Family Davis-Ross

an emotional day at Smith Playground

Our original plan for today was to visit Franklin Square Park, knock a few items off our summer fun list, and have a blow-out great time with Colin, Quinn, and Rhys.

Then, I reconsidered. It would be pricey (for the train ride to center city, plus the carousel and/or mini golf); it would be a long day (would we even make it back to the SEPTA station for a train home? or would we be lost to Chinatown forever?); and, perhaps critically, I learned that the on-site hamburger stand makes a Butterscotch Krimpet/caramel ice cream sundae. I immediate refiled Franklin Square under "must do with Kevin" and changed our plans to Smith Playground.

We had some good fun and some very emotional moments. Peter showed his monkey side as he and the boys climbed the giant spider web. In flip flops, to boot!* Thomas tried his hardest to climb aboard the climbing merry-go-round, the one with twenty-five other children and fast spinning speeds. Yep, that one. This baby, I tell you, will not be stopped.

Lucy hadn't slept well the night before and it showed - she had little patience for anything that wasn't her vision. "Her vision" included: hoarding all of the baby doll supplies. And: hoarding all of the pink tricycles. She flipped out on a little boy who dared climb on the hot-pink trike she dragged behind the baby pink trike she actually road. When his mother came to intervene, Lucy stammered a sad little, "but it's my favorite color!" as I pried her tight grip off the extra trike.

Peter jumps, Thomas plays with the lights, and I'm trying very hard not to fall asleep..

She fell asleep on our drive home, and as she continued to sleep, Peter, Thomas and I jumped on the bed. Well, I left the jumping to Peter and tried very hard not to fall asleep. I'd dared to dream the dream of three sleeping children, and instead had monkeys jumping on the bed.

*We have these ongoing discussions about "good park shoes" and "good bike riding shoes," but it always seems that he ends up in flip flops. I'm surprised he's not lost a toe yet.

a sibling is...

...someone to smell your stinky feet

(and man, do these kids have smelly feet!)

**edited for content**

Last night, I had another post written in this space. It was about how difficult it is to have three children, especially now that the three children want and really need different things out of our days. It was all typed up and spell-checked and hundreds of words.

Then, the baby woke up. I hit "save draft" and went to bed. It was around midnight, after all.

Reading it today, I wonder if something moved me to save it as a draft rather than hit "publish." It was whiny and self-aggrandizing, two of my many writing flaws, but mostly it was just obvious. Kids are hard; more kids are harder; lots of young kids are particularly hard. (I hope. Oh my word, I hope.)

I've been in this funk lately, in which I assume an attitude of "oh, woe is me! my life is so hard!" and then proceed to make Kevin and/or the children's life kind of miserable, too, mostly by doing some stomping around and pointed sighing and, in the darker of moments, tossing aside things and crying. (Oh. And shouting. There was some shouting, too.) They've been tremendously good sports about it, but the pity party act had been wearing thin for a few weeks, and suddenly I was the only one left with my party hat on.

So I've been forcing myself to be happier. Yes, forcing. Giggling when something inconvenient happens (Thomas spills the breakfast smoothie all over everything); extra kisses and cuddles and pauses in our action when someone's hurt (every three seconds these days); and generous accommodating the wishes of the children (when my instinct is to say "no," simply because its so much effort to do X, or Y, or Z ).

Something moved inside me at church this Sunday - words of a prayer I hear every single week resonated with me as if they'd been spoken for the first time, or through a loud speaker - and I'm hopeful I won't have to force this happiness much longer. Which isn't to say I'm not happy, it's just that the accumulated effect of four years of not being able to finish 90 percent of what I start, of having my productivity in all aspects of life decimated, has finally caught up with me.

And it's here that my change is made: didn't I freely accept this life: to have these three small children, to stay at home with them every day? Yes, yes I did. Not only did I accept it, I planned it. (Ahem. With a little help.) I couldn't see far enough down this path to realize just how time-consuming the day-to-day is, but the opportunity for different choices is long gone.

In the interest of full disclosure, I'd like to point out that this morning wasn't a great morning, so obviously I'm still a work in progress.

the original post was all about how this day was crazy difficult, with a rained-out playground playdate and a visit to a new library and then a trip to the indoor playground, and how I had to keep this little boy from being squashed by the older children, and how I was certain Lucy was being inducted into a Disney Princess coven by the older girls who'd taken her under her wing, and how I was frightened that an older boy would introduce Peter to the world of guns or something equally as horrible, and how I might just need to get a grip as a mother and let go just a little

so as you can see, I've clearly not lost the temptation toward whining nor self-aggrandizing

but I'm also not quite ready to let go

party in the park

Last week I hosted an August birthday party for our playgroup at the local tot lot. Very simple stuff: a playground, some pitch-in snacks, crowns for the kids to make, and a photo-op board. It was exactly the distraction our playgroup needed in between rain and the hurricane, and on Saturday morning I found myself thankful that we'd been out all Friday morning.

The reason this party was noteworthy is that Lucy may have become convinced she had another birthday, which made her four, which - obviously! - made Peter five. Her excitement and logical progression were too adorable and fascinating to watch for me to stamp out.

(after a discussion about how this party celebrated everyone who had a birthday in August, but people who don't have birthdays in August - namely, Peter - can come)

Lucy: It's my birthday?
Me: We're celebrating your birthday.
Lucy: (hands clapping, face lighting up) It's my BIRTHDAY, Peter! You know what this means? I'm FOUR. And you're FIVE. PETER, you're FIVE!!!!!!!
Peter: (gives me a "what do we do with her" look, tempered with "this goes against everything about the time-space continuum that I've learned to be true, but is it? did we just celebrate two more birthdays?")

Lucy proceeded to call Grammy and tell her the good news. If I'd celebrated two birthdays in three weeks, I'd let the world know too.

(Also of note: I made healthy muffins to share at the party and they were terrible. Really, barely edible. So I stopped at the donut shop in town for some donut holes. How the pendulum swings...)

last pool days

We've been talking about "having pizza and going to the pool for dinner" all summer. We tried it last week but didn't beat the summer afternoon thunderstorm, and we enjoyed the pizza in our car instead. It's surprising how small our seven passenger van is; I ended up eating my pizza sitting all squished on the center console.

Last Friday, per-hurricane, we tried again. It was a success, until a little boy tried to remove Lucy from his swimming ring and all sorts of tears resulted. At first I was a little annoyed with the boy's mother, who was about thirty seconds too slow in intervening in the fiasco. (He was pulling the tube with her inside of it, Lucy was falling into the water shouting "I'm trying to get out!", and I'd not put my swimming suit on that day so I couldn't jump into the pool to referee effectively.) Then, after Lucy wailed for - no kidding - half an hour, I felt a little sorry for myself and for the mother and a lot sorry for a too-tired, slightly-scared Lucy.

We have one more week left at the pool, and Irene has left us some absolutely gorgeous fall-like weather. It's not pool weather, not at all, and I have to decide if I (1) go to the pool anyway, despite the cool temperatures, only to last twenty minutes before everyone's lips turn blue or (2) decide that last Friday was our final pool visit, and while it's nice to go out with pizza! it's not so great to go out with a crying little one.

I think we'll try again.

hurricane, schmirricane

ballerina Lucy, enjoying the hurricane's first winds + rain

I'll admit that I kind of bought into the Irene hype, if only because we have three small children and the responsibility of caring for them without water or electricity seemed difficult. There was also the issue of falling trees, and since we live in the forest we have our share of gigantic trees and limbs and some rain-saturated ground just waiting for a strong wind to knock over these giants.

exploring downed trees by the creek

Kevin reminded me a few times of our other hurricane days, in Chapel Hill, where we'd watch storms roll in and leave us with...rain. Some wind. A few down branches and no power for a few hours. it was an excuse to bunker down, watch cable television, and eat the ice cream from the out-of-power freezer.

We lost power a few times last night, for a few minutes at a time. The promised floods didn't materialize, although I was nervous since our house has potential for water pooling and flooding through the front door.

We took down our bean teepee, because we'd feel awfully silly if the only damage we sustained was from the six-foot-long sticks we put outside our door. Hello, projectiles!

