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We've been at work making a fun play area for the kids in the front yard.
Simple stuff: sand, rocks, and the frame for a bean tee-pee.
Early indications are that it's a hit. We'll see how long it lasts. Part of the fun involved dragging huge amounts of sand and rocks all over the yard.
Other news: by 11:30 today, the kids and I had gone to church, had breakfast, picked up sand and rocks for their garden, and visited the pet store. I'm pretty sure we'll never achieve such productivity again.
Our pool opened this weekend, and it couldn't have come at a better time.
Peter was a little disappointed his friends weren't there. Lucy was happy to splash and delighted that her feet could touch in almost all of the little pools. Thomas fell asleep within minutes of getting in the pool. And Kevin? He's still not jumped off the super-high-platform. (I want to say it's 50 meters. Is that possible? Half a football field?)
The kids had so much fun. So much fun that Lucy fell asleep on our drive home at 4.
For the night.
You read that correctly: Lucy fell asleep for good at 4 p.m.
(Is this what our summer will be? Sign me up, please!)
A picture's worth a thousand words, so I won't add to much to this except to say:
I had a moment, in October or November, when I realized that there would be many times in the day where I would have to stretch myself three ways to make one mama fulfill the role of three, for three young and needy kids.
After much trial and error, I realized I could talk to one child, touch one child, and look at one child all at the same time. So: Lucy could tell me a story, I could make silly baby faces at Thomas, and I could tickle Peter's back as he sat next to me.
Every single day I ask if that's enough. I know in my heart that it is, but I also know it's not.
Having so many little ones so close together has been a gift and a tax for the children. Built in playmates, for sure, but also built in sharing, built in compromise, built in sacrifice, and built in sucking-it-up-and-doing-it-for-yourself.
(That happens a lot around here. Often in the course of the day, many little chairs are spread through the house, hints that small ones have been reaching in high places for the things they need. Or the things they want. Like: scissors. Or: dried split peas.)
We were invited to a pool party today. It started at 11 a.m. Lucy and Peter and Thomas were dressed in their swimming suits at, oh, 9 a.m.? And from then it was a chorus of, "when can we swim? can we swim now? how about now? now?"
So yes, we were excited, why do you ask?
After just a bit of hesitation and nervousness Peter and Lucy remembered that they were able to float, swim, and have fun all by themselves (and their arm floats). And Thomas enjoyed floating along with me, or sometimes on an obliging pool float.
It's a great way to start off pool season. We already have our weekend plans: pool, pool, and...let me check..oh, yes. Pool.
(I don't know if anyone is complaining, except for the top of the children's heads! I'm off to order pool hats.)
Problem: The children want to take the train again, for our cars and trucks and things that go week. But, the train really doesn't take us anywhere of interest for the under-5 set.
Solution: Reading Terminal Market for snacktime.
And so we took the 9:51 train to Center City, made 11 stops, exited at Market East, took the elevator to street level, and crossed the street to Reading Terminal Market.
After a very brief browsing of the tasty treats for sale (including: chocolate rubber ducks), the kids settled on a freshly baked black-and-white cookie and a bottle of milk. Reading Terminal may be one of three places in the country where we could buy whole, unpasteurized, unhomogonized milk to wash down our cookies. Lucky us!
Post-snack we browsed some more, watching the lobsters in the tank, checking out the different sizes of shrimp, and sniffing all sorts of herbs at the herbal apothecary.
We took the 11:37 train back and arrived at the train station twenty minutes early. It was a very quick trip, but it satisfied the desire to ride the train! without any meltdowns.
Of note:
- I realized five minutes after Kevin pulled away for Bryn Mawr that I'd left a few essential items (baby carrier, water bottles) in the car. Oops. Luckily, Thomas was willing to ride in the umbrella stroller.
- Lucy noticed right away that the elevator at the train station smelled like pee. Peter hypothesized it was because a load of trash had gone in before we did. I allowed them to believe this, and for our return trip, they ran to the "pee-pee elevator!" and plugged their noses.
- I tried to save a bit of the cookie for Kevin, but the children mounted a 1-2 attack and demanded we eat it. "It might get broken in our bag," Peter suggested persuasively. Lucy offered the less elegant but more emotional argument "MORE COOKIE!!!!!!!!" I could find fault in neither's logic, so we ate Kevin's portion of the cookie.
