As You Know

As frequently as Greta exclaims, Cant'cha believe it?!, Noah declares, As you know..., and typically completes his statement with something that we of course do not, and could not know.  For example, As you know, I am going to wear my Batman pajamas tonight.  Or, As you know, Lily said something really funny at school today.

This time is different.  I did actually know this one.  Here is my new favorite work of nonfiction.

I will transcribe the nine pages for you here:

1. Inside My Body
2. This is my brain.
3. This is my muscles.
4. This is my stomach.
5. This is my esophagus.
6. These are my lungs. (nice job with the plural demonstrative, kid)
7. This is my heart.
8. This is my bones.
9. And as you know, your brain is the most important.

Could this PA momma be any more proud?  His last anatomy drawing even included a liver, a spleen, and kidneys.  I'm keeping that one forever.

I don't know what goes on at the other schools in town, but in the Children's House at the Montessori School, five and six year olds truly are allowed and encouraged to follow their own passions.  For weeks he brought home drawings of cars, followed by months of pictures, cut-outs, and stories about light saber battles.  In these last few weeks before summer break, Noah seems to be shifting focus to more academic interests.  He brings home workbooks to perfect his writing, and is pushing himself to read books he's not sure he can finish.  Everyone at school likes my glasses, he told us at the dinner table today.  It was all part of the plan, buddy.  Get the boy into bifocals and he'll be an overnight intellectual.  Right.

The sequel to this book will be, And That is Why I Promise to Never Ride Motorcycles.  Ever.

Chicks Pitch Tents

Greta and I went camping this weekend. Just us. I wish it had been my idea, but it wasn't.  Kevin will always be the fun parent.  Even when he's not along to have the fun.

We chose our campsite from a list on the online reservations page.  All I knew about this place before we showed up was that it had a fire pit and no electric hookup.  We signed up for this exact spot for obvious reasons...

...and it turned out to be magical.  Flat and dry, secluded and quiet, and surrounded by green, green, GREEN in all directions.

The last time we took the kids camping, there was a whole lotta stress about getting the campfire started. (holy cow, has it really been that long since we last camped?) This time, the forest spirits smiled on us. Roaring fires both nights, record time. No delay in s'mores or hot dogs. 

A long time ago, when Kevin and I were kids, we used to camp in a little two-person tent with purple poles, a yellow and blue rain fly, and a moon roof for the nights when the rain fly wasn't on.  G and I took that tent this weekend, and woke up to this on Saturday morning.  The rest of the campground was completely silent, except for the birds.  Big rewards for the early risers.

Unlike that last camping trip, this time the camp coffee was a success.

We made it to the beach by 9 am, and didn't have to share it with anyone until nearly noon.  By then, we had a fortress of castles, moats and rivers.  I love that baby Magda, but wow, how awesome was it to play for hours without the angst of trying to keep sand on the beach and out of her mouth?  Pretty awesome.

The weekend wasn't entirely just Greta and I.  Omnipresent Beatrice and pillow joined as well.  I said it was green, right?

We took a cave tour on Saturday afternoon.  A big disappointment for Greta.  Crystal Cave is very light on the crystals.  She was underwhelmed by the dark, the formations, and the bats.  Where are the crystals?  Phosphorescence was kind of cool.  But not cool enough to make up for the famine of crystals.

I love my state.

A hike around the campground loop.  Don't tell anyone I let her pick the wildflowers.  This weekend, my rules were to not say no.  She hears it all the time.  It gets her down.

Especially when it's no, I can't pick you up right now, I have to hold Maggie.  There aren't a lot of emotions that kids her age can make sense of.  But this one stings.  I found her curled up under my covers one day, sobbing because You always put me down.  She meant it literally.  I put her down because I have to pick the baby up.  I felt like I'd been punched in the chest.  We both cried that day.

This weekend, we held onto each other for hours and hours.

Hey, Greta, have I mentioned that you are brilliant and beautiful lately?

We punked out and came home last night, late.  There were rumors of thunderstorms, and the thought of finishing out our weekend of awesome with trying to stuff away a wet tent and fold up a muddy tarp was a big turn off.  She helped me pack everything away and told me Thank you for saying nice things to me, Mom.  Thank you for reminding me to, daughter.

Om.

Before there was planking, there was this.

Super quick, while the big kids are downstairs in the bath and Maggie is crawling around making messes in every corner.

That's right:  crawling.  For real.  Video proof to come.

Purple and More Purple

Some (many) (OK, most) (fine, nearly all) weeks feel like loosely controlled chaos around here.  I accept this.  Because I know you (I'm talking to you Moms, Grandma) understand, I am, in this moment, letting go of my guilt over not having sent your cards or found the perfect way to show you how very much you're loved, admired, appreciated.  Just believe me: it's a lot.

Please smile at your silly grandkids for five minutes.  Happy Mother's Day.

{this moment}

Started by SouleMama, imitated by me

Us and Them

He was so excited about this shirt coming out of the dryer last night that he didn't even remind us to "don't look at my privates"* before peeling off his old shirt to exchange it.

Welcome to the club, Noah.  I would say, Have a cigar, but that would be a completely different album.  And you're only six.  You now share common ground with nearly everyone who was alive in the 1970s and every decade that has followed.  Feel free to use your love of Floyd as a conversation-starter.  From the very simple, What's your favorite part of Dark Side? (ALWAYS call it Dark Side, NEVER refer to it by the full album name), to the slightly more esoteric, That Syd Barrett.  He really came unhinged, huh?, to Duuuuude, have you seeeeeeeen Dark Side of the Rainbow? It's toooootally synched.

For the record, Noah's favorite part is "when the baby is crying," he doesn't know anything about Syd Barrett yet (and if you wouldn't mind, we'll save that little This is Your Brain On Drugs talk for high school, thankyouverymuch), and maybe six is just the right age to link up the Wizard of Oz with the record player... but I'll leave that to Kevin.


*This is a thing lately.  Privacy.  Privates.  Never mind that a boy's "nickles" aren't probably something that he needs to be so concerned about keeping private.  But we can talk about that another day.

A Favorite Thing

Kevin loves Etsy. LOVES it. He spends his lunch hours browsing the pages of arty creations. He has never referred to it as, "The *bleeping* Craigslist of crafts."

Or maybe I found this and it happened to come just in time for me to wish myself a happy Mothers Day. I can't recall.

{this moment}

Around the Hood

Raise your hand if you can't stop taking pictures of babies swinging.

I have a problem.

Just one more.

I can stop anytime I want to.

OK, I'm good.

That is a picture of Maggie's teeth.  If there is a swing in the photo, it is purely coincidence.  Look!  Six teeth!

Noah is about to show you his mad monkey bars skills.

What they say about bunnies is true.  Greta started out as a baby with just one small Beatrice.  We turned our backs for a second, and suddenly she's a mother of seven.



By the way, how hard is it when your oldest goes off to school and makes his own friends?  Friends that aren't cousins or kids of your friends or neighborhood kids or kids that are somehow shared friends among all of your kids. Let me tell you.  It is hard.  My heart breaks for this only slightly younger person who wants nothing but to keep up with her bigger, faster and more athletic brother and his new friends.  Friends whose houses she is not invited to go play at along with Noah.  Friends who are in on the classroom jokes from school last week when Greta is not.  Friends who I am so glad that he has because it means he is a normal, socially functional boy.  What's a mom to do?

There is one other baby picture that I simply cannot stop myself from taking, over, and over, and over.

I've said it before, but it bears repeating:  sleeping baby never gets old.