Gone Missing
I'm not sure if it's me, my mind, or my inspiration. Maybe it's all three. My sister Kait informed me, however, that it's been over a month since I posted. Touche. When I go missing for a time, I tend to reboot with a family update. So here it is. (Deep thoughts to come later. On a night when I have a few.)
We spent the last days of July and first week of August in Michigan, visiting our families. We now officially have more family living in Michigan than on the East coast. We met the newest member of our family: Noah Raymond. If I loved him in digital, I am head over heels in real life. The boy is magnificent. And though he gives his momma and dad a run for their money in the cranky department, he is the cutest bundle of boy you could possibly hope to adore. If you don't believe me, look for yourself. And if you beg to differ...well, you won't.
After a whirlwind week of family and friends, we came home to perfect New England August temperatures. Now we're trying to soak it all in, before it sneaks out the back door and sends crisp winds, sweaters, and apple pie our way. Some late summer rituals yet to be enjoyed:
Peach picking and eating. Nothing says August like climbing trees for the perfect orb of soft, fleshy, sweetness. Imagine the scent acres of ripe peach tress give off. Imagine standing among them and biting into a perfectly ripe peach, the yellowy orange juice dripping down chins and hands and staining shirt fronts. Move over Georgia! Peaches from our neck of the woods are the best I've ever eaten.
Backyard camping for Daddy and girls. Mommy prefers the soft of her own bed and leaves the window open to hear the sweet sounds of sleeping bag zippers and flashlight stories and giggling. Darkness falls earlier now and it's the perfect season for littles to experience summer after dark and sill go to bed at a reasonable time.
A finished house project. Mark has been working on an itty bitty half bath upstairs so that the kids can have their own bathroom space. It's funny how we accomplished so much more when there were fewer children living here. Number three seems to have slowed home improvement progress to a snail's pace. For now, the former closet provides endless silliness for Miss A., who hoots when I command her to use her own bathroom and stay out of mine. She likes to threaten as she heads to the John, "Mommy! I'm going to use your bathroom all day long!" She flips me a little grin, slams the door, and promptly locks me out. I'm not sure what she does in there. Considering the number of accidents she still has, I don't think she's using the toilet. Two days ago she dumped my very expensive bronzer in the sink, then so kindly washed the container off. Without a lid. E discovered the evidence. A claimed to know nothing about it, which prompted a little chat about telling the truth. Tonight, she managed to cut her hand on my razor while she was supposed to be peeing, which prompted a little chat about grown up body hair and sharp objects. Some teaching moments are more meaningful than others.
My birthday! This year I have asked for the gift of TIME. Not the magazine, but the seconds turning into minutes turning into hours that all add up to maybe a magical boat ride on my favorite lake and a good glass of wine and a sunset swim? Maybe?
School preparations. This is bittersweet for me. E is eager to leap from our little nest into the arms of Kindergarten. She tells everyone she meets that school starts in two weeks. The other day, she told me for maybe the 50th time: "Mommy, school starts in two weeks!"
"Yes, sweetie, I know. Isn't that exciting?"
"Yeah, does that mean I'm going on Saturday?"
Saturday might as well be two weeks away. Both are a long time to wait for a five year old.
Yesterday at the library E chose a book called Kindergarten Diary and "read" it to A when they got home. From my eavesdropping post in the kitchen, I heard: "Kindergarten diarrhea..." Then pitter patter came her feet. "Mommy? Why is this called Kindergarten diarrhea?" I try to keep a straight face in these situations so as not to embarrass their tender egos. But instead, I burst out laughing and then explained the difference between diary and diarrhea. Sigh. These are the moments I will miss with the advent of school.
Walking. That's right, I saved this one for last. It's our little summer victory. House project victories pale at the sight of a small, wobbly boy, all toothy grin making his way across a floor. First two or three steps at a time. This morning, while no one in particular looked on, he took six steps in a row. I was talking to Mark who was leaving for work and the girls were busy inventing imaginary baby doll play on the floor. He stood up at the train set storage bin, set his eyes on the ball popper--a new favorite toy--hesitated, and then took the plunge. One, two, three, four, five, six and almost a seven. 
