Family Davis-Ross

nostalgia (a post in which I potentially overshare about the status of a fourth baby in our family)

The kids have a singing elephant toy that, in the world of toys-that-make-noise, is surprisingly not obnoxious.

It's a little baby toy, actually, given to Lucy when she was just a few weeks old. It was gifted with a chime caterpillar, and, since Lucy was too tiny to actually play with them, little 15-month-old Peter claimed them as his own. He'd hold one toy in each hand and shake them, making them sing and make noise, and it made him laugh and giggle.

The elephant recently made it out of rotation into Thomas's basket of toys, received with much enthusiasm. And even though it's been almost three years since I first heard it sing, that little elephant with its three different songs immediately takes me back to our second California apartment.

And, it's kind of sad.

We've had some ups and downs as a family since the early months of Lucy's life. There's been some major awesomeness (um, hello, Thomas!) and some not-so-greatness (the strong will of two strong-willed preschoolers exerting their strong will in the most willful of ways, and some parents who are, at times, simply overwhelmed by the needs of three little children).

"the pinnalcle," according to the singing elephant

Despite it all, I kind of hold up a few months of our family life as the pinnacle. The best? Perhaps not. The easiest? Eh, no. Definitely not. The happiest? Nope. But it is so pregnant with innocence and hope and fullness and joy, so full of so much warmth that it possibly can not ever be duplicated. It's probably no wonder that I see this memory of Peter playing with the baby toys as a sunny afternoon, light coming in from our back windows and lighting up the room.

We've been thinking about family issues so much lately, both in ways good and bad. Mostly, we've been searching our hearts and common sense to see if another baby is in the works for us. We go back and forth and back and forth more than Lucy on the swingset, and for a girl who likes to plan, it's a little nervewracking. We alternate between "no, w'ere set, this is our family and we love it!" and "oh, what about one more? or two more?"

I had a very minor health scare a few months ago. It was nothing, but while in the midst of the "scare" part, I was suddenly seized with some terrifically bleak thoughts (you know, "I'm going to die! and the children will forget me! and then resent me! and then have a new mother they love more! and Kevin will have a new wife!"). In the midst of these dark thoughts came another thought, more a statement of fact than an opinion or a question: we'll have another baby.

And so we will, although I at times have to wonder if it's a good idea. I wonder if it takes us away from that mental image of our "pinnacle." Kevin has to remind me that I probably can't do everything in the world I want to do as a wife, mother, person as long as we keep having children. (To say nothing of what he's able to accomplish as a husband, father, academic.)

But then I remember how Peter and Lucy were SO COMPLETELY BONKERS with adoration when they met their newest baby cousin this past week. Their reaction was so complete it deserves the all caps above, and possibly some underlines and sparkle text, too. I have no doubt they'd welcome a new baby in their family with just as much love. (Thomas loved the baby too, in his own baby way, but he's just 10 months old and not so great with the floppy newborns.)

Perhaps I need to just find a new "pinnacle" moment for our family and develop a new point of nostaliga against which I can more clearly weigh these weighty issues. How about the time the children sang "the naughty Daddy song" while Thomas tried to eat 1x1 Legos and Kevin and I cowered in the corner, eating Swedish Fish and trembling with fear?

Yeah. Maybe not that time.

meeting Lilly June

We're in Michigan for a few days getting to know the newest member of the Ross family, tiny Lilly June. Yesterday we came and swooped her away from her father within minutes of arriving, and today we celebrated her baptism. Tomorrow, we'll take her to the beach.

I have a million of memories to write down, but my camera isn't connecting to our 8-year-old laptop (wonder why?) so I'll post this kind of spooky picture of Jason, Jen, and Lilly that Peter took with his tiny camera.

 

new exhibit at the Please Touch Museum

It's not always there, but one of our favorite new exhibits at the Please Touch Museum is one that shouldn't be missed.

Children's Hospital! Now with SUPER REALISTIC BABY.

Peter, Lucy, Sophia and Anna were super excited to see that Thomas fits in the baby cribs. Thomas? Not so much.

this is what hot looks like

(almost 7 p.m., and it's 85 in the coolest part of our house)

(almost, but not quite, too hot to play)

(the silver lining on tomorrow's 12-hour car drive is that it will be in our air conditioned car)

 

why I might hate Sesame Street

I've been checking out tons and tons of tons of children's CDs and books on CD in advance of our drive to Michigan and Indiana. Most of it has gone right onto the computer, but a Sesame Street CD found itself in our car and, ever since that fateful day, has been played nonstop.

I mean nonstop.

Kevin confessed, a few days ago, that he had "People in Your Neighborhood" running through his head on an endless loop. He heard it all day and - oh, worst of all - all night long.

At least it's given us a few cute moments. Whenever "I Believe in Little Things" comes on, Peter will say, "she has such a sweet voice, like you, Lucy," to which Lucy will reply, "it's ME singing this song, Peter." And I think she believes she is singing. I've had to ask her a few times, "but why don't you know the words, Lucy? Why don't you knoiw the words?"*

It's finally cemented the Sesame Street characters in their heads. They didn't really know names and faces so well until listening to these songs a bajillion and a half times. When I came home from the store with a silly story about how I'd thrown my keys in the trash, Lucy asked me, in all seriousness, if I saw Oscar in the trash can.**

These songs are stuck in my head like a headache that no amount of ibuprofen can cure.

*Now that Kevin and I don't watch 90 minutes of The Simpsons every day far fewer Simpsons references make it into our daily conversation. A few that do:

"Badger my bottom" - edited for little ears, an irresistable entry in light of our recent badger fascination.
"You drank all the soy sauce and ate all the tarrragon" - for the times we have nothing tasty to eat or for when the children are drinking soy suce.

