The Month of Lazy

I did run that marathon, by the way.

And the whole gang of family that came to cheer for me, they ran too.  From mile 13 and mile 15,

I love this sign even more today

to mile 17 and mile 20,

and all the way to the finish.  We all made it.

See that silver medal?  The kids believe I got second place.  Not bad for my first marathon, right?

Four minutes after the finish, I swore to myself I'd never sign up for this insanity ever again.  Four hours after the finish, I swore to myself that I would beat my time by at least 30 minutes the next time around.  Four weeks after the finish, I have run a total of 5.5 miles.  After the month of lazy, I miss it.  Howl for sure misses it.  We'll be back out on the road this weekend, no doubt.

***

The forecast tomorrow is snow.  Hooray!

We will miss you, autumn.

The Half Decade

I have forgotten - repeatedly - in the last month, that Greta is five.  When asked - at parties, at the park, by acquaintances, by coworkers, by grocery store check out clerks - how old my charming daughter is, I nearly always tell them four.  Or I stand there staring blankly back at them, deep in thought, because I know there is something wrong about the answer four, but I can't bring myself to tell them she's five.  I became very attached to four.  I loved four.  She was a fun four year old.  She became very clever through her fourth year.  She is insightful about religion and relationships.  She is decisive about her style in ways that make me bite my tongue.  Often.  I didn't want to let four go.

Bye, four.

Five.  OK.  I guess.

If we must.

Love Your Latitude

This year, I will not complain about winter.

This year, I will not allow the sparsity of sunshine crush my soul.

This year, I will not feel the immense (emotional and physical) weight of coats, hats, scarves, mittens and boots.

This year, I will take my vitamin D supplements.

This year, I will not curse the wind.

This year, I will cheer when the forecast is snowflakes and sub-zero.

I am a Midwesterner.  I can do this.

Scared You, Didn't I?

Then there was October 31st.  This year, the big kids were amped up about Halloween to a level I didn't think was possible.  How many consecutive days can a parent be expected to patiently answer the question, How many nights til I can wear my costume?  And when there are no more nights until the one that they get to wear their costume, how is it possible to get them to sit and eat dinner when there are friends! and candy! and outside! and you are the only thing standing between them and the most awesome school night ever?

Stop looking at my dirty laundry pile in the corner.

Why does Greta look not totally in love with the Rapunzel Bride costume she chose?

Because she really wanted to be a ninja too.

Three ninjas and an Iron Man

I don't agonize the way I once did about the amount of Disney Princess exposure I have allowed in my home.  She loves them.  They are completely flawed in their representation of beauty and femininity.  She loves them.  Not so much that she didn't ultimately make the choice to wear her puffy coat, pants and socks under her full body "linja" gear on a 40-degree night, though.  We argue over many things.  Let the dress up box not be one of them.  The end.

Next year I will likely be back to my DIY self, inspired to create the kids' costumes from scratch, making a thousand trips to Jo Ann Fabric and spending way too many hours and dollars sewing what ultimately look like homemade costumes.  My inspiration far outstrips my crafting ability.  This year, it was fun to just click through pictures and open the boxes that arrived on the porch.

My favorite Leo:

Maggie only made a handful of houses, but Noah and Greta were on fire.  They may have ding donged some of our neighbors three times with different groups of friends.  Remember when they were shy, had to be coerced to ring doorbells, then prompted to say Trick or Treat on every porch?  Those days are gone.  Now they just need to be reminded to shout Thank you! over their shoulder and to not leave the little kids too far behind as they sprint from door to door.

I remember Halloweens with my cousins in Sheboygan, mostly.  I remember the neighbors who gave out  the full sized candy bars (there is always one), and the post-trick-or-treating piles of loot dumped out on the carpet so we could all compare what we got.  I remember the stash of candy that Natalee would hoard through the winter, after mine was gone in a week.  Where is that candy bowl anyway?

I Voted

Of course I did.  Does anyone else compulsively check at their ballot 97 times before casting it to make sure they really, really marked the right boxes?  Voting is hard.

School pictures: every bit as awkward as yours were.  There was a wardrobe scuffle with Noah on picture day morning.  No one, I was told, NO ONE would be wearing button down shirts.  In terms of Noah v Me power struggles, he let me win this one pretty easily.

And yeah, all the other boys were wearing button down shirts.  Noah was super relieved to be not uncool.

Greta is always not uncool.

Magda wasn't invited to school picture day.  Lucky for her, every day is baby picture day.

All Things Equal

Photo credit to Kevin.  If you think he's good with the Instagram, you should see what he can do with Arc-GIS. It's brilliant.  Raise your hand if you think he should start an online cARTography firm.  Bring him his first client and he'll buy you a beer.