Lucy hoped the strong winds would help her fly like a real fairy
(they didn't)

And that was about it. Yesterday I cleaned and Kevin entertained the kids and then it was suddenly time for bed. I have a feeling the day passed quickly for me (with my arms elbow-deep in a bucket of sudsy water, thankful for the ability to complete a task, even if it is of the scrubbing-the-floor sort), and the day dragged on for Kevin, stuck inside entertaining the three little ones.

I'd kind of planned a hurricane party for today, when we thought we'd be stuck inside with more rains and wind, possibly without electricity and definitely in need of diversion. This morning brought clear-er skies, pockets of nice weather, and as I type, bright sunshine. I shelved the party for another day, as we can always roast marshmallows over candles, but can't always scamper in the sunlight.

gathering sticks with friends

We explored the hurricane's effect on the creek this morning with our neighbors. As expected, there were downed trees and so much water. We also saw downed trees while driving home from church this morning, but thankfully no damage except to power lines.

There are still strong winds and weakened trees and the threat of big branches falling, but it's hard to imagine peril when it's so gorgeous outside. The rest of the week promises good weather, too. We plan on taking advantage - 24 hours inside is about our limit, hurricane or no hurricane.

a very quiet day at the Academy

We joined our friend Aidan at the Academy of Natural Science Tuesday for some preschool-friendly exploration.

The Academy is quiet during the week. I'd almost forgotten just how quiet it is, since we visit only on the weekends, which tend toward the quiet side, too. It's almost too nice having an entire wing of the museum to ourselves, although when it's the fantastic children's museum, I'm not going to complain.

(Minigolf was crazy crowded with at least two YMCA summer camps, and my blood pressure must have doubled while we were in there. Curious baby + determined preschooler + not-so-determined preschooler = aaak!)

I love how visiting a familiar place with new people can make the ordinary experience new again. There was much admiring of the okapi and other favorite animals, climbing in the giant dinosaur footprint, and roaring at the ferocious tigers.

On our next visit, I'll be sure to give Thomas a little more time to explore around. He was so curious about the animal dioramas, but caught only glimpses of them as we walked from the dinosaurs to the exit, since he'd been asleep during the animal portion of our trip.

Thomas did get to see live animals while we were in the children's museum, the rabbit and turtles being particular favorites. He also had a chance to pet Oliver the rabbit, but fairly needed to climb in the rabbit hutch to do so. Following in the heels of his brother and sister, he speed-crawled to the hand sanitizer dispenser, because you gotta wash those hands. (Like these kids don't touch much worse during the day. I'm all for a hand sanitize after touching a reptile, but a rabbit?)

Since parking in center city can be pricey during the week, we took the train into the city and walked the few blocks to the museum. The last time we tried this, it was January and icy icy cold. This time it was sunny and beautiful and a really fun walk. We were early and able to explore some of the public art we encountered, including the Love sculpture and a giant Lego sculpture.

(When we arrived at the Love sculpture, Peter looked at it and said, "I remember we've been here before." I half expected Lucy to say, "I remember we ate chocolate cupcakes the last time we came. Can we have a chocolate cupcake now?)

I'm wearing Thomas on my back these days, which works well for him and for me, except that I've not quite figured out a good way to carry along the 50 pounds of other stuff we need (water, food, diapers, hats, wallets, and lest we forget bandaids).

On our way out of the Academy, we heard rumors of an earthquake. I was disappointed we'd not felt it, and the kids were plenty curious about this "ground shaking" business. Our walk back to the train station was a little eerie - the downtown's tall buildings had been evacuated, and the streets were full of people, most of whom were looking down on their phones.

The trains were delayed, so Peter had a biscotti, I had a coffee, Lucy had a nap, and Thomas got to crawl on the train station floor. Then the coffee kicked in, and I was ready for the return trip. First order of business: get that baby off the floor!

a day at the beach

 

With Kevin gearing up for another grueling year teaching smarter-than-us undergrads, he asked for one last trip to the beach.

When the weather finally agreed, we were on the road.

Some favorites:

The beach! The kids were very into splashing in the waves, and the littlest Davis-Ross was the most enthusiastic. He would stampeded toward the water. When Kevin would walk him, Thomas's forward momentum was so great he'd just fall down - those chubby little legs wouldn't keep up with the rest of him. As Kevin noted, "there's just not enough ocean for him."

Nor for Kevin, I suspect. What he'd like more than anything is some fun time splashing in the ocean, without the continual threat of children drifting off to sea. If given half a chance, I think Thomas would take that option.

Other highlights include hitting the boardwalk, which involved some serious ride negotiations and a bit of height fibbing. We suggested that Lucy was tall enough to ride the bumper cars - perhaps what she wanted to do more than anything, rainbow sprinkled ice cream included - only to have the attendant tell us it's not a safety regulation but an operational one: she may not be able to reach the pedals. But, she could, and riding in her "pink" car* made her happier than she'd been all day, even if she could only spin in circles. Peter put more "bump" in bumper cars, but both just enjoyed driving a car.

We timed our ice cream stop to coincide with Thomas's nap, but didn't give him the shrift again when it came to rides. He happily boarded the carousel with all of us, and as the bigger kids rode their rides he enjoyed all sorts of free entertainment on the little rides scattered around. I'd forgotten how easy it is to keep this age so occupied and happy. Why put a quarter in the machine? (That's why I have Kevin around to remind me, when I do silly thinks like suggest he take the baby on the balloon ride. What?)

long walks down the boardwalk mean lots of big-kid carrying
so as to avoid the late-afternoon crankfest;
it certainly helps burn off the fudge and ice cream and pizza

After a last trip to the bathroom, two free fudge samples**, and a classy street-side pajama change, FDR was back on the road, Pennsylvania-bound. It was still light when we got home, but all three children were peacefully asleep, dreaming, I'm sure, of salty water and limitless fudge samples and pink baby dolls with pink pacifiers and pink milky bottles.

*There's a huge range of colors which qualify as "pink" for Lucy. Thankfully. There's always pink around, in her eyes. More than once Peter and Lucy have glommed onto an object, calling it in equal measure "red" and "pink," neither contradicting the other, each perfectly happy with his interpretation of the world.
**Savvy Lucy spotted a change in fudge sample personnel, and immediately said, "I want more FUDGE!!!!"

for things in their own time

The big news from our beach trip Monday was that all of the children couldn't get enough of the water. From the start to the end, they wanted to run in the surf and splash in the waves and - even Thomas - drink the salty water up.

It's a far cry from our first beach visit of the summer, where both Peter and Lucy whimpered about the loud waves and the crashing waves and the ocean-ness of the ocean.

Today, we romped around an indoor playground we've visited a few times. It's one of those hamster-maze set-ups, with tunnels and ramps and lots of hidden places, and it's virtually inaccessible for mamas carrying babies. Our last visits were fun, to be sure, but there was always a neediness lingering behind the smiles - Lucy needing a little help physically maneuvering some of the structure's trickier parts and Peter needing someone to be with him to have the courage to explore on his own.

This visit was much more children running free, on their own, while I tried to keep Thomas from being lost in the ball pit or trampled by the big kids. I kept my eyes open for them, but it's tough spotting in a maze of plastic tubes. I kept my years open for their distressed cries, but how could I possibly hear their voices over the other shrieks and squeals of the two dozen other children at play?

Even if I could have heard their voices over the other children, I wouldn't have heard them, because there were no distressed cries, no nervous children, nothing but climbing up and sliding down, over and over and over and over again.

Lately, Peter and Lucy have been all about meeting new friends and playing with new people. Peter especially isn't the most outgoing of children (wonder where he gets it?) and it's usually so open to new social experiences. Yet over the past two or three weeks it's been "new friend" this and "new friend" that, to the point that he's off making new friends at the playground without any coaching or coaxing or planning from me. For some kids, that's just another day at the park, but for Peter it's a big step forward, and it shows that his comfort boundary is expanding ever so slightly.