**I did throw my keys in the trash, without realizing it, and then scoured Target frantically for them, only to remember that handful of trash I tossed when I walked in the store. Thankfully, I remembered and didn't have to walk home.

heat beating on the cheap

Unless you've been living in Alaska, you know it's hot. Crazy, dangerously hot.*

If we had air conditioning I would audition the notion of spending a day in our pajamas, making popcorn and messes and possibly even watching television. Unfortunately, that's just not an option. There's an inverse relationship between the temperature and my patience, especially when all four of us end up in the bathroom at the same time.**

So, what to do?

Bowling! Kids bowl free, although you have to pay for shoe rentals.

A new library, with a computer and preschool games. I let the electronic glow babysit the kids for a few minutes while I snagged as many books on CD as I could find.The kids use a computer so rarely that it's such a special treat and always prompts the kindest, most generous behavior from them.

Ice cream! We've picked up a box of ice cream bars at the Co-op. While we looked out the window at the people passing by, Peter and Lucy had some of the best conversations. I love listening to the two of them talk back and forth.

A fun library event, where the children are absolutely, positively convinced they met the Queen. (Of what? Inconsequential.) Peter was knighted with a zucchini, which is as good a use for them as I have. Really, after your seventh batch of zucchini bread, what do you do?

And it's always cooler to let someone else do the cooking, so we took Kevin up on the offer to crash the faculty barbecue. The kids took advantage of the wide-open paths and the red stroller to run off some energy in the 100-degree sun.

We also crashed his office. He didn't offer this one, but Peter and Lucy took advantage of his giant chalkboard walls and plentiful supply of post-it notes.

I'll also add that it helps to keep cool if you're sitting a foot from a fan, although the guilt from stealing the fan from your sleeping children makes it mighty difficult to take comfort in the breeze.***

*When I checked the weather update around 4:30 today, it "felt like" 110.
**This happens, oh, seven times a day. Nothing good ever comes from it, especially since it's the hottest, tiniest, and dirtiest room of the house.
***But not that difficult.

making time for everyone

If I think about all of the benefits Thomas has by virtue of being the third BDR - playmates and entertainment and relaxed parents who understand what they're doing - I also have to admit that there are more than a few drawbacks.

So, for instance, I sometimes forget to bring food for Thomas. It's true! And while he'll eat almost anything we do, our lunches often are baby death traps and allergens: crunchy raw carrots and nuts and yogurt with honey, or cheese, eggs, and wheat.

Or how about the times I - for lack of a better phrase - abandon him places, so that I can take care of the other two children's pressing needs, or give my aching arms a rest. I know all of the secret places at the Please Touch Museum where a little baby can sit and watch while his mama's hard at work applying a bandaid or sipping her coffee.*

Or the fact that he gets one or two or maybe even three books read to him in a day. I try, I really do, but right now the baby's more interested in playing with the big kids or nursing than reading books. Or the big kids see me sit down to read and immediately pull out their favorite, baby-unfriendly books. No, Thomas doesn't quite have the attention span for What Do People Do All Day. (Frankly, I don't know if I do, either.)

I've been trying to make more time for Thomas in our days, which isn't always possible but is made so much easier by Kevin's flexible schedule. It's not much, but taking him away to explore on his own, at his own pace, without whisking him up to follow after Peter and Lucy has to be good for him.

While Thomas likes this time, he also seems to look around with a bit of curiosity, as if to say, "the world is qiuet here. What are those big kids planning now?"

*This never happens. Right? Riiiight.

when a picture's not worth a thousand words

I realized today, while cooling off at the pool, exactly why I want to take a million pictures of the children jumping into the pool.

Ahem. Yes, I want to take a million pictures of everyday. I realize this. But I'm irresistibly drawn to the spectacle of Peter and Lucy (and now Thomas, too) tossing themselves with abandon into the pool, splashing down into the water, and coming up with a giant smile on their faces.

Partly, it's to marvel at how far they've come in just a few weeks. If I'd told Peter a month ago he'd be fearlessly running and jumping into the pool, he'd not have believed me. Now he's telling me that he wants to jump from the diving board, and I know it's true. (Also, not allowed.)

(new trick: backward jumping - it drives Kevin insane)

Partly, it's to capture the total joy and self-satisfaction on their faces when they emerge from the water. They know they're being brave and fearless and, more importantly, they know the risks are paying off.

And partly it's to capture our response - Kevin and mine - in watching these people who were so very tiny do things that are so very big. They do grow up before your eyes.

(Except I'm making a rule, OK? This is it. No more growing up. You're far too old already. Four? Three? Gah! Where the the babies go?)

No matter how many photos I take, I'll never be able to take the one I want - the one that shows just how big they are, but still so small; and how proud we are of them, but also a little nervous; and how much fun it is to toss yourself into the water, over and over. I'm not a jumper at all, but they're enthusiasm is infectious and I thought about it today.

fishing (of sorts)

We joined new friends on Monday to explore a creek full of crayfish, minnows, snails, and weird slime balls.

It was great fun! My only regret was that I'd not packed better creek walking shoes for myself. My plastic flip-flops, while waterproof, weren't exactly great for slippery rock navigation. Luckily, Thomas didn't take a dive in the water when I did!

Also, I'm a little sad that I wasn't able to help Peter catch one of the giant crayfish. Peter and Lucy were able to catch smaller crayfish themselves, although the water was so thick with life it may have been more difficult to avoid catching a crayfish.

In true Peter and Lucy fashion, the began the playdate nervous about the water (and falling, and getting wet, and perhaps being pinched by the "little lobsters"), quickly requested snacks and a change of clothes, and then returned to the creek with the express purpose of getting as wet as possible.

