Family Davis-Ross

rejoice! a Christmas Tree

We put up our Christmas tree the third week of Advent to mark Gaudete Sunday (or, as Lucy likes to say "PINK WEEK!"). We assemble the tree and flip on the lights to remind us that we're so much closer to the birth of Jesus. Also, it gives us a little time to be in Advent before we rush full-force into Christmas.*

Some FDR tree-trimming traditions: hot cocoa, breaking ornaments both special and not, and the petering out of the kids, sometime after the hot cocoa wears off and the thirtieth ornament is hung.

We try very hard to make this a fun event. With three small ones, it can be stressful: the excitement! the hanging! the fragile ornaments! To this end, we really don't care how the tree looks when we're finished, except that it won't fall over, and that the fragile ornaments are out of the toddler terror's grasp.

This year, Peter found some ribbon and decided to string it on the tree. Why not? And earlier this week, Peter and Lucy lamented our white lights and wished we had colored ones. I wanted to explain that we were lucky the $30 artificial tree came with lights, but before I could they'd improvised their own solution.

Crayons? Nope. Pastels? Nope. With a drag of a chair and a peek in the up-high-art-suppy-box, Peter found the perfect implement: "permenick" markers.

Our tree now sports a dozen or so purple, green, and blue bulbs.

As the kids colored in the tree, I commented to Kevin that this was an argument against nice things, but in the opposite direction. Usually, we groan "and that's why we don't have nice things!" when the kids are jumping to the ceiling on the futon or hanging off of the blinds like monkeys. But in this case, with the lights and the markers, our not-so-nice tree was the happy beneficiary of Peter's problem solving and creativity. By surrounding ourselves with old, second-hand, and bedraggled items, we free ourselves from nurturing our stuff and instead nurture our children.

(This is all well and good, and I honestly believe it, but if I find one more scissor snip in a blanket, play silk, or piece of upholstery, my head may explode!)

*Although I do have to say that after this year, it's going to be harder and harder not to go right into Christmas once Thanksgiving passes. The kids - and Kevin and I! - have been so excited about our special activities, decorations, and projects.

trains, trains, and mac and cheese

We headed into Center City last week with our friends to check out the train display at Reading Terminal Market and to eat some mac and cheese.

The trip highlighted, yet again, just how much older the kids are now. Simple things that make a trip to the city so much easier: being able to climb stairs quickly and easily, for example. Navigating crowded market traffic. Staying off of the yellow warning track at the train platform. Being able to roll with the punches when the architecture toy exhibit is closed, or the chicken still is in the fryer and we have to wait for lunch.

And in case I'd forget just how much easier 4 and 3 can be, I have Thomas to remind me. Thomas, the wild man of Reading Terminal, had decided by lunch time that all of this "being held" and "sitting in one place" business was not for him. The remedy? Running crazy. He was captured, contained, screamed for a few minutes, and then fell asleep. It turns out, part of the running of the crazies was the skipping of the morning nap.

not a good picture, but you get the idea...

Other things to remember: the kids running up the steps at Market East, faster than we could keep up with them, only to stop at the top of the stairs when spying homeless men sleeping. "Shhh! Them sleeping!" Lucy told me.

Also: the kids marching through Reading Terminal, on the hunt for Philbert the Pig, maps in hand. "Philbert! Philbert!"

how's this for self-help?

When Thomas wakes at night, he'll do one of two things. He'll either sit up in bed and cry and cry, or he'll get out of bed, open the door, and stumble into the brightness of the office. He's unsteady on his feet and blinking because of the lights. His blond hair is a total mess. He toddles to where he knows I am, a steady beat of "mamamamamamama" on his lips.

I love it. Yes, I wish he would sleep. But man, is it cute to see him come get me.

like the big kids

it's not winter (yet)

No walk to our backyard creek ever begins with the expectation of getting wet. For all of our going-out-and-getting-wet activities, Crum Creek has remained off limits.* Thomas currently is trying my limits on this rule, though, with his love of all things water and his inability to understand why this water isn't OK for splashing.

The trail along the creek is prone to flooding, however, and it's not uncommon for giant puddles to remain for a week or so after any rain.

On a Saturday, while Kevin was getting ready to give his students their final, the kids and I kept ourselves busy by walking down to throw rocks in the creek. As you can imagine, this is a popular activity, and the choice throwing rocks at our choice throwing spot have been thrown out. In searching for more rocks, Peter discovered "a new path!"**

This path led straight to a huuuge puddle. And while Peter was happy to walk ahead, looking for poisonous black fungus, and Lucy was filling her arms with rocks, Thomas ran straight for the puddle.

After a few minutes of splashing with six sets of small sneakers (and one profound "plop!" of a round little bottom), we ran inside to warm icy feet with a toasty bath.

