The Wrap-Up Catch-Up: Lucy's 4th Birthday

Before I run through some overdue photos of Lucy's birthday, I need to mark a momentous occasion. Not momentous in the good way, mind you. Momentous in the "Oh, crap!" way.

I will first say that it has been a good run. M. and I have successfully enjoyed hassle-free, TV-loaded, adults-only time for roughly 98% of the last 6 and a half years (with the exception of the odd newborn-intensive early months for each kid and the occasional sick night). That kid-free peace is probably the only thing that has kept us sane through the hustle and bustle of a life with two kids and two full-time, working-out-of-the-house-with-lengthy-commutes, jobs. For all those many years, we put the kids to bed, turned out their lights, and they stayed there.

Sure, sometimes (OK, lots of times) they called for us, to come fix a blanket, or schlep them more water, or change their pajamas because they're too hot. Two or three times one of them has actually come down the stairs from the bedrooms to the kitchen, where M. and I are usually finishing up the dinner dishes and packing lunches for the next day. Annoying, but no big deal, because mostly Finn and Lucy STAYED UPSTAIRS.

Tonight, M. and I finished up with kitchen duty on the early side, and we headed down to the basement to fold a bajillion loads of laundry with large vats of wine and some TV to distract ourselves from the task. We could hear Lucy over the monitor singing to herself, but since she wasn't calling for us, we left her alone.

Five minutes into an episode of Modern Family, Lucy appeared DOWN IN THE BASEMENT. Quiet and ghostlike. Scared the shit out of us. Thank god we were actually doing laundry and not something more, ahem, adult-like. But how the frack did our daughter, who refuses to walk down to the basement in broad daylight, find the guts to come downstairs all by herself, without a peep? She claimed to want one of us to put her "big red blankie" on her, but hadn't wanted to call for us (probably because we keep telling her not to). So she came ALL the way downstairs instead.  M. paused the TV, and agreed to walk her upstairs to help with the blankie sitch.

And that's when she noticed the TV was on.

And then settled herself in my lap and refused to leave the basement so she could "watch for a little bit."

We managed to get her up to bed, and she hasn't come back down - I think she's asleep. BUT NOW SHE KNOWS. And she'll probably tell her brother. It's all over - THEY KNOW WE WATCH TV AT NIGHT. We're fucked - they'll never leave us alone now!

6 years, 6 months, and 26 days - it was a good, good run.

Alright, on to Lucy's birthday, numero quatro. I'd be remiss if I didn't link back to the post I wrote on her birth, since I love it and go back to read it at LEAST once a year. I love remembering that day, and I love celebrating my little girl.

Lucy's birthday was on a Thursday (April 25th). I made some cupcakes for us to have that morning as a family - none for her daycare class, because I invited them all to her birthday party and thought that a school celebration too would be overkill. More cupcakes for us! I have no pictures of her actual birthday, because I'm lame. But mostly, we ate a lot of cupcakes.

But I have LOTS of pictures from her party, which was the following day. We had 11 kids and their parents at the house - I was more than a little worried that it would feel super cramped. But thankfully the weather was awesome, so our bounce house was out, and we were able to spread people throughout the living room, dining room, playroom, family room, and the backyard. Lucy had a great time, and aside from the fact that M. and I were preparing furiously right up until the first guest arrived, it wasn't too stressful.

 

First, a few photos of the setting. We did a pseudo "tea party/pink and green" theme. I didn't take the tea party thing all the way, though - I found some paper party cups with tea pots and tea kettles on them, make some iced tea, and offered "tea time" type foods. No hot tea or real tea cups were harmed in the making of this party, though I did try - I hit the local Goodwill to see if I could find some cheap but cute tea cups I could let the kids use, but no dice. Here is the table with LOTS of balloons, including a huge mylar, hear-shaped one for Lucy with pink feathered trim. It was ridiculously gaudy, and is still floating somewhere above our living room.

 

Flowers, and the hit of the party - candy melt-coated marshmallow lollipops.

 

The kids went ape-shit over these things.

 

I'm going to do a separate little post on how to make these - it was SUPER easy.

 

The birthday girl, drinking from her "tea" cup.

 

The food spread - finger sandwiches (tuna salad, egg salad, ham and cheese, and PB&J), scones, cookies, and berries.

