Family Davis-Ross

how does the piggy eat?

Thomas, morning oatmeal:

He's never seen this movie, but his father has.

adventures at IKEA

(1) So many chairs for making the world's largest car, ever

(2) thanks to Lucy, Thomas is sampling one of the plastic sippy cups he's never been allowed to use. Also, it's the floor model. Also, we're not sick. Coincidence?

(3) Lucy could use some more closet space.

(4) Runaway!

Also on this trip, Lucy dropped an entire tray of food in the cafeteria and not a single plate broke. It was an effective demonstration of the china's durability, which may be why the kitchen staff was so happy to quickly replace the spilled food with fresh plates.

starry night

Our home school group recently visited a nearby planetarium for a private show geared for the preschool set.

There was much about this day I'd like to never remember. It wasn't a good day for any of us, without a doubt. But, I do want to give credit to the mama who organized the trip and the planetarium director who geared her talk down for the kids.

Also, the director let the kids use her cool red flashlights after the show. That, plus the fact she made it get really dark in the planetarium, were a-maz-ing! (If you're four. To say nothing of one! Simple pleasures, you know.)

thank goodness for Longwood Gardens

I could have had a real disaster on my hands a few weeks ago, when I foolishly ventured into Delaware without checking the Internet first. Turns out our destination - Winterthur - is closed on Mondays. I tried my best to sweet talk our way past the security guard, but he was unmoved by my wide-eyed panic and the children's loud chorus of concerns from the backseat. ("What's that man doing, Mama? What's that man saying, Mama? Why are we stopped here? When are we going to go? Why are you turning around? AAAAAH!")

Luckily, Longwood Gardens is just a few miles from Winterthur, and our day was saved. Plus, as Lucy pragmatically pointed out, "them have cookies in the cafe, Peter, and you like the cookies, right?"

Oh, yes, we like the cookies.

I'm always surprised at the surprise of other visitors in the Children's Garden by how wet Peter and Lucy (and now Thomas) get. I'm always a little perplexed by the docents who seem shocked by just how wet the kids are. Please make no mistake about it: we leave the garden drenched. During our past few visits, Lucy's first order of business is to stick her head in the "raining" fountain, then run over and stick her head in a different fountain, then return to the rain and repeat the whole cycle over again. And over again.

We did dry off before heading outside to play, and we learned a few important lessons while out, including: grubs can bite. (Sorry, Peter. You learned that one the hard way.) Also: the bells on the bell tower are LOUD and for about two minutes I had a very sincere fear that someone had abducted Peter and Lucy, as they'd run ahead of me on the path, around a corner and out of sight, during a moment I was distracted with Thomas. I can count on on hand the number of times I've lost the kids * and this was by far the worst. Luckily, I found them a moment after I had the thought of pulling out my phone to call for help. (Also, I'm prone to some slight overreacting.)

We left the garden the way we always do, with thirty re-entry stamps all over our bodies and a stampede to the bathroom. I have to believe the entire garden exhales a small sigh of relief when we leave.

*Not intended as a brag, although I am proud of this fact. It's not as impressive as it sounds, given that I'm usually wearing one and pushing another, and the third has a strong preference for hanging close by.

Veteran's Day

We didn't mean to spend our Veteran's Day hanging out at a cemetery at Valley Forge. These things just kind of happen, though, especially when you're driving through Valley Forge every week to play with your awesome homeschooling friends who all live the next county over.

We found ourselves with extra time on our hands - and those hands were cold! - so a stop at the little cafe next to the Washington Memorial Chapel was in order. Little cups of hot cocoa (and a coffee for me!) helped to warm our hands and tummies for more outdoor play.

The arcades outside the chapel were the perfect place for preschool legs to run and hide, and Thomas approved of the acoustics inside the chapel as well. We had fun poking in and around different outbuildings near the chapel, although Peter and Lucy were disappointed that the doors were locked. ("I can climb in this window and unlock the door," Peter helpfully offered at one point. I was sorely tempted to let him.)

During our visit, I couldn't help but think how surreal it was that we were there. The children, sheltered from the world of war and conflict as they are, didn't know the context for their chosen playthings. Giant cannons? Or fun stick rides? Missile-shaped fence posts? Or rocket ships to outer space?