Thomas would have loved to splash in the creek if I didn't think he'd try to eat a rock or snail. This baby is becoming more and more of a toddler every day. It's equal measures fascinating ("look! he can tell us that he wants to look at this object of interest!") and exasperating ("look! he's screaming and twisting his body out of my arms so that he can get to this object of interest!")*

Before all three children fell asleep on the drive home, Peter and Lucy were concocting playdates with their new little friends, hoping to invite them over and planning just what toys they'd share. Or, in the case of one little girl, the dolls she planned on not sharing and "putting in a safe place so that they would be safe and she would know that they were safe."

*In all honesty, the exact ratio of fascinating/exasperating is a function of said object of interest and how dangerous it is and what the older Davis-Rosses are up to. It's all fascination when Thomas wants a banana and his brother and sister are busy coloring. And when he wants to eat a bag of popcorn while his brother and sister need to change their clothes but can't because their wet underwear has the audacity to stick to their bottoms?? Just a bit more exasperating.

Thomas's new tricks

(Thomas plays peek-a-boo, says "shhhh", and says "twinkle, twinkle")

It's little surprise that Thomas learned to say "shhhh" today, a silencing finger to his mouth, while we were at church. Perhaps he's heard it there once or twice before?

What is surprising is that, in the chaos of keeping three little ones quiet and happy and not tumbling off kneelers and onto unsuspecting parishioners; in the midst of trying to listen to God's word and pray; among the constant motion and noise that is our children, both Kevin and I caught Thomas's imitation of me.

I'm so thankful that we can find these moments, Kevin and I, amid all the other stuff in our lives, to sit back and see our children. Our parenting lately hasn't exactly been shared; it's mostly one of us with all of them or a divide-and-conquer strategy. This was a little reminder that parenting, like almost everything else in life, is made better with a partner.

(Thomas crawls!)

we weren't the first ones at Winterthur this morning (but we were close)

There have been few changes in our life that have been as revolutionary as "early church," or the 8 a.m. mass. It's always a miracle when we arrive on time, but it always pays off. As Kevin noted this morning, "it makes for a stressful morning, but it's 9:05 and we're ready for the rest of our day."

can you hear the chorus of giggles that accompanied this picture?
and the glee with which Lucy cried out, "WE'RE TOUCHING HIS PEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Today's "rest of our day" took us to Winterthur to play in the Enchanted Garden.

I really, really, really love this place. The children love it too. It always seems to inspire the best in them - creative play, thoughtful nature appreciation, silly games.

When Kevin comes, it makes our trip more than a bit easier, especially on a day when the children complain of being tired when you're walking uphill to the children's garden.

(And they were tired, too. They fell asleep on the drive home, and as a result, probably will be awake until midnight.)

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that about 80 percent of the reason we visited Winterthur today of all days is because it's national ice cream day! Kevin had just a bit of jealousy that we'd visited the Mexican ice cream store without him, and we promised to take him as soon as we could. Who knew that would be four days later?

beach day

(the long-awaited sequel to this post)

We woke last weekend in Delaware, but quickly hopped on the Cape May-Lewes ferry and crossed the bay into New Jersey. The ferry was a fantastic mode of transportation - the kids could walk around, there were bathrooms, and there were snacks.

Also, there were dolphins! Unfortunately, the kids were with me getting snacks in the cafe when the dolphins swam up, and by the time Kevin called us over the dolphins were almost out of sight.

From the ferry we drove to Kevin's uncle and aunt's beach house, where we were happy to play with toys and eat lunch while waiting for cousin Charlotte and her mom to arrive. And when they did? Time for the beach!

Peter and Lucy were a bit less fearful of the beach this time, possibly because the waves weren't as intense and possibly because Charlotte is totally fearless in the water. At any rate, Peter and Lucy were willing to go into the water and not hover at the shore's edge.

Charlotte informs Lucy she's too small to ride;
Little Lucy breaks into tears
(luckily, the Eastern European teenagers who run the boardwalk
attractions turn a blind eye to little girls short by two inches)

After dinner, we visited the Ocean City boardwalk, part and parcel of any beach visit. I'm not sure if Peter and Lucy would abide by a visit to the ocean without stopping by the rides and ice cream. Frankly, I'm beginning to side with them. I've really loved watching them grow in their ability and willingness to ride the kiddie rides at the boardwalk.

(I'm also slightly appalled that we let little 12-month-old Lucy on some of the baby rides when we first moved here. It's hard to believe that Thomas will be able to ride by himself in just two months. Also, he might be walking in two months. Holy cow!)

We ended the day so very late, with just a few tears in the car as we put the kids in pajamas and brushed their teeth. I'm not kidding when I say that I was very nervous on the drive home - I thought for certain that Kevin would fall asleep at the wheel. It was so late and so dark and we'd had such a full day and such terrible sleep the night before. But what was I afraid of? Kevin's a great driver. Also, I fell asleep before we drove out of Ocean City, so it's not as if I had that much time to fret.

glimpses of today

(1) Sixty percent of FDR had to flee the farmer's market this morning when one member was sorely displeased with the treat selection at the bread table. In other news, Peter believes the purpose of the farmer's market is to get treats at the bread table.

(2) There was much jumping in the pool today, and swimming with heads underwater, and all sorts of other water dare-devilry. Lucy especially loves to jump in and dunk her head underwater. Watching Lucy's fearlessness helped push Peter to test his limits, too. They've also been trying to teach themselves to swim, to mixed, but improving, results. I have no doubt they'll be swimming by the end of the summer. (But with their swim floats.)

(3) I made the mistake of showing Lucy Bebe Gloton, the baby that drinks milky. She said, and I quote, "tell the computer that your little girl Lucy wants that baby that drinks milky and has a pink pacifier for her home."

