A Magnetic Ghosts Production

The kids taunted me all day yesterday with the surprise and secret thing they did with Dad on Monday.  I have learned not to push them for details.  It is more fun just to wait for it.

Here is Noah and Greta's film debut, shot and edited while the baby sister slept.  The working title was Star Wars VII.  The plot, in case it isn't obvious, is a light saber duel between Darth Vader and Obi Wan Kenobi.  I won't ruin the ending for you, but I'll say that Noah is pretty proud of his acting skillz.  The extras for the DVD version will include the stories about how Greta/Vader stood perfectly still in the field rather than running toward Obi Wan to do battle because she was afraid of bees.  She understands that it is winter and all the bees are dead or asleep.  But still.  Bees.  You just never know.
    
My husband is so fun.



In honor of the film premiere, some of us have been given new middle names.
     Noah "Ewok" - Obi Wan Kenobi
     Greta "Leia" - Darth Vader
     Howl "Skywalker" - Key Grip
     Pete "Vader" - Hair & Makeup
     Magda "The Hut"- Executive Producer
     Kevin "3PO" - Screenplay, Director, Music Supervisor

"And when we were done, I ate hot dogs.  Two of them." - Noah

We Wish You a Merry

Leaving tomorrow afternoon for Over-the-River-and-Through-the-Woods. No time to write. Photo credit to Tricia and Brian. I failed to pull out my camera fast enough. Again.

Happy Solstice.

Cute cousins, no?

Walls Closing In. Messy Ones.

Some days my house feels wonderfully full of people, and they're all people I love, and it is good.  Some days, it feels like all of those people are making messes and too few of them are helping to clean them up.  Those days, we escape to other places to play for the day.

Here are Greta and Maggie playing at the indoor play park in Hudson.

Today, the moment we've been anticipating for weeks.  The wait has been agonizing.  I can't believe Ms. Ruthie got to be there to witness it.  I did get one of the first grins, though.  Think he's excited for tonight?

I have been informed that the Tooth Fairy only brings even numbers of dollars.  Very crafty, Tooth Fairy.  Well played.

Woof, Woof

There was a time, not so long ago, when I hated this dog.  And I don't mean hate in an, "Aww, Howl, you darn dog," kind of way.  There were actually [not so] secret plots to travel to the woods of Maine and "lose" him.  Adolescent dogs, I have heard, can be rather difficult to love.  Very large, very rambunctious, very LARGE adolescent dogs... well, he doesn't have very many fans.

But look at this face.  I am confident that you will grow to love him.  Yes, even you, Elsa.  This nearly one year old lying with head in my lap while I play with the girls in the sun room dog has even won me over.  Stay at home Wednesdays are the best.

Zero is Infinity

Last week, the baby loved to lie on her back in the living room and look up at the Christmas lights.  This week, she has learned to launch herself from back to belly.  She hates being on her belly.  Once she's there, she's completely immobile and extremely unhappy.  That does not stop her from twisting immediately back onto her front as soon as she's turned belly up.  Time to start sitting up lessons.

I have been philosophizing (with myself) lately about the boxes I put my kids in.  Noah the Numbers Magician.  Greta the Social Butterfly.  I hesitate to even put my thoughts in writing because that makes it feel as though their personalities are being inflicted on them.  But is it so wrong to guide my children in the directions they are so clearly drawn anyway?  Only if I'm reading them wrong, I guess.

But really, I don't think I could stop the boy from playing number games if I tried.  I pick up ten small pieces of paper filled with his complex computations every day.  These days, he's learning to carry numbers when adding two big numbers together, and he's fascinated by the concept of infinity.  It began with questions like, Can you count to infinity? and Is it bigger than a million? Go, Cypher Wizard, go.

Greta is the spiritual one.  She has a hundred questions about God and heaven and the people in her family who are waiting there for her.  But beyond just preferring Bible stories and liking church songs, the Greta quote of the year came on the ride home from school this week:

Mom, do you like it when God puts the clouds in you?