*Accidental tumbles in the water excepted.

**That's been there the entire time and that we walked several times last winter. Yep, he found this path just like Columbus found the West Indies.

change of plans

We'd stopped by the farm to pick up poinsettias (to celebrate Our Lady of Guadalupe; Advent is chock-a-block full of some fun feast days!). Our next stop was the playground, but we found it closed. A little snooping revealed the reason: men were trimming one of the large trees inside. After watching the men with their harnesses and chainsaws for a while,* we relocated  to another park, where we revisited the words to "Helter Skelter" and the kids slid their seats off.

* We also had some great discussions, like "what would happen if that man fell out of the tree? would he cry? do men like that cry?" The "man" in question was about forty feet in the air and holding a chainsaw. It was interesting how the kids navigated their own fear of what this man was doing (being so high, hanging from a harness, using a chainsaw) with what they know of "adult" behavior (not crying so very often).

these two are taken care of...now let's find that toddler

All she needs is a starting off push, and Lucy can pump! She and Peter are now swing-independent! (Really, there's a chorus of angels and a bunch of coronets blasting over here...can't you hear them?)

I'd become to accustomed to pushing 30 pounds of kid that when I went to push Thomas the other day, I nearly sent him over the swing. He giggled, of course, and asked for more.

elfing for the Littles

Our homeschool group recently had a kids elfing event, in which the little ones could make gifts for family and friends. The crafts still required some guidance (measuring ingredients for cookie jars or tying knots on the greenery centerpieces, for example), but with ample opportunity to smear glitter, stuff bean bags, and decorate labels, the kids really had a chance to make gifts themselves.

It's at events like this where I sometimes look at mamas with one kid with some envy. It would have been such a fun luxury to sit with Lucy and meticulously measure out the ingredients for the cookies, or to explore all of the different ways Peter could smear glitter on his pinecone.

As it is, I have to spread my attention over three children, all of whom need me so dearly, in three very different ways. Thus it is: attending to the emotional needs of one, while helping the other with her fine-motor skills, and keeping the third from plummeting head first into the toilet.

But we never want for company or a playmate, which is a relief at the end of a long day, in which I just can't muster the enthusiasm for yet another round of "going to the soccer game with Connor and Matt!" Lucky for me, Baby Emily's ready to hop in the car and kick the ball, too.

gingerbread party!

Like cinnamon and fragrant cane, like precious myrrh I gave forth perfume (Sirach, 24:15)

We celebrated the Feast of the Immaculate Conception of Mary a few ways this year. In talking about the feast itself, why Mary was so special, and the challenges we not-so-immaculately conceived face, we talked about saying "yes" and "no" to God. Luckily, the kids' favorite Bible stories are those of man snubbing God: Adam and Eve, Jonah and the whale, and the ten plagues in Egypt. We had more than enough material to show just what happens when you dare tell God no. (Although I do think the kids would love a plague of frogs.)

We also invited our friends over to decorate gingerbread people. It's the third year we've made gingerbread for this feast, inspired by a reference to Mary in which she smells like cinnamon, fragrant cane, and myrrh. Even if Saint Mary didn't smell so delicious, we'd jump at the chance to partake of a holiday staple.

As the kids decorated their cookies, I realized how celebrating these traditions as we do, year after year, marks the passing of time so clearly. This year, I saw how all of the kids could go it alone - from frosting to decorating - with no help needed. To be more specific: there was frosting and decorating of cookies without an explosion of sugar, sprinkles, and other decorative treats all over the kids and the dining room.

(Well, this one was a frosting explosion, a happy recipient of Matthew's green cookie.)

Perhaps next year we will find a way to avoid the major sugar crazies following such an event. Also, I might try to eat only one gigantic gingerbread man for breakfast the next day. (Instead of, you know, three.)

this is the kind of stuff that happens with third children, but not ever with first children, because maybe we've given up a little bit

the Feast of Saint Lucy

We celebrated the Feast of Saint Lucy this week, with our Lucy taking center stage. (Overheard from their bedroom: "no yelling on my special day, OK Peter?")

I gave Lucy the option of fake candles or "real candles that will really be on fire on top of your head, dripping wax onto your head." She may have thought about it for a moment (in the context of: why is this even an option?) before choosing the fake candles.

Peter and Thomas were her star boys, although I do have to say Thomas gave a lackluster performance at best, refusing to both wear his hat and hold his star wand and pose for pictures.