(4) I told Peter that everyone has to break his arm sometime in their life, or else he's not had a very fun life. I sincerely believe this is true.

(5) Some dress-up activity this afternoon. Kissy, kissy, you two.

(6) I found the stroller Lucy has been coveting for months at the thrift store today. It's just like Penelope's! Also, since her family just stropped a load of stuff off at the thrift store, it may actually be Penelope's!

(7) And Thomas. He can play peek-a-boo! He'll cover one eye and his ear. Technique needs some work, but the intent is there. He'll also play with scarves and my hat. Plus, he can sign "twinkle" in Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, as well as twist his chubby little fists when singing Itsy Bitsy Spider.

you're getting very, very sleepy

Oh, sleep. I don't talk about it much, partly because there's never anything good to report, but mostly because we can't talk about it. Talking about sleep (and who's doing it well) is pretty much tantamount to undoing whatever magic spell is at work.

Kevin and I have had a few conversations along these lines:

me: We were able to do a lot this morning. Thomas had a good nap.
Kevin: Yes, it seems like -
me, interrupting: DON'T SAY IT!

We can speak of sleep in terms of facts (e.g. so-and-so slept for X minutes, woke X times last night), but once we try to hypothesize or make generalizations or, hope against hope, look for a light at the end of the tunnel, POOF! All of those steps forward are erased by seventeen giant steps back.

So I will say this about sleep: we had one cry-it-out baby. We feel, to this day, immense guilt about letting Peter cry himself to sleep so many nights. (We also, very selfishly, think about how much more sleep we would have had if we'd let go of the crazy notions of babies + sleep that pervade society. I covet that lost sleep.) We also see, anecdotally, how CIO did not work, not at all, and probably made Peter's sleep even worse.

We had two co-sleeping, parent-through-the-night babies. Yes, they wake all night long. Yes, they wake several times at night. No, it doesn't really bother me, because the alternative - a tiny baby wailing in the next room, or, worse, calling for me - is terrifying. Also, sad. Also, really, practically, exhausting. I remember listening to Peter's crying, trying to figure out if this pause was it - was the moment he'd finally give in to sleep. Nope. It never was.

Now, though, I do think there's a light at the end of the tunnel. For realsies, as the kiddos would say. I can see Peter's sleep improving; Lucy wakes occasionally, especially if she's thirsty or has a bad dream; and Thomas's naps have been better of late.

Of course saying this means I'm committing that crime of speaking of that which shall not be mentioned, but I'd also like Peter and Lucy and Thomas to know, in the decades to come, that Peter wakes every single night and Kevin comes in to help him back to bed. That when Lucy wakes Kevin's always there with a cup of water or a comforting "shhhh." That I'm there for Thomas when he wakes (and wakes and wakes and wakes).

I'd like Peter and Lucy and Thomas to know, in the decades to come, that even though Kevin and I made hundreds of mistakes as parents, and lost our patience, and spoke with unkindness, that we also tried very, very hard to help these little ones feel safe and secure and loved.

*Crazy baby dance parties excepted.

two zoos, two ways

Last night we visited the Brandywine Zoo. It's a tiny, tiny zoo in Wilmington, and during the summer it hosts $1 admission nights.

Did you catch the double use of the word "night" above? The zoo opened at 6 p.m. Our children usually are in bed, ready for dreamland, around 7 p.m.*

Lucy slept the entire trip. The entire zoo trip, that is. She woke just as we were getting back to our car, and, despite having taken a 2-hour "nap" at 6 p.m., was not up until 1 a.m. (I had fears.)

Peter said he enjoyed the trip, although still kind of insists we didn't see all of the animals.

Perhaps because Lucy was asleep during last night's field trip, and perhaps because it wasn't 1,000 degrees outside, I suggested our regular zoo for today.

Total bust. Total, total, total bust. Really. Maybe the kids were too tired, maybe I needed another cup of coffee, maybe it was just a bit too crowded for their little bodies, and maybe no one really wanted to go to the zoo anyway. Whatever the reason (and it probably was all of the above), the trip was not fun at all.

So, there you have it: two ways to visit the zoo, neither of which come with my recommendation.

*Although they sound rambunctious tonight at 7:30. Curse ye, afternoon nap! Kevin and I were hoping for a nice, quiet evening with some take-out and True Blood.

measurement error

How big were dinosaurs? It's kind of an irrelevant question without an understanding of feet, inches, and yards, right? We set out yesterday to measure us some dinosaurs, a fun task to be sure, but even more fun? The tape measure. Never underestimate the simple joys.

We didn't learn about feet, inches, or yards, but we did figure out just how long some dinosaurs were. The brachiosaurus was as long as our four townhouses! And a t-rex's jaw could open 10 feet, more than wide enough to enjoy a tasty Lucy and Peter snack.

We didn't measure this guy, but was happy when he showed up in our sandbox. I'm sure he was happy when he escaped away from us, too.

at least there was ice cream

Playgroup this week visited the Delaware Museum of Natural History. It's been hot and humid and we all needed a break from the sun.

Peter + the wolf

It wasn't the best outing, due in no small part to some persnickety employees who had nothing but huffs and puffs and irritation when our horde of 9 children stormed the gates. (For the record: yes, they were a bit loud and rambunctious. But they're FOUR, people! Also, not a mother was given the proper opportunity to calm excited children before the huffin' and puffin' started.)