Kevin and I are sometimes accused - publicly or privately, directly or indirectly - of "not pushing" the kids. Depending on the context, it could mean not pushing them to spend time at a babysitter, or away from us, or doing thing that scare them, or talking to adults they don't know, or forcing them to sleep on their own, or to just stop needing us so very much.

And, depending on the context, Kevin and I have concerns that we're perhaps "not pushing" the kids enough. Then, I see how each grows and blossoms in his own time, and I remember that these are children, not flower bulbs; I can't force them to bloom when they're not ready. They do it in their own time, and when they do, it's still magical.

So much of being a parent is being prepared to meet your children where they are, not where you want them to be. I forget this every now and then, lost in the midst of other parenting messages thrown our way, about how children ought to be and what "normal" really is.

In our family, "normal" just might be the ability to say, "I'd like to sleep in the baby's crib with my sibling, and cover up in my awesome quilt, even though it's 85 degrees outside."

scenes from the station, waiting for our delayed train

Some days, you're handed a parenting challenge that sounds like it was created by some devious writers behind a Fox reality show:

Solo parent, three small children; trains running 50+ minutes late; no food or water; the return trip at the end of a busy day. Your adventure starts now: GO!

Lucy fell asleep before we arrived at the train station. Thomas was happy to sing song and play on the train platform floor (chorus of "eews" welcome here). And Peter recorded the scene for us all:

"I took a picture of a trash can!"

"That man has spiky hair!"

"What's Thomas touching?"

The trains were delayed because of the earthquake, and the station was full because of earthquake evacuees. (I guess? I'm not sure really why it was so crowded; maybe this is just what trains from Center City are like at 3 p.m. - wall to wall people.)

When our train pulled into the station I bolted for the door, knowing I had to carry such a load onto the train. I am forever and eternally grateful for the people who see me and know just how to help - shout out to the man who barricaded rushing crowds to the left so I could board the train easily. (Not so much you, pushy lady behind me, who found a seat even though I boarded the train ahead of you.)

why geocaching might be Lucy's newest favorite hobby

A few months ago I realized that we have a GPS unit and can do some geocaching. I'm not even sure what put this thought in my head, but when I poked around the Internet I learned that there's a cache next to the tree swing on campus. Perfect!

We stopped by the tree swing on our way home from the train station yesterday. It had recently just re-opened, and the kids were excited beyond excited to swing on the swing.

After they were done swinging (read: after I was done pushing them), I had them find the cache, hidden in a "bush that looks like an elephant." Lucy found the bush and the cache right off, and when she opened the little box she was in heaven.

"Look! A bracelet! Another bracelet! A lady sticker! Another lady sticker! Look at all this stuff! Can I have it all?"

We dug through our backpack to find enough ephemera to replace what we'd taken. In went our beach tag, a bandaid, a bouncy ball, and a quarter. Out came two lady stickers (Cinderella, FYI), another sticker for Peter, and a pink bracelet.

Now, there's a "prize box" hidden in the elephant tree near the tree swing. It's possible it will be as much of a draw as the swing itself. I've made sure to put a few random trinkets in our bag for our next visit. Also, there's a cache hidden in a park near our friends' house that the kids are keen on visiting. I'm pretty sure this is a hobby that will meet Lucy's need for acquiring random junk, and my need for getting random junk out of our house. There aren't many positive-sum games in parenting, but here's one.

easy rider

On Tuesday, in between the earthquake and picking up vegetables at the farm, Peter started riding a two-wheeler.

I was inside making dinner, but the story as it was told to me goes like this: Peter wanted to ride a two-wheeler; Kevin put him on and held him upright for a few minutes; Peter took off like a rocket. There was no hesitation, no looking back, and - alas for his poor bike - no stopping him, save a collision with the ground.

Wednesday, I took him to a local park with a bike-friendly track so Peter could practice the finer parts of turning.

And here he is: bike riding. (Video links here and here.)

(He's riding Lucy's new bike, by the way. In a complicated set of negotiations, he and Lucy agreed to swap bikes for the rest of the summer, since her bike is bigger than his.)

Peter is ridiculously proud of his new accomplishment, as he should be. It's no small shakes riding a bike by yourself! He's not the most outgoing Davis-Ross, but this business about riding a bike without any training wheels! had him telling any adult whose attention he could capture. (And a few who weren't paying attention.)

Now, to work on getting on and getting off the bike. I'm not sure how much longer his current "fall down with the bike" strategy will work. Someone's for sure going to break an arm.

what *didn't* we do?

In retrospect, we did pack too much in Saturday.

- farmer's market
- library
- barber shop
- post office
- pool
- baseball game.

Grammy and Poppy gave us tickets to see the Camden Riversharks for Christmas this year, and with Saturday's cooler weather we thought we'd give it a try. The kids certainly were game (ha!), and even took quick naps on the drive to New Jersey, but only lasted a few innings. Working against us: the threat of fireworks (Peter); the desire for cotton candy (Lucy); and the carousel spinning just yards from our seats (Thomas).

Campbell's Field is a great ballpark, though, with an amazingly scenic location on the Delaware River. Peter's invited our neighbor Samuel to come to the next game, and I have a feeling he'll have a blast.

Also of note: we arrived at the post office a few minutes after noon, and found it closed. Just as we were getting ready to leave, the postman came from behind his door to take our package, stamp it, and put it in the mail. I'm putting this one in the "I Love Swarthmore" file.

Springton Manor Farm

Our preschool co-op visited Springton Manor Farm last week. It's a lovely historic farm with a well-stocked butterfly house and some of the friendliest goats you've ever met.

Our first stop was the butterfly house. The butterflies were plentiful and varied; we spent some time trying to identify every butterfly we spotted, until the little boy holding our identification sheet decided he'd rather play silly baby games with his little brother.

To lure the butterflies to us, we dressed in bright colors. Lucy found a flowered dress and noted that the "butterflies will suck me up!" it's an accurate description of butterflies and flowers, to be sure, but still sounds borderline obscene.

No butterflies were tempted to land on Lucy or Peter, perhaps because they're always moving, but some did land on my hat and on Thomas's hat. Despite the high potential for jealousy and/or frustration, neither Peter nor Lucy seemed that bothered by butterflies who ignored them. Perhaps because they could grab a net, visit the outdoor butterfly garden, and catch their own!

(Except they couldn't catch their own butterflies. It's tough when your butterfly net is as tall as you are.)

Later, after lunch and some rock climbing, we visited the farm animals. Thomas very much wanted down and out and to get in the pens with the different animals, pig poop or no poop. I spend a good portion of my days thwarting Thomas's wishes, and I have a feeling it's going to haunt me when he's a teenager. ("Mo-om! you never let me do anything!" It's true, you know: I never let him play in animal poo, or with sharp-beaked creatures, or with choking-hazard marbles...)

That's not entirely true: when Thomas wants to make new friends, he's more than welcome to. Here he is with another little one, playing baby games and reveling in the awesomeness which is other kids his size.

face paints, a few ways

It started a few months ago, this business about face paints. There are face painting stations at two of our favorite haunts, the zoo and the farm. There have been curious questions about face painting, but someone - Peter? - decided that they were for birthday parties and that was that.

Until recently, when someone - Lucy? - realized no, these aren't for birthday parties but for anyone! anytime!

And so began a months-long discussion about getting their faces painted and when to do it. Oh-so-peacefully it was decided we'd do it at the zoo (because most of the face painting options were wild animals), and we'd make sure to do it on a trip when Kevin came, too, so he could see the face paint in action.

Almost immediately after entering the zoo today, Peter turned to me, his eyes bright with excitement, as he realized "we can have our face masks today!"

Lucy picked a pig, the pinkest, cutest animal of the bunch. Peter requested something scary and came away with a dinosaur. They sat so patiently as the artists applied their paint. And the result? They kind of couldn't take their eyes off of themselves. It's not cheap, this face painting racket, but it pays off in little kid enjoyment.

As you'd expect, the face paint didn't last for long. The fine details of their chosen animals melted away over the course of the afternoon - the summer sun and Peter's summer cold not helping matters at all - and when we finally made it to the car, they were little more than pink- and green-faced gremlins in the backseat, a sight not so uncommon in these parts.