 

Found this cute little tea pot at Marshalls for next to nothing - I love it!

 

I worked so ridiculously hard on Lucy's banner last year, you know it had to make an appearance again this year :-).

 

Bounce house in action!

 

We did a piñata for the first time ever - M. bought it that morning at one of the local party stores.

 

After many, many hits from the kids, and dropping it off of the deck above, to no avail, it was determined that this must have been one of those "new" piñatas that you pull open from the bottom.  Why don't these things come with instructions, exactly??

 

After the candy grab, we had CAKE!

 

FOUR. Goodness.

Hearts

Thanks for humoring my latest semi-regular freak-out about MY CHILDREN and LIFE and HOW WILL WE EVER SURVIVE?? Pretty sure that these episodes of mine track pretty well with a build-up of work stress and hormones, and things always look much sunnier after a couple of days and a good night of sleep. But thanks to all for your words of encouragement and empathy, they are very much appreciated.

I have come to the conclusion, however, that having kids is like birthing pieces of your heart on legs, that just walk around all naked (hopefully figuratively, most of the time) and beating and exposed - way more fragile than the one still in your body. I am constantly on the alert, thinking "how will these two little hearts get hurt?" Not WILL they, but HOW WILL they. Because it seems inevitable, as a parent, that something bad will happen. I can look on the bright side for myself, focus on the positives, laugh off imaginary potential dangers. But it is so much harder to let go of the fear when it comes to my children. It's a constant struggle between wanting them to be happy and wanting to tether them, encased in bubble wrap, to my body.

I see danger everywhere. Two hours of Alcohol and Substance Abuse Prevention training last week? Gah! Torture! Before kids, I probably would have joked about my past irresponsibility with alcohol, or my fortune at having a liver transplant surgeon as a dad. Now, I think about all the drunk drivers out there, and the awful, awful accidents they cause, and I want to make us a family of shut-ins. All I can see are images of their little bodies wrapped around trees, mangled. Three hours of Suicide Prevention training (can you tell I work for the Government?), and all I can think of as I sit through it is my kids, horrified at the thought that one day they might feel so awful that suicide feels like the only solution.

I'm not consumed with worry over my kids, but the thoughts are there, they come to my mind readily. I know intellectually that many of these dangers are still pretty far off. But SCHOOL. Now that is a danger that is here, already. I think I get a little anxious about how Finn is adjusting to school because there is such a high potential for unhappiness at school. For the heart (his, mine) to get bruised, or worse. Bullying starts so young, so, so young.

So I watch, eagle-eyed and, to mix metaphors, ready to get all "Mama Bear" if I need to. But I don't, I don't. Not yet, hopefully not ever.

A First and a Last

Friday marked Finn's very last day of daycare. I didn't get choked up the way I thought I might - perhaps because I'll still be coming back every day to bring Lucy. And Finn - well, all he could think about was how excited he is to start Kindergarten - I had to prompt him several times to "SAY GOODBYE" and "LOOK, THESE PEOPLE HAVE CARED FOR YOU FOR THREE+ YEARS, COULD YOU PLEASE JUST GIVE SOMEONE A HUG?!" But I wasn't really upset - his excitement for Monday is gratifying, especially when I saw one little girl start sobbing at the prospect of lining up in front of the classroom door to go inside the school during Friday's Open House. Even though her mom was RIGHT THERE, and had no intention of leaving. I think several kids are going to have a tough Monday, but I'm pretty confident that my little guy is going to bound right into the school. It helps that Finn's teacher is one of the two that ran his earlier JumpStart program, so he already knows her pretty well. Also, his favorite little friend from JumpStart has been placed in the same class, so he already has at least one friend.

I do think that once Finn truly realizes that he won't be seeing the handful of really good daycare friends he's made over the years every day, he will get a little sad. But that aspect of Kindergarten hasn't really sunk in yet.

How about a little "before and after?" Not the hardwood floor photos I owe you (I have them! They will be posted!), but photos of Finn:

On his very first day of daycare, December 18, 2006:

And here he is on his very last day of daycare, August 24, 2012:

 

 

 

I will restrain myself from gushing about those eyes! Those cute cheeks! Can you believe that little teeny baby grew into this energetic, fun, funny, smart boy?!? Of course, that's what's SUPPOSED to happen, I KNOW that. Well done, nature. You've done a great job so far with this whole "growing up" thing.