Decipher that.  It took some time for me.  Eventually, we made it to, You know, Mom, when you go "huh, huh" [exhaling] and you see clouds.  It's cold outside.  I love that.  She is also finding joy in Christmastime, and told me as we were driving down Main Street that the lights and decorations make [her] heart happy.  Mine too.

Even when I get up really early to try to get some things done before the rest of them, this early bird hears me and comes upstairs as if she's been waiting for hours for someone to tell her it's OK to be out of bed. With Pillow, Kitty Blanket and Moon Blanket. Every. Day.

Also, we are in that dream around here. The one about teeth. Noah is losing his first, Maggie is growing her first. Greta is solid. It started with an apple. After one bite, something was just not quite right. Noah was distressed. In the 15 seconds after receiving the news that his first baby tooth was going to fall out, I watched Noah go through the Kübler-Ross stages: 1. Denial. 2. Anger. 3. Bargaining. 4. Depression. And finally, 5. TOOTH FAIRY! Now the thing can't come out fast enough.

Tonight, when I go for a run with the giant yellow puppy, I'll watch the clouds God put in me fog the light from Greta's camping headlamp and think about what box to put Maggie in.  So far, she's easily The Dreamer.  Girl loves to sleep, and no one is trying to stop her.

Summer's Gone, Now Winter's On Its Way

My son learned the euphemism "bun in the oven" at a baby shower last weekend, and since then has a small obsession with referring to me as an oven and Maggie as the bun.

Mom, the bun is out of your oven.
Mom, the bun is hungry.
Mom, can I help change the bun's diaper?

It's kind of weird.  I hope he gets over this soon.

 I think I have to make Noah a baby carrier like Greta's.  Because I need this one.  Not for stuffed animals.  This guy's name is Skywalker.  He used to be called Lukie, after Noah's friend at school.  Then, briefly, the more mature Luke.  You see where this is headed.

Why am I so bad at making videos?  I promise I've read our camera manual's chapter about videos.  It's something about focus.  I can't focus.

My friend, Matt, introduced me to this band.  I like them.  I like almost all of their songs.  This is one of them.

As I write this, that girl is sleeping.  As in, still asleep.  It is 7:51 am.  I haven't seen her in nearly 12 hours.  I miss her.  I might go wake her up just so we can be together.  Or maybe I'll sit here with my coffee and wait patiently.

In No Particular Order

Just when I'm feeling a little homesick and cursing the fates for making it impossible for us to make a road trip home last weekend, Mom texts me.  "Got a minute?" Of course I don't.  Every minute from now until sometime in 2015 has some activity, task or meeting assigned to it.  But whatever.  The kids can scavenge for Wheat Thins in the pantry while I make dinner late.  She wanted to remind me, indirectly, that I have a terrible memory.  Evidently there is an entire falling through the ice on the frozen river episode missing from my childhood memories.  Either that or someone in my family is making things up just because they know they can get away with it.

Noah : Yoda.  Greta : Owl, Hooting.  Ava : Witch.

So I don't have time to write things down and post pictures.  And the minutes, days, and weeks are slipping through my fingers.  Someday Greta will claim she remembers that Halloween when Noah wore his Yoda hat and robe every day for three weeks, and Noah will counter that there's no way she actually remembers that, and absolutely no way it's true.  Future Noah, I'm here to tell you:  it's true.  Every day.  The Jedi master you are.

 

Before all the leaves had fallen off the trees, but after most of them had.  Greta liked crunching through them.  Maggie tolerated this.

Can I tell you a story about these chickens?  First of all, aren't they beautiful chickens?  Greta, Maggie and I went to the pumpkin farm to pick out our pumpkins before Halloween.  It was a Wednesday, and we were the only ones there.  There were farm dogs and kittens.  Greta thought she had died and gone to heaven.  There were also these chickens.  She was given a cob of corn by the farmer and invited to get into the coop with them.  Sounds fun, right?  Except that she's only three feet tall.  When a three foot tall person is surrounded by hungry chickens, it kind of freaks her out a little.  In brief, she ended up butt first in a large pail and probably won't be mingling with chickens again anytime soon.  Maggie slept through the whole episode.  As usual.

