If I had time to blog...

Thursday, July 31, 2008
I might tell you about what a fun summer we're having. Josie is ridin' her bike, and swingin' on "big girl" swings, and eatin' outside. Eve is singing and and swinging and climbing and giggling and talking. They love to be on the go, but also relish the "down-time" at home to play with their own toys and be silly in their own space.
I might tell you about Patrick's crazy-fun trip to New York with his dad and brother to see a Twins game at Yankee Stadium, and how they managed to do almost everything under the sun in a not-even-three-full-days trip, and how much all his girls missed him, but how we managed to plug along just fine and even managed to clean the house while he was gone. But I probably wouldn't tell you about how Eve tumbled out of the van in the driveway and bashed the back of her head on a rock and bled all over the place on the day that he was coming home. Because you don't really need to know that, and I would look like a really bad parent since I wasn't paying attention and I had unbuckled her when we parked and then she was leaning on the inside of the door by the time I got around to opening it, and oops. There she went. But then I would tell you about how cute it was to see the excitement in our house when Daddy came home and gave them adorable little kimonos he had picked up in Chinatown, and they both insisted on putting them on, immediately. And even though I got a kids size large t-shirt (he thought it might have looked a little small), I was still pretty happy he was home, too.
I might tell you about some of the other goofy things that have been going on with us - like how one morning Pat decided to put on corn medication upstairs while I was still in bed, but he was standing right in front of the fan and blew the fumes all over the place and I thought I might suffocate and die. But I didn't, so I might not tell you about that. But maybe I would tell you how the other morning I went to work with a Disney Princess sticker on my butt, and thank goodness for the kindness of strangers. I got on the elevator with a nice lady I didn't know who told me I had a little something back there. At least the day had barely started and I didn't walk around with Cinderella hanging off my ass for very long. Josie's in a sticker phase right now. Lucky me. And my well-decorated ass. And I might tell you that if you cruised by our backyard this summer, you might see a certain 3-year-old running around with no pants on. Thank you very much, Miss Lucy. Someday, when Josie teaches you the fine art of playing quarters, I'll look over my margarita at your mother and ask, "Are we even, yet?" :)
I could tell you how everything in Jo's world this summer is either "yummy" or "super". As in:
"Mama, it's yummy in here," when coming into the air conditioned house from a hot day. Or,
Me: "Ew. This room is messy!" Jo: "But Mama... is it super messy??"
And, I could tell you about how when you ask Eve a question, she pauses for a moment, tilts her little head to the side and says "Um..." before giving you an answer. It kills me. And how she counted to 10 the other day, out of the blue. Makes me wonder what else is hiding out inside that head of hers, just waiting to come out. She takes it all in, and her ears are always on, whether you think so or not. And my baby up and turned two on me. And she got healthy, and we were able to have her party. And it was so very nice.
If I had time to blog, I could tell you that I'm still "challenging" myself in my quest to get healthified. Like it? I just made it up. I'm to the point where the numbers on the scale aren't necessarily what concern me, but the ounces of water I drink every day, and the times per week I exercise. It's going to be a life-long quest for me, but so worth it. I feel like a completely different person than the one who almost died walking up 5 flights of stairs 6 months ago. And I'm never going back there again, I promise you that. No. I promise myself that.
There's so much more I would tell you. If I had time to blog. But for now, I'll let some pictures tell the rest of the story. 'Til next time...









My Eve

Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Next week you turn two.

Two years ago, I sat on this very couch, large and uncomfortable and about to embark on the biggest journey of my life: being your mother. You came into this world loud and on a mission and determined and amazing and beautiful, and you remain all of those things to this day.

Today you are not feeling well. But you wouldn't be able to tell judging by the size of your smile. You are always on a quest for laughter. I just sometimes wish that you wouldn't take the route that inevitable leads through your sister and whatever she's doing at the moment in order to get there. At the age of almost-two, you have found each and every one of her (and mine, and Daddy's) buttons, and you know exactly the right way to push them. But for every squabble and scrape the two of you get in, there are moments that are equally awesome to witness. I found myself on the brink of tears tonight when I returned home to you and Daddy after picking Josie up from Betty's house. You see, you stayed home with Daddy today so you could go see the doctor, and your sister went to daycare. The two of you don't spend a lot of time apart, and the hug the two of you shared upon your reunion showed exactly that. Of course, about 1 minute and 37 seconds later, you had hit her, or pulled her hair, or looked at her the wrong way, and the sweet moment was gone. But it won't be forgotten by your Mommy any time soon.

Your vocabulary continues to grow each and every day. You just told me tonight that "Daddy all done vacuum" and "Che-che brush teeth sink first potty." You sing all the time. Of course, you have the huge advantage of being able to listen to your sister sing all the time. You can do your ABC's all the way through, with a little prompting. You'd prefer to start the alphabet song with H-I-J... and you can. Because you're so stinkin' cute when you do it. You like to sing "Are You Sleeping?" and we always change the words to "Genevieve, Genevieve" instead of "Brother John, Brother John." I can't think of anything more awesome than to hear you try to say your own name. It comes out something like "Gen-A-Eaef" which is actually way more accurate than some others who have tried and who shall remain nameless.

You have this trait that I have no choice but to admit comes from me and both sides of my lineage. (Although your Daddy especially likes to point out the strong daughter-mommy-grandmommy-greatgrandmommy link for this particular trait. But he didn't really get a chance to know your granddaddy Bill well enough.) It's a stubborn streak so deep and wide that I can't even see the other side of it while standing on this bank with you holding your hand so you don't fall in. The more we try to get you to do something, the more you will resist. And you've got the whole reverse-psychology thing completely figured out already. Everything you do is punctuated with the word "Self." You insist on climbing in your carseat by yourself and climbing on the sink to reach your toothbrush by yourself and climbing in your chair at the table by yourself. And you actually do a very good job, now that you're not nearly as clumsy as you used to be. The more I push you to move faster, the heavier and slower you become. You do things at your own speed. Our treks to the garage in the morning can take anywhere between 1 and 12 minutes, depending on the interest you take in the ants, moths, trees, dog poop, squirrels and toys you see on the way. And the sooner I come to grips with your self-imposed speed limits, the more likely I am to maintain my sanity. I can only hope there is a support group with enough Margaritas and girls-nights-out to get me through your teenage years.

But for right now, let's just work on this year ahead. Two. I have a feeling it's going to be quite a ride. I'm not going to label it with the "t" word, because I don't want to proclaim a self-fulling prophecy. You're spirited, and you're sweet and dynamic and you're just you. One of your favorite things to say is "want it." Of course, you're just as quick to say "wuv you" or "nuggle me," or to demand a "tiss," which involves you grabbing the object of your affection by both sides of the head and pulling close to be sure you get a proper kiss squarely on the lips. None of this silly cheek-kissing for you. I crave you some days so badly it hurts. We're blessed to have you in our lives, and I can't wait to see what the year ahead will bring.

And the sailor keeps on sailin'

Friday, July 04, 2008
Brewster grabbed Evie's baby doll by the head. This upset Eve greatly. Pat grabbed the doll out of the dog's mouth, only to see that he had dented the plastic noggin. Pat handed the wounded baby back to Eve. She took it, looked at it, and said, "Aw. Dammit."

Happy 4th. We're hanging pretty low this holiday weekend. Got a pitcher full of party margaritas in the fridge, the girls are going to bed right now, and I think a movie is on our horizon. How times have changed.