The kids weren't really disappointed in their smeared faces, a major relief since the inevitable ruined face paint was Reason #2 why we'd never done it to begin with. (Reason #1? the price tag.)

When we came home, the kids wiped off the precious professional paints and applied their own. It wasn't a professional job, to be sure, but it was fun - so much so that they started over again and again once more.

Thomas got in on the action, but he was much more interested in eating the face crayons than admiring his new animal face.

the zoo: some firsts (and some favorites)

First parking in the Frog Lot. For as often as Peter asks us to park in the Frog Lot, you'd think he'd have been more excited.

First pony ride for Thomas. He didn't cry the entire way...just 95 percent of it.

First baby orangutan hanging pees. I don't really know what to call this, except that both Thomas and Lucy had some very up-close encounters with the baby orangutan, and when Baby Batu pulled off a "hanging pee" maneuver, Lucy's eyes were as big as saucers. (I'm sure she was taking notes, too.)

While strictly not a "first," the kids continue to really enjoy the "Extinction" exhibits and activities. Lately, Peter and Lucy have been requesting to see the puppet shows, even though the puppet shows are geared toward older children (and adults) and most of the information goes right over their heads. Who cares, right? A puppet's a puppet, and they're magic.

Also a never-miss, the new show in the big cats exhibit. (If the kids knew they could watch this at home, their heads might explode!) The kids now sing along to the theme song, and Thomas dances in anticipation. At first I wasn't sure if they liked this show because the seek out all illicit media, but no, it turns out they really like it.

lucystyle

I haven't posted about Lucy's wardrobe remixes lately, but don't assume that she's not off creating oh-so-interesting outfits from her three drawers of hand-me-downs and consignment store finds.

(It's this fact, that her clothes are acquired in such a haphazard way, which really lends itself to the je ne sais quoi of her style. You know it's interesting when she almost always starts from a place where nothing matches.)

Here's today's gem, taken post-lunch and pre-zoo.

- "New" bathing suit (dollar Tuesday thrift store find! just as her old suit disintegrated - perfect timing). What you can't quite tell from this picture is that yes, she's wearing the bottoms too.

- Pippi Longstocking hair, by request. She hasn't had a "hairdo" in so long she actually sat still long enough for me to put in pigtails and braid them.

- Criss-cross velcro sneakers. It's what all the cool kids do, apparently. She insists on this style, usually with her shoes on the wrong feet.

the parking lot problem

Problem: parking lots are dangerous places for little children, in part because the children are almost always distracted away from the important business of looking out for cars and in part because the children are small and fit perfectly inside rear view blind spots.

No matter what manner of solution I improvise (hands on strollers, holding hands, walking next to me), we always end up in the same situation, which can be summed up neatly as "the children wander aimlessly through the parking lot at a snail's pace."

I've realized lately that my solution to this problem - stopping and waiting for them to catch up, because they need to be close to a responsible adult, right? - only exacerbates the situation. Apparently, there's a parking lot specific buffer around me past which the children cannot proceed. Thus, when I stop, they stop. Rather than catch up to me, the net result is an even slower trek through the parking lot.

the gawking dawdlers;
you know they're slow moving if I have time to dig out my camera
from the depths of our backpack and take a picture

I don't exaggerate when I say it's one of our biggest parenting problems, if only because it frustrates me so very much and the parking lot is such a dangerous place. I'm not one with an acute sense of peril, but even I get sweaty palms thinking about the big mama mobiles whizzing around parking lots willy-nilly. I know they do, because I'm sometimes one of them.

I've brainstormed two solutions, both of which would be well-received by my children but would probably earn us some strange looks as we make our way across the vast black asphault of the average parking lot.

First, leashes. One of Lucy's current favorite game is that we tie a leash around her midsection; she got the idea after seeing a toddler in a baby leash at The Children's Museum. The kids would love to be tethered to me, and I could then cajole them into running away from me or I could drag them to the car.

Second, installing bicycle flags to their hats. It would solve their visibility problem, although it probably would do nothing for our pace.

 

just a quick reminder about the rules at Longwood Gardens

Our playgroup visited Longwood Gardens today. While I love every visit to Longwood, it's always a bit of a challenge keeping the rambunctious, excited preschoolers from interrupting the more - ahem - patrician visitors.

It's telling that I always dress for mess (as I leave covered in dirt and water and other bits of nature), while some of the more mature visitors sport fancy jewelry, heels, and bedazzled finery.* I'd feel much less confident about our visits to the garden if it didn't make such an effort to cater to children with it's two children's gardens and three treehouses and specialty children's maps. Clearly someone wants us here, right?

Take the energy of your average four-year-old and multiply it by nine. Presto! Fun and chaos, and just a few moments of rule-breaking. Since I'm such a rule-follower at heart, I'm going to take a minute to rewrite a few of the garden's rules to better suit the needs of the preschool set:

1. Feel free to scamper up our topiary bushes, especially after playing hide-and-seek. You'll find the branches particularly accessible for shorter children. Watch in amazement as they climb to the top of the carefully sculpted bush and poke their head out - it's a photo-worthy moment, for sure!**

2. Please, help yourself to picnic lunches at our many accommodating benches, chairs, and other whimsical seating areas. You're welcome to visit our picnic area, but you'll have to hike back to your car and drive there. We realize that's essentially a disaster in the making, so really, take a seat and have a snack. We insist.

3. If you'd like to get from point A to point B, may we suggest running? The faster you run, the faster you'll arrive. See how many other guests you can outrace - that is, if you're paying enough attention to see other guests in the walkway. There's a lot to take in, and it's awfully hard work concentrating on running.

4. When you leave, don't forget to have your hand, forehead, cheek, other cheek, stomach, neck, leg, arm, and ear stamped for re-entry. You'll need each and every stamp to get back in. Don't forget that ear stamp!

Of course, I'm being silly here, but I would like to point out that there is an insane rule about eating only (purchased food) in the cafe or in the picnic area which is outside the garden itself. I break this rule each and every time we visit, and justify it to myself with the knowledge that (a) we almost always buy something in the cafe anyway, since the kids equate Longwood with cookies in the cafe and (b) I'm pretty sure whatever aesthetic damage is done by our handful of nuts on the child-sized chairs is nothing in comparison to the blood-curdling screams of two children whose blood sugar has crashed more precipitously than our economy.

*Really, I don't know what to call those shirts with sequins or other fancy things attached. I pretty much live in cotton t-shirts and am really dressin' fancy if my shirt doesn't have stains or rips.
**I don't think this happened, but then again, it may have.

mama vs. the swings

There's this park close to our house that I ought to like because it's great for

hanging around

climbing in tunnels

smooshing noses, and lots of other great playground fun.

But I don't like it so much. Dare I say, I kind of hate it. Why, you ask?

(our playgroup commandeered all of the swings)

The swings.

A. Why the swings? Always, the kids and the swings. You'd think the swings were crack cocaine the way the kids love to swing.
B. There's only one baby swing. There's only one baby, and lots of preschoolers who love the lazy ride a baby swing can give them. On one hand, I don't blame them for taking the easy way out. On the other hand, I'm holding 23 pounds of baby who wants that swing.
C. You'll notice, while there are many swings, there aren't 12 swings.
D. Also: so much bright sunshine.

 

the many moods of Thomas

(there are videos in this post, which never show up in my reader, so perhaps they don't in yours, too)

Q: When is a baby like a dog?
A: When he heads for the door when you say "out."

Q: How do you know you've taken too many photos of your baby?
A: When your baby says "say cheese!" when he sees the camera.

Q: How do you know your baby can understand you?
A: When he so very badly wants to stuff marbles in his mouth but just heard you say "no." (Be ready for frustration tears!)  It takes him a little while longer to ignore it, like his brother and sister, who despite my asking them not to got out the marble game. They mush have really wanted to play go.

some summer fun

a few items knocked off our list this week:

lucyphoto: lemon squeezing

lemonade! Declared delicious by all, especially Kevin, who would drink lemonade all day long if allowed.

         
since our mittens are put away, how about socks?

ice cream in bags! Not so much a success (little hands have trouble kneading big bags of ice, and little people have trouble patiently waiting for their ice cream to freeze), but still delicious, thanks to yummy local cream (worthy of its own blog!) and a hefty dose of vanilla.

fluffy clouds of sweetness; bewildered baby

macaroons! Despite the dank weather Monday, we successfully made macaroons to celebrate the Feast of the Assumption of Mary. (The macaroons look like clouds...) The kids loved making these, from processing the sugar to whipping the whites. I take that back: they weren't fans of the three-hour bake time.

