Lately Owen has been getting a lot of bumps and bruises on his head. Sophie has taken notice of this and, as such, likes to make sure he’s well-protected.
“The cardinal virtue of a teacher (is) to protect the pupil from his own influence.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson
Early October Sophie and I joined my mom and dad for a trip to North Carolina to help celebrate my brother-in-law Tom’s 30th birthday. Because they already had a full house we stayed in a hotel, which Sophie loved. She had so much fun running the long hallway to our room, admiring the swirly carpet. She was ecstatic about sharing a bed with me, without having to plead. She loved that there wasn’t a footboard on our bed and that she was able to slide down off the end of the mattress and onto the floor over and over and over. And oh, the breakfast buffet. She discovered Fruit Loops—I don’t think she realized cereal could be so colorful or full of sugar.
She was great on the drive. We left late Friday afternoon and got to the hotel very late Friday night (or, morning, rather).
The next day we went directly over to Katy and Tom’s house, and Sophie was instantly put to work icing cupcakes.
The task had an added benefit, which she was quite happy with.
And then Colleen woke up from her morning nap. Sophie and Colleen sat on my mom’s laugh and just smiled and giggled and smiled and giggled. Oh for the chance for them to do that every weekend with each other …
my dad and Colleen
Tom’s sister Christine made lovely party decorations.
There were several children for Sophie to play with at the party—these two were practically inseparable.
Happy birthday, Tom!
Katy with Colleen and Max—see, Katy, you’re so good with two! 🙂
Everything was beautiful. This is Katy and Tom’s garage. It was spotless and filled with tables, chairs, mums, football on TV—a perfect party.
I love this picture.
We spent a lot of time in the hammock.
Nini and Colleen
Pop Pop and Colleen
Sophie made Tom a birthday card.
Tom’s sister Christine and Colleen
Tom’s family bought Tom Legos (which he loves) and graciously gave a kit to each of the children. Sophie loved her little boat and loved helping Tom with the other kits.
Sophie and Alex
Tom’s mom and a sleeping Colleen
Once darkness fell there was fire and we roasted marshmallows—a first for Sophie. This is one of my most favorite things to do and although she was exhausted and pretty much at her breaking point, I loved introducing her to this well-loved life treat.
beautiful Katy and beautiful Colleen
Saturday night Sophie woke up suddenly, coughing like a seal. Yes, croup. So she was unable to see Katy, Tom and Colleen Sunday morning, before our drive home. Sophie and I stayed in the hotel room and colored while my parents had breakfast with them and Tom’s family, and then my parents took Sophie to a park so I could say goodbye to Katy, Tom and Colleen.
The leaves were beautiful on the drive home.
“Rejoice with your family in the beautiful land of life!” —Albert Einstein
A couple weeks ago, when I asked Sophie about her day, she told me about a man who visited that day, and that he “laid on his back to paint.”
Me: “A grownup or a classmate?”
Sophie: “A man! A grownup.”
Me: “And he was in your classroom?”
Sophie: “Yes. And he laid on his back and painted, just like this.”
(She showed me.)
Me: “What did he paint?”
Sophie: “I don’t know. I’m tired of talking.”
Me: “But he was there? You saw him?”
Sophie: “Yes!”
I thought about this mysterious man for a few minutes, not remembering seeing anything on the school calendar about an artist visiting that week. And then, I remembered something else: Each month the children in Sophie’s class learn about an author, composer and artist. This month’s artist? Michelangelo.
Someday I hope to stand with Sophie in the Sistine Chapel, and tell her this story.
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain as does failing to hear and see it.” —Michelangelo
Our linen closet is the top shelf in the boys’ bedroom closet. And it is there where I store many extras—bars of soap, tissue boxes, razor blades, little bottles of shampoo from hotels and extra contact lens cases. (Actually, now that I think about it, there’s not a single linen on that shelf. But it’s all stuff I would store in a linen closet if I had one.) Monday, I threw away my current contact lens case because of a missing cap. All week long I have intended to grab a new contact lens case from our “linen closet.” And all week long, I’ve forgotten—until after the boys have gone to bed.
Earlier this week I tried to convince Andy to sneak into the boys’ room for me, but he refused. Actually, at first he refused. Then he said I’d have to deal with the boys if they woke up. And then I refused. And there is no way I’m going to successfully attempt to sneak into their room, open the closet door, climb up on a stool, dig around in a basket and extract an extra lens case. Especially when I’m the one who still hasn’t learned where the creaks are in our stairs, something Andy points out to me every time we walk down them together, after finally getting the children to sleep.
And, so, this is why I have soaked my contact lenses in shot glasses every night this week.
Pre-children, I would have thought this story crazy. Post-children, I now understand why, years ago, my mom said she once crawled out of my nursery, after I had finally fallen asleep.
