Doors Closing, Windows Opening, or Something

It was magically in the 70's here this weekend, 60's and sunny today - a gift - and we have been trying to spend every single second outside. Just today, I walked Annie to school, ran around the lake, walked to pick her up from school, walked to the grocery store with the girls, walked to a friend's house, and walked back to school in the evening for Annie's parent-teacher conference.

Yesterday, Jason and I took advantage of his parents being here overnight to scoot down to "The Cottage" and rake/blow all the leaves to the curb, and it almost didn't seem like a chore at all but instead like a late-summer drive and a beautiful afternoon to do yardwork unfettered by children or bugs. We spent much of Saturday at various parks and with the neighbors in the front yard. It's our usual summertime space, and by the end of each summer, the whole "it takes a village" thing can wear thin. This weekend, though, the adults stood around drinking coffee and idly raking while the kids were gleeful in their short-sleeved shirts on their speedy scooters, and it wasn't old at all.

It gets dark early now, though, and we've been watching our share of old home movies of the girls when they were babies and young toddlers. Almost every night during bath Annie asks, "Can we watch a baby Annie video? Just one?" and so we squeeze onto the couch with wet-headed girls in their jammies, watching those same girls cry their first cries in the delivery room or taste their first popsicle or blow out birthday candles.

The main effect this video-watching has on me is to make me feel as though my life is moving at warp-speed. I literally look at at the television screen, where one-year-old Annie tries to blow the fluff off a dandelion, and then down at the gangly girl next to me, and it is confusing. How did THAT become THIS? And so quickly?

Watching a montage of all the lovely moments - set to music, no less - makes it all look so rewarding and effortless and just plain happy. So much so that, of course, it makes me think we could do it all over again. I almost want to, just for the delivery room magic alone (and my delivery rooms are especially un-magical, but there is something so unspeakably sacred about that very first day of life). But, you know, we probably won't. Not because I don't want to, exactly, but because I KNOW that it wouldn't be like the home videos we've been watching. Or that it would be like that, 1/1000th of the time, and the rest of the time it would not.

Ever since Jemma was born, we've entertained the idea of a third. I think part of me even assumed that we'd do it eventually. I thought that at some point, things would feel "settled" again, or life would be obviously easier, or it would seem like TIME. But Jemma's going to be three next month, and it's never felt like that to me. When the girls were very little and I felt sure that it absolutely, positively could NOT get any harder/more chaotic/more stressful than it was at that stage, I'd look to friends or neighbors with older children and think how easy they had it. I may have, perhaps, mentioned these assumptions to those friends and neighbors. And what they said was, "It doesn't really get easier; it just changes." And they were kind of right. Life now IS definitely easier than life with a newborn and a two-year-old, but it is not easy, per se. It has changed. The time I no longer spend nursing has been sucked up by art projects and reading aloud and strapping on bike helmets. (Also: the time I no longer spend getting up all hours of the night to tend to a child is now spent SLEEPING, a change I very much LIKE.) There have been so many times during daily situations when I have looked around and thought, where would a baby fit into this picture?

When I watch those videos and look at myself in them (instead of at the girls), I remember that the current "me" who has time for running and yoga and cooking and writing and friendships and travel and reading was not there. My hair is never not in a ponytail, and I am wearing a nursing tank top under the same green hooded zip-up sweatshirt an alarming number of times. That me made it through most days in a blur and counted leaving the house to go one place as a major success. That me, frankly, was not that happy, and sometimes forgot that her situation was not, in fact, permanent. I do not miss that me.

It is strange to watch this particular door creak closed. It is sad. I could almost cry about it, if I wanted to. I think some women are at their best when they're surrounded by the chaos of a big, loud family; I even wish I was one of those women, but I don't think I am. I want to be present for my two gorgeous, hilarious, feisty, smart, ridiculous children. I am blessed and lucky to have two. It is so much, really.

