As soon as I hit “publish” on that last post Owen started screaming. While in the sandbox. For Thomas. A Thomas train that shouldn’t be in the sandbox. Turns out James had taken his Thomas train and freight cars into the sandbox, filling all their intricate little parts with sand. I’m sure they’ll no longer work on their electrical train set.
And so it goes.
“The quickest way for a parent to get a child’s attention is to sit down and look comfortable.” —Lane Olinghouse
I’m writing this while sitting outside on our deck, in a chair gifted to me on Mother’s Day a couple years ago. My legs are propped up on the other chair, a pillow underneath for my bare ankles. Although rain was forecasted for today it’s all blue skies, mid-70s, idyllic spring weather. Whenever a soft, warm wind blows, little white petals rain all over the yard.
All three kids are playing nicely together, without me. They’re swinging on the swings, going up ladders and down slides, playing in the sandbox, coloring stones with chalk, barefoot.
I think back to last spring. And the spring before. And the spring before that.
Yes, in some ways, it gets harder.
But in many ways, it also gets easier.
Part of me feels guilty. Sitting here. Not in a cubicle. Not pumping milk. Not folding laundry. Not spooning baby food into a mouth. Not putting anyone into timeout.
But a bigger part of me feels deserving.
Two years ago I remember thinking, someday.
Today is someday.
It happens! It really does happen.
Grateful.
“No matter how long the winter, spring is sure to follow.”—Proverb
I’m in the middle of a huge editing project. (Every page in that almost-1,000-page stack is filled with 10-point type, single spaced.) When tackling this same project in the past, I’ve only worked on it after the kids have gone to bed. This year, to avoid 2am bedtimes, I’ve started immediately after dinner. I’m not sure why, in the past, I’ve felt an obligation to continue changing diapers, playing Candy Land and reading picture books once Andy was home. Asking him to take over has made this project easier and me, a more sane person. It’s been a good lesson: That it’s OK to stop, hand over, let things go, allow the dust bunnies in the corners to sit a while longer.
I’m also trying to do some editing during the day. But, I’m often interrupted. To illustrate:
• “MOMMY! I HAVE A BOOGER!” (I look up to find Owen standing in front of me with, indeed, a huge booger on the tip of his finger.)
• “Can I have a snack?” (Sophie. I get her a small bowl of applesauce. Resume editing.) “Can I have cinnamon on my applesauce?” (I get her cinnamon. Resume editing.) “Can I have some milk, please?” (I get her milk. Resume editing.) “I need a napkin!” (I get her a napkin. Resume editing.) “I need more milk. Please.” (Give up editing.)
• “My train. My train! MOMMY! FIX MY TRAIN!” (James then falls into a sobbing heap on the floor as he can’t get his Thomas train back on its tracks. I then spend five minutes myself trying to get said train—and freight cars—back on their tracks. Only to then be told that it’s going in the wrong direction.)
• “MOMMY! James keeps calling me a cat! I’m NOT A CAT, James! I’m O.w.en.!” (Can’t resume editing until I convince James that Owen is, indeed, not a cat. And can’t resume editing until I convince Owen that James no longer believes he’s a cat.)
• “What ya doing, Mommy?” (Sophie. Who has climbed up on my bed, aka my desk. Even though Andy is home and she is supposed to be with him. I explain.) “Oh.” (She stares.) “Can I help?” (I tell her no. Explain why. She stares.) “What do all those letters say?” (I tell her what the book is about.) “I can tell you the letters if you want. I know them!” (Thank her. Ask if she’d like to have a tea party with her dolls in her room.) “What do all those marks mean?” (Explain editing marks.) “Can I have your red pen when you’re done?” (I yell for Andy.)
• OWEN JUST TOOK MY TRAIN! OWEN JUST TOOK MY PERCY! That’s MY Percy, Owen! NO! GIVE. IT. BACK. (Sob.) Owen took my Percy!” (Editing is then interrupted every 10 minutes for the timer rule. Someone gets Percy. The other person gets to push the buttons on the microwave to set the timer for 10 minutes. When the timer rings, the two switch. It’s incredibly effective, except that my work is interrupted every 10 minutes.)
• silence (Something is wrong. I have to stop and check. Can almost guarantee James is sneaking some sort of food he shouldn’t be eating.)