I imagine I’m not alone when I say this: I will do most anything to keep my sleeping children asleep. (As I’m typing this I hear ocean waves. In Fort Thomas. In October.)
“Parenthood remains the greatest single preserve of the amateur.” —Alvin Toffler
When Owen’s really upset, Sophie will find his favorite baby doll (it’s hers, she shares) and he’ll hug the doll to him and say “aww.” And now, when he stumbles upon a baby bottle, he’ll find one of Sophie’s dolls and gently feed it. Of course, the dolls are sometimes thrown across the room but mostly, for now, the boys handle them gently and with love, which I love.
James enjoys feeding Sophie’s dolls, too, although he doesn’t quite get the bottle-to-the-mouth aspect yet.
“Nothing that grieves us can be called little: by the eternal laws of proportion a child’s loss of a doll and a king’s loss of a crown are events of the same size.” —Mark Twain
A couple weeks ago we walked down the street to Woodfill Elementary (where Sophie will go to school) for their annual Big Top Festival. We went last year for the first time, and Sophie loved it.
A lollipop, a dandelion ripe for wish making and pink hair—a 3-1/2-year-old’s dream Saturday afternoon.
happiness
“Life is a festival only to the wise.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson
Several weeks ago friends and I had a baby shower for our good friend Jen (isn’t she beautiful?). Her baby is due in just a few days—we can’t wait to meet him.
“It is said that the present is pregnant with the future.” —Voltaire
Sophie’s first Pork Festival doesn’t seem like that long ago. I was about to write about this being the boys’ first Pork Festival when I realized it wasn’t—it was their second. It was Colleen’s first. Time. I know it’s cliché, but it really does fly.
I write about the Pork Festival every year. It’s a part of me, a part of my family, it’s simply what we do—so imbedded that Katy, Tom and Colleen came just for the weekend for it (and we were all so happy they did).
I like, in life, having things I do outside of holidays that I do every single year. There’s reassurance in that. Expectedness. Another symbol of another year gone by. Memories. Tradition.
Colleen was so stylish, in her dark blue jeans, white onesie and knitted pink hat.
I miss her. So much.
Aunt Ellen with my dad
Uncle Mark playing cars with Owen and James. Four children grew up in this farmhouse, the house where my grandma still lives. I’m sure there have been many toy cars pushed along these hardwood floors.
Andy and Sophie playing hide-and-go-seek in Grandma’s living room.
play time with Grandpa
Grandma, Aunt Ellen, Uncle Mark, Uncle Roger, Dad
“Tradition is the illusion of permanence.” —Woody Allen
James and Owen (who aren’t wearing socks or shoes) are playing with Sophie’s paint and brushes, and Owen, in particular, has blue paint in his (too-long) hair and on his clothes and he’s not wearing his tot collar … I’m sure if I could zoom out I’d find about 12 other things wrong with this picture as well. Thankfully, it’s a close-up. And if good mothering is judged on how happy your children are, well, despite the flaws shown here, in this moment, I was doing OK.
“The best way to make children good is to make them happy.” —Oscar Wilde
When Sophie was the boys’ age (16-1/2 months) I still carried around a large diaper bag filled with diapers, wipes, a changing pad, two sippy cups (one for milk, one for water), various snacks, her sunglasses, ponytail holders and barrettes (although she refused to wear them), sunscreen, a mini first-aid kit including various medicines, toys, at least two extra outfits, a jacket, a small blanket, extra socks and who knows what else. It was huge. And heavy. And at 16-1/2 months, unreasonable.
Now I have three children. Several nights ago I had an early evening freelance interview to take care of and therefore was unable to cook dinner. This was fantastic for the kids, as it meant Skyline Chili for supper. As we were walking out the door, I looked down and laughed. And asked Andy to take a picture of this:
All I took was a diaper clutch containing two diapers for the boys, an extra pair of panties for Sophie, wipes and a changing pad. I strapped two bibs to it. And then grabbed my clutch (aka purse).
I think this is the perfect example of a second-time parent vs. a first. Of me relaxing, lessening, loosening a bit. And taking chances. And not caring. And yet still caring, in a more reasonable way. Of lightening the load, traveling lighter, feeling freer. Of my kids growing up and me letting them. Of knowing that successful parenting isn’t just about being prepared with things, but, more often than not, solutions, games, distraction techniques. Of knowing that Skyline’s oyster crackers are a good substitute for Cheerios, sunscreen is not needed in a restaurant in the fall, and I probably won’t need six different shapes of Band-aids for two-hour trip. And finally, of knowing that no matter what I pack, I won’t have the one thing I need. So really, why does it matter?
“He who would travel happily must travel light.” —Antoine de St. Exupery