- The conductor offered his hand to help Lucy off the train when we arrived at Swarthmore. She recoiled a bit from him before raising up her hand to give him - what else? - a high five. Only, it certainly looked as though she was about to hit him.
Our playgroup hit Smith this week, along with the hot summer weather.
I promise I won't get all ranty about the weather this year, except for:
(a) I had thought: oh, I won't be pregnant! It won't be so hot! But I didn't account for the fact that: when it feels like 100, it's hot, no matter how with child you are. Also? Holding hot squirmy nursing baby all day and night.
(b) It felt like 100 today, according to the Internet.
So, back to the playground. You'll see so many flushed faces from this post onward because of that awesome Philadelphia summer heat and humidity. Lucy's especially prone to flushing/sweating, which I suppose is a cute look on a little girl - all rosy cheeks and curly hair.
Some highlights of the visit, starting with the end:
Yes. All asleep when we pulled into our driveway.I welcomed this with a bit of relief, even if Thomas did wake up when I took him out of the seat.
Lucy and Quinn, snack scavengers.
Peter climbed then said it was too dangerous. Quinn looked at him as if he were crazy.
Apparently, all the children like being cooped up on the same ride. It's convenient if you're always at the playground with your 11 closest friends. Also, I tried to spin them around - I really did! - but I'd get no more than three spins in and someone would shout "STOP!" and everyone would readjust their position. This game was all about set-up, not at all about spinning. Luckily, no one complained.
Giant slide!
We've hit some rough patches with preschool over the past, oh, three months?
I've identified the following problems:
- nice weather. Children want to play outside. Seems to make sense to me.
- rainy, stormy spring weather. Some of our activities require us to be outside. Not so possible when it's hailing.
- increased ability to play by themselves, invent games of fantastic fun, and play cooperatively together. Who wants to stand in the way of that?
- the baby. Love him, for sure, but he's not exactly one for keeping us on task. Some real ways he's interrupted us: needing to eat, pooping ferociously and all over, wanting to stand up all over and falling down, trying to crawl into the most dangerous/dirty parts of our home, eating our preschool materials (crayons, paints, marbles).
- the baby. A second entry for his nighttime wakings, so that planning preschool activities is somewhat impossible.
you call it rolling a die; I call it
solving the coupon collector's problem by experiment*
The only problem that I'm concerned over is this one: managing Peter and Lucy's educational and emotional needs. Not a big one, right? (Sarcastic smile here.) The problem, in a nutshell, is that they both need my complete attention for different reasons (Lucy: to keep on task; Peter: he needs it emotionally). But I've not found a good way to balance these needs: if I'm working with Lucy, Peter wants to do what Lucy's doing. He doesn't want to be left out, even if I've given him his own task. Lucy, on the other hand, is more than happy to entertain herself, but her entertainment is far more interesting to Peter than my silly games of "find the curved line."
So.
The great news is that I have another two or three years to figure this out before it actually starts to matter.
This time also has given me a chance to rethink, retrench, and reevaluate our current path. I've strayed a bit from my original intentions in preschooling the kids, so this forced vacation from planning and from learning has reminded me of some of my original goals.
(Oh, and if you can't tell, I've been trying very difficult to look for silver linings in all of our clouds of late. Sometimes overheard at FDR HQ: "well, at least not all three children are crying.")
Since Kevin had to work Saturday, we knew we wanted to make up for it with a fun outing on Sunday
So, the zoo it was.
Except: I'm not sure anyone was really into the zoo, except for Thomas, who, for the first time, paid attention to and was interested in the animals. (Of the wild sort. He's been interested in the animals of the human sort for months.)
As we left the zoo, a scant two hours after arriving, without having seen hardly anything at all, I reminded Kevin that this is why we have a membership. (That and the pony rides. Goodness knows, these kids love their pony rides.)
Plus, we did see the baby giraffe pee, which was super cool, especially since all Davis-Ross children saw it and saved us from the refrain of "why did Lucy get to see the pee and I didn't? why did Lucy get to do super many cool things but not me?'
A: when Kevin has to work.
The kids know the weekend as a time for fun adventures and good time with Daddy, so when Kevin had to work this past Saturday we made sure to gloss over the day of the week and no tears were shed.