Hands out balance-beam style, stance growing wider with every step, I watched him work his way over to his goal. Pretty soon, pretty soon, pretty soon, my son will be chasing my daughters across our yard. The thought of that....you have no idea.
Often I grow weary of this day and of this or that stage, but tonight we held a dance party on the cracked basketball court in our backyard. Girls instructing, Mark and I following, lots of giggles. The dance party turned into a chase with bug nets. I was the bug, the girls in hot pursuit of their prey. I ended up with one catcher on my head, the other over my hands. Who doesn't love a late summer dance party/bug catching chase? Life may be exhausting these days, but five minutes of goodness can soften five hours of hardship. And that's a thought to fall asleep to.
We spent the last days of July and first week of August in Michigan, visiting our families. We now officially have more family living in Michigan than on the East coast. We met the newest member of our family: Noah Raymond. If I loved him in digital, I am head over heels in real life. The boy is magnificent. And though he gives his momma and dad a run for their money in the cranky department, he is the cutest bundle of boy you could possibly hope to adore. If you don't believe me, look for yourself. And if you beg to differ...well, you won't.
After a whirlwind week of family and friends, we came home to perfect New England August temperatures. Now we're trying to soak it all in, before it sneaks out the back door and sends crisp winds, sweaters, and apple pie our way. Some late summer rituals yet to be enjoyed:
Peach picking and eating. Nothing says August like climbing trees for the perfect orb of soft, fleshy, sweetness. Imagine the scent acres of ripe peach tress give off. Imagine standing among them and biting into a perfectly ripe peach, the yellowy orange juice dripping down chins and hands and staining shirt fronts. Move over Georgia! Peaches from our neck of the woods are the best I've ever eaten.
Backyard camping for Daddy and girls. Mommy prefers the soft of her own bed and leaves the window open to hear the sweet sounds of sleeping bag zippers and flashlight stories and giggling. Darkness falls earlier now and it's the perfect season for littles to experience summer after dark and sill go to bed at a reasonable time.
A finished house project. Mark has been working on an itty bitty half bath upstairs so that the kids can have their own bathroom space. It's funny how we accomplished so much more when there were fewer children living here. Number three seems to have slowed home improvement progress to a snail's pace. For now, the former closet provides endless silliness for Miss A., who hoots when I command her to use her own bathroom and stay out of mine. She likes to threaten as she heads to the John, "Mommy! I'm going to use your bathroom all day long!" She flips me a little grin, slams the door, and promptly locks me out. I'm not sure what she does in there. Considering the number of accidents she still has, I don't think she's using the toilet. Two days ago she dumped my very expensive bronzer in the sink, then so kindly washed the container off. Without a lid. E discovered the evidence. A claimed to know nothing about it, which prompted a little chat about telling the truth. Tonight, she managed to cut her hand on my razor while she was supposed to be peeing, which prompted a little chat about grown up body hair and sharp objects. Some teaching moments are more meaningful than others.My birthday! This year I have asked for the gift of TIME. Not the magazine, but the seconds turning into minutes turning into hours that all add up to maybe a magical boat ride on my favorite lake and a good glass of wine and a sunset swim? Maybe?
School preparations. This is bittersweet for me. E is eager to leap from our little nest into the arms of Kindergarten. She tells everyone she meets that school starts in two weeks. The other day, she told me for maybe the 50th time: "Mommy, school starts in two weeks!"
"Yes, sweetie, I know. Isn't that exciting?"
"Yeah, does that mean I'm going on Saturday?"
Saturday might as well be two weeks away. Both are a long time to wait for a five year old.
Hands out balance-beam style, stance growing wider with every step, I watched him work his way over to his goal. Pretty soon, pretty soon, pretty soon, my son will be chasing my daughters across our yard. The thought of that....you have no idea.Often I grow weary of this day and of this or that stage, but tonight we held a dance party on the cracked basketball court in our backyard. Girls instructing, Mark and I following, lots of giggles. The dance party turned into a chase with bug nets. I was the bug, the girls in hot pursuit of their prey. I ended up with one catcher on my head, the other over my hands. Who doesn't love a late summer dance party/bug catching chase? Life may be exhausting these days, but five minutes of goodness can soften five hours of hardship. And that's a thought to fall asleep to.
Happy weekend!