Lucy and Peter made and served us cinnamon rolls, which, truthfully, is probably why we celebrate this feast.* In a few years, I fully expect Lucy to rise before us and surprise us with the sweet scent of cinnamon as she brings us breakfast in bed. Next year, right Lullabear?**

*No, it's not. Well, maybe 40 percent of why we do it.
**Today I was told that Lucy likes to be called "Lucy" or "Lullabear," but not: Luce, Lu, Lulu, LucyLu, LucyLulu, or Lucy Clare. The jury is out on: Lula, Lulabee.

family time

see how easily the family portrait encompasses a fourth child? 

Our Thanksgiving was so very sweet this year, made especially so by a little extra time with Kevin and getting to see baby Lilly again. She proved to us that, yet again, the Davis-Ross children would be A-OK with another little one in our family.*

Kevin's saying "down boy!" to Thomas,
who really adores all babies.
(Our neighbor Quinten is lucky to still have both eyes.)

Oh yes, Lilly came with her mama and papa and guard dogs. We enjoyed their company, too. We also got to spend some good time with Maelynn, which always pleases Lucy. She really would like a little sister, I think.

I'm such a fan of the non-stress holidays. Certainly, having Grammy and Aunt Jen cook Thanksgiving dinner for us helps alleviate much of the stress. But simply being together, as a family, enjoying one another's company is really what makes the holiday for me. By sharing an extended vsiit with Jason and Jen and Bridget and Sean, it really felt like a time apart from our normal lives - just as a holiday should.

*But after hearing homeschool mamas talk about a woman whose uterus fell out FOR REAL, I might not be so OK with it.

Oh Christmas Tree

It didn't take much convincing, but the kids talked us into getting a small real tree this year. We've not ever had a real tree, since we've spent every Christmas traveling to visit family.

I suppose we walked into this real tree business, visiting our local farm in its "cut your own tree! or buy one of ours!" glory. I'm not even sure why we were at the farm that day, except perhaps because Kevin needed popcorn and we needed apples.

We poked around the cut trees. The kids made some interesting selections at first - a 12 foot tree, for example. Or a $200 tree. Not any of the trees in the big lot would fit in our house or our budget, and most broke both.

We loitered, as curious preschoolers do, by the tree wrapping machine, watching trees get pushed in and bundled up. After being asked for the seventh? eighth? time if we needed help (for why else would we be standing around?), I finally asked if there were any tiny trees. I figured tiny trees would be cheap, right?

Thus, we were pointed to the "Charlie Brown lot" where Peter proceeded to pick out the tiniest of all of the tiny trees. At $10, we were sold. I promised the kids we'd return with Kevin, as picking out a Christmas tree ought to be a family affair. Then, the tree lot manager pointed us in the direction of a bonfire and marshmallows for roasting.

(Can I tell you that Thomas is a natural? He's seen this done twice before - at Halloween, and at our last CSA pick-up. This day, he showed zero hesitation, shoved a marshmallow on his stick, and the stick in the general direction of the fire. By the looks of it, he also stuck the stick in some dirt. Yum, yum, fiber!)

Even though the kids are getting older, Lucy especially needs an afternoon nap if we're planning any kind of evening outing.* So naps it was! The kids wake up all kinds of insane from their naps, so I really don't encourage this kind of behavior, but it did afford a little one-on-one play time with Thomas. You didn't think all three children napped at once, did you?

We picked out our tree with Kevin, the same one Peter had picked out the day before. And we revisited the marshmallow bonfire, only to find it out of marshmallows. Thomas, who understands so much, didn't quite understand the concept of the empty bag. Over and over he brought it to me, asking me for a marshmallow.

The tree was so small we threw it in the back of our van, no need to tie it on the roof rack. The kids put it in their bedroom and decorated it the next morning, a flurry of kid-friendly ornaments on a slightly crooked tree. It's been up for over a week and I'm still surprised that only two ornaments have broken and that the tree's still standing.

*Just last week we tested the limits on this by driving after our early dinner to see a very decorated house. Lucy fell asleep before we arrived. She probably was asleep before we left campus, but it was so dark we couldn't tell.

why I never have cash, am almost always late, and carry my important cards in my back pocket

AKA: the kids are getting into my wallet again.

making it look easy (while losing my mind) (thoughts from almost 3 years ago)

I found this unpublished gem in a draft folder. It's from February, 2009. I'm pretty sure I didn't publish it because I was afraid to admit these not-so-nice emotions publicly. HA! How times have changed.

Also, how times have not changed. I still think these things, more or less. Especially the part about sleep. And a quiet minute. And chocolate. Oh yes, and chocolate.

At lunch today, a well-meaning mother told me that I made parenting two young children "look easy." I was flattered (it was the intent of her compliment, after all), but I had to think that it was such a sham.

In the interest of full disclosure, here's a list of some things I've actually thought, this week alone.

I wish I had only one child. (Depending on the time of day and children's attitudes, this varies between "only a toddler" and "only a baby."

I wish I could go to work everysingleday.