In fact, the kids are so sheltered from adult ideas of violence* that 90 percent of their understanding of soldiers come from the Easter story, in which soldiers are clearly the villains and, accordingly, bad hats.**

Is there a good way to teach these lessons? I try to be careful about what I say, erring on the side of not saying anything at all rather than saying too much. For example: to say that we have soldiers "to protect us" begs the question, "from whom? and from what?" My efforts this day were simply to suggest that soldiers are helpers, like police officers and fire fighters, but that some soldiers are more helpful than others.

We ended our day in pretty typical fashion: the kids constructed some sort of vehicle with found materials (in this case, several large pieces of gutter). When they began dismantling a nearby bathroom, I called it a day. We offered a few prayers for the dead buried around us, put the gutters back in their pile, and headed for the car.

*But not child ideas of violence. Oh, no. Come any day to see a remarkable range of head-bonking, biting, and other instruments of sibling hysteria.

**Really, 90 percent of their understanding of violence comes from religion. With David and Goliath, the Good Samaritan, the Crucifixion, Joseph being tossed in the hole and sold by his brothers, there's more than enough cruelty to go around. In a similar fashion, much of their understanding of charity comes from religion too. Sounds nice, right? Except that to understand charity, they need to understand poverty, and, thus, we've managed to inculcate the children into a cult of violence and poverty. Who is this God who hurts people and makes them hungry?

Friday, post-bath

After our visit to the chicken farm and Valley Forge, a pre-dinner bath was in order.

These ridiculous outfits were not in order, but were sported.

The kids wanted skirts to twirl. Even Thomas got in on the game, picking out a black velvet dress.

We went out to dinner like this - out to a restaurant! - later in the evening. Yes, just like this. Even Peter in his pink-tights, too-small-Eagles-dress, bloomered-self.

Why yes, we're used to getting stared at while we're out. Why do you ask? At least it's for our costumes, and not, say, the fact that two of the children are standing atop the table and screaming for MORE CHICKEN. (That doesn't happen, anyway. Well, not often.)

Also of note in this picture:

- this is pretty much what our crib is used for: a climbing apparatus and a baby cage.
- Thomas's lovely rainbow nameplate was made for him by the kids' bestest friends. It's often pointed to with one of two reactions: "I love Matthew, Anna and Sophia!" and "Why does Thomas have something special and I don't." Oh, those kids.

feast of Saint Martin

The our celebration of the Feast of Saint Martin has something for the whole family: swords, fire, and cinnamon bread to share with our neighbors.

The day before the feast, we made lanterns from mason jars and tissue paper. It was easy enough, but did result in a tissue paper explosion all over the office, to say nothing of the glue. Luckily, no toddlers were decoupaged in the process, which always is a threat.

We decorated little Saint Martins to add to our prayer table, soldiers with cloaks large enough to cut in half, and a sword to do the cutting. I'm surprised no one lost an eye with all of the running-with-Saint-Martin that occurred that day, his toothpick sword posed at an menacing angle. Also, I should add, Saint Martin would show up in the most random of places: the bathroom, the play kitchen, the bathroom...did I mention the bathroom? I wonder if he's the patron saint of small bladders.

Later in the day, we made a no-knead whole wheat bread, to which we added gobs of cinnamon and a handful of raisins.

Once the bread had baked, and the sun had set, we took our still-warm bread from the oven and marched around our little circle, lanterns lit, singing "This Little Light of Mine" and knocking on our neighbors' doors to hand out bread.

Not at all part of our traditional celebration, but completely appropriate nonetheless, we also put glowsticks in balloons and had a dark-bedroom-dance-party.

In talking about this holiday, I told the children something along the lines of, "when you do something kind for others, it makes your heart light up." I can hear myself saying it, for sure, but didn't really remember saying it. It's been repeated back to me a few times since, a good lesson for the kids and for me. The kids: be kind! Me: watch what you say - those little pitchers have big ears, even when you think they're to preoccupied with permanent markers and hot glue guns to be listening.

Frog Hollow Farm

Our homeschool group recently visited a small chicken farm to learn more about chickens, eggs, and all of the animals that work at the farm. Despite the cold weather - it was the first day that it was cold outside, and with a brisk wind to boot - it was a lovely trip.