Sock monkey.  Cute, no?

Carving pumpkins.  Wearing Yoda robe.  "I just want to wear the robe every day like Grandma does."

I love having a baby around the house again.  No, really.  I'm not kidding.  I love it.  Believe me.  I'm kind of shocked to feel this way.  Holy understatement, Batman.  I'm fully astounded that I am not counting the minutes until she is big enough to walk, talk, feed and dress herself.  My biggest hesitation about having another baby was that she would be a baby for the first year and a half.  Of course I loved all of my children with every molecule of my being from the very moment they were born.  But all the helplessness, neediness and sleeplessness of the first months... I really didn't love that.  It feels different this time, somehow.  I don't feel exasperated that the baby wants to be held again or that I can't seem to get anything done that isn't related to baby feeding, bathing, dressing or diapering.  People have told me that they loved the baby phase because it slowed them down and forced them to sit.  That's exactly what I always kind of hated about it.  But somehow, with Maggie, I could spend the entire day sitting and staring at her and not think for a second about the dishes / laundry / dinner that isn't getting done.  I spend my hours at work wishing I were at home with a small, wobbly person in my arms.  I hope she brings everyone in her life this kind of peace.

Past My Bedtime

O, how I wish I had time to sit down and share everything that's going on around here.  Diapers.  Bottles.  Backpacks.  New winter boots.  My desperate need for a hair salon.  It's all so boring.  I'll get around to it someday.

Here are some funny pictures of my adorable three month old instead.

Dads Rule

The background squealing in this video is irritating, but the daughter-daddy love moment make it worth watching.  Greta thinks she's having her picture taken, so she understatedly cheeses it up for the camera without lifting her head off of Kevin's chest.

Today is Greta's Birthday. This Post is About Her. Mostly.

A quotable quote from the birthday girl, who met me at the door the morning after my first shift back at work.  She was wearing bed head, a nightgown and her new favorite footwear: a pair of light-up Belle heels.

"I decided that these are my slippers.  When I get up in the morning I wear my slippers."

These shoes have been everywhere in three days.  Almost never on the right feet.

I love this face.

I may need to impose time limits on the Belle shoes.  Her other shoes are starting to get jealous.

Here are some shots from her birthday party this weekend.

Oh, Ava.  I heard that you loved the Snow White costume.  Then you hated it and needed someone to take it off of you.  Then you loved it again.  Then you hated it again.  I can relate.

There is nothing funny about Super Jedi Pirate Quarterback.  Nothing at all.

Isabella.  You are four too.  I can't believe it.

Today, the real birthday, it was 89 degrees outside in the afternoon.  Good thing I've spent the last month struggling with Noah and Greta every morning to please wear long sleeves.  You must wear pants.  No, you cannot wear that sundress anymore.  It's winter.

Just kidding.

Let's play in the pool.

Magda and I sat on a blanket in the sun and looked up at the sky.  She's a very content girl.  She doesn't mind laying on a blanket looking up at the sky for almost an hour.  She's wonderful.  I'm keeping her.

Noah had his Kitty.  Greta has her Beatrice.  Magdalene now has Talula.  I don't know if they're in love yet, but I did find Maggie sucking on her hair.

Man and Wife

There is a whole new Mrs. Dernovsek in the world, and that is my first time typing my sister's new name.  It's kind of freaking me out.  I took almost zero pictures of the main event at the Best Equinox Ever.  I hope the photographer got a few good ones.  I did get one or two pre-wedding of the flower girl, bubble boy and tortured dog.

Poor Elsa.  She was chased around her vacation home by a giant yellow puppy all weekend.  Sorry, girl.