Even though we didn't greet Friday night with shouts of "it's the WEEKEND!" and a family weekend party dance, Saturday morning felt like...well, Saturday morning. It was tough to get everything going, and I'm sure Kevin was late to his office, but goodness knows I tried. It's tricky to undo nearly 33 years of conditioning, though.
The kids and I visited Smith Playhouse, mostly because I wanted to see if they'd found my water bottle* that I'd left behind from my last visit. (They hadn't. I'm hopeful someone who needed one found it, and it didn't get tossed in the trash.)
Of note from this visit:
(1) this is what they wore. That's Lucy's Easter dress, from 2010, size 12 months. And Peter apparently believes all patterns match. While we're not so much in Complete Survival Mode** as parents now, there definitely are fights we just don't entertain. Clothing is one.
(2) I realized while watching the kids race each other on trikes in the basement just how big Lucy is now. She was about 54 weeks when we first visited. It's hard to believe she ever was that small - something about her personality and growth always has been months ahead of its time.
*Link included in case you, oh, want to buy me a replacement. Although Lucy's had her eye on the fancy glass water bottles at the Co-op...
**Now we're in Mostly Survival Mode. The big difference seems to be that Thomas's life isn't in constant peril and he's not crying so much.
Friday we needed to fill just a few hours in the morning, so we hopped over to Delaware to visit the children's museum in Wilmington.*
This museum is small and merits a "meh" at best ranking, but it does have a few exhibits the kids really like. Such as: water! Thomas is a total water baby, and after about a minute of splashing in the water I realized I should have just stripped him down and plopped him in the water. That's why we've joined a pool for the summer.
Also, the art room is guaranteed fun. It features easel painting, a rotating art project, and a sensory activity. On the day of our visit the art project was recycled materials collage art, and Lucy was drawn to the bowls of glue like a moth to a flame.** Any project that asks Lucy to use limitless glue is a good one for her, which is why we may revisit our glue batik process soon.
And, a slide. I don't really know what it is about the Davis-Ross children and museum slides, except that they rarely go down slides at the playground but are hard pressed to leave one when at a museum.
Finally, a FDR first: three children escaping away from me, to different destinations. I sense some long years ahead...
*I still, to this day, think it's amazing that we visit three states as a matter of course. Living as I have in the middle of places [and California is one big place], it's still novel. I'm pretty sure most of the novelty comes from the fact one of the places we love to visit is Delaware. I mean, Delaware?
**For most projects I try to remind Lucy that "just a dot'll do!" She says it, "daba daba doo!" and every time I think of Fred Flintstone. So no, it doesn't really work to curb her glue use.
a little girl, eager and helpful and ready to play
the delicious smell of chicken stock cooking all day long
a boy who loves his dad and his brother and maybe his sister and mother too
a baby who loves to do tricks on command
three new mouths to feed, just outside our door
The weather's been dodgy lately (continuious threats of rain and thunderstorms), and Peter's allergies have blossomed into an awesome sinus/ear/bronchial thing, so we've had some seriously quiet days this week.
In some ways, the quiet days are the hardest, as it really forces me to face my inner mothering faults in ways that an outing to the museum or the playground doesn't. I'm never thinking about tackling a project while pushing the kids on the swings, for example.
This weekend promises to be an improvement weather-wise, and I'm hoping Peter-wise, too. He's so sad when he's sick, even though he pushes through so much of his under-the-weatherness. His kryptonite is his father, though, and the minute Kevin's around, Peter melts and just wants Kevin to hold him and make him feel better.
I told Kevin that it's as if Peter wants him to be magic, as if Kevin could just presto! make everything better. As parents we can do that magic trick so often that I can understand why the children believe we can make everything that's sad or scary or painful go away. Unfortunately, not all of life's unpleasantness can be kissed away or tickled out or solved with a well-timed book.
(But most can.)
I'm not sure what to say about a visit to the Please Touch Museum that lasts seven hours except:
(1) at some point I was certain we'd leave just before noon and
(2) we didn't see all of the exhibits, or even some of our favorites.
It was definitely a fun day. We needed one of these. We've been in a bad spot lately, and it's 95 percent my fault. I really pushed myself to let go of some lingering issues today, and I think the results speak for themselves.