Why won't these @&$# kids sleep?

That's it. I'm out of here. See you later, suckers.

Maybe a slice of chocolate cake will make me feel better.

OH MY GOD WILL YOU PLEASE BE QUIET FOR JUST ONE MINUTE? PLEASE? PLEASE?

lunchtime

Longwood at night

 

Longwood Gardens gets all "bedazzled" (as Lucy would say) at Christmastime. We'd been meaning to go for two years, and with some balmy winter weather in the forecast (and a potential cross-country move ahead of us), we knew the time was finally right to visit Longwood's lights at night.

It was a mostly fun trip with a few real headaches. First, and I should have been more prepared for this: the darkness! The non-decorative (read: helpful) lights were turned off so to make the Christmas lights more beautiful. Yes, they were lovely. I didn't really notice, though, as I was trying to keep the kids from wandering off into the abyss.

Also, we should have abandoned the conservatory tour much sooner than we did. But what do you do with curious kids who want to see where the waterfalls are? Suffer through the humid tropical palm room in your winter coat, that's what.

And there was some generalized little kid behavior (running! shouting! touching lights!) that doesn't go over well with the more patrician visitors at the gardens.

The water light show made the trip worth it, though. The kids were rapt at the dancing water and changing lights and Christmas music. Thomas couldn't get enough - that is, until he realized that we weren't going to let him get any closer to the water than the wrought iron fence would allow, at which point he started dashing around like a crazy man.

 

happy Saint Nicholas Day!

Saint Nicholas Day is one of the ways we solve the "Santa problem" in our house. By celebrating it as we do, we talk about (a) who "Santa Claus" is, (b) that he was a real person, is in heaven, and does not come down to earth, and (c) that some people like to dress up like Santa and decorate with Santa to remind us of the kindness of the real person, and to inspire us to generosity.*

The kids are getting somewhat hip to the Santa ways, having read enough not-pre-screened books, listened to enough secular Christmas music, and having had enough encounters with the outside world to suss out some of the finer points of the Santa story that we omit. Like: getting presents. Also: coming down chimneys.

They're not at all versed in the finer points: the stuff about sitting on his lap and asking him for stuff, or that they could specifically ask for stuff for Christmas, or that he magically flies through the air with his reindeer dropping gifts all over the world.

But "Santa gives us stuff?" They kind of get that. Also, Lucy was a little confused when we celebrated the Feast of Saint Nicholas and referred to it a few times as Christmas.

It's not that Kevin and I want to strip the holiday of its magic for the kids. Believe me: there's more than enough magic to go around, with our without the myth of Santa Claus. But for us, right now, we're happy enough without it.**

For our celebration on December 6, the kids received some much-needed slippers, a few chocolate coins, a new Schleich animal, and a candy cane. All candy was consumed before breakfast, feet have remained warm and covered, and the new duck, fox, and badger have integrated themselves into our German toy menagerie quite nicely.

Very simple stuff, but so much fun.

*I should add that the kids have figured out their Poppy is a Santa-dresser. The conversation in the car that led to this conclusion was hilarious and full of that unique type of preschool reasoning that defies all logic. They're almost certain that Santa was Poppy, but are reserving judgment until they meet again. Sample conversation from the car:

Lucy: But Peter, Poppy went to the store!
Peter: But what if Poppy didn't go to the store, Lucy? What if he was playing a trick on us?

**Also happy enough without the weird big-brother threats of "Santa's watching, so you better be good!"

Thanksgiving walk

After church and before the madness of Thanksgiving dinner, we like to take a quiet walk and just be together. We share in the silent, unspoken thanks of all we have: one another, a beautiful college campus as our home, so many undeserved (but appreciated!) opportunities and blessings.

There's also lots of loud, spoken stuff. Sometimes it's happy, sometimes it's not. Such is life with three small children. We're thankful for that, too.

friends Thanksgiving

Our friends Matthew, Anna and Sophia invited us over for a Thanksgiving feast in the days before Thanksgiving.

I think the kids were confused about the "feast" part. Lunch was served when we arrived, but little was consumed in the excitement of being all together. Miss Alicia had creatively reinterpreted Thanksgiving classics for the preschool palate (sweet potato chips, for example), but it was no match for the fun of twelve children ready to play.

Later in the day, after we'd returned home, Peter asked, "but when are we going to have lunch?" "Lunch?" I replied. "It's almost time for dinner."

(Peter and Matthew plot an attack on Quinn, across the table)

The boys are starting to play more rough-and-tumble. It's part good fun and part serious aggression. I'll be glad when they can figure out just the right level of playful roughhousing. Until then, I'm considering carrying around a spray bottle of water to break up wrestling matches that start to get angry.