A highlight of the trip for the kids was the chance to pull an egg right from a nest. I'm probably embellishing my memory, but I feel like they reached under a hen to do this. (Typing these words, I know that this is fabrication. Yet, in my mind, Lucy stuck her hand under a hen. I can see it, despite the fact that (a) it didn't happen and (b) Lucy wouldn't put her hand anywhere near a hen's beak, still carrying "chicken biting my finger" on her list of wrongs.)

The kids walked around with eggs in their hands for the rest of the trip, which just goes to show what an engineering marvel these eggs are. Alas, the shells were no match for a little boy who loved his egg to pieces, or, more accurately, to a gloppy mess on his carseat on the drive home. At least this was an egg: my honest-to-God first thought was, "someone should have used a tissue!"

We still talk about our visit to the farm: how we should get some guinea hens (to eat ticks), some goats (to eat poison ivy), and some worker dogs (to work). A recent recurring conversation has been our family's need to buy a farm, to live and work there, so that Kevin never needs to go away to work and that we could all just be together all day long. Right now, my children's most salient goal is to eek out a subsistence lifestyle so that we could all just be together, engaged in meaningful work, all the days of our lives.

(If our lifestyle were half as nice as that at Frog Hollow Farm, it wouldn't be "subsistence" by any stretch of the imagination. Holy cow, was that place nice.)

a photo, worth a thousand words

Do you see this photo, a gem taken by Miss Lucy? Look past my mud-smeared pants and chopped-off head and see the two little boys climbing up the birdhouse. This was almost two weeks ago, the Monday I'd thought we'd visit Winterthur but then forgot that it was closed on Mondays. (Or, rather, I learned at the security gate that it's closed on Mondays. I suppose it's not truly "forgetting" if you never knew to begin with, right?)

Our days mostly are like this picture: fun, happy chaos. Not nearly enough supervision and way too much mischief. Little children who constantly need more and a mama who may not have more to give.

I miss writing about our days. When I skip a day (or fourteen), so many moments get lost. I remember the "we went here, we went there, it was fun, cookies!" parts, but what about the one-line asides from Lucy? Or the observations from Peter? Or the new skills from Thomas?

Here's a moment from our day, right now: Lucy and Thomas are awake. Awake! These children are asleep by 7, yet here the two youngest are awake and, by all accounts, rearing to go. Our fun Thanksgiving holiday and a vicious cold virus are to blame. Lucy woke all happiness and pure cheer, with bright pink cheeks and funny insights about her current state (including "I didn't strech or yawn, I wasn't sleepy in my bed," and "my pillow was HOT"). Thomas woke just a bit later - you know, his usual 8:30 wake-up time - and when he heard Lucy in the next room, he wanted only to be with her. They love one another so much. I just wish they'd love sleep half as much.

complete and total mystery

I cannot explain why the kids will eat chili by the bowlful - cheering while it's being made, asking for seconds and thirds. It defies all logic and reason, since:

(a) it contains tomatoes, which are deemed "spicy"
(b) it contains truly spicy spices, like red pepper flakes and chili powder, which usually are OK, but cause some anxiety (will it be too spicy?)
(c) neither of these two ingredients are in any way hidden; often, the kids aid in adding them to the pot.

I have two hypotheses, one of which is that we recently ate chili with our neighbors, and Peter and Lucy noted that Samuel and Penelope loved their chili. Gotta love positive peer pressure! Also, I imagine it helps that we serve the chili in a top-it-yourself manner, with rice and cheese and spoons for scooping it all in, all by yourself.

Whatever the reason, I'm not complaining. It's cheap and nutritious and with the main ingredients in our freezer (cooked-in-bulk and frozen beans and rice), it takes about thirty minutes, twenty-nine of which are reading books with the kids. (Or, if it's a day like today, shoveling chocolate chips in my mouth while watching each. minute. tick. by. until Kevin comes home.)

why we are going to be sick all winter long

I'm surprised we didn't see you there, too: the day everyone in South Jersey went to the children's musem

So, I made the mistake of taking the kids to the Garden State Discovery Museum the week the school kids were off for the New Jersey teacher's convention. It's just that Peter and Lucy have been asking for so long to go to the museum, and how many times can I say no? With a rainy day in the works, I finally said yes.

Holy cow. Total chaos. Not only was the museum so crowded, it was crowded with big kids.