Honestly, though, with three small ones, you can fill several hours with the necessities of bathroom, snacks, and getting from point A to point B.
Thomas enjoyed this trip, too. It was a family effort, but Peter and Lucy were happy to slow down the pace a bit and let Thomas explore.
Today's big hits were the preschool room and the slide. Then again, these always are big hits. Lucy was a bit disappointed there wasn't a painting option, but was quickly appeased by the variety of dress-up clothes and musical instruments.
(video link) Also, here's a good example why the kids aren't allowed to come grocery shopping with us any longer. (Kidding, kind of.) Lucy's shopping cart was full of graham crackers, Tastykakes, and "so many milks." Here's a fun fact for those not in the Philadelphia region: Tastykakes is its own food group. It's true! I've had many a conversation with locals along the vein of, "I need to stop at the supermarket to get some fruit, milk, and Tastykakes." I also imagine first-year teachers are counseled in their students' frequent misspelling of "cakes" as "kakes."
Last night as I tried to get caught up on Internet stuff, a sleeping baby draped across my lap, our local pick-your-own farm sent an email alert that strawberries would open for picking today.
Just like that, with the speed of a few electrons, our weekend plans changed.
The threat of rain hovered over us, and it was slim pickings at best, but we managed to get over six pounds of berries before the morning was over. I was pleasantly surprised by how much easier it was to pick fruit than this time last year. (Not being 20 weeks pregnant with a one year old in the fields certainly helps.) This is good news, since we'll be spending many hours picking fruits and vegetables this summer.
(Oh, and the kids rode the train too. We told Lucy to tell the engineer that she is three years old so she could ride the train alone, and she may believe it's true.)
Thomas has had more interest in eating people food of late, both in the context of sticking every last thing in his mouth and actually eating the food he's given. It doesn't amount to much, but the proof is in the output: something's going down. I suspect he's more interested because he's hungrier, with all of the crawling and pulling up he's been doing.
We revisited bananas to moderate success and water, mostly because he was grabbing the cup from my hands.
As you can see, his technique needs work.
Peter's really been fixated on riding his bike, to the point that when I ask what he'd like to do and give him every conceivable option in the world (the Zoo! The Please Touch Museum!) he'll almost always say "stay at home and ride my bike."
Which is fine, really, but also kind of not. Because bike riding is this horrible mix of unbearably boring and crazy perilous. It's Lucy on her tiny trike and Peter on his bike and the two of them trying to keep up with each other and be safe but also being distracted by every thing on our path (such as: big bumblebees, people who say hello*, trash on the ground, the faucet where "remember that time that Peter turned it on?").
Oh, and did I mention that Lucy can't actually ride her trike up any hill of any grade, and Peter's kind of nervous to ride his bike down any hill of any grade, so between the two of them there's quite a bit of walking bikes and trikes and mama bending down to push or to slow down.
Yesterday we rode our bikes to the Tot Lot, which was a terrible idea that I'm not at all looking forward to recreating, although I'm a little afraid I've set a precedent. According to Google Maps it's a half-mile ride, which probably is pushing it for those little legs, especially Lucy in her trike.
new style: backward
There's precious little that a good swing doesn't cure, and so they happily spent their entire time in the swings, until it was time to go to the Co-op for bagels and seeds. (Of the planting variety. Our garden might actually be growing!)
*And this is a college campus. There are a lot of people who say hello.
yes, the goat is trying to eat Thomas
Even though we'd just visited Monday, when our playgroup friends suggested meeting at the farm I didn't hesitate.
You see, on our Monday visit we didn't really "do" the farm. We had one of those days where you wonder how exactly we filled the time from arrival to departure, aside from the seven visits to the claustrophobic bathroom. Certainly, it was filled, and everyone had a good time, but what did we do?
(Oh, I remember a few things, like the time the farmer sheered the sheep and gave us some wool to feel. Nice, right? Until he said, "this came from his stomach and bottom, so it's pretty dirty." Oh. Oh, yes. That brown stuff does look a lot like sheep poop.)
So Wednesday we arrived early, picked up a few things at the farm store, and were happy to see our friends arrive at the playground. I've not been in the best of moods this week (teething baby, I'm looking at you!), so it was nice to have a morning in which the kids were somewhat occupied and I could distract myself away from their unyielding neediness with the company of other mothers who understand that feeling.
