The Daily B

fashion trends

2012-01-30T11:57:00.000-07:00

Another winning style. Those Missoni rain boots and grandma's knit hat are getting a lot of wear out here in the desert. For more fashion trends, see the archives.

a dilemma

2012-01-29T14:25:00.001-07:00

I just spent 25 minutes helping Miles "go potty," which is to say, I kept him company while he sat on the toddler potty, talked about his penis, fine-tuned his potty humor ("Look my butt, Mama. Butt. Butt. Butt.") and requested I sing You Are My Sunshine. He did not, however, actually GO potty.

Lately, on a given day, Miles probably spends 60-90 minutes sitting on the potty, talking about the potty, and never actually going potty.

(Edited to add: He's requesting to sit on the potty all this time. It's all his idea. Not mine! He wants to go 'cause he sees his sister do it.)

He's still young. Just over 2. But I'm at a total loss.

Potty training Bronwynn was a cinch. She was exactly 2 when Miles was born, and the moment I brought that tiny newborn brother home, she searched for creative ways to get more of my attention.

She realized that saying "I have to go potty!!" meant that Kris or I would hand off Miles and whisk her away to the bathroom, where she'd have our undivided attention for a few minutes. A couple weeks and relative few accidents, and she learned.

I don't want to rush into potty learning with Miles because 1) I know boys often learn later 2) I saw the magic of the toddler leading the process vs. the parent imposing potty training.

Yet, Miles is clearly interested in going. Or at least, he's interested in sitting and entertaining me for hours on end.

Part of me thinks I should be taking advantage of this in some way, but how? Is there any way to help him along in this process? I have stickers at the ready should he ever go (he's highly motivated by stickers).

I love my son, but I'm not sure I want to spend all day in the bathroom with him talking about his penis.

I'm open to advice...and especially to stories in which your son magically went from potty-sitting to potty-learning without your hair going grey. Feel free to comment below.

breaking news

2012-01-25T08:28:00.000-07:00

Mr. Bunny has undergone gender reassignment and should now be referred to simply as "Bunny," according to B.

I am open minded to these things, but confess I can't quite look at ~~him~~ her the same.

why I don't mind sick days

2012-01-23T11:26:00.000-07:00

Don't you want to scoop him up and snuggle him?

I don't like it when my kids get sick. Not one bit. However, I do try to find the silver lining...usually it's a forced day of quiet, of rest. I watch them more closely to make sure they're okay, and by doing so I notice a few things....like Miles being more nurturing to his babies.

I'm not sure why the plastic lids were necessary for baby's nap. They just were.

And, unlike when I'm sick (and crabby), the kids seem to be more loving to one another when they're not feeling well.

Bronwynn decided they should use their bonus free time to write letters to Santa. It's never too early, I guess.

Everyone is well now. Just a minor stomach bug that lasted about 12 hours for each kid. It produced a lot of extra laundry, but thankfully didn't spread to Kris or me.

Hope you all had a lovely weekend.

the finish line

2012-01-17T17:36:00.000-07:00

For six years I hardly ever thought about running. I thought about other things, like writing and skiing and Pilates and trying to get pregnant (which turned into its own endurance event, one that lasted nearly two years). Then, eventually, mercifully, beautifully, Bronwynn and Miles came along. Their births were the greatest test of athleticism I'd ever known (with the most fulfilling prize). And THEN, I thought about sleep (or the lack thereof).

My body was weary and I was emotionally drained and I wasn't sure I'd ever love running again. I found other, gentler exercises to love instead, like walking, hiking or biking with the kids in tow. But last year we moved to this place in the desert where I didn't know a soul, and to make sense of the move, to make it feel worthwhile leaving so many friends behind, I set some goals. Among them, getting back into the shape I'd been in before I got pregnant. I wanted to feel the strength and energy I'd felt in my 20s.

And so I ran. A mile here, two miles there. I didn't fall immediately back in love. At first, it felt like I was running through three feet of water. I'd cut my runs short and lift weights because I wanted to feel strong, not weak. But (thanks in part to the lifting) the running gradually became easier. I stopped simply looking forward to the hot shower and chocolate protein shake at the end of my workout. I began to look for ways to add more miles to my runs and more pounds to my lifts.

My body remembered.

When you feel weak and isolated, exercise can make you feel powerful. The rhythm of your feet, the sound of your breath becomes your voice. It's hard to criticize yourself as you swing a kettlebell or tick off a mile. You pass people on the trail or sidewalk and you feel a connection with them. You see familiar faces at the gym and you remember you're not alone in the world. For a brief time you're singularly focused on yourself and the task before you. All other concerns fall away. As a woman, and especially as a mother, that's fuel for the soul.