Lucy found a big box of dress-up jewelry and "bedazzled" herself. She's decided that Jazzy is one of her new best friends, thanks to their mutual love of getting decked out in sparkly glory.

And Thomas found himself the receiving end of much love and affection, as always. There's never quite enough Thomas to go around, especially since he's now moving under his own steam.

mission impossible: cousin photo

With an impressive lineup of children aged 4, 3, 2, 1, and 0, and a cute set of matchy-matchy clothes, how could a cousins photo not work out? (insert devious giggles here)

I really think our Christmas card next year will be simply a series of photos like this: the business of wrangling the littles. It's not easy, you know, sitting and staring at the camera. Why sit when you can wander? Why look at the camera when you can look at your awesome cousins? Why smile when you can stare (or glare) at the adults forcing you to stand on a blanket and smile when all you want to do is go out and play. And no, Aunt Amy, a few lollipops will NOT make the picture taking process easier.

and, my vote for best of the bunch (one of 3 pictures out of 500 in which they're all looking):

family trip: the zoo

Thanksgiving weekend we took a break from visiting with family and friends to spend a day together. It was much needed - we all had been just a little thrown from so much daytime traveling and car bedtimes over the course of the week.

The trip was unremarkable except: Lucy met a little girl, Lisa, at the petting zoo. This girl is now Lucy's friend. Lucy talks about her at least every other day. Lucy spent exactly three minutes with Lisa, and their entire relationship consisted of the "hi, what's your name?" conversation that three year olds are just learning to perfect.

Also noteworthy, both Lisa and her father ignored Peter, which resulted is some hurt feelings. I didn't quite know what to say when he asked, tears in his eyes, "why didn't they ask my name?" No answer seemed quite right: because you're a boy? because Lucy's wearing her ballerina costume today, and thus seems "special?" because Lucy's so darn cute? because they're rude? Luckily, a turn on the tractor seemed to distract him away from the momentary heartache of being ignored.

Our zoo trip of late have been especially fun since Thomas is all about the animals. (And the rides.) Even though we still stuff him in the stroller, he's graduated from rolly-polly baby to curious toddler. He doesn't get the trips that Peter or Lucy did at this age (in which we sit back in amazement as the kids explore their world), but he still gets the thrill of watching river otters swim or the gorillas eat lettuce.

things that happened before my camera fell in the water

We took my dad for a walk to the train trestle, trying to enjoy some beautiful fall weather and to run off some excited little kid energy.

This hike to the "train bridge" has quickly become a favorite for all the right reasons: it's a good length (neither too long nor too short), it affords many fun diversions along the way (such as tossing big sticks into the creek, or tossing big rocks into the creek, or tossing sand into the creek), and once at our destination, the kids can play in relative safety while waiting for the SEPTA to pass overhead.

With Grandpa, we tossed big sticks, climbed big hills covered in slippery fallen leaves, and made it to the train bridge.

Here, on this trip and always, we encounter our biggest problem: the water. Oh, the water. Who doesn't want to get into the water?* At the bridge, it's shallow and just perfect for splashing little feet. Alas, these little feet need to walk back to their home, and wet shoes do not a fun walk make. Also, maybe this is the mother in me talking, but it seems that splashing in the creek isn't the best choice when it's 50 degrees outside.

Anyway. Feet and bottoms went into the creek. Thomas quickly followed. I tried to accommodate him and - crash. That? The sound of my camera, butting a hundred times against the rocks, caught in the current of creek water.

While at the bridge we ran into two of the kids' friends, whose father grew up in the townhome we live in now. He pointed out a few features of the train trestle, including the screen which kept people from climbing up on the tracks (followed by a story of an armless high school classmate). On the way back to our house, we found a dessicated snake, which Peter carried on a stick back to his friends. I hope they were impressed and not grossed out.

(And then we had cheesesteaks. Because that's what you do when you're visiting Philadelphia.)

*Me, for one.

some subtle hints

The kids might want a dog. I can't really tell. What do you think?

Their campaign is effective in its sweetness, but loses points when they start to swing the dog around, his makeshift purple leash suddenly a lasso.

two down, one to go

We had TWO cameras crash and burn Thanksgiving week. First, the Saturday before Thanksgiving, one camera took a long splashing ride in the creek, having fallen out of my pocket while hiking to the train trestle  with my father. The second died a long, slow death at the hands of a technology-obsessed toddler and his older brother and sister. (And, blame where it belongs: his clumsy mama.)

Thank goodness for post-Thanksgiving sales and the new camera/early present that has been capturing our memories in the days following.

Kevin put down a strict "NO KIDS" rule, one better said than done.

Here, some illicit photos from the new camera, with commentary from their maker:

Lucy: "it's a cute one of Lucy, but a little ruined because she moved."