I know how we filled that day: with impromptu games of hide-and-seek and ring-around-the-rosy; with snacks at the picnic table and caterpillar hunts; and with eleven pairs of hands feeding some lucky farm animals.
Despite the fact he shared his birthday weekend with Mother's Day, we gave Peter reasonably free reign over the weekend's activities and were not at all surprised with our results. Burritos for dinner and lunch; a visit to Grammy and Poppy's house; watching a soccer game; and National Train Day.
Birthdays (and other holidays) still remain very small affairs in our family, celebrated to be sure but in small ways, not large. I was a bit disappointed when Peter began asking about the birthday presents he'd receive (mostly because...eh...he wasn't getting any?), but it seems a natural conclusion given that we celebrate our friends' birthdays with gifts galore.
So for his birthday he had: a puzzle, hidden under the futon, because someone had woken a bazillion times the night before and I didn't have a chance to wrap it; a birthday bunting; an ice-cream cake; and National Train Day.
National Train Day was kind of a bust, although we're always looking for good train trips and this one was easy-peasy, cottage-cheesy (as the kids say). It was at 30th Street Station, which is the main train station for Philadelphia and remained busy despite the Train Day activities.
Big hits: the drumline; the train ride to the city; watching Lucy trying to attack the costumed Reese's Cup and Hershey Bar men. (She hit them, on several occasions, before I willed myself to step between them. She did it to be funny - and it was hilarious - but also so very inappropriate. At least we know she's not afraid of costumes.)
Not such a big hit: all the crowds; the long lines on the trains we could tour*; and the overwhelming distractedness of the soft pretzel store upstairs, which Lucy had spotted and then asked about every three minutes. "I want a pretzel. I want a pretzel. I want a pretzel." I should note that she was eating a pretzel (of the hard stick variety) when she spotted the stand, threw the pretzel to the train station floor, and said, "I WANT THAT." This girl, she knows what she wants.
Biggest hits of all: FUNCTIONING TRAIN BATHROOMS. Lucy insisted on trying every one she found. The popcorn machine, which Kevin remembered from last year. He made sure he was the first one in line when Train Day officially opened. (Lucy noted, "we've never had YELLOW popcorn before!!!") The soft pretzel stand, where the kids ordered cinnamon pretzels and buttery pretzels and Kevin and I had to stuff a dozen in our mouths to keep the kids from eating all of them. Yes, had to.
At home, we all enjoyed the ice cream cake I made**, complete with fancy-schamncy train decorations.***
Sunday we visited Grammy and Poppy in New Jersey. Of note:
- Peter and Lucy talked all morning about visiting with their cousins Connor and Matt at their soccer game. When they finally made it to the soccer game, they suddenly became shy and reserved. I realized that Connor and Matt are almost like celebrities for the kids. At any rate, I'm thankful the older boys took our children's well-intentioned but annoying affection well, and I'm hopeful none of the thousands of leaves Peter dumped on Matt's head were actually poison ivy.
- I made a completely inedible cake to serve for Peter's birthday, and I didn't even healthy it up. I think the only thing eaten was the whipped cream, and that I did healthy up with the grass-fed non-homogenized whipping cream.
*It was exactly like standing up in the airplane aisle way waiting to deplane. Awesome, right?
**You can make your own: melt a gallon of vanilla ice cream. Pour half in a container, put chocolate chips and crushed cookies in the middle, put the other ice cream atop, cover with more chocolate chips and, if you're feeling fancy, some whipped cream. Oh-la-la.
***Oh-so-fancy: Internet clip-art and construction paper with toothpicks taped to the back.
Both of the season and for this little boy.
These strawberries came from Maryland, just close enough to be considered local. Along with the New Jersey asparagus, it makes me so very thankful spring is here.
And here's what eating without any teeth looks like. (Video link here). It's a stretch to call it "eating" since so very little makes its way inside, but I've found a well-timed broccoli floret to be the perfect cure for a fussy baby. Although I'm not entirely sure what gives us more strange looks at church; the fussy baby, the nursing mother, or Thomas chomping furiously on a piece of broccoli.
On our way to the farm I pulled into the Harley-Davidson dealership.
