The identity of the person who mistakenly dressed Noah in Greta's shorts is confidential. Sexy legs, Noah.
Hot Pants
A couple of years ago, at a frozen custard store in Brookfield, I may have compulsively wiped the teeniest dab of mint chip off of my baby's face before he had a chance to experience his first sugar rush. I may have also neurotically scolded the person who gave him the ice cream that he's not supposed to have cow's milk until he's a full year old.
Two days ago, at a frozen custard store in Hudson, I may have given my baby the teeniest spoonful of Oreo mint. Then, when she really, really liked it, I may have given her just a little bit more.
In the years since we left our hometowns, Kevin and I have lived in something like fifteen different places. 2008 was the first year in my memory that I didn't have at least two addresses to list on our income taxes. This week, we have taken a huge step in our relationship with our house. Practically gotten down on one knee and presented it with a diamond ring. Two of our formerly sterile white walled rooms now have color. I love it so much I might even consider taking the For Sale sign out of the front yard.
Along with the grandparent who drove 300 miles at 58 MPH to play with the kids for the day while we painted, came a trailer-load of fabulous old furnishings. My grandmother left her home several years ago. Nearly ten years ago now, I think. Aside from all the memories, her place was jam-packed full of stuff. Some of the stuff has now made it to our home.
Complete With Knick Knacks
I don't have clear memories of this dresser - I can't even tell you which room it used to occupy in Grandma's house (Mom? Dad?) But the smell that still lives in the drawers opens a floodgate. I could cry just walking past it.
Thanks to my family for emptying, lifting, storing and ultimately parting with these beautiful treasures.
I am now a documented Responsible Parent. The kind that takes her kids to the bank to open savings accounts for them. I realize I'm a bit delayed. Finances have never been my thing. There are other things I'm good at. I can't think of any of them just now. Whatever is at the end of the spectrum opposite economic awareness - that's what I'm good at.
Cheers to Kevin and Bryce who got married at the park today and invited loads of kid guests for us to play with. Including one girl in a princess dress who asked me whether I was a "big girl." Excuse me?!? I know I'm not as fit as I was a hundred years ago, but... ouch. Then she clarified, "You know. Another kid." OK, well that's a little better.
Unfortunately, Noah is no longer the social butterfly he once was. Any kid or grown up who dared to inch just a little too close to his sand toys was told to Go away! Oh God - is that my kid? A lot of good daycare and having a sibling are doing for us. This better be just a phase.
We never have this much fun in February. Thank goodness for summer.
From here, Noah moved on to the Advanced Bounce House, including tubes and slides. Halfway through one of the tunnels, he decided that narrow spaces weren't really his thing. He had to be rescued. Add a new phrase to Noah's arsenal: "I got stuck."
We were serious contenders for 2007's Least Handy Couple award. This year, we're aiming for Most Improved.
Check out this awesome Ikea Mydal bunk bed we (read: Kevin) assembled last night.
"It's because you always wanted bunk beds when you were a kid, isn't it?" "Yeah. Didn't you wish you had bunk beds?" "I did have bunk beds. ... It was cool."
OK, no more requests for your pity via blog post, I promise. I have a pretty sweet work schedule, actually. I hope it never changes.
The stream of Check Out My Kid. Isn't S/He Awesome?!? posts will probably never stop, however. Today, Noah has a new weakness and Greta has new teeth.
Noah can now be bribed with glow stick baths. As in, lights out, multicolored, plastic luminescence in the bathtub. He'll do anything for them. Anything. Wash hands, clean up toys, stay at the dinner table for a complete meal. Anything. It's awesome. I only hope this isn't some kind of biohazard. It says nontoxic on the container.
Greta is adding some top row teeth to her collection. It looks like about five of them all at once. Better check the baby Tylenol supply. And again, she's showing the doctor what she can do days after her well baby check. I change my answer, Yes, she can stand on her own.
If you asked Noah what his grandest achievement of the past two weeks has been, he would tell you that he rode the dragon train. If he understood the question. He has been broken recording about it for days (I ride the dragon train. I ride the dragon train, Mommy. I ride the dragon train, Daddy. Greta ride the dragon train? No. Noah ride the dragon train. Etc.)
Two weekends of community festivals. Running into the street after candy thrown at the parade. Kid rides again and again. Cheese curds. Enough to last til next summer.