 

So those pictures mark a "first" and "last" for Finn (and you can bet that the traditional "first day of school" photo will be shared here, too, once it has been captured). Now here is a photo of a "first" for Lucy:

 

Her first dance class!:

 

 

 

 

Sorry for the not-so-great pictures - Lucy was NOT in the mood to pose prior to heading out to her lesson. And I couldn't get any photos of her during class, as parents aren't allowed in the studio - we all sit out in the lobby and watch what is going on in the studio via a video monitor.

 

Lucy's class covers both ballet and tap. Is it ridiculous to buy tap shoes for a three-year-old? Maybe. But my heart is not-so-secretly thrilled that Lu is developing a love of dance - I took lessons for about 10 years LONG, long ago, and have fond memories of jetes and changemonts and pirouettes and shuffle-ball-changes... (and I'm sure I just spelled most of that wrong). Anyway, you get the picture. I think she looks adorable, and I am glad that we finally have a chance to concentrate on doing something that LUCY wants to do. Usually she just gets signed up for whatever activity Finn wants to do or, even worse, she just schleps around with us and watches Finn do an activity on his own.

 

You can get a sense in some of those pictures of how the hardwood floors turned out, but I will be back with a proper before and after post once we are done with Phase II of the project (did I mention there is a Phase II?), in which new tile is being installed on the kitchen floor. Which SHOULD be this week (I fervently hope, as currently my pantry is spread out over several chairs in the dining room, which doesn't exactly facilitate quick meal preparation. Not to mention the thick layer of dust coating all surfaces everywhere).

 

But first, I need to get myself to bed so I can be well rested for the parental heartbreak I am about to experience tomorrow. KINDERGARTEN - THIS IS NOT POSSIBLE, RIGHT?





Ta Da! Like Magic, But Sweatier.

Just popping on to share some pictures of the playroom makeover I mentioned in my last post before I run out to fill some sandbags or something (oh my god will it ever stop raining?!). M. and I crave validation and credit for the hard work we did to create this playroom, a playroom that M. is convinced will never actually be used by the kids.

So, to set the stage, we have been living in our house for over 4 years. We moved here when Finn was a mere 7 months old, possessing of a jumperoo, an exersaucer, and a few odds and ends to entertain the bambino. Because we spent all our time on the main level of the house (kitchen and combo living room/dining room) with a child who could not be left unsupervised for any length of time, we opted to keep his meager toys scattered about in various places of the living room. No big deal, because, as I mentioned, he only had a few toys.

Then the first birthday happened. The large baby toys (exersaucer and jumperoo) disappeared, but the small- to mid-sized toys grew exponentially. We eventually purchased a shelving unit of sorts with storage bins to contain the toys, and placed it near the dining room. This worked well, and yay, forsooth, our living room/dining room still felt somewhat adult-like. But then came Christmas. And a second birthday. And another Christmas. And then another BABY, necessitating the reappearance of all those large baby items once again. By now our storage system had grown to include a toy box as well as several other large bins scattered throughout the house. AND YET THE TOYS COULD NOT BE CONTAINED.

Enter Lucy's birthdays and Christmas for two children, and it became VERY apparent that our living room/dining room? Was no longer an adult space. In fact, it quite resembled a daycare. But what could we do? We spent all our time with the kids on the main level of the house. This was where we ate with them, this was where we watched TV and movies with them. This was where they ignored their toys and complained that they were bored and irritated the crap out of us every weekend.

We have a basement. And in this basement is a family room, with our (only) fireplace, a comfy red sleeper sofa, a treadmill, and our largest TV. The basement is where M. and I retreat after kid bedtime has been achieved and all nightly chores are done.

Also in the basement is an office. This office was unfinished when we bought the house - concrete floors and framing and nothing else. We thought we needed an office. Before Lucy was born, we had this unfinished space finished so that we could create an office (and full bath) and move our second floor office downstairs, thus freeing up a bedroom for Lucy AND maintaining the existence of said office.

We never use the office.

Really, never.