"Is this a new farm?" Lucy asked.
Not quite, Lucy Clare.
Once the kiddos realized why we were there (to see motorcycles! for cars and trucks and things that go week!) they took off into the showroom. I'd thought Peter would be the most excited, but it was Lucy who really enjoyed looking at all of the motorcycles.
We were definitely an odd sight there, me with the sleeping baby on my chest and the two very excited little ones who half expected to ride away on a motorcycle. Thankfully, a mama-motorcycler came over and made the day so very exciting for us by giving the kids books and key chains and bags and even measured their feet to see what size motorcycle boot they'd wear.
We saw motorcycles older than Poppy, motorcycles without seats, shiny motorcycle helmets, awesome sunglasses, a popcorn machine, and a light-up eagle "art project."* Oh: and so very many motorcycles.
As we left, Lucy spotted helium balloons tied up and said, "it's a motorcycle birthday party for Peter!"
*Almost anything of interest or done with purpose is an art project. It's been a useful heuristic to navigate a world of curious things, and, like all art projects, signifies hands off.
This baby wants to stand.
(And walk. But that's a different story.)
He's less baby day by day, from his insistence on eating what we're eating (pizza crusts, here you come!) to touching all those interesting things Peter and Lucy play with.
And once those teeth finally break through, he'll be even less baby. As for now, he's up every 15 minutes or so, just like a teething baby does.
By request we're studying cars and trucks and things that go, and by request we revisited the big boats at Navy Yard.
It remains an awkward place to bring kids, as most of the Navy Yard land has been given over to corporations, offices, and other people at work.* Visiting is not prohibited by any means, but every person who passed us gave us that look of, "why are you so obviously visiting my office?" I'm sure our standard get-up of hats and backpacks and many children make it look as though we're on constant vacation, sightseers gone amok. All we need is a laminated map in one hand and a fanny pack to complete the look.
This may be where we see the big boats (and the boats were big; we counted out 243 mama-steps from one end to the other!), but the kids know the real attractions of Navy Yard: watching airplanes come in for landing at the nearby airport and eating with the hipsters at the Urban Outfitter's corporate office cafeteria.
Oh, and throwing lots and lots of rocks into the river.
Peter remembered our visit from last year, and Lucy remembered as soon as we walked into the building housing the cafe. "I remember we've been here before," she said, and took off for the koi ponds. (But not before taking off her shoes and feeling the fancy thick rug with her bare feet.)
Also: at the cafe, Peter was determined to find something for me, while Lucy honed in on the fruit cup (PINEAPPLE!) and yogurt parfait. Only after we paid for our food (including that thing he'd found for me: a coffee) did Lucy realize "them have special treats here, too." And lucky for her, I'd asked for a cookie to go along with the fruit they'd picked out.
*Including Tasty Baking, makers of Tastykakes. No matter how many times Kevin asks, no, they don't have a factory tour.
I'm in complete denial. Four years!
(just 45 months ago)
And to celebrate, Amtrak is hosting National Train Day in his honor. It really doesn't get any better than this for our train-loving boy.
It took a while for Peter to come around to riding his bicycle, but once he did he fell in love. He finally managed to make his body do what we'd promised him all along it could: go so very fast.
And so we take little bike rides during the day. Now that Thomas sits in the little car, he rides too!
It does test our patience to ride together. Peter can go so very fast, so he'll make it to the corner and stop, waiting patiently for Lucy, Thomas, and me to catch up. Lucy can't make her trike go up any sort of hill; it's not her fault, really, but the plastic tires on her trike just don't have the traction and slip in place. And Thomas is a wild card if ever there were one, ready at a moment's notice to freak out or poop after six days of holding it in.
We have endless patience when our destination is this awesome, though: the giant wooden tree swing on campus. Oh these lib arts kids better know how nice they have it.
(video link here)
I didn't really expect to like Swarthmore Borough as much as I do. It's really a different place from the rest of suburban Philadelphia, and it made our transition from California and Chapel Hill just a bit easier. Still jarring, but easier.
So, two reasons to love this place I call home, from Sunday:
(1) Every spring the borough hosts a charity fun fair. It's the kind of even where the local girl scout troop sets up a bake sale for the Japanese tsunami or the SPCA lets you toss beanbags into bowls for a lollipop. We did both. Next year, we might have our own booth.
