia. The doctor made a comment that he needs to be eating three meals and two snacks every day. I burst out laughing. Sure thing. I'll get right on that. Is it ok if I just put it all through the blender, sit on him and pour it down his throat? Because that's the only way it's gonna happen.

That boy just will NOT eat. It's a struggle every day. Any suggestions will be appreciated, really.

So other than skinny and surviving needles, the kids are doing great. Silvia is moving up to a booster seat now. The rule is 40 pounds and four years old. She's 36 pounds but since she's already five, we got the green light to change up anyway since her legs are getting pretty dangly in the carseat. I wonder what it's like to have a 40 pound four year old?

Silvia turns 5

Silvia had a girly birthday, which suits because she is a super duper girly girl. After much deliberation, she decided on five things she wanted to do: go see Beauty and the Beast 3D, go to The Disney Store to pick out a present, go to Starbucks, go to a restaurant for dinner and have Daddy make her his special deep dish pizza for dinner.

Since there was only a limited amount of time and some of the requests overlapped (two dinners? Don't kids usually want two desserts?), we broke it up over the whole weekend. Saturday Kurt took the girls to the movies while I stayed home with Jack. Then we all went out to dinner at Chili's. (The Starbucks and restaurant requests come from the fact that we've instituted a no-eating-out rule recently, but that's another story).

On her birthday Sunday, she woke up to a table of presents and a brand new big girl bike. She's been scooting around on the bike we got her a couple years ago and it's gotten way too small. Her little legs pump like crazy and practically hit her chin with her determination to pick up speed. It's funny because as the younger sister, you'd think she'd follow Anna's example of caution, but it's the other way around completely. Once Silvia started going as fast as she could, Anna started trying to go a little bit less slow.

On her new bike, she's a speed demon. It's been a little confusing getting used to the reverse brakes, but I think by the next time we get her wheels to the ground (when all this chilly rain lets up), there will literally be no stopping her.

She also got some new clothes, a Wii game, a purse and a pretty heart pendant necklace that she wears almost every day. Then, after a prelude for a vanilla steamer (ok, and a latte for me) at Starbucks, she and I headed to The Disney Store. We've walked past it a dozen times and I've always refused to go in, knowing that would be inviting disaster. She was practically breathless crossing the threshold.

After a fevered circuit of all its treasured corners and much deliberation, she settled on getting a princess costume and shoes, though which princess took some time. As she said, "Oh, mom, it's just so hard, I keep changing my mind, whew!". She eventually chose a white Cinderella dress and "glass" slippers. I caved on the budget and got her a doll, too. I'm a pushover that way.

In true Silvia fashion, she collapsed into a nap on the couch shortly after we got home, waking up just in time for pizza and cake.

It was a whirlwind, exciting weekend and at the end of it all, she went to bed in her new dress-up with a smile on her face, shiny slippers on her feet and arms overflowing with a variety of stuffed animals and dolls-- some new, some old. She didn't want anyone to feel left out.

(As a side note, I find it amusing that, after years of fighting the Disney character-themed merchandise, my house is now bursting to the seams with princesses. Always remember, in parenting as in life, never say never. You may end up eating your words at a pink Cinderella tea party.)

shoes!

Or, more accurately, "shzzzz!". My son is all about the accessories.

But "shzzz" is a multi-purpose word. It goes a long way around these parts; shoes, juice, cheese. All with very subtle changes of tone that often only Silvia and I can differentiate. She does a lot of translating for Jack. There is also "baa": bottle, ball, bar (as in cereal bar). "Meh" is for milk. He will specify if he wants a cup of juice or a bottle of milk. Woe to you should you mix it up. Jack has a VERY distinct sound for, "You have FAILED ME".

He's developed quite a vocabulary and we find him fairly understandable most of the time. More importantly than that, though, is that Jack understands US very clearly. We can send him on errands around the house (so fun!), tell him to put a certain thing away or give something to someone. We can also ask him which foods he wants to eat, which leads to his favorite new word.

"No". And also, "NO!". That ties into, "mine!" and conversely, "okay". But mostly just "no".

There are a dozen other cute variations on common words he has, but mostly just imagine the word, take the final hard consonant off the end (and possibly drop the first syllable), and you have the word. For instance, "remote" comes out as "mo" with a barely there "t" on the end. Sounds confusing for an outsider, but in the tradition of all close families, we understand him pretty well.