Mama: "your sweater is very pink."

Thomas: "I think I took a good one. He's so cute!"*

Self-portrait: "I took a picture of myself in the mirror. Wait. No I didn't. OK, here it is."

*I don't know what kind of mother this makes me, but really, all of these kid-photos of Thomas make him look sinister. When he grows up to become an ax murderer, you can point to these spooky photos and say, "yes, yes, I see it now."

here's to oral hygine

The kids are great about brushing their teeth, but who could have anticipated the tooth brushing frenzy that accompanied a recent delivery of toothpaste?

Really, this went on for at least twenty minutes.

Tom's of Maine, do you need a new ad campaign?

after all these visits, still no pets

We have a semi-Sunday routine that we pull out when our day doesn't call for big adventure. We eat lunch or breakfast (depending on the time of day and how hungry Kevin is), and then stop by the pet store.

I'm always kind of amazed that we don't leave with a pet. There have been moments when I think, "oh, but a kitten would solve that mouse problem!" Then again, I remember that a kitten would add its own problems to the mix. Plus, a pet store kitten? I'd never get over the guilt.

Perhaps because they know it's not in the picture for us now, the kids don't ever ask for a pet. Not seriously, at least. They ask for a pet ("maybe we should get a dog?" "how about a cat?") in the same way they talk about moving back to California or spending the night at Poppy and Grammy's house: a nice idea. In theory.

After all of our visits, however, I have to conclude that the pet we'd all most appreciate is a snake. Yes, a snake. However, Kevin just snorted disbelievingly at this assessment, so perhaps we're back to a rabbit. I know one little little boy who wouldn't mind, even though we may have an Of Mice and Men moment on our hands.

new member of the preschool table

Not by my choice, of course. But he wants to be with the kids learning, and he doesn't want to nap, and goodness knows I let Lucy do all manners of insane things when she was this age.

So here he is: in the thick of it. Actually, this was taken the day he couldn't stop climbing up on the table. Climbing has been an obsession of late:  the chairs onto the table, the tiny slide outside. If it goes straight up, he's there.

This week he's helped us string cranberries (mostly by eating cranberries, making a sour face, and spitting them out). He also decorated his stocking for Saint Nicholas Day and didn't eat that much fabric paint. Also, he ran off to the swing set with a full bottle of fabric dye when we tie-dyed shirts to celebrate the Feast of San Juan Diego.

Luckily for him, his mother (mostly) ascribes to the notion of nonacademic preschool, otherwise he'd be strapped into his high chair and forced to memorize flash cards. Instead, he can measure ingredients for claydough, make ornaments from cinnamon dough, splash watercolors around, and otherwise get down and dirty.

some updates

garlic + olive oil for the earache;
in the making of this remedy, Lucy ate a clove of raw garlic
(the vampires still stay away)

Peter had an ear infection last week. It made him both super sweet and super sad. In the evening, before dinner, he whimpered a bit about his ear and offered a spontaneous prayer: "God, please make my ear stop hurting. For all this we say, Amen." Luckily for him God - or the Ibuprofen I administered shortly after this heartbreaking prayer - intervened. He's a little young for the "why do bad things happen to good people?" discussion.

Lucy: 3 years, 4 months

Lucy, 5 months
She's thinking "Future Lucy did what now?"

We've been doing daily activities for Advent. One day's activity was to go through our bins of baby clothes to pare them down. With the prospect of another cross-country move on our horizon, I'm thinking hard about what to keep and what to donate. I thought this activity would be awesome fun for two kids who love looking at labels, clothes, and sorting. It turns out, they like these activities only in the context of trying clothes on. So, I picked out some things to donate, set out a few smaller items for doll dress-up, and was not at all surprised when Lucy plucked a purple polka-dot dress from the pile and put it on. The size? Nine months.

Speaking of Lucy, she's getting so big. Yes, still small enough to squeeze herself into size 9-month dresses, but now tall enough to feed the parking meter when we go to storytime. We've had to drive for the past four Tuesdays since it's been raining. The kids don't mind, since putting money in the meter is huge fun. (Even Thomas gets in on it, now that his first instinct isn't to stuff money into his mouth.)

Which brings us to stortyime, which Thomas adores. We spotted Miss Kristin this afternoon and Thomas was gob-smacked, as if he'd seen a celebrity. He is down with the scarves and the shakers and the dancing, but especially comes alive during the preschool storytime. His single minded goal for the entire storytime is to (a) climb up upon and command the attention of Miss Kristin and, when thwarted in that goal (b) run into the hallway to play with the drinking fountain.