I want to be a calm, centering force in their world. I want to sit, like I did tonight, at my daughter's conference, incredibly proud of her strengths, and have the time to come home and praise her tonight as well as the time to work with her in the coming weeks. I want to tuck them each into bed every night individually - story, cuddle, song, kiss, hug - and know I have given them my attention fully. I want lots of big possibilities for them, and for me.

"And she turned out the light-

And closed the door-

And that's all there is-

There isn't anymore."

from Madeleine

Things Jemma Says

Last week in church, as I passed the offering over her head, she saw it go by and belatedly asked for it.

"No," I said, "It's not a big deal. You just pass it on to the next person." She was quiet for a minute, then said, "But I am a person."

*****

While watching old family videos of Annie as a baby: "There's Annie when she was a boy!!!!"

*****

While in the tub tonight, she farted, then announced to the rest of us (who were all crowded in there together for some unknown reason): "I did blow bubbles when I tooted!"

*****

While at the dentist last week for her first official cleaning: "Look, mom! I got new teeth!"

Semi-Sick Day

Annie woke up coughing around 2:00 a.m. last night and wanted me to sleep with her for the rest of the night. I tried, but the two of us do not exactly fit in a twin-size bed also occupied by two pillows, Molly, CeeCee Bingo, and Dinah. We snuggled for a while, and I suspected she would be skipping school today.

Sure enough, her fever this morning was 100 degrees on the nose, the range I like to refer to as "technically sick but still plenty of energy to drive me crazy all day long." I called the absence hotline and prepared for a long day with a sort-of-sick child.

Instead, we had a really great day. Annie's temp stayed right around 100, but she was mellow and happy, and, perhaps remembering my actual tears last night* over the 197th time she and Jemma went into instant-fight mode, a kind big sister. The two of them played together most of the morning while I showered, baked pumpkin bread, did laundry, and picked up behind them. I read while they napped. We danced in the kitchen to The Weepies and I cooked dinner while they colored. (Annie is creating a full Princess Series of prints with white printer paper and mixed media, i.e. markers and crayons. So far, my favorite is Snow White.) Jason got home on time for dinner, and now the girls are snug in bed and we have Thursday TV to enjoy.

I mean, I wouldn't want to do it every day, but for once, it was good not to leave the house all day. Let's hope this was a one-day virus and not the beginning of Seven Days of Doom that's been swirling all around us this fall . . .

*So yes, I occasionally lose it in front of my children, and when I did so briefly last night because they were actually fighting vigorously over who got to bring which clothes to the dirty laundry hamper, Annie took one look at me, ran from the room, and returned with two fat library books from the top of the stack next to my bed. If they have learned nothing else about their mommy, at least they know: when she is sad, she wants a good book.

Middle School, Redux

Just sharing a link to a post at Bodies in Motivation where I admit to the adolescent mind games I play with myself to stay motivated on the health-and-fitness front.

http://www.bodiesinmotivation.com/2009/11/peer-pressure-as-a-motivating-factor/

Halloween 2009

A lovely Sleeping Beauty, no?

With BFF Snow White, aka Lucy.

Annie and Jemma the Ghost at 5:00 p.m., just before the Halloweenie Roast begins.

Jemma as Cinderella at 5:20 during the Halloweenie Roast.

The neighborhood kids, in various states of understanding that they are meant to be having a group photo taken.

Annie, Jason, and Jemma the bunny just before setting out to trick-or-treat at 6:00 p.m.

Back inside counting their loot in front of a fire. (That's three costumes in three hours for Jemma!)

Anticipating Halloween

Somehow, Halloween has turned into an almost-week-long event at our house this year, complete with scary-snack-making, pumpkin-carving, wearing costumes both inside and outside days before the actual holiday, wearing costumes to dance, creating new costumes out of various clothing items and hats, school parties, and, finally tonight, our block's annual Halloweenie Roast and trick-or-treating.