This week, we are a home filled with sultry voices, runny noses, and late night barking.  The equinox brought us the first family cold of the season, right on schedule.  No little virus is keeping us down, though.  The days are too sunny to keep the bikes parked in the garage, and the sunsets too glorious to miss.

The babe is babbling and yelling, I think just to keep a voice among the crowd. More than just Mama, Dada, Greta, she's now handing us her favorite things and declaring, "This." She has also been heard to swap the T and the S, which Kevin blames me for, but I think she's just proclaiming her love of clean sheets.  That one isn't my curse word of choice anyway.

Rumor is there is a terrible drought going on out there.  Not here.  It is monsoon season.  The beginning of school warmed up everyone's little neurons, and we are drowning in new motor skills.  Maggie waited all summer to start walking, and in the last three weeks, we can't keep the girl down.  Noah ties his own shoes and doesn't ask for anyone to push him on the swing anymore.  And Greta.  Oh, Greta.  You are the winner of the Milestone Achievement contest this week.

Videos soon.  Kevin promises.

Birthday

35 things I am grateful for today.

1. This girl.  Baby with her baby.

2. This girl.  Sister with her style and attitude.

3. This guy.  Changing the oil on the Radio Flyer.

4. This guy.  There is no picture of Kevin, but I can paint you one.  Romantic husband.  Patient father.  Talented musician.  Lover of vinyl.  Inspiring teacher.  Maker of truly excellent eggs.  If he is a part of your life, you feel incredibly lucky to have him.  I am one of the luckiest of all.

5. This pup.  Yes, I am even grateful for him.

6.  This cat.  Also not pictured.  Pete is hiding under the bed, as he usually does during the day.  But still, after 13 years together, I wake up most mornings with ten pounds of black fur sitting on my sternum, purring.  He's hungry.  The dog has eaten his cat food again.

7. and 8. Sisterly love.  For those two that I have, and for those I'm watching grow before my eyes.

9. Tiny braids.  There are probably a lot of things I do as a mother that are exactly the way my mom did them.  Small side braids are one tangible thing that make me think of my mom every time Greta lets me give her one.  If you had a happy childhood, you want to replicate it for your own kids.  I loved side braids.

10.  A happy childhood.  Please, guys, remember these moments (inside out sweatshirts and all).  Not, you know, some of the other ones.

11. More sibling love.  The relationship between these two is beyond beautiful.  Most of the time.

12. Back to school.  How lucky are we to live in a place with such great schools?  Lucky.  Super lucky.

13.  Pumpkin bread.  Maggie and I are kindred food spirits.  There are some foods that sister and I cannot shovel in fast enough.  This is one.

14.  Pasta.

15. Coffee.

16.  Stripes.

17.  Voice mail.  You guys know that I intentionally don't answer the phone on my birthday, right?  Because I want to have your birthday wishes for now, and for some day in February when I just want to hear your voices.  Yes, Natalee, you hit every note.

18.  Mac and cheese.  At the risk of making my thankful list a little food heavy, this one has to stay.  My friend, Sonia, made me and my girls mac and cheese today.  We're not talking about the blue box with the elbow noodles here.  This is the real thing.  And oh my... I have followed her recipe too.  It's delicious.  But never, never as delicious as it is when my friend makes it for me.

19.  Peek a boo.  Mags has so many versions of this game.  One of my favorites is the one where she covers her ears, then pulls them away and beams, waiting for you to say it.

20. Hand me downs.  How often do we play with this 20 year old set of My Little Ponies?  All. The. Time.  We spent two hours yesterday grooming the manes of Henrietta, Princess Baby Pony, Diana Ross, and others.  Remember what I said about replicating your happy childhood?  And being lucky?

21.  Text messaging.  Natalee got one of my haikus this week.  It needed some refinement.  Lindsey, when are you going to live in a 3G covered part of the country again?

22.  A healthy self image.  This is huge, and I think it's even true.  I'm in my mid-30's, I have no sense of style, and I will probably never fit into those jeans again.  I am down with all of that.

23. Concert night.  In our BC (Before Children) life, we were city mice.  City mice in a town with a pretty great music scene.  We knew bands before their songs made it into commercials or onto soundtracks of sitcoms.  Now we are country mice who watch primarily PBS Kids.  But!  Country mice with a plan.  One night a month.  Back to the city.  Back to that spot in front of the soundboard.  Back to the merch table.  I do love a good band tee shirt.