I pile things in it that I need to file (but don't file). We have a printer in there that doesn't work, that we occasionally try to MAKE work. And when it doesn't, we go in there and curse at the printer. So that is how we use our office. We pile "to be filed, but never actually GETS filed" crap in it, and we curse at the printer. And sometimes we have guests sleep on the futon that resides in it.

So, the kids are a bit older now. Not very old, of course. Lucy's not even 2.5 yet. And I will admit that not even two years ago, when I saw that our neighbors had a basement playroom for their children, who were perhaps 2 and 4 at the time, I was MAYBE a little critical and incredulous. I could not fathom how they thought it was appropriate to let their young children out of their sight to play together - not just in another room, but on a whole different floor of the house. I was maybe a bit judgy. I had my newborn baby, and my two-year-old-who-has-never-been-out-of-my-sight-at-home-for-more-than-2-minutes-unless-he's-sleeping, and I was judgy.

But now, I totally get it. I get why some people would be OK with having their young children play in a room that is on a whole different level of the house.

Sometimes, I want to let my kids kill each other when they are a flight of stairs away from me, rather than 6 feet from me. They're going to do it anyway, I can't stop them or save them. That much has become clear to me.

Sometimes, I want the mess to be NOT IN MY LINE OF VISION.

Sometimes I want nice things. And I want those nice things to not get messed with.

I am a more relaxed parent than I was at one time. The old me would probably judge the now me.

But the old me does linger a bit. Not the judgy one (OK, maybe the judgy one a little), but the safety conscious one. We are considering moving a baby monitor down to the playroom so we can at least keep an ear on the noise and mayhem. You know, if it gets used. We also bought a large hook and eye latch to keep the door to M.'s workroom (also in the basement) closed enough to keep the kids out, but open enough to let the cat get to her litter box.

Wow, that was a far longer "setting the stage" intro than I meant to write. Good god, let me just get to these pictures already, the ones that were supposed to be posted and live 45 minutes ago...

But first, another note - we do not have "before" pictures of the office. Just know that there was a futon, and a desk with some random little objects on it, and two filing cabinets. And an end table and a couple lamps and a console table (that we did not move) and piles and piles of crap.

Also note that the room has no windows so, yeah. Lighting is not great. Sorry.

These are pictures of our living room on Monday morning. After our yard sale emptied out our dining room of furniture. I had already started sorting the kids' toys into various piles and bins for eventual transport downstairs, an improvement from what we started with on Monday morning, but nothing had actually been brought downstairs yet. This includes the bins of toys that had previously been scattered about the house (one in each kid's bedroom, one in our bathroom, two in the attic/storage-y area), so a few more toys than we typically had on a daily basis on the main level.



(Carseat not normally stored in the living room, just cleaning up a bit of a potty accident from the weekend...)

This is actually much less organized than it appears, as there is stuff hiding behind those chairs.

And here are the "after" photos of the new playroom:

View from the door looking in (play kitchen used to be in our kitchen)

The shelving/bins used to be in the dining room, and the futon used to be on the wall where the play kitchen is now.

Looking from the wall where the play kitchen is toward the door/console table. The pictures on the wall are left over from the "office decor" and will eventually be replaced with something more fun and kid friendly. We are thinking maybe fun, large decals and/or maps.

View from the futon toward the closet.

View of inside the closet. So. much. more. room. for. stuff. We will eventually (once we finished sorting through all the crap that has been displaced into our bedroom and the family room) put some of our own random crap up in the top shelves of the closet, since the kids can't reach them anyway.

View from the closet out into the room.

And here are some pictures of what our living room/dining room look like now.

Spacious. Empty. Mostly because we need to get that dining room furniture I ordered. In the back by the window is a TV stand that is not normally located there. We are trying to sell it. Want it?

Here is the living room part of the room. We are still hiding stuff behind those chairs. It is not as clean as it looks.

And this is what the kids want to do all the time. Wrestle in the big, empty room.

Time spent wrestling? Much.

Time spent in new playroom? Eh. A little. But it's still early.

Addiction

Their little bodies seem to fit perfectly with mine, like a physical memory of the time when we shared the same space. I crave this contact - a soft body on my lap, a head on my shoulder, smooth round cheeks pressed against mine. Breathing in the scent of Child: warm hair, shampoo, the fading scent of ketchup from dinner.