Tuesdays see us facing our most stressful day of all week. If you were to take my blood pressure Tuesday afternoon, you'd admit me to the ER for my impending heart attack. It's the one/two/three/four whammy of: keeping Peter and Lucy from (accidentally) mauling the toddlers during Thomas's story time; keeping our shopping carts upright at the Tiniest Supermarket in the World!; keeping Thomas out of everyone's hair and helping Peter and Lucy with their craft at preschool story time; visiting the library where the kids go NUTS* and we inevitably endure the world's slowest check-out known to man.*

*Every time, and how do I stop it? Thomas runs for the door, the steps, under the baby gate, tosses books off the shelves, or screams. Lucy sets about playing some pretend game that demands my attention as she describes in detail the set-up, or, alternately, she finds all of the lurid pink books (Fancy Nancy, I'm looking at you) that she can reach. Peter finds a book to read, sits down, and asks me to read to him. Over and over. And I feel like the world's Worst Parent Ever when I say that I'm not going to read to him at the library.

selective vision

Last night, while making dinner with the kids, I made myself see:

- three happy children, so eager to help;
- a cutting board and soup pot full of good, local, organic, healthy foods
- good music on the radio
- and a husband on his way home.

I made myself ignore:

- the fact that each child wielded a knife (or, in Thomas's case, a vegetable peeler);
- the insane mess of the kitchen, messy on any given day but particularly so after yesterday's double bread baking/granola making/snack-for-friend preparing/preschool doing.
- the distinct unhelpfulness that three helpful children can bring to the table;
- my own failings in patience.

Dinner was made and eaten with no fingers lost, few tears shed, and a giant pile of dirty dishes waiting, as always, to greet Kevin at 8 p.m.

so easy, it's scary

The ease with which the kids packed themselves up and trekked to downtown Swarthmore last week was impressive. And frightening. I'm hoping they don't get any notions of strolling to the Co-op without me any time soon.

late-November creek-stomping

For about ten seconds, Peter pouted when he learned that our playdate with Matthew, Anna and Sophia was at a nature park, not a playground park.

Then, it was all scampering down a hill to a pond to look for fish and tadpoles, balancing across a fallen log to an island in the middle of the pond, climbing down a small ravine to splash in a creek. and all sorts of great outdoor fun that's more at home in late May than late November.

(Not that I'm complaining. Oh, man, I'm not complaining at all.)

There were some sweet moments: sharing nets, seeing our green bucket magically reappear after being sucked into the drainage tube, and that time Peter cried out, "there's a snake!" and there was a snake - two, in fact.

And there were a few trying moments, but trying only in the sense that the kids' good fun was actually neither good nor fun. For example, Thomas's determination in tossing himself down a rocky embankment. Or, the understandable joy of tossing plastic shovels/buckets/nets down said rocky embankment.

That neither Miss Alicia nor I ended up soaked or muddied is proof enough that the day was a success.

and here's where I'm going to add an aside about going to Trader Joe's, which we did afterward:

Note to self: go to the bathroom when we first arrive. Ignore any demand to get the small cart, or at least offer the choice of cookies OR the small cart. Visit only before 10 a.m. A stiff drink before hand might help, too.

Actual conversation from this shopping trip:

Peter (pouty face, manning the small cart), whines: Why aren't you letting me put anything in the cart?

Me (crying baby on back, Lucy navigating the large shopping cart like a drunkard), thinks: It's just my habit to put things in the cart myself; I really don't think I should you go tossing around 1 liter jars of olive oil like water balloons; in the midst of all of this CHAOS I just want to get home before I start to cry; I'd promise to let you put the next thing in, but I'm sure to forget and holy cow that would be a disaster; I'm really about two seconds away from forgetting my own NAME in this crazy grocery mess.

Lucy (so helpful, so cheerful) says: look, Peter, them have COOKIES here!

And that's the story of how a box of candy cane Joe-Joes came to be in our cart, and, later that night, how half a box of candy cane Joe-Joes came to be in my stomach.

 

new favorite family photo

please observe:

- Lucy's finger in her nose; a new habit, intensified by a crusty late-fall cold. Also that dress? She found it at the thrift store for $2. How could I say no?

- Thomas's complete bliss in holding his candle. You better believe he's looking for a match to light it.

- Peter is so big. Holy cow, he's a big kid. Also, he's asked to grow his hair out until his next birthday. We'll see if that works. Kevin's already commenting on Peter's mullet head and wants to trim across the back. I'm of the opinion that any cutting of the hair will make it look "styled long on purpose," rather than the "styled long because I'm too busy to cut my hair look." Perhaps I'm partial to the latter?

- Kevin's suit fell victim to the Ongoing Great Mold Breakout 2011. I opened the closet one day and KABAM! It was covered in the green stuff. I think it came out at the cleaners. Lucky for him, since he's going to be going on about a million job interviews in February, and his other suits a just a wee bit small. (Also, I'm pretty sure we donated them.)