24. Family.  Duh.

25.  Friends.  Duh.

26. Strong legs.  These guys have carried me over hundreds of miles of pavement this summer, and I think they might actually stand a chance of finishing that one long run.  Kevin has promised to make 2013 the year of his first marathon if I finish mine in 2012.  You heard it here, people.  Get that man out on the road.  Because after October 7th, Howl will need a new running partner.  Me and my ravaged toes are taking a break.  2013 will be our year of yoga.

27. Birthday mail.

28. Rearranging the furniture.  We don't know where we will be when (if?) this place becomes someone else's home.  We thought we knew.  But then we changed our minds.  And then we changed our minds again.  Decision making does not come naturally to either of us.  Know what does?  The hunch that it will all work out just the way it should.

29.  September wind.  45 degrees in the morning is the perfect temperature.  60 degrees after dinner is just right for one last trip to the park with the kites.  I lied.  There is a picture of Kevin.

30.  Being a country mouse.

31. and 32. 30 fingers.  30 toes.  Usually dirty.

33. Arts and crafts.  Uh, yeah.  I did learn to sew, made an apron, and entered it at the County Fair with my 4H group when I was 10.  You didn't do that?  Greta doesn't think it's so nerdy.  This skirt is one of her favorites.  I can also macrame a hanging plant holder and identify most wildflowers.  And now that I've remembered that I can, maybe I will.

34. Just for me smiles.

35. Another trip around the sun.  Fingers crossed that it's another awesome one.

Just the Way It's Supposed to Be

It was sunny and cool this morning when we sent the big kids out to the bus stop.  This is what the beginning of the school year is supposed to feel like.  And it's a good day to share some beginning of the school year reports.

Was Greta was anxious about school a few weeks ago?  I can't remember.  Couldn't be true.  No way this girl who spends thirty minutes in the morning carefully selecting her outfit (reminding me that I don't want to match, Mom), who holds the hand of her first grade neighbor friend as they get on the bus together, who chatters all afternoon about every word Ms. Ruthie spoke to her, about her new BFFs and their beautiful dresses, who cannot get her backpack open fast enough to show me the work of art she has created just for me that day - no way was that girl ever jittery about starting school.

She's always been a chatterbox.  The experiences that she has outside of home have amped that up to new levels.  There is so much stuff that we don't know about her day, and that it is crucial for us to know.  But her almost-five-year-old articulation can't quite keep up with the flight of ideas she has to share.  So after an entirely baffling dinner conversation about a tuba, we finally pulled out her class list and realized that she was trying to tell us about her new pal, Tova.  Please come to Greta's birthday party, Tova.  We will work hard on our vuh-vuh-vees.

Greta likes tights.  No.  Greta looooooves tights.  This is delightful.  We need more tights!

The first grader has some good stories too.  Did I say good?  What I meant was, I think my heart just stood still in my chest for a moment.  And it's not because I'm a distance running champ and have slowed my resting heart rate to super human levels.  Don't laugh.  This is not funny. At. All.

Noah: Mom, can I tell you something that happened at school today that made my mouth fall open?
Me [Glowing with pride at my son's remarkable (surely above average) ability to create such great mental imagery, but distracted by the need to get dinner started and not looking up from the cutting board]: Yes.  Tell me.
Noah: A girl.     Kissed me.     On the cheek.

I couldn't look up fast enough to see his face, because it had run giggling, at full speed, to the other side of the house to hide itself behind the curtains.  Later, the story was retold over the dinner table.  My heart had started beating again, and I was asked to play both the part of me, and the part of Noah in telling the story to  Kevin.  Because Noah desperately wanted him to know, but simply could not bring himself to recount something of this magnitude to Dad.  I had to whisper it in his ear, while Noah wiggled in his seat, grinning and barely holding in his nervous laugh, two feet away.  By the time I got to On the cheek, the kid was behind the curtains again.

The details:  she's a second-grader in one of the other lower elementary classes.  He sent us through twenty questions to guess her identity.  But here's the thing: he doesn't like her.  At least, he doesn't like her like her.  When I asked him if he did, I got the most incredulous and resounding No! I had ever heard.  He looked at me like he couldn't believe someone would even ask such a ridiculous question.  Without a doubt, Noah does not like girls.  Not yet.  He knows enough to be all kinds of fidgety when a girl kisses him on a playground, but he doesn't really get why it's a big deal.  So says the mom.  Anyone who feels otherwise can just keep their mouth shut.  Thanks.

Getting on the bus.  No biggie.

One for the road.  While the big kids were at school, the baby picked herself up and started walking.  Someone else has promised a video with an epic soundtrack.  We will all have to patiently wait for that.  Here she is with her post-afternoon-nap rosy cheeks and bedhead.