Weeks ago, our neighbor Kate knocked on our front door one afternoon, holding a sweet, fluffy, white bunny costume. She wondered if Jemma wanted to wear it this year. Did Jemma? Yes! She did! She wanted to wear it to walk Annie's playdate home. She wanted to wear it to sleep. She wanted to wear it to dance on Thursday when Annie was supposed to wear a costume. She wore it everywhere.

Then, mid-week this week, Jason (for reasons some of us cannot imagine) wondered aloud if Jemma might look cute as a ghost for Halloween. You know, old-school, with just a ghetto sheet with some eye holes cut out. And Yes! She does! Even though I attempted a heart-to-heart with her on the couch yesterday afternoon about how being a bunny would be so cute and fuzzy and warm, she woke up this morning 1. asking for Ghost Peeps and 2. wanting to be a ghost for tonight's trick-or-treating. So Jason spent part of today fashioning a ghost costume out of a sheet. It turned out pretty cute, actually.

Annie, on the other hand, has been firm in her conviction that she wants to be Sleeping Beauty for Halloween. It's her latest princess obsession, and we luckily have the dress, the shoes, and the crown from Annie's birthday weeks ago. She remained firm in her conviction, and wore Sleeping Beauty to dance on Thursday. Thursday night, however, as I was helping her pack her costume in her backpack for Friday morning's school party, she changed her tune.

"But I don't waaaaaaaaant to be Sleeping Beauty! I want to be CINDERELLA!" Luckily, we have that one, too, so she went as Cinderella at school yesterday, where I helped at the class party and remembered with instant clarity just why Halloween is a teacher's worst nightmare. Sugar! Candy! Costumes! Crappy weather! A zillion parents milling around snapping pictures in your face!

This morning, Annie decided she'd go back to being Sleeping Beauty for tonight's trick-or-treating. She got busy in the playroom, laying out each piece of the costume on the floor so it will be ready when she gets up from quiet time. Jemma saw her doing this. And guess what Jemma said? "I want to be a PRINCESS for Halloween!!!!!!" And started gathering a whole, new (this would be the third in 24 hours, for those of you playing along at home) costume for tonight's events.

At 5:00 p.m., we'll stroll down the street to eat hot dogs, popcorn, and ghost cupcakes (cute, if I do say so myself) with the neighbors. We'll take pictures and the adults will self-medicate with alcohol while the kids fuel up on sugar. Then, we'll go trick-or-treating. But who can say which costumes they'll have on. Not me.

So Far This Morning

Things Annie has cried about:

1. Last night at some point, unbeknownst to us, Annie woke up and decided that, instead of wearing a Pull-Up while she slept, she felt more like wearing underwear. So she changed, fell back asleep, and promptly wet the bed. Jason (God bless him) went in to deal with it at 3:00 a.m. (pulled sheets off, replaced with sleeping bag, put new Pull-Up on), and we were completely low-key about it at breakfast this morning, just mentioning that it was fine to get up and, you know, pee in the toilet in the middle of the night or else, you know, just keep the Pull-Up on. This did not stop Annie from crying about the situation, not really because she felt bad, but because HER UNDERWEAR, THEY GOT ALL WET. And no amount of "But they're in the washing machine right now" could make it better.

2. I asked Annie, "Who do you want to walk you to school, me or Daddy?" "You," she replied. Then, ten minutes later, as we were literally walking down the stairs to the door, she yelled out, "But I want DADDYYYYYYY!" And cried most of the way to school about it.

Things Jemma has cried about this morning:

1. Not wanting Jason to take a shower. This went on for nearly fifteen minutes at the bottom of the stairs while Jason was, indeed, upstairs taking a shower.

2. She asked me for fruit, and I replied that she and Jason had split a pear for part of breakfast. "But a pear isn't fruit!" she said. "Yes, it is." And again with the crying.

3. Not wanting Jason to go to work.

4. Wanting to be "wrapped up in a blanket like a baby and sucking on a bottle."

In a few minutes, we're leaving to pick Annie up early from school and go see Jason at his office for cleanings. I'm sure that's going to be a total party, too.