A Summer Break

Kevin recommends that I stop whining on the blog.  And in real life.  Recommendation noted.  But I'm not promising anything.  Overreacting to life's minor struggles is a part of my personality.  If I didn't have flaws, what would I have to work on?  I'll work on it.

We're going on vacation next week.  It's going to be awesome.  I am blissed out just thinking about it.  We're starting with a mini-vacation this weekend to the great and lovely Alpine Valley.  We've been away too long.  We've missed it.

This is summer.

It is an enormous hassle to get the family ready to go to the beach.  I have never regretted spending a day at the beach.

Oh yes, she can hold her own bottles.  Including the water ones.  This is how she will celebrate INDEPENDENCE! day.

Park day.  95 degrees.  Wearing his Obi Wan Kenobi outfit.  Peace.

First glide.  Downhill to the library.  Uphill back.  An entire jug of Gerber Puffs.  Content.

Never a beach day I regret.

Neighborhood swamp.  Tadpoles.  Lost galoshes.  Not bothered by wet feet.  Not.  One.  Bit.

Trying to Harmonize

Maybe if I just start posting some pictures, I'll come up with something to say about them.  Let's try.

My baby got herself baptized a few weeks ago.  We were late.  She is big.  Too big to wear The Gown, (the one that I, my sisters, my cousins, and a few other very important people were baptized in) but she wore a gown, and she was lovely.

Guess how long the floral crown lasted.  G'head.  Guess.  You're right.  And that's why this is the best picture we have of her wearing it.

This is my family.  Greta, I never would have predicted you to be the one not in love with the camera.  Silly me.  There I go thinking I can predict you.

Kevin brings home giant maps.  We don't need any more giant maps.  We do need art projects.  MORE ART PROJECTS!  This is one of my latest favorites.

1. Tape giant map (map side down) to the floor.
2. Lay small person (person side up) on top of giant map.
3. Position small person in a very serious pose.
4. Trace giggling, wiggling body.
5. Try that again, with only slightly less giggling and wiggling.
6. Tape outline to a wall, color, paint, glitter glue and mixed-media inside the outline.

Greta in tree pose.

Everyone arting together.

We go through periods as a family when we all feel entirely out of harmony.  No one person's agenda is in sync with any one else.  There are power struggles.  There are emotional and physical brawls.  Kid versus parent.  Kid versus kid.  Everyone wanting to retreat to their own corner, but forced to be, nearly all the time, together.  It's hard to write during those times.  After a day of doing battle just to get Noah away from the TV or to get Greta out of her pajamas or to get Maggie off my hip for thirteen minutes, I don't have any energy left to reflect on our life in a positive way.  Plus, there aren't any pictures.  Kevin and I try to blame sleep.  They're not sleeping enough.  It's hard to get people to sleep when the sun goes down so late and gets up so early.  It's a lame excuse.  Really, we're all just vibrating at dyssynchronous frequencies this month, and hopefully we'll get it together in July.  Please send us some harmonious vibes.

We'll always have morning.  Even when this girl and I can't figure out all day long what's going on in the other's head, when she shrieks at me that she wants Dad to put her to bed, I can still count on hearing her tiptoe to my side of the bed in the very wee hours.  She is never turned away.

Oh yeah, that's totally going in the mouth.

Greta had surgery again a few weeks ago.  Minor.  Like, very, very minor.  Still, let's not do that anymore.

Later on, she got a haircut.  I love the heck out of it.

The Fourth Dimension

It's Father's Day, and we plan to celebrate by eating bacon and listening to records. 

Grandpa, I hope you get a laugh out of this. Noah has memorized the ages of every one of his family members, great grandparents included. But that doesn't mean his concept of time passing is fully developed. The time it takes to watch an episode of Curious George might as well be measured in years, how long until his next birthday in seconds, the length of the dryer cycle containing his favorite jeans could be days. Retirement? That's probably, like, 300 minutes away.

Happy Father's Day, guys. You model parenthood like champs. Thanks for everything.

{this moment}

Started by SouleMama, imitated by me.

The Grass is Greener Here

Yes.  Yes, I could squeeze that girl, kiss those cheeks and pinch those thighs all the doodah day.  Thank you for asking.

She reached her destination not long after this shot was taken:  the Slip 'n Slide where the big kids were playing.  Even this won't stop her from wanting to play with the big kids.

Sisterly love.

Greta was genuinely confused about why this made Magda cry.  I thought she wanted to play in the water.  It happens to all of us, Greta.  We expend enormous amounts of energy to get somewhere, only to find that it's not where we wanted to be after all.

So Big

These photos make me giggle.  I have a hundred, He's so big ___ ! / He's so little ___ ! thoughts.

He's so big, he's graduating from kindergarten.  He's so little, he's graduating from kindergarten.  See how this goes in my head?  Good.

He's so big, he rehearsed the commencement ceremony with me just hours before the big event.  I have to walk on the green line, up the stairs, and shake Mr. Nate's hand.

Then Ms. Tiffany will give me my piece of paper.

(Ms. Ruthie couldn't be at the graduation.  Her daughter was graduating from high school the same day.  We missed her.)

Then I have to walk down the stairs and sit down on the green line.

 
See the green line?  My boy.  He nailed it.  He's so big.

His first mortar board.  Of many, let's hope.  He's so little.

RFPME Children's House, Class of 2012.  Almost.  Sorry to the kid and a half who got cut off.

They're so little.

Wanna Samba

Let's face it, Maggie, you're not going to have a baby book.  I won't say never, but it's been ten months, and I've got nothing.  It's looking pretty unlikely.  But!  Thanks to the miracle of the Interweb, my inability to gather tokens like your hospital bracelet, your first locks of hair, and your newspaper birth announcement, and press them between pages of my handwriting doesn't mean that the important moments won't be documented.

May 12th, 2012.  Mother's Day.  The day Maggie learned to crawl. (with some footage of a little tantrum over a stolen toy in the middle)  Before you know it, she'll be learning to samba.



I try to remember why exactly I wanted this.  Why do I encourage sitting, scooting, crawling, standing, walking, riding without training wheels?  All I want after the skill is learned is to take it back.  Not really.  But.  A little bit.  It already feels like it's been a hundred years since she was the baby who melted into my chest, who wore those littlest of little diapers, who slept for most of the hours of the day despite the chaos of the four other bodies buzzing around her.

I guess this makes us both normal.  She for growing big and independent.  Me for wishing to make it stop.

Here's a milestone for your imaginary baby book, Mags:  Baby's First Heimlich - May 21, 2012.  Learning to eat table food is a minefield of airway compromise.  I almost forgot the moments of panic that come practically every mealtime with babies learning how to manage inhaling along with swallowing bits of meatballs and Cheerios.  Maggie is enthusiastic about nearly everything on her tray.   Enthusiastic, as in, eats with reckless abandon.  Pray for us.

UPDATE: It has been pointed out to me that Mother's Day was May 13th. Not the 12th. Good thing I didn't write that in indelible ink in a baby book.