• “MOMMY! You have to come upstairs RIGHT NOW. It’s-so-important-it’s-just-if-you-don’t-come-up-here-right-now-it’s-going-to-be-really-really-bad.” (I run upstairs. All seems fine. I ask Sophie what’s wrong.) “Can you brush my dolly’s hair?”
• (I’m sitting in bed, editing while listening to the kids laugh and scream outside my open window—my mom once told me about cassette tapes sent to soldiers with the recorded sound of children’s laughter, how popular they were, how needed. I then hear intense stomping on the hardwood stairs.) “Mommy! I have a special flower for you!” (I’m gifted a little white flower from our backyard tree—two of the petals ripped.) “Smell it!” (I do. I look at the face smiling up at me. Beaming, really. And I’m reminded that sometimes, sometimes, I love the interruptions.)
“The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one’s own or real life. The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life.” —C.S. Lewis
James had a meltdown in the van tonight. Why? I told him we live in the city of Fort Thomas.
“NO, Mommy! Thomas is a SHOW! It’s NOT a city!”
When I tried to tell him otherwise, he just screamed louder.
This lasted for 20 minutes. (And he still doesn’t believe me.)
“Parenthood remains the greatest single preserve of the amateur.” —Alvin Toffler
• I love this photo and this photo, both part of Wilma Hurskainen’s No Name series.
• CrappyPictures.com is a great, funny parenting blog. And this post, right or wrong, well, resonated with me. Enjoy.
• After a week like the one described above, we sometimes hire a sitter using my friend Peggy’s babysitting service, BabysitEase. We’re always sent a bio of the sitter before he or she arrives. I swear they’re more qualified to parent than I am.
• We managed to save $450 (total) by buying this Groupon each time we needed to transition one of our children to a twin mattress. There’s not much time left for this particular one, but it’s a good deal if you’re in need of a new bed. (And if you wait long enough, I imagine it will come around again.)
• I write picture books. My most recent is about a young boy who is trying to save the waning moon. Although I opened (another) rejection e-mail early this morning, it’s one piece of writing I’m proud of and one I plan to keep pitching. And with that, I give you this. (We also have a gorgeous lunar phase calendar hanging in our kitchen, gifted to us from my parents, which I plan to write about soon.)
• The Top 50 Etsy Baby Shops of 2013 (as chosen by the editors at Babble)
• One Day On Earth movie trailer. Watch it. Beautiful, no? Has anyone seen the entire film? I’d love to.
“‘Kindness'” covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others feel a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t know this and am happy I lived long enough to find out.” —Roger Ebert
tops are covered in toys confiscated for various infractions, right?
Also, lately, this:
“I thought, how can it be that two strangers are exchanging such intimate things? Well, most women are full to the brim, that’s all. That’s what I think. I think we are most of us ready to explode, especially when our children are small and we are so weary with the demands for love and attention and the kind of service that makes you feel you should be wearing a uniform with ‘Mommy’ embroidered over the left breast, over the heart. I (used to sit) half watching Ruthie and half dreaming—trying, I think, to recall my former self. If a stranger had come up to me and said, ‘Do you want to talk about it? I have time to listen,’ I think I might have burst into tears at the relief of it. It wasn’t that I was really unhappy. It was the constancy of my load and the awesome importance of it; and it was my isolation.” —Elizabeth Berg, The Pull of the Moon
March 30, 2008
March 30, 2009
March 30, 2010
March 30, 2011
March 30, 2012
March 30, 2013
“Everyone is the age of their heart.” —Guatemalan Proverb
Dear Sophie,
This year, your birthday celebration started with your preschool celebration. First, you sat on Mrs. Richter’s lap and shared a book you made about your life.
Then you walked around the sun, carrying a small world, five times—representing your five times around the sun. As you walked, the children sang: The earth goes round the sun, the earth goes round the sun, the earth goes round the sun tra la, the earth goes round the sun. This tradition gets me every year.
Per your request, you had some special visitors the entire day this year—Owen and James loved doing work with you, and making bunny hats.
For weeks you talked about making cutout heart cookies for your class. But at the last minute, you insisted on cake pops. Having never made cake pops, we talked you into Oreo truffles instead. You got to pass them out, along with little paper cups of apple juice, to your happy class.