This past Sunday I was most certainly not alone. I was one of roughly 30,000 people who ran the Phoenix Rock 'n' Roll half marathon. Some dear friends drove from afar and we ran it together. Serendipitously, I saw my next door neighbor at the starting line. Friends among so many strangers, with live music and cheering fans carrying us through each and every mile. 13.1 in all.

A couple weeks ago, I posted my playlist here and it's making its way around Pinterest, which also makes me smile. Strangers listening to the same songs I listened to on course. I'm starting to think about my next run, my next event, my next chance to connect with something I thought I'd lost.

swinger

2012-01-13T09:56:00.000-07:00

in the absence of resolutions...

2012-01-06T17:31:00.000-07:00

...I hereby share with you some wisdom from the 4-year-old:

ON SURVIVAL:
"I want some water. You know why? I want to LIVE. You know what live means? You get water and food and in case you don't get any drink, then you stop living anymore."

"When you don't get water, you don't live anymore."

ON FISHING:
"Once you catch the fish, you get a rock and smash its eye, and then you can eat it."

ON ANGER:
"I just want to say 'I hate cars' and not 'I don't like cars' because I'm angry and it feels better to say 'hate'"

ON FATE:
"Sometimes things just go wrong."

ON FASHION:
"I can't wear these pants anymore, Mom. My butt is cracking out."

ON COPING:
"I just need a few minutes alone, please."

ON COMMUNITY:
"I'd really like it if all of our friends all lived together in one place."

Words to live by in 2012?

half marathon music playlist

2012-01-04T14:16:00.004-07:00

(click on the image to view it larger)

Did I mention I'm running a half marathon in less than two weeks? Hmmm...well, that might be because I've been in denial.

Alas, it's true. And I feel mostly prepared. I've been training, though not as rigorously as I did in my 20s when I raced a lot. I'm also not as competitive as I was in my 20s, so it's all good. :)

With the help of some friends, I assembled a playlist that should take me through the whole race (just over 2 hours at my usual pace). My only criteria for selecting songs was that each song had to have a strong, steady beat and make me feel good or energize me in some way (physically, emotionally). I love the power of music.

If you're on iTunes, you can search for "The Daily B's 13.1" playlist and download any or all of the songs. (I don't get any sort of compensation.)

Do you see any of your favorites on this list? Anything you would add or delete?

how to eat salad

2012-01-02T13:25:00.000-07:00

There's been a request for more Miles videos. He loves salad, but a kid at B's preschool told him he shouldn't like vegetables. So here ya go...

I don't want to know

2012-01-01T15:09:00.000-07:00

B: Mom, there are some things you don't know.
Me: Like what?
B: Poopy princess pony sunshine thing.
Me: I don't know what that means.
B: I know.

gingerbread carnage

2011-12-28T12:10:00.000-07:00

No matter how fast he runs, the gingerbread man always gets eaten.

What a 2-year-old really wants for Christmas

2011-12-25T20:57:00.000-07:00

scandalous

2011-12-23T10:30:00.000-07:00

I found Donny Osmond waiting for me in bed last night.

easy, not-too-sweet sugar cookies

2011-12-21T14:35:00.001-07:00

I recently modified an old sugar cookie recipe to make them a little less sugary. These are buttery and delicious, and still plenty sweet, especially if you decorate them with frosting and sprinkles :) They're just not overwhelmingly rich or gritty. You can also use this dough to roll out and cut shapes. Just reduce your baking time.

The Daily B's Sugar Cookies

1 1/2 cups unsalted butter (3 sticks), softened
2 cups sugar
4 eggs
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
5 cups all-purpose flour (unbleached)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
pinch of nutmeg

Cream together butter and sugar until smooth. Beat in the eggs and vanilla. Stir in the flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking powder, and salt and mix until dough forms.

Chill the dough for an hour (at least), and then form into balls and flatten slightly with a spoon or glass. Bake on an ungreased cookie sheet @375 for 8-10 minutes, until golden brown.