We also made a worm farm, but we set them free today after their habitat was flooded with yesterday's rain. The worms here are insane - easily the largest I've ever seen. I'm pretty sure we put a 12-incher in our farm.

good morning! welcome to the party!

There's always something going on when I come downstairs in the morning, but nothing quite like last week's big party for An-Ja-Rew.

Later, there was another party, this time with markers and crayons taped to the back of the sofa.

So for these moments, where I'm thinking GOOD GRAVY! EVERY TOY! EVERY TOY?, I have to force myself to sit back and see the total concentration and effort and creativity and planning and follow through that went into such a project

This isn't to say I don't lose my cool. There's many a cool lost in our hot, hot house. But the children will do this and do this and do this again - so many variations on the endlessly amusing theme of "let's pile all our stuff up over here!" - and so my challenge is to just let go. Much easier said than done, my friends, especially with the baby and the scissors and the errant marbles.

It always helps when Daddy's around to pick up all of these toys, too.

behind the camera

Lately Lucy's taken to stealing my camera away and taking fifty or so photos. I never quite know when she's done it - she's sneaky like that - so it's always fun to upload pictures and see a cache of ones from her point of view.

A few shots discovered from last week: her "best friend" Anna at the playground; cows at the fair; preschool mamas at the fair; crazy-looking mama making lemonade

perhaps not the best pool day

I realized with some horror that we have just a few weeks until the pool closes, and responded to this realization by putting "pool" on almost every day of our calendar.

That's part of the reason why we ended up at the pool yesterday afternoon, even though we felt some raindrops as we left our house and even though the sun was completely hidden behind thick gray clouds.

Peter is determined to swim by the end of the summer; unfortunately, his technique tends to be 80 percent flailing and 20 percent forward motion

The kids toughed it out, but how long can you last when it's only 80 degrees and breezy? I didn't even get in the pool, but instead sat next to a sleeping Thomas and tried to read. ("Tried," because every minute or so a little voice would call out, "watch, Mama!" and then perform some trick of daring.)

Unlike the last time we visited on a cool afternoon, no one left the pool in tears. Success!

the fair

We joined our preschool friends at the Montgomery County 4-H fair on Friday. The weather was beautiful and the animals were as friendly as could be. Peter, Lucy and Thomas really enjoyed being able to get up close with the sheep, cows, bulls, goats, chickens, rabbits, and other farm-friendly creatures.

Unlike their pesky petting zoo cousins, these animals have been raised without the expectation of small hands holding tasty treats, so they didn't bulldoze their way through children in search of food. That's always a plus, especially considering that your average preschooler is about sheep-sized, and those ornery goats have horns.

If anything, the children liked the animals too much. At least, little Thomas did. The poor babe wanted down, he wanted to touch the animals, and, if I'd let him have his way, he probably would have curled up next to the piglets or grabbed a handful of rabbit. Alas, the farm isn't the best place for a baby who still crawls and still shoves his fingers in his mouth every three seconds. I'm a pretty relaxed parent, but even I draw the line at letting the baby play in poo, which is exactly what he wanted to do. (He also very much wanted to play with the chickens, but I have hopes of him making it to adulthood with all ten fingers intact, and his baby fingers must look like tasty grubs to the hens who tried to peck at them.)

Other highlights: Lucy found all manner of pink, including a pink chair and pink pigs.

Peter finally got to ride the pedal train, after waiting a year for the Swarthmore Fun Fair and then finding out the trains weren't running then. It was the best $2 I've spent in a while.

The best $1 I've spent lately goes to the big bag o'fabric scraps from which the children have commissioned all manner of projects, including capes. Lucy's? Pink stripes. Peter's? Flowers and sharks. I love their fashion sense, and how they surprise me by not surprising me at all, every day.

divergent needs

Today's park playdate took some management on my part and compromise on the kids' parts.

Peter wanted to ride his bike on the bike path. Who could blame him? It was level, empty, broad, and paved - perfect for practicing his superfast peddling. Unfortunately, Lucy didn't want to ride, possibly because she insisted on bringing her tricycle (which is so slow and takes so much energy to ride, I really don't blame her).

Lucy wanted to swing. Surprise, surprise.

Thomas wanted to get down and crawl and play and climb and climb and slide.

For so long, the kids have been so easy to please with the same activity. I'm fearful that time is ending, to some degree. I can see it in our favorite places to visit - at the pool, at the Please Touch Museum, and at the zoo. Not only do Peter and Lucy and Thomas want to do different things, they're quite content doing these different things by themselves. For Peter this is an especially large milestone, as he gets anxious by himself. My parenting challenge lately has been to reassess just how much free space they can have without endangering them. (Too much. By their nature, they're kind of always in danger.)

So at the park today: Peter took a spin around the bike path, by himself, as I watched his every pedal and reminded myself that we were in a very nice park with very nice people and I could see him and he wasn't really that far away. He came back with a satisfied, smug smile of pride on his face, which told me that his risk was worth it, both for him and for me.

I gave Lucy a few pushes on the swing, reminded her the basics of pumping, and put her in charge of her own angular momentum. She gave it a go, then sweet-talked an older playgroup friend into giving her a few more pushes.

And Thomas found his way to the top of the toddler play structure and down the slide. Just as he knew he would.

traditions, good and bad

(1) It's summer, so it must be time for the Second Annual Solar Oven S'Mores party!

Don't tell the kids, but these s'mores had a bit of help in the toaster oven. It helps if you choose a sunny day and start your solar oven before 3 p.m., but I'd told Peter we could make the s'mores before he fell asleep on the way home from today's park playdate, and no amount of logic could sway him from the triple treat of chocolate, marshmallow, and graham cookies. Also, we almost always say "graham cookies," so the children properly appreciate their sweet, sweet, sweetness.

Thomas had a graham cookie, too, because I'd just read a study which showed that babies as young as 10 months can tell they're being left out of the fun. It's not a new fact for anyone with a baby, but it reminded me that I need to be better about including him, too. 

(2) It's summer, so it must be time for the Second Annual Mold and Mildew Breakout!

Nothing says dank like the moldy mildew breakout we've contended with for two summers. Kitchen cabinets, downstairs closet, train table - all victims. Kevin and I have been at work scrubbing down, doing laundry, and, in perhaps the worst move ever, tossing every pair of shoes we own into the washing machine and then dryer. As Kevin noted, "I thought we were being bombed, but then I realized it was just the dryer."

meeting Baby Lilly

The first leg of our mini summer vacation found us in Michigan to meet tiny baby Lilly.*

After coming in the back door and stealing the baby away from her father, the Davis-Ross children began some full-on baby love. Even Thomas showed some particular interest in this tiny little thing that grabbed everyone's attention. I'm pretty much in love with the goofy "awww" expressions on Peter and Lucy's faces in almost all of their photos with Lilly.

I'm not sure if baby appreciation is inherited or learned, but Peter, Lucy and Thomas have had plenty of opportunity for both. Kevin's family is especially baby crazy, which meant it was difficult to get some time with the wee baby Lilly, but also that she's growing up in a family that loves her so much.

I also really enjoyed listening to Peter and Lucy talk with Aunt Jen about Baby Lilly and what their baby can do. For example (said while sticking a finger in Lilly's mouth): Our baby has teeth, Aunt Jen. Lilly doesn't have any teeth. Also overheard: our baby can crawl, our baby can say "da da!," and our baby can do itsy-bitsy spider. Yes, and our baby has about 10 months on this little one. It's amazing the difference those 10 months make. The kids didn't mean to compare - and they're forever sharing Thomas's latest tricks with whatever audience they can capture - but their tone was hilarious nonetheless.