Really, though, if I think about the day, what sticks out in my memory the most is that the children - all of them, really - were just so very excited to see one another and the museum. The day was full of joy.*

On our way home, we stopped at the Mexican ice cream shop in nearby Kennett Square. It was on our summer list, and it was worth the extra 10 minutes in the car. Sadly, though, in those 10 minutes Lucy fell asleep. When we arrived, parked the car, and started unloading I tried to wake her. She refused. In fact, she said, "I don't want ice cream, I want to sleep, don't wake me up." You can't argue with that, right?**

So I put her in the stroller, and Peter and I enjoyed a nice mother/son ice cream date. The ice cream was exactly what we hoped for, and although we didn't try the more exotic flavors (like avocado or corn), there's always next time. Oh yes, there will be a next time.

you probably can tell by Thomas's face that he wasn't allowed to have any

The danger of this situation, if it isn't apparent to you by now, is that I knew Lucy would wake from her nap and wonder about that ice cream we'd talked about as we left the museum. Really, what then? In fact, upon waking, her first words were, "did you get me ice cream?"

Luckily for us all, she woke just as I was pulling into Wawa for some gas on the way home, and the little tub of ice cream (with a cute tiny wooden spoon!) that I found inside was just what she wanted.

Oh, Wawa. What can't you do?

*Until it wasn't. Then it was time to go home.
**She has a history just this sort of behavior. Recall, for instance, this.

Thomas's new face

Thomas has been making this cute pouty face for a while now. It's done both intentionally (I think to make us laugh, or possibly as a response to the children making the face at him) and unintentionally (you know, when he's pouting).

It's always accompanied by much snorting and heavy breathing, and, despite being a pouty face, is pretty cute.

When Grammy saw it, she said her father made the same face, and they called it the "Tom O'Connor" face. Perhaps that's where our Thomas gets it?

cool at the pool

Today's afternoon flew by with some friends at the pool.

Of special note: giant slide splashes from generous older cousins (and maybe a mother or two. But not me. For realsies.)

Also, Lucy learned an important lesson in buoyancy when she took a surprise stumble underwater after insisting only wearing only one "swimmy" float.  As you can see, she now takes her flotation devices seriously.

"you've got your hands full!"

I get the comment "you've got your hands full" daily. Really, I ought to keep track. It's a great phrase loaded with so very much meaning, depending on who says it and what kind mischief/chaos we're leaving in our wake.

I'll almost always reply, "some days more than others," unless I literally have my hands full, in which case I'll say the brilliant, "and some times, literally!" I'm terrified that one of these random commentators will want to engage me in conversation, a perilous notion as someone's certain to head off for the stairs or fall out of a chair or run into the boy's bathroom while I'm trying to make nice with a Nosy Nancy or two.

There are days, though, in which I just really have my hands full - full of children, full of their needs, full of our family, full of its needs, full of my self and my needs, and full of bags with diapers and extra clothes and groceries and children and car keys and certain-to-be-misplaced but so-very-important doo-dads like random rubber bands or rings leftover from birthday parties.

Today was a hands-full day, but, unlike the busy days of late, it turned out pretty well. Despite the odds against us - a long, late night following a long, busy weekend; a vegetable pick-up; a grocery run; a fun day at the pool; the 1,000 degree weather - we managed to accomplish all that we needed to without ease, but with good spirits.

I'm solidly outnumbered as a mother. The sour moods of three children does us in; even two moody children can tip the scales into disaster.

So it was with some trepidation that we hopped out of the car, a sleepy baby in my arms, his baby carrier left behind at home, to pick up our vegetables.

Or when we drove to the market to pick up our milk for the week, a happy baby in the cart, his sleeping sister in my arms, a helpful big brother pointing out all of the different juice flavors and exotic-looking boxes of milk substitute.

So it all worked out. It almost always does. Except for when it doesn't. And there are those days too. (Tomorrow, I'm looking at you.)

sibling love

There definitely are moments of intense sibling rivalry in these parts, but for the most part (for now! fingers crossed! knock on wood!), there's just a whole lotta sibling love.

It definitely helps when there's a baby who giggles at every little silly antic, like Lucy's "run across the restaurant, run back and say BOO!" game.

Also, it helps when your parents let said game persist. It's why we at at 4:30, people. Would you want to dine with us? (Well, the giggling baby helps.)

beach vacation!

We at FDR HQ are a bit - ahem - frugal when it comes to family vacations. We've had a few subsidized by the government*, a few day trips that ought to have been overnights, and more than a few camping trips.

It's not as if we particularly like camping. We don't exactly wax poetic about the glories of nature, of waking up to hearing the song birds or waking up at 2 a.m. to catch a million stars twinkling in the dark night sky.

We appreciate those things, for sure, but mostly we like how cheap it is, especially when we're headed places with a bit of a price overhang.

That's partly how we found ourselves camping at Cape Henlopen State Park in the awesome state of Delaware.**

The beach portion of our trip was great. We found a shady place under the boardwalk that kept the kids from the summer sun so they could play in the sand and Thomas could nap.

Peter and Lucy were uncertain-to-hostile about the ocean. It was loud, yes, and for two children who make so very much noise I still don't understand why loud things cause such a problem. Yet, they do. Also, the ocean was rough, so there was none of that wade-out-to-your-knees business.

Thomas loved his first beach experience, often bucking his entire body the way babies do, trying to leap out of our arms and into the water. He loved watching the waves, he loved being in the water, and he loved playing in the sand. Bonus! So enthralled by the water, Thomas forgot to eat sand.

Lucy finally let Kevin take her into the water. I'm amazed, because she spent a good portion of her first moments on the beach afraid Kevin would be swept off to sea. She loved the water, as we knew she would, and - surprise, surprise! - both Peter and Lucy loved drinking the ocean water.

Peter spent his beach time looking for jellyfish and sand crabs, trying to avoid the water, and finally making a grudging peace with the ocean waves that just kept coming up.