I can't seem to stop touching them. I tell myself it's to make sure they know they are loved. But really, it is for me. *I* am the one who needs it.

For now, they tolerate my neediness. Sometimes they even seek me out, bestowing me, unasked, with sqeezy hugs and sloppy kisses. My heart fills, but my craving is never satisfied. Because I know this time is short lived. Soon enough, my lap will not be a space that is fought over, my kisses will be rebuffed, bedtime cuddling will be a thing of the past. It helps ease the inconvenience of Lucy's still-more-frequent-than-we'd-like nighttime wakings - the idea that eventually, she will not find comfort sleeping on me. Even as I sit in her room longing for my own warm bed, I revel in her little body draped on mine, breathing and sleeping and dreaming.

I miss these times already, though they aren't gone yet.

Withdrawal is going to be killer.

Rumblings

I meant to sit down and blog at least 5 different times over the last week. I even did, once - wrote a couple hundred words about the strange things we say as parents, before I decided that the post was heading toward Crapville. If I was a better writer with a better memory for detail, I'm sure I could have pulled it off, but I just wasn't able to capture the intricacies and convolutions of pre-schooler speak. An excerpt, as the post is likely never to be published at this point:

On the way home from school yesterday, Finn explained how one of his classmates' mom came in to tell the class about her job. From this - "she does science and works with police officers to catch bad guys and showed us our finger wrinkles and then we dipped our fingers in chocolate syrup and dotted the paper" - I managed to deduce that the parent in question is a forensic scientist, and she tried teaching the kids about fingerprints (and had them make their own fingerprints using chocolate syrup).

What followed was a twisty-turny conversation regarding the criminal justice system that somehow ended with me advising Finn that no, it's not OK for policemen to shoot your pet. How we got there is still a bit of a mystery to me.

I also meant to tell you that I joined Weight Watchers this past Saturday. But the hunger kept consuming my thoughts to the point where nothing interesting could be blarfed out onto Blogger. Seriously, I have been hungry. Which you're not supposed to be, apparently - their program is supposed to be very "satisfying." But I'm still in the Learning How to Eat and Track Points Plus phase, so I have been conservative and perhaps erred a bit too much on the side of Foods Without Flavor. Because Flavor (usually) = Fat. So every meal I eat leaves me wanting to eat something else/more. I finally allowed myself to have a glass of wine tonight (well, two, actually), but I didn't enjoy it. MUCH. I kept thinking of the damned points. This will get easier, right? Right? I joined mainly because I completely failed at my attempt to diet by tracking calories (it just requires such COMMITMENT) and determined that I needed to be guilted into tracking my food intake by actually paying money and being forced to get on a scale, in front of PEOPLE, every week. And also because my sister has had amazing success with the program.

In other news, M. was out of town for a couple of nights. It's only really news because over the last year and a half he hasn't been traveling much for work. It really made me appreciate how much it helps to have him around in the morning, even though he leaves for an early train about 20 minutes before the kids and I get out of the house (most days). He usually stays long enough to help dress one kid and get them both downstairs. Corraling these two kids into clothes, making Finn pee, making both kids brush their teeth, feeding them each a snack, chasing them down to put on coats and shoes... probably falls under the "no shit" category, but it is infinitely easier with two ringmasters. Especially since Lucy delights in doing the exact opposite of everything I ask of her (for example, running away when I ask her to come over to me to get in her coat). And Finn, while he doesn't do the opposite, argues and argues and argues. I kid you not, in the morning, his voice is made of pure whine. WHINE. The kid is a class A grump when he wakes up, always has been. M. claims that he gets this from me. Though in my defense, I usually get up from bed much more easily then M. does. I just don't have appreciation for any kind of humor or flirty behavior AT ALL. Who wants to get handsy at 6 am before they've even had coffee, forgodssake?