On Sunday we celebrated Lilly's baptism. Kevin served as her godfather, and Peter and Lucy were invited to the baptismal font to watch the water, oil, and fire up-close.

         

Monday, we visited Lake Michigan for some much-needed outdoor fun. The waves were larger than the last time we visited, but it took Lucy only a few minutes before she realized just how fun it is to ride the waves and bob gently on the water. Peter took a bit longer to coax in, but once he did, he too had fun, although he never quite appreciated the water the way Lucy did. Toward the end of our time in the lake, she'd purposefully swim away from us when we came near her, perhaps in fear we'd tell her it was time to go back to the sandy shore.

great-grandparent namesakes together: Lillian and Thomas

The Ross family joined us later on the beach, and while Peter, Lucy and Maelynn played in the sand, Thomas and Lilly took a nap in the tent.

Throughout our visit, Peter and Lucy had to contend with Jason and Jen's first children, their two large dogs. Oh, man. Really, the "dog thing" is the biggest downer when visiting Jason and Jen, because it never ends. Peter always flips out when Jezebel comes near, and then starts to run, and then flips out even more when Jezebel runs after him, and no matter how many times Jason or Kevin or Poppy or I say it, Peter still runs and Jezebel still chases.

Luckily for Peter and Lucy, Jen had filled their basement with all sorts of awesome toys, including about $2000 worth of hand-me-down duplos from her younger brother and a random assortment of pink dress-up clothes. Also, now that the kids are getting older, they could play in the basement on their own while I sneaked upstairs and stuffed my face with delicious cake.

Thomas wasn't so big on the pink dress-up clothes or the small fortune in duplos, but he did love those snakes. And judging from this picture, Maelynn loves him.

*She was only two weeks old when we met her, and at just over 8 pounds smaller than all of the Davis-Ross children, and so when Kevin would pick her up and gaze into her tiny face and coo, "were our children ever this tiny?" I had to remind him, no, they never were.

 

a visit from Uncle Kari

I'm not entirely sure why the kids love Uncle Kari so much, except for perhaps he asks them interesting questions and seems bemused by their antics.

Even though there had been extended chants of "Naughty Uncle Kari" in the days leading up to his arrival,* Peter and Lucy were super excited to see that he'd arrived.

If Kari was put off by the antics of two very excited preschoolers (and one cute baby), he didn't show it. Well, except for when they both started licking him at dinner. I'm pretty sure he wanted a shower after that.

As evidence of their love, here's the photo that they insisted on having taken, with real "I'm-giving-it-my-all" picture-posing smiles.

*Because Kevin dared to visit Kari and leave the children behind. Clearly, it's Uncle Kari's fault.

family photographs

On hand at baby Lilly's baptism party was a professional photographer/friend of the family who captured the day for Jason and Jen.

And even though the Davis-Ross children insisted that they "didn't like the photographer" and that's why they didn't smile when asked, there were some cute pictures in the bunch, including this gem:

I'll never understand the sister-kissing-brother shot, but I'll admit to requesting it and posing it, almost as if by instinct. Apologies in advance for the therapy down the road, Peter and Lucy. We'll start saving for your psychotheraptist now.

Here's one of all five Ross family cousins. Stay tuned for the photo at Thanksgiving, where we can line them up and count down their ages - 4, 3, 2, 1, and 0. It's been a busy four years in this family. I wonder who's on deck for 2012?

The complete Ross family, although since Lucy's half-hidden behind Jen, perhaps I should say 95 percent of the Ross family? Also, Jason and Jen would point out that the dogs are missing, so we'll call it 90 percent and leave it at that.

Peter and Lucy and baby Lilly. Kudos to brave first time parents who put their tiny newborn in the lap of rambunctious preschoolers. Peter took his task of protecting Lilly seriously - almost too seriously. In protecting her head, he nearly smothered her tiny face.

This boy knows how to pose, unlike his somewhat sullen-faced older brother and sister. His middle name should have been Flirt.

And not to be outdone, Lucy pulled out her tiny camera. Take that, professional photographer!

off the schedule: Please Touch Museum

We were having a great morning at the playground getting to know the other moms and kids in our new preschool co-op when the skies opened up on us.

As we piled into the car, slightly drippy and much cooler, I posed the question, "what should we do now?"

The obvious answer from the preschool set: the Please Touch Museum!

If ever a trip were destined for failure, this was one. I wasn't packed for the museum so I didn't have nearly enough food; we were arriving just after our (somewhat skimpy) lunch; we had to run from our car up the slippery granite steps to the museum entrance while it thundered*; and the baby is going through a fussy phase.

Despite these odds, the trip was a huge success, fun from start to finish, even when we went into the supermarket to shop. Even when Thomas decided it was his turn to push a coveted shopping cart.

Thomas also took a few trips down the slide. Peter caught him at the bottom while Lucy tried to jump atop him on the slide itself. I'm pretty sure the Please Touch employee who mans that slide feared for the baby, although I also trust these employees have seen all sorts of crazy parenting. I'm sure she could tell Lucy jumped (on Thomas) with love, not malice.

Lucy found a quiet, priavte place to give her baby milky

*In the far distance, but any rumble of thunder is cause to shriek and cover ears. I'm not sure what happened between this summer and last to cause such thunder fear, except perhaps that they've been awake for some pretty loud storms. Oh, and one storm early in the summer caused some serious damage, including felling a HUGE tree inches from their beloved swingset and tossing tree-sized branches atop Sameul and Penelope's house.

"surprise" party of sorts

When our playgroup friends decided to visit the pool on Monday, I knew we could make Lucy's (birth)day by bringing a special treat to share with her friends. After lunch Lucy very carefully picked out some pink frosted cookies to share.* As our friends arrived at the pool, Lucy approached each and every one of them to ask if they like cookies (they did) and if they'd like some of her pink frosted cookies (they would).

When it was time for snacks, she once again gathered all of the friends up to the picnic table, where the tub of cookies was inhaled in record time. In between cookie bites, the kids sang "Happy Birthday" to Lucy, and they proceeded to form a "birthday train" and run up to the playground. It was a party, for sure, although we'd not planned on it.

Later, when Lucy'd had enough pool time, she asked if she could change clothes and have a hot dog from the snack bar. "Because it's a special treat for my birthday," she cooed, batting her eyes. Oh, little one, how can I say no to that? Even if I did preface every bite you took with, "you'll never not ever have another hot dog from the snack bar again, right Lucy?" (Who wants to eat embalming fluid, anyway?)

*She definitely wanted to pick out several types of treats before the cookies, incluidng donuts and a garishly decorated Disney Princess cake. When her eyes saw the cake they bugged so far out of her head that I feared for her vision.

happy birthday, Lucy!

It boggles the mind that Lucy's turning three, only because isn't she four already?

Lucy spent her special birthday doing some of her most favorite things, including eating "Chinese chicken" for lunch, spending all day at the pool with her friends (and Daddy!), receiving a few happy birthday phone calls, and riding her brand-new bicycle. (Thanks, Grandpa!)

We ended her day with a trip to a local pizza place that features a hippie pizza bus AND television AND free balloons AND free Ms. Pacman. Oh, and pizza slices were just 99 cents. Who needs Chuck E Cheese?

Even though the running commentary on Lucy is that she acts so much older than her age, it's easy to see how much she's grown in this past year. Her capacity for pretend play, for sustained games, for remembering (oh, and how I wish sometimes she'd not remember), and for entertaining herself have taken off. She's almost always in the "dry undies club," she's willing to try almost any new food or situation, and she's so amazingly considerate of her brothers, especially Thomas.

This isn't to say she doesn't have moments of strong will, but she's more willing to talk about hurt feelings or thwarted expectations than she was even a few months ago.

In this past year Lucy's fallen in love with PINK and all things "baby doll" and is really, truly a little girl. And even though her fashion sense leaves something to be desired, she has a strong opinion about what she wants to wear and when. Snow pants in August? Why not. It's Lucy's world, my friends.