Oh, and there was jumping in giant holes!

The camping part of our trip was eh. We'd do it again with some major modifications. Bug spray, for one. Holy cow, were those bugs out for blood! I have the image of poor Thomas with three mosquitoes on his tiny little baby face. Kevin sequestered the children in the safety of our tent while I drove into town for a price-gouging can of hard-core bug spray.***

Also, we made the mistake of bringing the air mattress we found in our attic. Five people + one air mattress = not a comfortable night.

Also, unrelated to camping, but there was another SUPER CRAZY AWAKE BABY night, made slightly easier because the threat of him falling out of bed was removed, made much worse because he was attacking his brother and sister with his cute-baby antics.

After packing up our gear, we headed in the car and onto the Cape May-Lewes Ferry.. And what adventure awaited us there? You'll have to wait and see...

*Fancy research grants. I'm pushing Kevin to present in Europe next year.

**Absolutely no sarcasm here. Delaware, I got your back!

***So conditioned against things that spray (sunscreen, especially), and also serious bug spray, Peter was properly nervous when I started spraying him. Then, a giant fly bit him, and it took his mind off the endocrine disruptors and the chemical inhalation.

 

Oh my, what's this about? Stay tuned...

icy art

I know I've said this before, but really, I feel like Lucy just couldn't get enough sensory activity.

I knew the combination of ice and paint would be perfect for her, especially on a hot summer day.

We tried this last year, except we'd used watercolors and the actual painting effect wasn't so great. This year I didn't mess around, and froze water and acrylic paint at a generous 1:2 ratio. (That's right: twice as much paint as water.)

She spent a bit of time painting paper before painting herself. Of particular interest lately is painting her hair. I'm surprised it's still blond with the amount of food coloring, paint, and marker that it's taken this month.

sick day art

Peter was still uncharacteristically sick on Thursday.* While he's definitely the Davis-Ross most likely to get sick, he's also probably the most cheerful sick child you'll ever meet. It's sad, but could be much worse.

The days are long when you spend them on the sofa, to tired and sick to move very far, and so we had a scenery change and moved outside, for a little sunshine and fresh air and some art projects, too.

The slow, sick-boy pace of the past few days has been exhausting for us all. Isn't it funny how moving slowly tires you out? Even when we have lazy, scaled-back days, they're not this slow. Peter needed so much assistance in entertaining himself, and I realized just how nice it is that Peter and Lucy (and Thomas, too!) can entertain themselves for nice chunks of our days.

I was a little relieved that Peter was able to stomach (ha, ha, pun intended) a little outside time. If not for his health, than for the entertainment factor for his brother and sister, who bolted to the door at the first mention of "going outside."

The children don't really know the word "bored." It's not one we use often. (We're rarely bored, I suppose.) But there were many, many moments of boredom these past few days, expressed in funny ways. Toward the end of our day, Peter moaned, "Daddy's working SUPER LONG today!" Kevin wasn't working any longer than usual, but Peter was correct - man, did Daddy work SUPER LONG that day. It's hard when each minute stretches into two.

*My current hypothesis is that he has West Nile Virus. I'm hopeful it's WNV, because there are some symptoms (muscle weakness and imbalance) that seem a little scary otherwise. We're giving him a few days to see if these issues resolve before going to the doctor.

in praise of soap

                            frozen blueberry snack attack

Really, the kids do get a bath every night. It's a rare occurrence when they don't get a bath. And yet, they're almost always the dirtiest kids in any situation.

Hmm. Wonder why?

I might make a batch of t-shirts that read, "if you think I'm dirty now, just wait 10 minutes."

when the farm gives you cucumbers...

...make pickles!

So I did. They're real, fermented pickles, and bubbled pleasingly when I opened the can this afternoon. They're a little salty for my taste, so you know that Lucy went to town on them. I half-joked with Kevin that we should get her a salt lick.

I'm kind of tired of eating green vegetables and almost had a stroke when we received a tomato in our CSA share this week. ONE TOMATO, but still, tomato!

sick day/girls' day

Peter's been sick yesterday and today, a sad state of affairs if ever there were. I'm suspecting food poisoning (perhaps a smoothie that was a day too old?*), since no one else showed any symptoms of being sick and he didn't spike a fever.**

Kevin stayed at home to tend to Peter, and, frankly, me. I'd gotten about two hours of sleep the night before thanks to SUPERCRAZYAWAKEBABY, the baby who wakes at 2 a.m. and just doesn't go back to sleep for hours. Hours!

But poor Lucy: she gets lost in the middle a bit, I'm afraid, with the baby who needs so much and the older brother who needs so much. She's just a little more self-assured, a little more easy-to-please, and a little less needy than her brothers, and it sometimes happens that she's overlooked.

To give her some much-needed breathing space, I took her out for a girls date. It was simple stuff, but stuff we don't usually do, and stuff made a billion times easier by having only one little one. I know having children of any number is tough, but it's sometimes hard for me to work up much sympathy for the mama who groans about how difficult it is with her one kiddo.***

I think she had fun. It must be pretty liberating to have complete freedom over our itinerary, and so when she wanted to spend her time at the pet store playing with the pet toys, why not? And when she spent her time at the dollar store looking at the sparkly makeup cases, why not?

We returned home with a very carefully selected get-well present for Peter and a few more hours of our day spent up.

(And then I took a nap. Because Kevin's the most awesome husband ever, even when I get cranky at him and storm out of the house. Not that I did that yesterday, or anything.)