Makes about 5 dozen.

choosing a christmas tree

2011-12-18T15:19:00.000-07:00

how a 2-year-old drinks from a water fountain

2011-12-16T13:14:00.001-07:00

holiday photo sessions

2011-12-16T06:56:00.000-07:00

This fall I had the chance to photograph several families. I am first and foremost a writer... but photography is a natural extension of storytelling, and I was thrilled to help these families tell their stories. I always warn my clients I'm not a "sit still and say cheese!" kind of photographer. My favorite shots are the ones where one kid is frowning or being silly. I love capturing moments that people don't always see.

I struggle a little bit with offering professional photography, because my idea of beauty might differ from my clients' ideas. I find imperfection beautiful. I find raw emotion beautiful. I don't want to ever disappoint someone with my vision of beauty.

So I thought I'd share some of my favorite shots from recent sessions:

Sorry. I had to throw in this last one of Miles, my perfectly imperfect kid :)

I'm curious what you think. What style of photography do you like? Are your favorite family photos posed or candid? Smiling or not? Do you have any shots of your kids being messy or grumpy or...?

when it rains, we splash

2011-12-14T07:52:00.002-07:00

debut performance

2011-12-13T14:11:00.000-07:00

I am NOT cut out to be a stage mom. In fact, I went into this whole recital thing dragging my heels. Dress rehearsals?! New shoes?! Costumes??! I have to curl her hair?! Bah! We don't even own hairspray! Humbug!

That is, until I saw THIS, and my heart melted:

I saw how much B relished the experience. My child who is usually unfocused, easily distracted, lost in her own imagination, was completely rapt for the entire show. She focused completely on what her teacher told her to do. Her class danced to White Christmas. Arabesque. Plie. Chasse. The singing and waving was a little extra touch B threw in.

And the show didn't end when we left the theater. She danced her way to the car. She danced throughout the house. She asked if she could wear her costume to bed.

"Can we curl my hair every day, Mommy?"

what the kids want for christmas

2011-12-07T16:12:00.000-07:00

Today, we saw that jolly old icon of Christmas. No, not Jesus. The other guy.

Bronwynn gave him a thanksgiving card and told him she wanted fairy clothes. On the way home, I asked the kids what they want for Christmas. Here's what they said:

Bronwynn
"I need new fairy clothes. Mine are all broken." (not true)
"For Christmas, Mommy, I want you to come to my classroom and draw a picture for me."
"I need new band-aids."
"I want that pink fishing stick like Daddy." (Did I mention we saw Santa at BassPro Shop?)
(whispers) "Miles, tell Santa you want princesses for Christmas."

Miles
"No! I don't like princess. I play my cars!"
"Hi Santa. Nice to meet you."
"I like pink trucks."

So, there you have it. Interestingly, not a single item they mentioned is on their perpetual lists.

handmade holidays & elephant journal

2011-12-05T21:53:00.000-07:00

Things have been busy over here at The Daily B.

Good things. All good things. Among them: My DIY advent garland was included in an e-book called "Handmade Holidays," published by Hewlett-Packard. Click the link below to download your very own (free) copy. It's full of great tips and crafty ideas. (We're on page 5)
HANDMADE HOLIDAYS

Also, my recent post about sleep deprivation (that never-ending beast!) is featured over at ELEPHANT JOURNAL. Please hop over there and leave a comment or like/tweet so they know you stopped by :)

You, dear readers, are awesome. It means the world to me when I hear that something I've written or a photograph I posted connected with you, made you laugh, or made you feel less alone in the world. I am blessed to be part of such a very, very large circle of friends. Thank you!

overheard

2011-12-01T09:36:00.000-07:00

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"Daddy, my heart is telling me I need to wear my flip flops today."

every evening I wait for you

2011-11-29T17:10:00.011-07:00

I don't need a clock to tell me. I run forward. I run backward. I climb up. I climb down. I see the way the tree shimmers differently now. The sun casting its golden net from below, not above. I hear the urgency of wheels on pavement, the rush to get back to where they belong.

It's a punctuation mark on our day. The exclamation point that says we're here! We're all here, together again.

Daddy is home, and now we can dance.

a few notes on fashion

2011-11-28T10:05:00.003-07:00

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I will never be the mother whose children are perfectly groomed. Inside my house, my kids are often naked (or half naked) or dressed in various costumes from B's dress-up box. I brush B's hair once in the morning, and if it gets messy an hour later, so be it. Before we leave the house, I check three things:
1) Is B wearing panties under her clothes? (It's hard to explain to a 4-year-old why undies are necessary. They just are.)
2) Are the kids going to be warm/cool enough for where we're going?
3) Do they have shoes?