She started this year with her baby face and ended it as a little girl. The transition melts me every time, and even though it's sad to see them grow, it's rewarding to see the little people they grow into. And world, watch out - Lucy's a'coming.

dear IKEA,

thanks for letting us use you as a cheap indoor playground;

thanks for getting new toys every now and then to mix up our fun;

thanks for your plentiful, clean bathrooms;

thanks for your fluffy sheepskin rugs (although we do request the cowhides return);

thanks for your display of scented candles;

thanks for letting preschoolers man the hand-held scanner in the self-check lane.

The kids are getting hip to your ways, though, you big blue store. They've figured out that the children's section is really a store with stuff they can ask for and that there's that little alcove in the cafe that shows television all day long. On Wednesday it was Charlotte's Web.

(Appropriate since we'd spent the morning playing at a bug-themed playdate at Noah's house, where Peter and Lucy scammed all the dry cereal they could and Thomas's face lit up with delight when he saw another baby just his size!)

giant bubbles

One of our summer fun items was to blow giant bubbles. I remembered reading that cloudy, humid days were good for bubbles (they're more iridescent and they last longer), but it's entirely possible I made this fact up. Anyway, yesterday was cloudy and humid and wide open before us, so I made a few guy-jantic bubble blowers for us to try.

Total failure from top to bottom, starting with my not following directions at all to not having enough bubble solution to the simple fact that our yard slopes down toward the creek so there are no flat surfaces to speak of*, and we couldn't get an even coating on our bubble wands.

How about some pipe cleaners?

That's more like it! I also mixed up more bubble solution, since someone had dumped the rest of ours out onto her feet (just as she'd threatened to do before I went inside in search of pipe cleaners). Again, it helps to read directions. Ours worked fine, but I'm sure my method of "oh, I remember reading that dish soap and corn syrup and water work well" wasn't the best.)

Giant bubbles. They were big, but not the moose-sized ones I've seen posted on the Internets. They were, at best, head-sized bubbles.

But still big bubbles! And that's what I need to remember - and thank goodness I have children to help remind me. Not everything needs to be picture-perfect. Not everything needs to be just so. Giant bubbles are awesome, and bubbles alone are awesome, and particularly these bubbles, since I wasn't harping them about spilling the solution and they could both blow bubbles at the same time and it was easy-peasy to blow with the pipe cleaner wands.

Also, whether it's a scientific fact or not, our cloudy-day bubbles were brilliantly iridescent, so much so that Peter commented that every bubble had a rainbow inside.

*This problem - everything's at an angle - has caused us so many spilled paints, dinners, waters, projects, and other mishaps when we're outdoors. You'd never have realized just how treacherous gravity can be until you've tried to conduct messy art projects with twelve preschoolers on a table tilted at a 30 degree angle.

"just like Henry"

On our trip to the Midwest, we listened to Henry and Mudge in the Green Time* about seventy times, mostly because Lucy loved the part where Henry was stung by a bee and would giggle like a sociopath when the storyteller started in on the "ow! ow! ow!" part.

Since Lucy riles Peter up like no one else can, it quickly became a duo of maniacal giggling from the back every time that bee stung poor Henry. I felt terrible that they took such glee from Henry's pain, but mostly I was kind of relieved that they'd found a way to entertain themselves and let their giggles continue on in a kind of parental salutary neglect.

Fast forward a week to a cloudy Thursday morning, when the cheers from the nearby athletic field were just too loud to ignore.The kids hopped on bikes and took off toward the field to see what was underway, and found a girls' field hockey camp closing events. We climbed the bleachers and watched the girls walking around in their uniforms and goalie gear when Lucy fell out of her seat screaming. I really had no clue what had happened, and tried to figure out what she was screaming as she clutched her leg.

Then: "bee sting! bee sting! bee sting!"**

She'd gotten not one but two bee stings on her foot, her first and second ever. One of the hockey coaches gave us ice and I wheeled Lucy back in Thomas's push car while Lucy just wailed and wailed, because if there's anyone who believes in the cathartic value of a good cry, it's Lucy.

Back at home it was decided (not by me, I should note) that Lucy could watch any episode of Elmo's World she wanted, and have free use of Cuddle Bear, and have some cashews. All like seemed reasonable requests, and by the end of her show - and a baking soda paste salve later - Lucy was almost back to normal. "And you're just like Henry," Peter noted, so of course we had to read Henry and Mudge in the Green Time.

This time, there wasn't any giggling about Henry's bee sting.

*We love the Henry and Mudge books (and especially love Aunt Kimberly, who just gifted us all of them!), and, despite the business about the bee sting, are almost always adored for the right reasons by Peter and Lucy. It's already been requested that we name any future boy babies "Henry," and we're often heard quoting lines from the book, especially, "aw, Mudge!" whenever someone gets in the way.
**My first reaction, once I realized what Lucy was saying and she let me look at her foot and I saw the tell-tale white circles, was, "wow, Lucy, you've never had a bee sting before but you knew just what it was!" I haven't had a bee sting in 20 years, so I don't really remember how they feel, but I'm still impressed that she knew just what it was, especially since she says she didn't see any bees around.

this is the way we fill our day, fill our day, fill our day

Kevin's off reliving his youth this weekend*, and I knew one key to a successful day for those of us "left below" was to fill our day from start to finish with activity. It would keep some of us from getting bored and resentful, some of us from getting sad and mopey, and some of us thrilled that we're swimming all day long.

After a bit of a crazy start - you know, the ones where everyone needs Mama and she needs to eat and pack lunch and bags, but everyone needs her all at once and that baby starts crying...yeah, like that - we hopped in the car and headed off for stop #1, a pool party.

Except: in the chaos of the morning, I left an hour early. I'm sure Kevin was all sorts of confused when I threw my head in the bathroom and said, "we're leaving, goodbye, have a nice trip." I realized my mistake about ten minutes from home. What to do?

How about the Media tot lot? Kevin had just been asking me if Thomas played at the playground at all. Peter and Lucy had been real playground pros by 10 months (Lucy especially; that girl practically lived at the playground her first six months). Unfortunately for Thomas, the playgrounds around here tend to be baby-unfriendly: they're covered in mulch (too pointy to crawl on, plus to tempting to eat), they're made from wood (tiny splinters on tiny baby hands and knees!), and they're about 10,000 degrees thanks to the scorching summer sun.

But the tot lot has shade and is plastic and is covered with that spongy recycled tire stuff. Perfect! As we parked our car and I unstrapped the kids, setting them to the gated playground, I reached for our backpack only to discover I'd left the backpack at home. And sure, turning around and driving home and picking it up would have been the perfect way to fill up that extra hour of time, but I'd already set the kids free. Peter had already opened the gate. Lucy had already thrown herself upon the tire swing.

So, we played. Just as Kevin predicted, Thomas loved the ability to be just like Peter and Lucy, whether he was climbng up the play structure, driving the little car, smushing his face in the bubble, or climbing up the slide. I'm thankful Peter and Lucy were able and happy to find their own ways to amuse themselves at the playground, since it offers very little for the over-18-month set.

Once Thomas tumbled down the slide (well, the second time, actually - the first time was on accident, the second time was on purpose, and both falls caused him to giggle, so heaven help us when he's able to really defy death) and Peter and Lucy took to jumping over the three other toddlers at the park, I knew it was the perfect time to leave.

We were on our way for real this time, set to be twenty minutes late rather than sixty minutes early, but before long we were at the pool with our homeschooling co-op friends. I'm not sure if it was watching the older boys swim in the pool or just a general sense of bravery, but Peter was determined to teach himself to swim in the pool today. I was determined to not let anyone drown today. One of us was successful; the other was frustrated.

After swimming and snacks (including "those big cookies, you know, the ones you always try to break in half, the kind Grammy has for Maelynn?" - or graham crackers, for those not fluent in Lucyese), I dressed the children and promised them that even though it was already 1:30 our fun was not over, not by a long shot, and just wait and see what we would be doing next.

(Which meant I had to figure out what we'd be doing next...)

So, the pool, again. And since we were by the farm, why not stop at the farm store for a snack? And since we're at the farm, why not stop at the playground? And so we did. Playground #2 was well received, and I realized as I shepherded Thomas on the giant play structure that it was really nice to not have to follow behind Peter and Lucy, baby on my chest or hip.