*Smoothies have become dumping grounds for all manners of suspicious half-eaten food. I just can't handle the food waste any longer. I've found that some combination of peanut butter, banana, and raspberry are enough to cover up weird taste combinations, like this morning's kind-of-old-salad-mix, yesterday's-scrambled-eggs, and very-ripe-peach.  I've also started freezing them and bringing them along with us to various outings, which is great but also, apparently, dangerous.

**I'm relieved he didn't spike a fever, so I can rule out Lyme Disease. I remain very concerned about Lyme Disease, especially since a recent round of antibiotics were extremely problematic.

***I know, I know. It's terrible to think let alone write this. But it's true, and something Kevin and I talk about often. If we had only one child, my word, how easy it would be. Even two is a cakewalk compared to three.

messy science?

I'd planned on making these awesome-sounding exploding paint bags for messy art this week. It was a weak tie-in to the Fourth of July (exploding, like fireworks). Unfortunately, this wasn't a project for little, slow-moving, not-so-coordinated hands. I exploded a bag with my lightning-fast reflexes and years of fine motor skill training, but poor Lucy couldn't even figure out how to zip up her baggie.

So, a new plan: 4 gallons of vinegar, 6 pounds of baking soda, and a bunch of powdered tempera paint.

(The kids liked it; the lawn, not so much. Bonus: Lucy stopped drinking the vinegar/baking soda concoction when Miss Carol asked her to.)

Fourth of July: pool!

We invited Aunt Brey, Uncle Sean, and Maelynn to join us at the pool for some cool Fourth of July fun.

Uncle Sean showed off his diving skills.

The kids played with Maelynn in the splash pool.

And Thomas was cute, as ever.

Fourth of July: bike race + parade

Peter began training for the Swarthmore Fourth of July bike race around March, when the ice finally cleared and he was able to ride his bike around without fear of sliding off into the creek. Excitement grew in recent weeks as the Fourth of July grew closer and closer.

And, like most things, anticipation gave way to a bit of panic with the realization that perhaps this bike race thing meant riding alone with lots of people watching. Egads and eek!

So Peter raced with the other four-year-olds with training wheels, although it wasn't exactly racing. More like a leisurely drive down Park Avenue. The children were promised a milkshake if they were able to pass the police pole car, but that wasn't quite incentive enough for our little one.

Lucy raced too, in the tricycle event. She was literally the last one to cross the finish line that day, and her visage - tiny girl, tiny purple trike, tiny pink helmet, tiny pink doll in her tiny basket - garnered many cheers and sweet "awwwws." I'm pretty sure she was aware of and relished in the attention, and she took her sweet time crossing that finish line. After, as we were riding back to our family, she asked me "Mama, do I get a ribbon?"

We stuck around to watch the parade with our friends Colin, Quinn, and Rhys, sipping free Rotary Club lemonade and munching on parade candy. The kids had an opportunity to march in this parade* but opted to sit on the sidelines and watch. It was a wise choice, It think.

*And you did, too. It's pretty all-inclusive.

Sunday (mini)golfing

We checked off one of our summer fun items this Sunday by visiting the Cathedral in Philadelphia for Sunday Mass. It's the Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul, and fulfilled Peter's desire to "visit Saint Peter's church," which he may have conflated with that other Saint Peter's church.

After mass, we stopped at the Logan Circle fountain, where Peter and Lucy were mightily disappointed the couldn't jump in the water. It did look inviting, but it was expressly prohibited. Plus, I didn't pack up a change of clothes, and we had another destination in mind:

The Academy of Natural Science? It's a perfect fit for dinosaur week. Just don't let the t-rex eat you!

We spent most of our visit in the special exhibit "Fore! the Planet" which combines minigolf and ecology. Mostly it's minigolf, and free minigolf at that! Peter and Lucy requested we visit three times, and probably would have played longer if we'd not rushed them out after visit two and three. While no clubs hit heads and all balls remained (mostly) on the ground, there was a tiny bit of peril in the outing, especially once Lucy got that mischievous glint in her eye.

And we spent a bit of time in the children's museum. This time, Thomas was able to explore just a bit more. He loves to look at the animals in our yard, and was happy watching fish, turtles, and a gigantic rabbit. He also felt various animal pelts and looked ravishing draped in coyote.

Posing at this brass tortoise is a requisite of any visit. There's a copy at the Please Touch Museum, too. Between the two musea, the children have gotten pretty good about climbing on and correcting passers-by who dare call it a turtle. ("No, him a tortoise!" "Yeah, look at his feet, they're for the ground, not the water.")

feast of Saints Peter and Paul

There's a bit of saint envy in the family. Nevermind the special place in our faith that Saint Peter holds: our Peter's a bit bummed out that there's nothing "cool" for his day, unlike the feast of Saint Lucy with her crown of candles and sweet buns and star boys.

To keep our little saints more - ahem - saintly, I've tried to have little celebrations for those feasts dedicated to Saint Peter. It's simple stuff, really, but it goes a long way toward easing some preschool angst.

For last week's Feast of Saints Peter and Paul, we looked at art (and identified Peter with his keys), talked a bit about the men, and drew some portraits to add to our art display.

So, about the art:

I remember visiting a friend's house where their young daughter - a kindergartener - had made some artwork the parents liked, framed, and hung on the wall. Later, when asked what the picture was, their daughter proudly announced it was a picture of penises. She'd apparently been making penis art for a while and no one noticed, or knew to ask, or it was a secret. I'm not entirely sure, but I've been thinking of this story a lot lately because:

Almost every picture of a person the kids draw is now anatomically correct. It's borderline cubist, too, since they usually include front AND back privacies. Of course, it's drawn with intense glee and hilarity and I can't exactly bring myself to stop them.

Thus, I give you, Peter's Saint Paul au naturale

And Lucy's "complete" Saint Paul.