You woke up on your birthday (a Saturday) as any 5-year-old would—so happy. We’ve been talking a lot about how much you’ve grown lately (and you have!) so before you even changed into your birthday dress we measured and marked your 5-year-old height on your growth chart.
We set the dining room table for your brunch—you requested scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit salad and cinnamon rolls (not homemade but rather the ones “from the can”). The tall birthday candle on the table was a gift to me from a family friend (I think) back in 1979. It lists a child’s years from 1 through 21, and certain ages have pictures next to them (12 is a bike, 18 is a graduation cap). 21, however, is a wedding ring. We readily informed you that you don’t, my darling, need to get married that young …
You, of course, had the red plate.
And you, as usual, throughly enjoyed your bacon (something that still confounds the former vegetarian in me).
I purchased these five pink polka dot balloons at The Party Source at around 10:30pm Friday night. I’m fairly certain I was the only person there buying balloons versus booze that late on a Friday night.
This year you chose an opera cream cake from The BonBonerie, the same cake Daddy and I had at our wedding.
After brunch, we lit the candles on your cake …
and you made a wish. You wouldn’t tell us your wish (as is the norm with wishes), but you also, sadly, said it would never come true. If I had to guess, I would guess your wish was to fly. You’ve been talking about how wonderful it would be to fly a lot lately, to fly like a bird—anywhere you wanted. And you’re right. It would be wonderful.
Owen and James surprised you with The Last Unicorn movie (a new obsession, which you discovered at the library—now you don’t have to return it!), and Charlotte’s Web (but we have to finish the book first!).
You received many generous presents this year, including your first American Girl doll from Nini and Pop Pop. I’ll be honest—Daddy and I were always a little wary of these dolls, after we received the first catalog in the mail seemingly one week after you were born. (The prices!) But there are so many positives. I love that you have a doll that you will play with and love, even when you’re older. I love that Marie-Grace (your doll) is based off a historical fiction character from the 1850s. I love the books that accompany her.
And I love that when you found an American Girl catalog in the mail a month before, out of all the beautiful things shown, you fell in love with the feel-better kit and wheelchair. Ever since you had your surgery, you’ve been performing daily surgeries on your dolls. So this is what you wanted most. And so this is, among other things, what Grandma and Paw Paw gave you. Marie-Grace has had a lot of broken arms and legs, but thanks to your loving care and medical expertise, she’s come through them all just fine.
After all the gifts had been opened, we asked you, Owen and James to close your eyes.
And Daddy and I gave you your first real bike! A 16″ pink and white Huffy, covered in princesses and glitter (even the pedals are heart-shaped). It is, well, something. (We were so happy you loved it.)
family pictures
Your first bike ride. It reminded me so much of my first solo bike ride on the blue and white bike I got for my 5th birthday, the one with the training wheels and a little white basket with plastic flowers on it. I felt like I was going so fast, and so far, and I distinctly remember my grandpa Mangan yelling “Go, Kara! Go!” as I pedaled and pedaled and pedaled down our sidewalk. You, my dear Sophie, are reaching the age when you will begin to remember things—really remember things. I hope for happy, soft, does-something-good-to-your-insides ones.
You chose to have an art party this year, and for it, we went to our friend Tanith’s art studio, Artscapade.
First you and a few friends painted a canvas—a forest or field for your fairy; an ocean and ship for your pirate.
Then you used polymer clay and step-by-step, made your fairies and pirates.
We had cookies and apple juice from The BonBonerie, and then you opened your gifts. Tanith put together wonderful little creativity kits for all your guests to take home.
Here’s everyone, with their lovely works of art. You had a lot of fun.
Only for about a day this past year were you 4. As the months passed you were quick to inform anyone who asked that you were “4 and 1/4,” “4 and 1/2,” “4 and 3/4” and finally, “4 and 11/12s.” You were into ages this year. You wanted to know the age of everyone, characters in books, characters on television shows, dolls, other children you met. And you pushed yourself older, no matter how hard we (quietly) tried to push back. You loved when we let you watch the Scooby Doo show that’s for children “7 and older” (you remind us daily how brave you are because of it). You begged to wear nail polish (we let you, one weekend, when you were sick). You asked when you could have your ears pierced (not yet, we said). The things we did let you try—chewing gum and drinking Sprite or root beer—you declined. We still don’t know why. Perhaps you want to grow older, but only on your own terms.