- And despite my repeated questions and Kevin's affirmations to the contrary, I do think my pants were a little too tight for church. Please note, too, that I've worn my hair down about four times since May. Thomas thinks it's put there for his personal hanging/chewing/tangling/ripping enjoyment. (And who am I kidding? I'm lazy, and there's a whole five minutes of work that goes into wearing my hair down. You know, like the drying? and the brushing? Egads. Give me a pony tail holder and call it a day.)

at last: Thomas's baptism

We'd been half-planning Thomas's baptism for a year now, scheduling times and then canceling them. It's tricky business trying to plan a special event for your child when some of the key participants live hundreds of miles away! Luckily, everyone's schedules correlated and we were able to celebrate Thomas's first sacrament the weekend before Thanksgiving.

It was an exciting day. The kids were off-the-wall crazy with anticipation: a baptism! our friends coming to our church! everyone coming to our house afterward! CAKE with EDIBLE GLITTER!*

Alas, during the baptism itself, Thomas was off-the-wall crazy, a little baby who powered through his morning nap and was roused an hour too early to be poked and prayed upon and anointed. There was much screaming of the not-so-baby Thomas during the rite.

He did appreciate the water and the fire. That kid knows what he likes. If given the chance, we would certainly have given him an immersion baptism, since it would have made his day.

After the baptism we invited our family and friends for cake and lemonade, a little mayhem in the church, and a lot of preschool helping.

We're thankful that Uncle Jason and Aunt Jen were able to make it out from Michigan for the baptism, and to serve double-duty as godparents for both Peter and Thomas. (It's slim pickin's for godparents in these parts. It doesn't help that we're picky.)

(Also, thanks to Grammy and Jen for sharing these photos...my camera was being used as a toddler taming device. Plus, it's nice to sit back and enjoy the moment for once. I did immediately regret it, though, and send emails begging for photos.)

*Part of the pre-baptism lead up for the kids going to the bakery to order Thomas's cake. We ordered the cake, oohed-and-ahhhed at the pilgrim and turkey cupcakes, and then learned a new word for the day: edible, like the glitter that would decorate Thomas's cake. Do you know how long it takes a pair of preschoolers to add "edible POOP!" to our list of silly edible things? About three seconds.

the Franklin Institute: with Grandpa!

My father came into town a few weekends ago to help us celebrate Thomas's baptism, and we had a free Saturday to spend with him. The kids and I brainstormed a few activities to do with Grandpa (the zoo being at the top of the list), when we remembered that he'd been sick the day we visited the Franklin Institute during his last visit and didn't really get a chance to see the museum.

It was back to the big science museum for us, then, as early as we could make it on a Saturday morning to as to avoid any crowds or tall people who block our views of cool things.

(Like the exhibit which tells us how much blood our bodies have, based on body weight. I'm pretty sure this exhibit is broken, though, as it maxes out at 40 cups of blood no matter how many people you jam on the scale.)

The kids were excited to show Grandpa and Kevin "the shocking hand," and with the extra adults around they were able to do some of the electricity experiments, too.

We ventured into the physics lab, where the rainbow glowing hallway mad Thomas "oooh!" Literally. Whenever the lights go on or off, he reacts with an impressed "oooh!." This first week of Advent has been full of such wide-eyed wonder as we turn off the overhead lights and watch the candles glow.

Lucy could not get enough of the "bouncing balls," watching the transference of energy from one ball to the the top ball, which skyrocketed to the ceiling and beyond. (There was a hole in the ceiling, so who knows how far this ball bounced.)

Peter and I played a fun game of hide-and-seek and silly faces in the hall of mirrors and lights. Later, he engineered a water splashing tube whose point was to get him wet. An older boy, watching Peter, had an interesting reaction to this project: horror that Peter would get wet, fear that he'd get in trouble.

In the sports exhibit, we spun ourselves silly (and sick) like figure skaters, threw pitches like the Phillies, raced cars and wheelchairs, and kicked a few goals. Thomas was faced with temptation over and over with the soccer ball, but wisely chose to stay close to me rather than get in the fray of young men showing off their soccer skills for their ladies. (Really. I've seen peacocks preen less than these men.)

And no visit to any tourist attraction is complete without visiting a squashed penny machine with Grandpa. It's a good marker of how big the kids are: Peter now can turn the crank the entire press, and Lucy nearly made it, too.

Because I'm not one to leave well enough alone, I also thought we should visit Reading Terminal Market for lunch. And drive there. Because walking would have been tough with the three kids (with three adults on a beautiful sunny day). It was a bad idea, OK. A really, really bad idea. In the end, we did what the children asked to do in the first place, which was to visit Wawa. Not exactly a Philadelphia landmark...