Where was I? Oh, yes, M. was out of town. And though I was out of practice, it was fine. I remember how panicky I used to feel when Finn was a wee babe, and then when Lucy was a baby (and with good reason, there were some traumatic solo parenting experiences, all of which involved a reflux-y baby), and now it's all just FINE. I wasn't the slightest bit worried, even though I was on my own starting at around 2 pm on Sunday (the dreaded single parenting on a weekend when there is no DAYCARE!). Yes, things took a little longer, occasionally I yelled a little more, but we did fine. I cooked actual meals, and gave baths, and handled a 12 am wake up, and we all got to school and work at appropriate times. I even took both kids out in the snow on Sunday to go sledding by myself - wrangled them both into their snow gear and pulled their collective 65-pound weight all over the damned place in our blue plastic sled. And though I felt at times as though I might keel over from the exertion, we all had fun. Success!

And now M. is back, despite dire weather situations practically everywhere (yay!). And I am off to bed, lest I find myself idle and fixated on what kind of stupid diet food I will eat during this Sunday's Super Bowl. Oh pizza, I miss you!

Ha! Only an hour and a half, now

Editing a 15-page IADSR (50 points to whoever can figure out THAT government acronym) is not exactly taking my mind of my hunger, which was NOT satisfied by the 270 calorie Healthy Choice microwave meal I recently fed it. I need to stop thinking about how a farewell ice cream party (not saying goodbye to ice cream, just a co-worker moving on to a new job) is an excruciating TWO HOURS AWAY. Oh, I bet there will be chocolate! And whipped cream! And chocolate! Clearly this is torture, I'm way too hungry. But if I eat something now, I shall perhaps ruin my chances at a guilt-free ice cream gorging in two hours. So instead, I shall take a moment to distract myself by rambling on about parenting stuff.

First up: This morning, in the car, I asked Finn to be nicer to his Daddy. It's something I commonly do, because Finn is often quite mean to M., particularly in the mornings. If M. is the one to go into Finn's room to get him up once the cries of "I'm awake! I'm awake" echo over the monitor, it's as awful as if someone had taken his favorite blankie and pooped on it. No, he doesn't want Daddy, Daddy has to go away, he wants Mommy! Mommy! Time to get dressed? God forbid it be Daddy who helps him out of his PJs and oversees clothing selection. Must be Mommy!!! Seriously, he really puts M. through the ringer sometimes.

I don't take this to mean much, as M. and Finn have lots and lots of fun together, and I know Finn loves his Daddy. Also, it's pretty common for Finn to start whining that he WANTS HIS DADA! whenever I do anything he doesn't like. Which is quite often, especially as I try to get the kids inside and get dinner started once we all come home from work/school. Oh, you won't let me play outside? I want my dada! Oh, you won't let me turn on the TV until I use the potty? When is my dada coming home?!! Oh, you won't give me ice cream as a before-dinner snack? Damn it, lady, where is my DADDY!?!?!?! (Not that M. would give in to these things, but I guess Finn likes to forget that in the heat of the moment.)

Anywho, this was one of those mornings where M. could do no right where Finn was concerned. So I gently admonished him to be nicer to his father as I drove him and his sister to daycare. And I asked Finn, "Don't you love your Daddy?" His response: "Yes, I do... but Mommy, I just love you the best!"

Oh, snap! He loves me the best! There it is, he said it out loud. OK, so raising a Momma's boy is not really on my agenda, but I reveled in that statement for at least half a second before I said something along the lines of, "Now Finn, your Mommy and Daddy both love you very much. You should really love both of us just as much. It's OK if you like Mommy to do certain things for you, but you love your Daddy and you need to be nicer to him." And then the conversation turned to some construction trucks we were passing, and that was that.

I swear I'm not going to be "That Mother" or "That Mother-In-Law," - you know, the one who controls her son and drives her son's spouse batshit crazy - but I must say, my heart is secretly pleased (I guess not much of a secret anymore) that at least for right now, Finn loves me better than M. I'm sure I'll get mine one of these days, right? Might as well enjoy it while I can...