Although you still desire our attention more often than not, now you will play by yourself, in your room, for long periods of time. Your play is elaborate, with your paper dolls, stuffed animals, princess figurines, scraps of fabric, treasure box contents, ribbons and art box contents. You’re constantly talking or singing while you play and often, you have your “royal ball music” playing softly in the background. You enjoy playing with Owen and James but you also enjoy your alone time—and play dates with friends (oh the constant requests for play dates with friends!), too. You throw royal balls almost nightly. You like to paint and color your paper masks and watch My Little Pony and these (admittedly awful) Barbie movies you pick out at the library. At night, we read chapter books. Currently we’re reading Ramona and Her Father and Charlotte’s Web.
You are kind. You’re often agreeable and you are so incredibly accommodating to Owen and James. You share, mostly. You’re fiercely protective of your brothers. Just today, while I was on your bed acting as patient and you were above me, acting as dentist, you heard James cry. You had begged me for a good five minutes to come upstairs for a dentist appointment. But the moment you heard James cry, you said, “Go, Mommy! He needs you!” May you always be that loyal.
You are passionate. When you’re angry, sometimes, you lose it. It reminds me of one of our favorite bedtime stories, When Sophie Gets Angry, Really, Really Angry. Your anger and frustration are so intense, so real, that your stomach hurts, you have trouble breathing, you literally say, “I can’t stop.” And although I’m sometimes at my wit’s end during one of these episodes, deep down, I’m glad for them. I’m glad you’re so passionate about life, that you care about what happens in your world so deeply and that you are comfortable enough around me to express your displeasure so honestly. (Of course, this doesn’t mean I’m no longer putting you in time out.)
I love that you still love to snuggle. I love how much you adore school. I love how conscientious of rules, procedures and following directions you are at school. I love your sense of style—the outfits you choose to wear, the earrings you buy me for my birthday, the way you wish you could, and try to, decorate every room you inhabit. I love that you still grab my hand when we walk and how much you love when Daddy and I swing you when it’s just the three of us. I love how much you love your stay-up time: 8:30pm is your bedtime now, while James and Owen go to bed at 8pm. Mostly, I love how much you love—us, your brothers, your family, your friends, your teachers, even yourself. May that love always be this strong.
Happy, happy birthday, Sophie.
I love you.
“Most of us can remember a time when a birthday—especially if it was one’s own—brightened the world as if a second sun has risen.” —Robert Staughton Lynd
• This short film, about an abandoned piano in New York City by Anthony Sherin, is lovely. (Thanks, Mom, for sending it to me.)
• Two of my friends recently wrote (and published!) books. For two great reads, check out Jordan Rosenfeld’s Forged in Grace and Brian A. Klems’s hilarious Oh Boy, You’re Having a Girl. (And if you don’t already read The Life of Dad, check it out. It’s one of my favorite parenting blogs.)
• Imagine a World Without Hate.
• A pretty (and inexpensive) polka dot scarf.
• I love forsythia. This simple forsythia branch craft for children is a really cute spring craft.
• I’ve lately been loving this mom-focused fashion blog. Both the posts and the comments have given me a ton of ideas and tips for a stomach post-twins.
• Speaking of soft bellies, this is the first essay I’ve read about the subject that I haven’t rolled my eyes at (thank you, Kelly, for sharing).
• mywifesfightwithbreastcancer.com is a photo essay that will leave you in tears—I made it about three-quarters of the way through before Andy looked over at me wondering why I was sobbing during the OSU basketball game. I need moments like this, though, to remind me of the beauty of life.
• Smoky Sweet Potato and Apple Soup—this is really delicious.
• Supposedly the only existing film images of Anne Frank (yet another reason why I love the Internet).
“Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.” —Anne Frank
Andy comes home today! Sophie has quite the welcome-home plans for him …
My parents came over and treated us to dinner last night. And earlier in my week of solo parenting Owen and James spent the night at my parents’ house, giving me time to tackle my piles while Sophie was at preschool. My mom took this picture of Pop Pop reading to them during their stay.
Also, the sun is shining today.
“Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy.” —John Denver