The farm playground is decidedly baby un-friendly, from the mulch to the wooden play structures to the crab apple tree with its rotting crab apples on the ground and the various bees the apples attract. Despite the potential disaster factor, we actually had a great time, probably our best playground outing in months**. There was lots of silly pretend play, lots of fearless independent play, and even some practical joke-making. I love it when the kids do funny things with the intent of being funny.

And once we'd gotten our second playground fill? How about a return visit to the pool? I really think Lucy and Thomas could live in the water, and Peter enjoys the amount of jumping/splashing/physical exertion that playing in water asks of him.

It's interesting to see how all three kids are able to spend more and more time in the water. At the start of the summer, their interest would peter out kind of quickly, but after a few months of learning how to make up games and keep themselves occupied, they really can hold out for a while. At one point - when everyone was a little cold and Peter's lips had gone blue and Thomas was determined to crawl away to the splash pool - I gave us five more minutes until it was time to go. Then, suddenly, it was over an hour later and after 6 and we still needed to eat dinner!

After we got home, with teeth brushed and a suddenly awake baby and bedtime stories read, Peter got a little weepy. It was sweet and sad, because nighttime is Daddy time, but Daddy was at a rock show with Uncle Kari, and Peter was trying so very hard not to be upset, but, as he said, "it's just a sad time."

So we dressed a pillow in one of Kevin's shirts (and underwear and shorts, although the shorts didn't stay on, but I like Peter's attention to detail), and while it's a poor substitute for Daddy, for sure, it seemed to help.

Also what seemed to help? Two parks, two pools, and almost 11 consecutive hours of entertainment. I'm sure 95 percent of the ease of tonight's Daddy-less bedtime was due to the complete exhaustion of the two little ones who always ask for one more story, this time about the three little badgers, the three little Gavins, and the three little crocodiles.

*And I wish him only well. Really. I'm excited for him and just a little jealous that he has something that's so exciting.
**Which isn't saying much at all, given that the 100+ weather doesn't exactly lent itself to playgrounds.

absolutely one for the archives

OK, technically they're not alone - we improvised a makeshift Kevin;
apparently, he's been doing the work of a pillow all these years

I'll never get current with posting our adventures and milestones, but here's one that needs to be written down minutes after occurring:

Peter and Lucy just fell asleep on their own.

This feat was aided, not hampered, by an out-of-town Kevin and a crazy awake baby. Those 7 p.m. naps will do it to him, I guess.

 

one reason why my online productivity has taken a nosedive

This guy. He's a pre-toddler, post-baby big ball of a boy who knows just what he wants.

(And he wants it now.)

trip recap 2: hotel life

"room service? yes, I'd like to order up some bacon. all of it. thanks."

FDR loves hotels.

Lucy especially loves to stay in a hotel, particularly if it comes with the promise of a pool, a telephone, and some bacon for breakfast. This is an easy-to-please girl, my friends. Peter appreciates that we give him free reign for jumping on beds, jumping off of beds, and other furniture-breaking feats of adventure. (To say nothing of bone-breaking...)

Thomas brought along that baby in the mirror;
no mirrors were broken on this trip (unlike last summer)

We made a pit-stop somewhere in Ohio to break up the drive to Michigan. I've been trying to write a sentence about the hotel which is funny and factual and not at all insulting to Kevin, who booked the room, but it's not easy. So here are some facts: the hotel was cheap. It was very cheap. It lacked basic amenities ( (a clock) and some necessities (light bulbs). We didn't pay very much for it, and we stayed there for only one night, and the children didn't even really notice that it was a dive, and we didn't get bed bugs. So there.

obligatory bed bouncing; parent's gym shorts optional

Kevin and I have a minor history of staying in dive hotels, from our grad school days when we had about 500 percent more disposable income than we do now. (Thank you, generous grad school fellowships!) Then, we stayed in two pretty horrible hotels back-to-back on our drive out to California, and, after I flat-out refused to stay at the hotel in North Little Rock, I lost my taste for well-worn carpet and pillows that always smell a little funny and beds that sag just a little too much.

Our Michigan hotel, while not by any means luxurious, still made us wish we could live there forever. For realsies, as the children would say. Between the two full bathroom and the dishwasher and the fact that someone would come and clean it everysingleday, it was a significant upgrade on our current living situation.

Well, there was that night a man literally walked into our room while the kids were asleep and Kevin and I were enjoying the rare treat of cable television. Yikes! I shrieked, the man cursed, and all was well.

Lucy never did get her bacon, although in retrospect this may be a good thing since she vowed to eat all of it, and I'm not stepping between her and cured pork products any time soon.

trip recap 1: at least they're good in the car

The part of our vacation I dreaded the most was the car drive out and back. It's a haul to the middle of Michigan, down to the middle of Indiana, and then back to the far, far reaches of Pennsylvania.

Adding to the dread of the long car trip was a completely crazy morning in which our house was well over 90 degrees at 8 a.m. and we were all excited/exhausted/frantic with last-minute trip preparations and general child mischief.

Kevin offered to drop us off at the coffee shop so that we could enjoy some climate control and I could prepare myself for the trip ahead, and while it sounded like a great idea at the time, about ten minutes after arriving I realized we'd made a huge mistake.

So, yes, a crazy morning. From it, however, came a pretty decent car trip. I'm always forever and ever thankful that the kids do well in the car. It takes serious effort from Kevin and me, but we can reliably travel at 50 MPH* over our 600+ miles.

On this trip I packed small bags with different prizes for Peter and Lucy to open every hour. It occasionally worked well and sometimes failed. Mostly, it helped me to ration our stash of fun car diversions and gave me a break every hour or so as they happily engaged in whatever dollar store junk was under their wrapping paper.

We also surprised the kids with some new toys, which mysteriously showed up on their carseats after a stop on I-80.** New toys are pretty rare and thus were received with much excitement, although Lucy was about seven hundred times more excited about the PINK BABY WITH A PINK PACIFIER AND A BIB AND A PURPLE MILKY BOTTLE!!!!!! than Peter was with his magnet maze, but can I tell you that it's slim pickings for little boys and car-friendly toys? Peter probably would have loved A SUPER AWESOME TRAIN WITH LOTS OF TRAINS AND EVEN MORE TRAINS THAT GO WITH THOSE OTHER TRAINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but it wouldn't have been of much help in the car. Sorry, buddy.

As for the baby, he enjoyed endless exposure to those annoying plastic noisy toys that we keep in the box in a closet for just these sorts of occasions. Mostly, though, he loved that I was in the back with him. He woke from his nap to find me right there and his face burst into a huge, unbelieving smile. It was a top mama moment for sure.

Other car entertainments: books on CD, although not as appealing as I'd hoped they would be. I had some pretty delusional dreams of putting on Charlotte's Web and just riding the hours away. Snacks, including a dozen hard boiled eggs that properly grossed Kevin out as we consumed almost all on the drive.Their little "laptops," which I'd programed the night before to say their names and read personalized emails.

I was happy to see that Peter and Lucy could keep themselves entertained for long stretches at a time. Yes, there were extended riffs on all aspects of poop and naughty people, but there were also some very quiet moments in which they were hard at work on whatever project came from the prize bag.

(And there was some insanity.)

Unfortunately for Thomas, the drive was about 5 hours too long. When we got back into the car after an early dinner, he realized "holy cow, we're still DOING THIS?" and began an hour-long freakout.

Luckily for Thomas, we arrived at our hotel shortly after. And doubly lucky for Thomas, he didn't get HepA from the hotel, either.

*This is a number I pulled from thin air.
** With the heat index, it was about 120 this day. We tried to keep the kids inside a teeny-tiny rest stop, but they needed to stretch their legs and run off some energy, so we made them run to a tree and back a few times. If we'd done it one more time, Lucy may have developed heat stroke. It was hot!

goodnight, sleep tight

I was possibly the world's worst mother today.

Everyone's very sleepy and cranky right now.

I'm pretty sure I'll have to sit on my hands to keep from shoving an entire chocolate bar in my mouth tonight.

It's still hot.

And since I have nothing nice to say, let's not say anything at all.