Next parenting thing: Threats. Especially empty, meaningless threats. Why do I make them? I know I should not. I don't WANT to say all the same things to my kids that my mother once said to me, but it's like they just... slip out. I have no control over it. I always hated the way my mom would hold every fun thing I had to look forward to over my head. Invited to a sleepover? Better clean your room or you're not going! Etc. In all honesty, I gave my mom a lot of shit over the years, and I completely deserved any threatened or actual punishments I received. But it still didn't stop me from hating that she did that. Well, here I am with my own kids, and I'm repeating the pattern. Finn had his first field trip of the summer yesterday - an outing to Romp n Roll (kind of a My Gym-type place). And what did I do? Use it as incentive to get him to do things. Things he should be doing anyway but was refusing to do (picking up his toys, brushing his teeth, etc). Which is just ridiculous, because at no point in time would I actually consider NOT letting him go on the field trip. Refusing to let him go would mean he'd have to stay behind at school, in a different classroom, while all his friends left on the bus. Or that I'd have to stay home from work to take care of him. Neither of those scenarios were ever going to play out, and yet. I made the threat, more than once. Parent of the year, right here. It's like it is the easy way out, and I keep taking it, rather than coming up with more effective ways to parent my kids. One of these days, Finn's going to start calling me on my bluffs. And then I'm screwed.

Final parenting thing: Erm, don't really have another thing. Guess I should have made the second "thing" the final "thing." Enjoy your weekend!

Clearly he's not ready to babysit yet

Monday morning, as I scrambled to load all of our stuff into the car before packing the kids into their carseats and taking off, I noticed Finn and Lucy's playtime together had taken on a somewhat, ahem, dangerous tone. Finn had two of the cat's toys, the kind that have a short pole, a long string, and some kind of dangly, cat-tempting toy on the end. He was wrapping them around Lucy's neck as she lay on the floor. Lucy was laughing.

Clearly it was time to have the "suffocation" talk.

Oy vey, what is with these kids, and their attempts to kill themselves and each other?

Frustration and Photos

(Notice, by the way, my refusal to utilize a cutesy alliteration like "Frustration and Fotos" in the post title. "Cute" alliterations that misspell words are a pet peeve of mine, and if Dunkin Donuts wasn't so darn convenient to my workplace, I would probably boycott the entire chain. Please, family of mine, do not gasp - I know those words are sacrilege for a native New Englander, as Bostonian diets are about 50% reliant on D&D.)

Today I feel like I'm not doing anything right. Mostly in the parenting arena - it's completely one of those days where I'm wondering if I'm doing the right thing parking my kids in daycare for 9+ hours a day. I'm having some issues with our daycare, some trivial, some maybe not trivial, but it's making me question our choices. I'm sure I'm over-reacting to some degree. I mean, is it necessary to have a mini anxiety attack about about WHO WILL HELP FINN DO HIS HOMEWORK??? AFTER SCHOOL???? IN THREE YEARS???????

I'm having some doubts in the working arena, too, as it's one of those days where I'm losing sight of why my job is important/good and feeling mired in politics and bureaucratic crap. Put the two together (working and parenting doubt), and it's hard to feel upbeat. I would vent, but I think it would be coming from the wrong place and be too reflective of my bad mood. The good news is that we are just a few hours away from tomorrow, and tomorrow is my birthday, so I HAVE to feel better then, right?

In the meantime, I thought I'd share some recent photos of Finn and Lucy, documenting some of our outdoor fun and weekend activities. Outdoor photos are so much better than anything you (or I, at least) can take inside - it should be a rule that all school photos need to be taken outside. By the way, remind me to close the loop on my post about school photos. Lucy's pictures this past round were, in fact, WORSE than the ones last November, and I am sadly not purchasing them again. I'll try to scan the proofs in to share the awfulness one of these days.

Sorry for the overload, but I love too many of these to narrow them down. I'd provide legends, but I'm lazy. Also, it's almost past my bedtime, and taking the time to write 15 figure legends would seriously cut into my "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" reading time (BTW, as a diehard P&P fan, I can avow that P&P&Z is not as good as the original, but I feel obligated to see the book through. Elizabeth is just not meant to graphically contemplate ripping Darcy's heart out of his chest to avenge Jane's dashed hopes of love with Bingley, no matter how much she loves her sister).































Couldn't resist one note here - M. likes to title this one "Finn as Scott Stapp, With Arms Wide Open"







I threw this photo in not because I'm being all vain and saying I love it, but because it completes the triad of "M. as photojournalist during our post-swim class lunch at Pandini's." Also, I thought my grandmother would appreciate it on this, my birthday eve. Love you, Mimi! And you, too, Mom!