My energy level is so low on Tuesdays that I couldn't dream of doing anything active. I spend most of Tuesday mornings actively scheming to get the kids to nap at precisely the same time so that I can pass out moments after they do. I've tried to catch micro-snoozes on the floor while they play, but if they're not pulling my hair or bending my glasses in half, they're climbing up onto counters or eating cat food.
I realize that there are a zillion third-shifting moms out there who do not leave work to go home to warm, cozy beds and peaceful, quiet houses. I don't think of them. I think (selfishly) of myself and how unlikely it seems that I will survive another Tuesday to make it to a lazy Wednesday. And I think of my own mom, who did the same thing when I was small, likely for some of the same reasons. Living proof that one can persevere.
Delta waves, I am right behind you.
In Charge of Sand Entertainment
Independence Day With Gallons of SPF 50
*For anyone whose iPhone isn't synced with the Hanson Family Work Schedule, Monday is my weekly call day. 24 hours. Trapped in the hospital. Sometimes with downtime. Sometimes.
Kevin doesn't really like The National, but I'm dedicating this song to him today anyway. You are so disarming, darling.
If there is such a thing as a golden anniversary, like a golden birthday, today is the day. I think I'm actually supposed to get you something iron. Or perhaps I'm supposed to iron for you.
A DOZEN YEAR FLASHBACK.
July 1997. Eye vs flying metal object. Round one is won by FMO, but ultimately right eye reigns supreme. You came to Milwaukee to tell me that you liked me. Really, really liked me. Outside the public museum. Silly kids. They'll never last the summer.
July 1998. Done flying back and forth from MSP to DIA. Driving your Tercel from 411 to Shakopee in one million degree heat with no air and black vinyl seats. I bet that thing got great gas mileage.
July 1999. At the Belmont with MG. In Europe with no money. At a wedding with Sinatra. Done breaking up.
July 2000. You took me to Taylor's Falls to tell me that you liked me. Really, really liked me. Worth a scavenger hunt and a ring. Roger Waters with James. Shine On. Alpine road trip with the entire cast of the Grand House (and supporting players). Speedy UFOs. Hippies in corn fields. Run like an antelope.
July 2001. Living in the farmhouse. Despising Endres. Fearing apocalypse at nearby Koch Refinery. Wilson joins the family. Is an excellent mouser. Lord, we have mice.
July 2002. The big day. The Mr. and the Mrs. The honeymoon on the island. Home early to the itty bitty apartment. Just because.
July 2003. Back to school for me. To the temp job for you. (thank you). Our first anniversary at Giant City State Park. Came home to watch the rain from our deck. Had too much wine and forgot to eat our wedding cake. Distracted by the rainbow.
July 2004. Still in school. Still at the temp job. Rocking Chicagoland with Ely Sound. Chasing Trey and company to Vegas and back in a rental car without missing a class. OK, maybe a couple.
July 2005. Back in Uptown. Back to school for you soon. Finally. Dinner on a rooftop, talking about having kids. Not. Had too much wine and...
July 2006. Living Mushaboom*. Cloning you. Summer and a newborn. Never thought it could be this hard. New jobs for both of us. Not jobs. Careers. Really, never thought it could be this hard. Hope we make it through.
July 2007. New house. New state. About to clone me. A rained out, then successful picnic with R & L (and baby I). Fireworks from the deck, followed by a horrible eighties cover band. Should have gone to the tractor pull.
July 2008. Same house. Same jobs. Same kids. Same cars, even. Getting older, wiser. Ever so. Or at least more predictable. More efficient at packing diaper bags. Less fatigued. Ever so. I think we'll make it through.
I was told last weekend that I would regret having forgotten to bring the camera along on our trip to Crystal Cave because I would have nothing to blog about this week. Not true, I thought. I can blog about how I forgot to bring the camera.
Pretty uncool.
There were no bats, but there was Total Darkness. For, like, two-point-two seconds until my kid requested in a near-freak-out voice, Turn the light on. (someone else's kid was thinking the same thing, I'm sure). He also demanded, through the entire cave tour, to go to the cave. Greta hummed through the first half of the tour and slept through the second half. This is why children under five get free admission. I wonder if any of the other folks in our group requested a refund.
