CarbonRally Challenge

See you in the dark on Saturday night.

Up through the atmosphere...

The Sponge-Bob Box Kite courtesy of Ben Folds.  

Thanks!!

A Younger, Prettier Me

One day, Greta and Ava will be like peas and carrots. Until then, I have to hide behind plants and furniture to hold my favorite niece because this is the reaction I get when I'm discovered.

You could never be replaced, baby.

Complete With Surfboard

Armed with two pairs of spare pants, two pairs of underwear, several empty plastic bags and (OK, I'll admit it) a few diapers just in case, we hit the Mall of America. We saw the inside of far more ladies' rooms than stores. Fears of adult sized toilets that flush automatically and extremely loud hand driers had to be overcome. We experienced the physics of water stream trajectory first hand. It was awesome.

Noah's prize for staying clean and dry:


PS Our gratitude to the Keaton-St Johns for being good sports about the frequent bathroom breaks. Glad you got some serious shopping done today!

Flooded

Swimming Lesson Number Two
or
I Can't Wait To Get There, Until I'm Actually At the Poolside
or
I DON'T WANT TO LEARN TO SWIM! (Noah)
We All Have to Do Things We Don't Want To Do Sometimes (Teacher, barely audible over howling)
or
iputmyheadunderthewaterdaddy! / idontwanttobeaswimmer reprise

Lexicon

The second child / daycare baby's first words:
1. "Mine" (all mine)
2. "Uh-oh" (Noah did it)
3. "More" (food, attention, toys, etc)
4. "Hi!" (I'm the cutest one, right?)

I'm told that all the other kids gather around Greta when she arrives at daycare in the morning. She melts the hearts of total strangers with her "Hi-iii" as they walk by at the mall. I have to believe all her charm is somehow strategic. Just because he's the oldest doesn't mean Noah should get all the attention, right?

Cl-

I was cautiously optimistic about our first day of swimming lessons this week. I thought for sure the peer pressure of all the other kids kicking and jumping and dunking would make Noah fearless.

So wrong.

Our teacher is the one who has a reputation for being nonconformist. The one you fear during the first few lessons but are still high-fiving months after you've graduated from his class. We watched the one year old, the three year old and the three month old all willingly go to the teacher, submerge, then kick and pop up in their parents' arms. No sweat. Noah can totally handle this, I thought. By the third time around the circle, I wondered if it would be really be so wrong to take my screeching child and leave. I decided it probably would be. The next activity was meant to replicate an accidental fall into the pool and train the kid what to do. If completely losing your sh*t is what you're meant to do, Noah was right on. Finally, the teacher suggested going to the shallow end to play with some toys. For this, Noah was able to pull himself together. Until the rules were laid out: you must get your eyes wet to pick up the toy from the bottom of the pool.

The next morning, Noah proudly announced to me the moment he woke up, "I put my head under water, Mom!" I enthusiastically congratulated him. I'd spent the night scheming up bribes to get him to go back to swimming lessons the next week. Maybe I wouldn't need them. "I don't want to be a swimmer." Maybe I'll stock the gym bag with Yogos.

Mike's Song

Phish is back on tour (but you already knew that). He may be clueless about the Wiggles, but this kid can identify Fluffhead, Tweezer Reprise and who-knows-how-many-other-songs, usually before I can. I've always been terrible at Name That Tune. It's all Run Like an Antelope to me.

Noah does have an actual guitar. And a play guitar. And a banjo with no strings. But somehow his guitar of choice is this long piece of foam that is meant to protect babies' heads from the fireplace. If it were ever near the fireplace, it would be much more effective.


He never wants to be Trey. Only Mike. Is three too young for bass lessons?

Tweezer Reprise - Phish

Laughing Gas

She's still here and can now hear you whispering about ice cream from down the block.

There were a few tears, but they were all mine. Greta, of course, was the perfect patient. No, you can't take her home with you. She's spoken for.

Fairy Dust

Tomorrow is the big day.
I'm ridiculously panicked.
All the pre op planning is done.
Insurance card and pacifier found.
Post op bottle prepped.
Comfort item selected.
Baby bathed and put to bed in her favorite jammies.
No other medical problems.
No known allergies.
No personal or family history of adverse reaction to anesthesia.
All that's left is to sit and contemplate how I'm meant to deliberately send off the smallest and one of the most precious people in my universe to Neverland by herself, even briefly.
There may not be enough wine in the house for sleep tonight.

Sturgeon

It's that horrible part of winter when it seems like the cold will never end and any enthusiasm I had for bundling toddlers up to at least try to get outside has evaporated. Not that they mind - they're just as unwilling to be bundled. We'd all rather just stay inside and throw tantrums.

Despite the boring sameness of every day and every week, the kids actually are still getting bigger, doing and saying new things all the time.

Noah's personality type: introvert. I knew we were alike. A completely normal, minding-her-own-business, not-attempting-to-interact-with-my-kid-in-any-way woman got in line behind us at the Target check out. She was shyly asked to "Don't look at me" from somewhere under Noah's jacket. Ouch.

Greta embraces her baby of the family role by slyly doing very naughty things then planting a big baby kiss on your cheek so you'll forgive her. And I do. Every time.

Yesterday: a road trip to the north shore for fresh water fish.