At one point, we escaped to the outdoor garden, despite the cooler weather and the threat of rain. I needed to be in a place where the kids could wander more than two feet away without the danger of being trampled and/or lost, and they needed to be in a place where we could speak to one another without shouting. (Later that night, while talking to Kevin about our day, he asked if I was feeling OK. "You're voice sounds like you have a cold," he commented. "No, I'm just losing my voice because I had to SHOUT ALL DAY LONG so that the kids could HEAR ME TALKING TO THEM.")

The outdoors worked its magic. It always does. We had some breathing space and freedom, a few fun games of hide-and-seek, and a cache of rolly-polly bugs hiding under a rock. It was, as Lucy said, "amazing!"

 

  

 

The museum still was crowded when we came back, but it was more manageable. The kids decorated cupcakes, visited the farm, blew giant bubbles and tried to be eaten by lions. They had their faces painted, jumped in the ball pit, and used the giant Light Bright board. They manned the news desk, danced on the dress-up stage, and climbed the climbing wall.

It's no Please Touch Museum, and I'm still really disappointed that the PTM is off our rotation for now. (Until Christmas, if we're lucky. Hint, hint!) But: the kids have a great time every visit.

(Here's where Kevin would remind me that they'd have a great time playing outdoors in the mud. Yes, this is true. But then would you get to see the dance party?)

a day at the mill

 

We took preschool to a nearby historic mill after hearing friends tell of finding tadpoles! in the pond. It fit well with our forest studies, and with the warm weather, who needed a better excuse for getting outside?

Thomas napped peacefully in the car while the kids worked on their preschool journals and projects. They love working outside, even if it does mean little bits of paper end up scattered about the grass and pencils get lost to the pond. (That didn't happen to us. No, not us.)

When Thomas woke, Peter and Lucy showed him the highlights of the small area we'd been able to explore while sticking close to the car. Ducks! Fish! Water! ("Quack, quack, that!" Thomas was heard saying. He was amazed at the ducks, probably wanting to eat one.)

   
stuck in the mud! lost shoes!

  
(clean, for now, and making a few business deals)

 

Then, we hiked out, with a change of clothes and the promise of getting wet. The kids were so excited to dip their feet into the creek, until they discovered the thick, slimy mud that covered the banks of the creek. They sank to their knees, lost a shoe or two, and felt properly trapped.

So, we changed and found the lily pond, where the last of the year's tadpoles lived, along with so many snails, a few little fish, and more than enough algae to keep these kids entertained. Also entertaining: a hawk which flew just three feet over head (and Thomas's new word, "bird!"), the old train tracks, and the historic outbuildings.

Thomas fell in the pond, of course. It happened so late in our trip I dared to think perhaps he'd escape away from the mill without going head-over-heels into the murky pond. At least he didn't fall into the rushing waters of the waterfall.

not our first (or second) choice, but probably the best one

Lately, Peter and Lucy have been vocal about playing with certain friends. They've made it clear who they prefer, and it came as no surprise that Matthew, Anna and Sophia are at the top of the list. With a beautiful afternoon on the horizon, we made plans with our dear friends to see the men flying their radio-controlled airplanes at Valley Forge.

Except: the men weren't flying.

Plan 2: seeing the small aircraft at a local airfield.

Except: the runways were under construction.

Plan 3 became the nearby Morris Arboretum. There weren't airplanes to be found (except for the ones Miss Alicia brought in her bag of fun things that fly), but there was water, obliging climbing trees, and a crab apple grill.

(What? You've never heard of a crab apple grill? Must be a preschool thing.)

The kids dipped their toes in the cold, cold creek, and later dipped their hands in a gurgling fountain. Thomas, on the other hand, tumbled into the gurgling fountain, which was deeper than it appeared. He was drenched! And he cried! because I dared take him out of the water. He'd finally achieved that total immersion experience he'd been attempting all afternoon.

