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.

Right Foot, Left Foot, Repeat

So I signed up for this run in October.  It's gonna be a long one.  There have been many weeks this summer when I thought, Yeah, that's totally NOT going to happen.  Like, the month of July when I ran approximately 5 miles.  For the entire month.

Maybe I'm exaggerating.  But for sure, marathon training was taking a back seat to... pretty much everything.  And there is a lot of everything if I look around.  August was better.  A little bit less hot, and a little bit lighter on the weekend plans.  Plus, as it turns out, my dog is built for distance.  Not that we have to go far to see things like this on our runs.

This weekend will be the longest run before the 26.2.  And my longest run ever.  I have planned out a 20 mile course along the county roads, then back into town, then out of town, then back into town again.  Then home.  Assuming I'm still alive at that point.  Kidding.  I think.

Wish me luck, and a high lactate threshold.

You might want to sit this one out, Howl.

Birthday Baby

Rule of Life #394: If you didn't document it, it didn't happen.

So my Magpie never turned one.  Until today.  Here is the small Leo's shining grin, gleeful as always, but especially when she is the focus of attention among a sea of loving faces.

Just don't try to cuddle her.  She's not ready to take your relationship to that level yet.  If you pick her up and squeeze her, she might turn around to find Mom or Dad gone forever.  It's too risky.  Best to cling with all her life to a parent, even bury her face in their chest if she can.  If you can't see them, they might disappear, Maggie.  Or they might stick around and wait for you to snuggle when you turn one and a half.  Families are like that.  Tenacious.

I made you a tres leches cake, Baby, and you didn't seem to mind.

But if it could have been all watermelon, all day long, that would have been better.

All these kids (plus Ella) sang a few rounds of Happy Birthday Toooo Yooouuu, helped blow out candles, then took turns to feed the baby a bite.  It took all of my self-control to not take a bite of the birthday girl.  Her elbow dimples are nearly too much.

There were many fun new toys to open, and they have been loved by everyone.  Noah and Greta even sometimes graciously let the one year old play with them.  No one has gotten their proper thanks yet for the showers of gifts, love, and weekends you have given us.  I have been trying to scientifically prove that the number of hours in a day has decreased since we had our third child and since I started training for a marathon.  Unsuccessfully so far.  I may have to try a new approach.  Less right foot-left foot-right foot-left foot, breathe-breathe-breathe, and more we are so very fortunate to find ourselves among so many caring and generous folks.  Thank you, everyone.

Happy birthday, small Magdalene.  We all love you to pieces.

Angst and Wisdom

We've done this before.  We are experienced professionals.   We are in the same school as we were last year (Yea! Montessori).  We even have one of the same teachers as last year (Yea! Ms. Ruthie).  So how did this cheery and hopeful first-day-of-school morning turn into the  afternoon that I fled the school in shame?

Need more experience.

Next year, we will get it right.  For sure.

The first day of school in our district is orientation day for the little kids.  Parents go along to school with their littles to fill out paperwork, meet their teachers, drop off their school supplies.  No biggie.  I could do that alone.  Some strategic Cheerios, a bottle, some toys and a baby blanket stashed in the diaper bag and our easy, breezy, unflappable third child would rest comfortably in her stroller while the rest of us did what needed to be done.  No need for Kevin to miss a day of work.

Wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

We did well for most of the morning, even treading far beyond the normal nap hour.  But sometime between I've had only a 30 minute interrupted nap today and When the grandma are you planning to feed me lunch? our girl lost her mind.  Poor Maggie.  You are so relied on to be ever flexible, ever tolerant, and ever cheerful that we sometimes forget.  You are one.  Only one.  One year olds have limits.  And in the non-air conditioned school full of toys that you can't play with and stairs that you can't climb up and down, it's only rational that you reached yours.  We all did.

So, the shame.  We did not meet or greet Noah's new teacher, Ms. Sue.  Although she will undoubtedly remember us.  There was no subtlety about the baby's requests to be done with all the orientation nonsense by the time it was Ms. Sue's turn to introduce herself.  Oy.  We will really have to wow her when it's our turn to bring the (peanut-free AND gluten-free) snack to class.

The good news.  Even though today was a total parenting FAIL, the siblings?  They shined.  Just when I am starting to feel like a referee more than a mother, putting one child or the another in the naughty spot for hitting, spitting, shoving or kicking, they do something so kind for one another that it makes me cry.

Greta has been apprehensive about school.  To the point of tears, she has told us she doesn't want to go.  This is completely unexpected.  Greta is the one who meets every kid at the park.  Who pets every dog that crosses her path.  Who introduces herself to new people with her full name, favorite color and foods she dislikes.  We have tried to talk to her about it, with limited success in calming her fears.  Know who nailed it?  Noah.  Brother spent last night and this morning talking to her in that everything is going to be OK tone that I've never heard from him before.  He promised her that she would have so much fun.  That he would see her at every recess and that they would play together.  He had been to that scary place called a New School, and he knew just how she felt.  Don't worry, Greta, he told her this morning, I will ask my teacher if I can come over to your class and give you a hug if you feel shy.  I'm all choked up.

Cheers to siblings.  Here they are making themselves presentable before the first day.  Considering how our first impressions went today, this may have been a waste of time.  We've got the next nine months to get it right.