The game is either Will it Float? or Can We Empty the Woods of All Its Twigs?

 

Greta was very enthusiastic about the game.  And, as it turns out, Greta does not float.  But she is remarkably calm when she kerplops into a cold lake fully clothed. 

Here she is all dressed up for the wedding and seriously excited about it.  Hairspray and everything.

 Noah was all dressed up too, but he wouldn't let me take his picture, so here's another one of Greta.

Noah was meant to hand out the tiny tubes of bubbles before the wedding ceremony.  He did not sign up for this job.  Approaching strangers and even extended family with bubbles?  It wasn't meant to be. Not for him.  Fortunately, Greta was more than happy to introduce herself to all of the guests.  I'm Gretagenevieve.  She says it all slurred together like that, and refuses to be called just plain Greta some days. She was happy to pass out the bubbles, then scatter rose petals down the aisle.  Meticulously.  One. Petal. At. A. Time. The bride may have wished she'd hurry it up a little.  Silly Lindsey.  Haven't you ever been on a walk with Glacial Greta?  This is her pace.  Still, Greta, your socially awkward mom and brother thank you.

Magpie went to the wedding too, but she won't remember because she slept the entire day (and because she's eight weeks old).  Now I know what to do when I can't get the baby to sleep.  Bundle her up in her fleece bunting and hat and take her outside in the cool and misty weather.  Go ahead, light a bonfire.  She doesn't mind.  Fireworks?  Whatever.  She doesn't care.  More fireworks? Try her.  Live band?  She'll only sleep harder.

Here she is loving her play mat.  The toucan is popular, but she is crazy about the elephant.  He gets the big smiles.

Happy Birthday Sarah

44.86 N, 92.63 W

A picture from Kevin's phone. Old already. This was weeks ago.  In the present, Maggie holds her body much straighter, Noah's hair is much shorter, and Greta still tries to wear that sundress every day, even though we have had several nights of below freezing temperatures this week.

Magda, the Magnetic Center of the Universe

This chair started with just me and Maggie.  The siblings were drawn to us within minutes.  They wanted to see the baby's eyes or give her a hug or count her toes or kiss her cheeks.  She's a Leo.  Of course she's popular.

Several Moments of Clarity

Ruby joined us for our walk this morning.   I totally made that mei tai sling and her pants.  Craftastic.

The first few days he was gone all day, I missed him.  A lot.  I still miss Noah while he's away at school, with someone else shaping his attitudes and ideals.  But there are some really great things about spending the day with just the sisters.  One of them spends a lot of her day dreaming.  The other one likes to go for nature hikes with me.  Slowly.  Greta just gets it.  She covers a tenth of a mile in an hour, but she has explored every anthill, found every dandelion that the cold overnight didn't kill, and helped every caterpillar find his way across the sidewalk.  She even shares her Goldfish crackers with them. 

She picked him up, squealed, and dropped him. "He tried to cuddle up to me!"

On this walk, there is no one to yell at or argue with.  Greta gets to set the pace and make up [most of] the rules.  This kind of walk doesn't happen with a big brother.

Mags loves to stroll.  Never before have I had a baby who likes to stroll.  For Noah and Greta, the stroller was a torture device to be escaped from.  This one actually likes the bumping and swaying the way babies are supposed to.  She also likes the cold on her cheeks.  Just a little.

Bundle of joy.

You're Creeping Me Out

Greta screamed her first bug scream today. It was a good one. A leaping on top of a chair, shrieking at the top of her lungs, eyes filled with fear one. I kept it together. Sort of. I mean, this giant, creepy insect came crawling over my shoulder while I was feeding the baby on the porch in the back yard. It would freak you out too. At least I didn't drop the baby.

After the scream heard 'round the world, we took a moment to observe nature and take a picture. Zoomed in from as far away as we could get with the camera phone. Then we retreated inside to watch Nick, Jr.