We tested the boundaries of the Arboretum's rules on this trip: playing in the water, picnicking in the gazebo, tumbling at breakneck speed down the hill, and climbing trees. When you get a sunny day in the 70s during the first week of November, I think most rules are off. Like Frederick the mouse, I'm trying to save up these warm, sunny days for when February arrives.

zoo trip (restarted)

Thomas is really into the animals; his favorites are the
ones he can see and that are moving; this dwarf mongoose
entertained him for toddler hours! (you know, about 10 minutes)

We had a trip to the zoo last week, a day in which I think every school in the area visited, too. The weather was nice, but man it was crowded! Too crowded. Not-fun crowded. Screaming-to-be-heard crowded. Shoved-against-the-wall crowded. You get the picture, right?

curious about the silverback gorilla; not so much when he came closer

At some point we decided to take a break, ride some rides, have a snack and just let the school kids finish their visit so we could start ours.

It was around this time that I deleted all the pictures on my memory card. I'd not uploaded some (lost, forever, are the pictures from Miss Alicia's tie dye party...), and erased the ones from our zoo trip thus far. It was one more frustration atop a series of others (too-late bathroom visits; stubborn toddlers; water bottles dumped on my pants; lunches lost to the wandering Canada geese).

At this point I decided: OK. It's just time to go home. And we started to leave, a furious pace to the entrance. The kids were disappointed, I was frustrated, Thomas was...well, he was happy. And giggling. It wasn't his fault there were so many visitors, or that mama was cranky, or that his brother and sister are still learning the finer parts of how their bladders work. Why not visit one more animal, just for him?

So we had another change of plans. The tide had turned: the crowds left, the kids moods improved, my pants dried, and we were able to enjoy a few quiet, special moments at the zoo.

learning why they call them "pit vipers"

Lucy and Thomas fell asleep, a rare occurrence, and Peter and I took advantage of their napping to have a little mama-boy exploration time. He had the time to play "I wonder" games and I had the time to answer. He had the time to poke around non-animal parts of the zoo (like the rock panning exhibit), and I had time to let him. These alone times are so special and make me just a little jealous of the mamas who can give their little one just exactly the attention he needs, without being on high alert for the needs of the others.

 

Halloween!

This year's Halloween was so sweet - and that's before the candy came into play! I'm loving this age where the smallest of celebrations are enough to make the kids giddy with joy.

The night before Halloween, Kevin and I decorated the downstairs. Peter and Lucy love it when we do this sort of thing (decorate, move furniture around, swap out toys), and we can always get them downstairs in a cheerful mood by saying, "oh, I wonder what will be different downstairs this morning?"

We filled our day with Halloweenish activities: making pumpkin pudding, decorating wooden shapes, letting the baby play with a Sharpie...you know: stuff to make the time pass until our parties started.

Yes, parties. Our playgroup friends invited us to a Halloween party, so into our costumes and the car we went, all the way to Colin, Quinn and Rhys's house, where Miss Carol set up a spooky room (blacklights and cobwebs, oh my!), and we made magic potions, masks, and ate cookies. Peter and Lucy had fun; Thomas, not so much. He was properly freaked out by the spooky room when we arrived and never recovered.

Later, we came back home, where we had our own Halloween gathering with our neighbors. We decorated pumpkins, played silly games, ate a potluck dinner, and roasted marshmallows for smores.

And we trick-or-treated our neighborhood, or the six of the eight houses of our cul-de-sac. There were just enough doors to knock on and just enough candy to fill our little treat bags. By the end of the evening, even Thomas was shouting "trick or treat!" and trying to barge into our neighbors' houses. Plus, there were other joys, including: knocking on our own door and knocking on the Chicken Man's door* and having him open the door and give us candy!

There are moments in a parent's day where the job is just not fun: screaming kids, poop everywhere, dinner that needs to be made, laundry again!?!?! But this Halloween business? Totally worth it. I'd take a pile of laundry and the screaming kids and babies running around with scissors any day for the one day of the year where the kids run from door to door with their friends, giggling and costumed and having so much fun.

*One of our neighbors, for whatever reason, is called "the Chicken Man." When asked why, the kids will only reply "because he's the Chicken Man!" It may have something to do with Col. Sanders, whose face they point to when we drive past on our way to I-95 with cries of "the CHICKEN MAN!" They've been doing this for years. How do they know? It's spooky.

They also, I should point out, giggle whenever they see him because "he has a smooth head," and may or may not have called him Chicken Man to his face.

candle making

Our home school friends hosted a candle-making date, where the little ones could roll and decorate beeswax candles.