And if it's all in our heads or he's just messin' with us, it's still really cute.

"SHZZZ!"

Last minute dash still wins the race... or at least crosses the finish line.

This year was Anna's first school science fair. She brought home the paperwork in late October, absolutely THRILLED and pumped up about doing a project with her dad for the whole school to see. The fair was set for the beginning of January, though, and foresight is not one of Anna's strengths.

Every week or so we'd remind her it was coming up, ask about what she wanted to do, what topic she wanted to explore. Every week the answer was, "I don't want to do that right now, I don't know, let's do it later". I suppose as parents we could have forced the issue, made her sit down, focus and get started. But we kept thinking about the stereotype of the parent who "helps" a child do a project by just DOING the project for them. So we left it to her, with frequent reminders.

Anna had no interest at all until, in a sudden fury, she came home from school on her first day back after the holidays.

"Mrs. Ziegler wants to know who's doing the science fair! She said everyone needs to turn it in on Thursday next week! All my friends are doing it, I need my project!". She was in a SNIT, anxious, worried and mad at US that she hadn't started yet.

Oh, boy. Or in this case, oh, girl.

We quietly pointed out that the project is supposed to have around 6 weeks of study with a science notebook documenting the steps and observations and that she had ignored all our reminders. We also pointed out that we had, in fact, only 6 days. We told her it was too late, but maybe next year she'd learn from this and start early. The drama that ensued was akin to what would happen if we let her bring home a puppy from the store and then took it back about an hour later. Devastation and anger. It was so UNFAIR. WE, her miserable parents, were so UNFAIR.

In truth, we did feel bad. She was genuinely upset, begging over and over again. Eventually, after talking to her teacher and deciding that she could learn the lesson here without having to lose everything, we decided to let her go ahead with the project. The understanding was that she would do nothing BUT the project until it was done-- no playdates, no leaving it up to daddy. And daddy, in case you didn't know, is all about the scientific method. There would be NO skipping of steps.

It was a marathon. Kurt took the lead while I held the other kids back on the sidelines. He guided her gently through each observation and hypothesis without doing any of the work for her. When I asked him how that felt for his analytical mind to step back and let her figure stuff out, he sighed, stretched his tired neck muscles and muttered, "it's really, really hard".

But Wednesday night, at not-quite the eleventh hour (but not far from it)., Anna's project was finished. The display created, the notebook complete, the detailed report written in laboriously tidy print by her own small hands.

Her experiment was to see what floats and what doesn't, with two evolving hypotheses based on her observations and a suggestion for the next project about WHY certain things float and others don't. For a 1st grader, it was quite a feat. And as she dragged the big poster board creation into school on Thursday, Anna said fervently, "Next year, I'm going to start on November 4th (the day after her birthday), right away. I promise."

I think she still had cramps in her hand at that point, but it was worth it. "What Floats and What Sinks" won second place for the K-2 Fair. She was modestly pleased, dismissive and mostly just happy to be done. But you have never seen a prouder papa.

Sweet Dreams

One night not so long ago, our house was quiet. That right there is a beautiful memory, but it gets even better. The children had all gone peacefully to bed, Kurt was settled at his computer doing whatever it is he does there and I had curled up in bed, bundled in warm blankets, reading a new book.

Into this cozy atmosphere drifted... a laugh. It was soft and slightly muffled, but still tingled with excitement. Sighing, I unwrapped my cocoon and walked over to the girls' room, thinking to settle them back down from illicit bunk bed playing. As I reached the door, though, I heard the laughter again and then the rustle of blankets coming from Silvia's bed.

She was still asleep, smiling and laughing at some dream. Then her little lips opened again and she giggled out, "Anna!", rolled over to her side and quieted back down into her covers. For all the fighting, grumping and general sisterly nonsense those two can muster, Silvia's sweet dreams show what lies underneath it all-- and it's happy.

Thank goodness I've been keeping little notes!

It’s been months since I’ve done a full catch up for the kiddos. Since this site is, for the most part, a way to help me remember all the little things in their lives that I want to savor, I’m going to spend the next week or two filling in some gaps. After all, how am I supposed to finish their mythical baby books if I don’t write down these things somewhere?  So prepare yourself (you few and faithful readers) for some timeline confusion to come.

October 2011

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.