(2) In getting ready to go to the fair, Lucy packed up a bag and her doll with such determination and precision I had to let her walk her stroller downtown. In navigating a curb, her stroller tumbled and she tumbled over with it. She was fine, and as I was picking her up, a group of middle-school aged boys passed us. One stopped, righted Lucy's stroller, replaced her doll, and went on his way.
Really, perhaps I romanticize a bit, but I can't shake the feeling that this is a place just a bit more innocent, a bit more small, and a bit more like home than anywhere I've lived recently.
Kevin and I already have agreed that we'll stay here if we stay in the area after his Swarthmore stint is up. It's hard for us to imagine ourselves anywhere else.
*And, at times, the college itself. I've been amazed at how little inconvenience we've had living on campus. Move-in weekend? NCAA national championships? Graduation? I'd never know they happen if Kevin didn't tell me. Most telling for us is the fact that we almost never have illegal parkers in our lot, even though we live just yards away from the stadium.
Lucy wants to take Kevins' crown of laurels for her own
Kevin was invited to participate in Bryn Mawr's May Day festivities this past weekend. It involved him wearing an elaborate Apollo costume and marching about four blocks amid other students, costumed professors, the college president in a horse-drawn carriage, and a random fire eater or two.
The children were much more impressed by the fire eaters than their father as Greek god.
The entire even was hard core TRADITION in a way that I've not ever experienced, not even in the context of organized religion, to say nothing of higher education.
I'm pretty sure the biggest college traditions for both undergrad and grad school involved basketball and alcohol, shouting epithets at our rivals, and then setting stuff on fire. Is this what we miss out on by not attending a liberal arts college?*
There was dancing around the May Pole, and then dancing around the May Hole (to counter the phallocentric nature of the May Pole), lots of girls in white, the spectacle and the joy, and so many girls in tears. Why so many tears?
It wasn't so much a family event, and there was a very real chance that Peter and Lucy would dump five gallons worth of bottled water from the water dispenser, so we left not long after the parade.
But not before Lucy could shout out "LOOK AT MY BIG VAGINA!"**
I'm pretty sure she found the only place around where such a comment could be cause for applause. Oh, our little girl, breaking the chains of patriarchy at such a young age...
*That and $200,000 in college loans.
**This comment has actual context, but really, who needs it?
(1)
"You're going to the Please TRASH Museum, Naughty-Not Babe!"
Peter, tossing Naughty-Not Babe out of their "car," as he and Lucy and their other animals and dolls continued on to the Please Touch Museum.
I made the kids a doll a while back. They don't like her at all, and started calling her "Naughty Baby." Now, she's Naughty-Not Babe, and she's more often than not stuffed in the trashcan or in the toilet. (Thankfully, not the real toilet.)
(2)
Sometimes, you just need to poop. Especially if you're 7 months old and starting to eat people food. I'll remember this the next time I get cranky that Thomas is up for hours in the middle of the night. Off to change a midnight diaper!
Thomas celebrated two firsts today.
He took a nap in his crib. (He's been trying to crawl out of my bed in the mornings, and who wants a concussed baby?) It still lasted his standard 30 minutes, but at least I knew he was safe.
And he made volcanoes with Peter and Lucy.
He liked it, as you can see. (Video link here.)
Unsurprisingly, Peter and Lucy drank and ate any vinegar/baking soda they could get their hands on. They proclaimed it wine and went to town. Lest you think Kevin and I are boozers, they know of wine from church. Yes, we drink from the chalice. No, we don't ever down it with such verve.
Now that we can be outside, we've started hosting messy art with our friends again.
My thought in hosting messy art has always been (1) we'd be doing this art anyway and (2) I really don't mind the mess in my yard/house/self.* So why not invite over our friends? Art is fun in a group setting!
Lucy and Peter may be the biggest fans of messy art, if only because I give them carte blanche to be as messy as they wish. Inevitably: paint all over. All over.
Yesterday's project was to make tracks with different cars of different sizes on papers/sheets/fabric. It became body print art. Then, it became body art. Then Lucy took off her clothes and took an impromptu bath in the tub of soapy water I'd brought out for clean-up.
(She took two more baths yesterday and still has black paint in places.)