Peter and Lucy enjoyed making the candles - it was just difficult enough to be challenging, just creative enough to be rewarding - but what they really enjoyed was playing outside with their friends. A wagon, a pogo stick, and a swing set are good fun no matter what the situation.

 

Later, we lit our candles at dinner time. They sweetly glowed and it was one of the best dinners we'd had in a while. If for the fact that Thomas wanted to hold the candle in his hands (specifically: to hold the fire), I'd do it every night.

Also, you can see some of the cool t-shirts we decorated at Miss Alicia's house during her tie-dye party. I deleted those photos by mistake. Argh (fist raised in air)!

screaming contest: or, why our neighbors *love* us

matchy-matchy kids at play

I really had to resist the urge to pile them up and make them smile for a photo with the lovely fall trees behind them.

This was our last good afternoon of outside play, before Daylight Saving Time ended and it's dark at 5 p.m. I'm not sure what's worse: dark at 5 p.m. or dark at 8 a.m. I'll let you know in December, when it's both.

little baby pyromaniac

These third babies are quick learners. It also helps if you do things like, say, let them play with matches. I'm sure we'd not have done this with Peter.

We joke with some truth that Thomas has the strongest will of all the Davis-Ross children. But is that because he is strong of will? Or because we've given him an environment in which we acquiesce to his will more quickly, all in the name of survival and peaceful dinners?

Saturday workday

Kevin worked on Saturday. He almost never does, but when it happens we don't tell the kids. Why bother? It would just garner grumpiness and a sense of "it's not FAIR!" (And it's not. But, jobs need to be done, and as far as jobs go, Kevin's is more than flexible enough to accommodate our family needs.)

It was odd, though, this sense that it was the weekend and therefore one of my "days of" but also not the weekend and not a day off. And what's a day off anyway, with these three guys?

We filled it with a trip to the library book and bake sale (and a huge bag of books for our homeschool library, all for $5!), a stop at the Co-op for lunch, and some apple-eating and hay-tossing at the Swarthmore Real Food Festival at the farmer's market.

I will say I was so happy when Kevin arrived home, even if our day had been easy and fun and fast. It's always nicer with him around.

the Franklin Institute in 90 minutes or less

It's a funny story, that of yesterday's visit to the Franklin Institute. It wasn't on our agenda, but suddenly we found ourselves feeding the meter and walking inside*

I tried to prepare the kids for a quick trip by reminding them early and often that we didn't really have that much time. But what's "time" to a preschooler? I've probably done more to damage their sense of the passage of time with my calls of  "five more minutes until we leave!" that extend to half an hour or longer.

We did have a limited time budget. Parking at the meter is a cheap alternative to the garage, provided we don't get a parking ticket. There were a few exhibits in the museum that Peter and Lucy really wanted to see, and I knew if we made it to those (the giant heart, the train) we'd have enough time to spare.

Except.

You know how it is with these kids. There's the bathroom stops. And the elevator buttons to push. And the funny statue of Benjamin Franklin to run around. And snacks to eat. And did I mention bathroom stops?

When we returned to our car - me, slightly frazzled, having to shepherd Lucy from the middle of the crosswalk and spotting the "ticket man" across the street - I asked the kids a few leading questions about our day, along the lines of "didn't we use our time in silly ways? instead of doing fun things?"

They were stumped. Peter gave me a classic, "huh?" Silly ways? What was I talking about?

Of course. Everything is fun to the preschool set. Snack time, bathroom time, elevator time...it's all the same as giant heart time, train time, electric shock time.

Lesson learned.

*For the record, the neighboring Academy of Natural Science was on our agenda, which is how we ended up in the neighborhood. It's once thing to be on the Ben Franklin Parkway and decide to pop in the Franklin Institute; it's another thing if you're hanging out on the banks of Crum Creek.

what you would have seen if you'd been driving on 676 this afternoon

You probably would have asked yourself, "where is that boy's mother?"

(She probably was keeping the toddler from jumping into traffic. Or sipping a latte.)

happy half birthday!

Peter's a kid who really needs "special things." There's something about his personality which thrives when given just a touch of special attention. It doesn't take much, and today it took a celebration of his half birthday.

And when Peter's "special thing" involves afternoon cupcakes on a gorgeous fall day? Lucy and Thomas aren't exactly complaining.

snow??