Camden Children's Garden

I try to plan our activities to coordinate with our current theme, but sometimes the connection is pretty slim. That's why we found ourselves at the Camden Children's Garden on Friday - to visit the "dinosaur" garden and dig out some dino bones in the big sandbox.

It was one of our better outings. I've found that the kids usually have better trips when it's just the four of us. Isn't it strange how that works? That other helping hands (Kevin, other mamas) tend to muck things up? Partly it's my fault - I rely on the others too much, or I'm so thankful for adult conversation that I forget to intervene when little tempers flare. Partly it's the children, too. This is especially true if Kevin's around; Peter sometimes needs Kevin's attention in a way that isn't always compatible with fun, independent exploring.

We'd visit the garden more if it weren't so expensive. There's the parking and the toll and the obligatory train-and-carousel rides (which are enjoyed so much it's impossible to say no), not to mention the $5 stuffed animals that my children tend to shoplift.*

A few things we enjoyed at the garden:

splashing in the water

kid-sized sinks

jumping rope and hula-hooping

the train!

playing in the sand

hide and seek

tasting herbs and sour grapes

*OK, so this happened once, and accidentally at that. Lucy was showing a stuffed bear to Thomas and one became stuck in his stroller. I didn't notice until we were across the street, up the elevator, two children strapped in the car. Although, before we stopped taking the children to stores, I'd thought about posting a regular feature - stuff Lucy steals. She's walked away with a few little things in her short years.

no more monkeys falling out of beds

A while ago I decided to squeeze our crib cot into our room to give Thomas a safe place to sleep in that period after he falls asleep (around 7, or 9, depending on the insanity of the night) and before I come to bed.

It's worked out well, but not the spectacular "see! all he wanted was his own space and he'd sleep through the night every night, forever and ever, amen."

Mostly, it's kept him from massive head injury. He still wakes, he still crawls around, and, now, he'll call "Mamamamamamamamamamama! wail! Mamamamamamamamamamamamamamama!" when he wakes. Calling for me is pretty much the death knell for letting a baby cry, not that I have much inclination toward cry-it-out. I think part of my heart still is broken from listening to not-napping Peter cry out, "mama, come! mama, come! mama, come!"

Here's Thomas, though, sleeping like a baby. Don't be fooled. He'll be up in about three minutes.

messy art: bodypaint!

I mixed up as much body paint as I could* and set the kids free to paint themselves.

It's interesting to see who likes to be messy and who doesn't. Some of our friends don't want to be messy at all. Some like controlled messes. And others? There couldn't be enough mess for some kids.

         

Our neighbor brought out the sprinkler to clean the paint off, probably a good thing since the food coloring I'd used to make the paint was starting to seep into our skin. One mom left with a distinctly bruised-looking face. I realized later that I'd gone to run a few errands with weird purple and green streaks down my legs.

*I used all of our cornstarch, a fact I sadly realized later when I wrote down the recipe for these. Bummer!

the kids blue themselves

When I told Kevin there were a couple of colored kids on the patio today, he knew to answer, "what color were they?"

And, of course, they were blue.

I wish I could read Lucy's thoughts when were doing a painting project. Really, truly, I wish I could see just how hard it is for her to resist the temptation to paint her whole body, to stick her hands in the paint and squish it around and then smear it all over.

She's also similarly big into lotions, which is a less messy way of getting this sensory fix she so clearly needs.

Anyway, this happened while I'd gone inside to do something - who knows? Make lunch? Use the restroom? Eat bon-bons and watch soap operas? I wasn't at all surprised when I found two blueberries instead of kids, but I am surprised by the fact our bathtub still is blue.

hooray! hooray! kale! kale!

I'm not going to pretend my kids are amazing vegetable eaters, but we are on a good veggie patch of late. Some of it has to do with the novelty of our weekly CSA pickup.

And part of it has to do with the deliciousness that is olive oil, sea salt, and kale. Roast until crunchy and eat by the handful. I've even gotten away with barely roasting it (so it's not so much crunchy as kind of soggy/chewy) and they'll still eat it. I've even given it to them when it's just a little burned and awfully bitter.

I honestly can't keep the kids in the amount of kale they demand. We plan special trips to the Swarthmore Farmer's Market just to get more kale. (And scallions - we can't ever have enough scallions!)

"let's do something naughty"

Lucy's new hairstyle

Those were the words I heard as I started downstairs, a fresh stash of diapers in hand.

All told, in the range of "naughty," the damage was pretty mild. I suspect it could have gotten really ugly if I'd lingered upstairs a few minutes longer.

I didn't try to even it out, as I figured any attempt on my part would just make it worse. If she's anything like her mother, she has years of cutting her own hair ahead of her.

garden harvests

We've had a few radishes pop up from our garden. Peter enjoys looking for them, and even though he picks them just a bit early, it's nice to know our garden yielded something.

The nasturtium finally felt comfortable enough to bloom. We picked nasturtium to plant because the blooms are edible!

(But maybe not so tasty. They are a little bitter.)

rain play

It started raining just as we were getting ready to leave storytime earlier this week, and rather than sit it out in the library we braved it and walked home.

It was wet and sloshy and just a bit cool, but playing in the rain and puddle stomping are on our summer fun list so why not?

It turns out the kids aren't fans of playing in the rain or stomping in puddles. Surprised? I'm kind of surprised, too. We've tried it before, to tepid reviews, but I'd always blamed the lack of enthusiasm on the coldness of spring rains.

Although, when properly accessorized, Lucy can be convinced of any activity. Here, with her pink polka-dot umbrella and monkey rain boots and kitty-cat rain jacket, she's happy.

It's funny how playing in the rain isn't so fun, but just wait to see the giggles when the sprinkler comes out. Context is everything, right?