Also, I learned two great lessons yesterday. First, there's no such thing as too much paint. Second, there's no such thing as too much water. If only we had an outdoor source of water, the fun we would have.
*Apparently, all the playgroup friends got the "Mama's pants are towels" memo and I found myself the towel to at least four children yesterday. This is why I buy all of my clothes from the thrift store.
We've planted just a few things in our front-yard garden, but I'm not very hopeful for their success. Of all of the obstacles stacked against these little plants,* the hungry animals of Crum Woods are the most difficult.
Our squirrels ate every pumpkin we put outside last fall. The beans we planted last year were devoured once they sprouted beans. (One night, I noticed beans. The next morning? The entire plant was gone.) The squirrels also dug out our freshly-planted sunflower seeds from our flower pots last spring, then dug them from the garden, too.
So is it a surprise that the cabbage seedling I planted last night was already eaten this morning? I have my eyes on the family of baby bunnies living in our front lawn. I suppose it's difficult to be too upset when your enemy is furry, tiny, and adorable.
Luckily for us, we've joined a great CSA for the year. I'm more than happy to let the farmer grow my tomatoes.
*Off the top of my head: I didn't bother to prepare the ground in any way, and it's full of ivy roots and rocks; the children step there all the time; I'm pretty sure I'll never thin the tomatoes and mesclun that we started in our egg cartons; it's tough for me to distinguish between weed and plant and may end up pulling out all of our nasturtium while leaving a bed of clover behind; I planted about 20 pumpkins, which probably will thrive and choke out any living thing and then themselves. See? Obstacles.
Oh, this baby is growing much, much too fast for me.
He might be our last, and I don't want him to grow too quickly. Already we have one who is days away from being four and one who insists she'll be six on her next birthday. (I'm inclined to believe her, on some days.)
So I'm putting down some rules for you, Thomas.
(I mean, for me.)
Not so long ago I found myself wishing he were older. If only, I thought, he could giggle. If only, I thought, he could sit. If only, I thought, he could play with a toy and let me have a moment away.
And so he giggles and sits and plays. But he also: wakes up at night, jams rocks and grass in his mouth with the same enjoyment as people food, and is prone to crying so sadly when plopped on the floor.
(Editor's note: "wakes up at night" should be changed to "wakes up all night long." You know, truth in blogging and all.)
(stay tuned for the story behind this photo)
I love the kids' quirky grammatical misspeaks. Such as:
"I want Mommy to take me a bath."
It almost sounds as if it's me, in a luxurious bubble bath, with candles lit and relaxing music playing. Alas, no.
"Mommy, feel me better."
Ooh, should I use both hands to feel your cute button nose and round little tummy? Nope, just a plea to wipe away tears and kiss an owie.
(this one never asks for fashion advice)
"What clo should I wear?"
Clo. You know, singular for clothes.
Friday found us at Longwood Gardens, a favorite haunt for the Davis-Ross children. Each time we visit we manage to make it a new experience, in part because of the changing seasons and in part because Peter, Lucy, and Thomas are different people.
Our most recent visit found us listening to things, as Longwood is hosting a "Notes from the Forest" exhibit. We listened to the sounds of the woods through giant copper listening tubes, whispered secrets to one another on the whispering bench, and scanned the trees for the huge wind chimes that rang in the wind.
We visited the hourglass pond, where we discovered some huge catfish. They like crackers, did you know? I didn't, until Peter and Lucy started tossing theirs in. Then, Lucy tossed in the cracker bowl and started crying. "It's PLASTIC and the FISH WILL GET SICK!" she screamed.
The spring bulbs were in bloom, and we spotted our pre-selected colors (orange and PINK!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and tried to guess the names of the fancy hybrids. Peter and Lucy were fascinated by the snapdragons and many a finger was lost to their ferocious bites.*
And as we were leaving, the highlight of our day: hide and seek in the topiary garden. I'm going to round up our playgroup for this one, as all of the children have been interested in games of tag and hide and seek.
*Relatedly: on the drive to Longwood, Peter requested "the dragon song" or "Puff, the Magic Dragon." I started singing along and then started crying while singing, "A dragon lives forever, but not so little girls and boys." Oh, that powerful combination of hormones, lack of sleep, and nostalgia.