Thomas is slightly freaked out by the snow and his mama is slightly
freaked out by the people who *still* insist there's no global warming.

It snowed! For real! When it started coming down, I sent the kids outside to see it, and as they were getting bundled up Lucy reminded me that we need to make hot chocolate.

So we did.

It snowed April 1 and again October 29. I'm pretty sure that's some kind of record for late/early snowfall in this area.

who needs a trampoline?

surprising: no one was hurt
not surprising: Thomas tried to get in on the fun

cousin Halloween photo: it's the thought that counts

(this year, it's all outtakes, no real photos)

this would have been OK except that Peter assumed the job of holding
Thomas, and Thomas didn't like the idea of being eaten by his own shark costume

and while Thomas mounts his escape, Lucy tumbles behind Maelynn,
in what I think is an attempt to wrangle her

fall walk

We didn't mean to spend 4 hours in the woods yesterday, but these things just kind of happen.

We did mean to hike down to the creek since we're talking about the forest. Plus, I had a few walnut candle boats for us to launch in celebration of All Saint's Day and in memory of my mother.*

But it's easy to lose track of time when you keep finding interesting things: giant holes where trees once stood; wild onions to taste; a new crop of skunk cabbage stinking up the joint; sandy beaches and shells from the summer's overflowing creek; commuter trains passing by the train trestle; and a sunny field where I could sit and watch all three children happily play 50 yards away.

The play was really so sweet to see, a game of pretending to be Connor and Matt and Baby Emily (their cousins), heading to school and to soccer and to the birthday party. There were no toys but no matter: sticks and rocks stepped in to be dogs, prizes, "school things."

We couldn't do it everyday, to be sure, as part of the magic of the day was in its novelty. But on sunny days like these, I find myself thinking about February and wanting to capture all of the warmth and outdoor time while I can.

*Also, I had the misguided notion that there was a cemetery along the walk, and thought it would be cool to do some rubbings of the gravestones. No cemetery. Possible druid site, though. There are some interesting stone configurations that are not natural.

the beach in October!

Preschool friends invited us to hit the beach last week, and how could we say no? It was a perfect day from start to finish, even if that start-to-finish was 16 hours and included 5 hours at the beach, 4 hours in the car, 30 minutes of crying-in-the-car baby toddler, and lots of nakedness.

It didn't include: hypothermia, broken limbs, driving off the road, and a Complete And Total Meltdown to end the day. These all were possibilities.

We started our day on the beach by climbing 217 (?) step to the top of the lighthouse.* I'd imagine it's a lot easier if you're not carrying two children, but I couldn't make it to the top otherwise. The view from the top was beautiful, the walk down a little nerve-wracking, and my legs were shaking for about thirty minutes after from the effort.

Then we walked out the jetty toward the beach. We'd hoped to check out tidepools from the high tide, but we were just a little late for those. No matter! We still found all sorts of interesting nature to explore, including tiny crabs and a sea star.

When we reached the beach, we discovered even more wildlife: rays, horseshoe crabs, and birds. Oh, and shells. So many shells! I packed my bag with as many as I could carry, with plans of making Christmas presents and clamshell mobiles.

The real attraction of the beach is the water, and even though I'd prepared Peter and Lucy that we may not be able to go in the ocean (it being October 26 and all), the day turned out to be surprisingly warm and accommodating. We did not, in fact, need the winter hats and sweaters I'd packed. Instead, the kids got as naked as they wished and splashed in the water.

I was nervous about our walk back to the car, but it wasn't as bad as I feared. Yes, there was dawdling on the 3/4 mile (more or less, probably less, felt like more) walk. Oh! and a screaming Thomas, who was displeased with the poop in his diaper. Peter took the opportunity to walk the large rocks, which was impressive but also a little nerve-wracking. I kept expecting to turn my head and find him stuck in a crevasse or floating in the ocean.

Later, we enjoyed more time in the water (is there ever enough?), dinner with friends, and the dark drive home through the Pine Barrens.

*Actually, we started the adventure part of our day with a stop at Whole Foods to pick up some food. Since we arrived as the store opened, the kids were able to each push one of the kid-sized shopping carts. Total highlight! They did a good job, too: no knocked-over displays, no downed pedestrians.