I do require them to wear some sort of clothing when we leave the house, but that's about the extent of my fashion rules. We have so many years ahead of us to argue over clothing. Why start now? As a result, we end up wearing some interesting outfits in public. A few recent examples:

I bought B a new package of socks recently, and she decided to wear all 8 pairs at once.

It's about their growing autonomy.

What are the fashion rules in your house? Do you let your kids comb their own hair? Choose their own clothes? Where do you draw the line?

Also: At what age can you expect kids to help with the laundry? The biggest downside to my letting the kids change clothes frequently is extra laundry...

a conversation

2011-11-26T09:29:00.000-07:00

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Miles: I have sisscotti peese, Mama?
B: But you don't like biscotti, Miles. It's too crunchy. You can't eat it.
Miles: NO! I HAVE SISSCOTTI MAMA. NOW! PEESE!
B: Mommy, he doesn't like biscotti! Don't give it to him!
Miles: NO B! STOP! I LIKE SISSCOTTI! I LIKE CARS! I DON'T LIKE PINCESSES!

a slight misunderstanding

2011-11-23T21:02:00.000-07:00

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What I said: "On Thanksgiving, we're going to be cooking all day."
What B heard: "On Thanksgiving, we'll eat cookies all day."

thanksgiving cards

2011-11-22T15:59:00.000-07:00

Her idea, not mine: Make Thanksgiving cards for everyone we know. Best part? Licking envelopes.

the list

2011-11-21T10:52:00.000-07:00

Last November, we were strolling around Target and Bronwynn caught sight of the toy aisle. Not just any toy aisle, but the one specifically targeted to girls. It's a dizzying vortex of pink and purple that sucks toddlers in and spits them out slobbery and screaming for all the things they cannot have. Boys have an aisle too, of course. They're seduced by wheels and polished chrome and real! live! action! sounds!

This is consumerism and gender stereotyping at its worst.

Like many parents, I felt helpless and desperate to pull her away before it got ugly. She started picking up dolls and hugging them and saying "Mommy, I want! I want! Can I have?!" To which I responded, "not today....maybe another time..." Her voice got louder, whinier. She was pleading. I could see where we were headed, so I tried to switch gears.

"Let's make a list," I said. "You tell me everything you want, and I'll put it on your list, and at Christmastime or your birthday or whenever you earn a treat, you can get something off your list." She jumped at the idea.

A year later, I can tell you that THE LIST has been one of my favorite parenting tools. I don't have to actually write anything down. She just tells me what she wants to add to her wish list. Sometimes, if it's really special, we take a photo of it with my phone. Bronwynn is aware that her list is very, VERY long and that she will not receive everything on it. But when a special occasion comes around, she tells me what one or two things on her list are most important to her, what she'd most like to have. Miles has caught on and started his own list.

Shopping with toddlers has never been more pleasant.

performance art, redux

2011-11-17T09:49:00.000-07:00

My friend's twin boys, when left to their own devices, create big, big mischief. Things like emptying a whole bottle of Hershey's syrup on the kitchen floor and rolling in it (you should see THAT photo).

My kids get into trouble, but it's always been more subtle, more sneaky. Like discovering half-eaten apples or slices of cheese stuffed between books on the bookshelf. ...Or, this. B was supposed to be resting in her room. Instead, she used a whole roll of toilet paper and water to create paper mache and "decorated" every surface with her own little sculptures. I found these rubber ducks the most amusing. Are they wigs? Or soap suds? And what role does the rubber mouse play?

At least she's crafty.

which came first?

2011-11-15T15:13:00.000-07:00

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Last night's dinner: Chicken and broccoli.

B: "Where does chicken come from? eggs?"
Me: "No, chicken comes from chickens."
B: "Chickens?!"

I braced myself for her outrage. Maybe even tears. My 4-year-old declaring herself a vegetarian. Instead, B paused mid-bite, stared down at her plate, thought about it for a moment, and then said "yeah, but where do chickens come from?"

Me: "Eggs."

Crisis averted.

for the love of snow

2011-11-12T08:16:00.000-07:00

Bronwynn has clear memories of winter in Colorado, building snowmen, sledding, white Christmases and snowball fights. Miles was only 7 months old when we moved to the desert. These photos Kris shot at the Grand Canyon last weekend say it all.

how to survive parenthood

2011-11-09T20:51:00.000-07:00

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2:30 AM: B crashes into my room, shoving the door so hard it bounces off the doorstop. She is crying, panicked. I am instantly awake. Heart pounding. Adrenaline coursing. What's wrong? Did you have an accident? "No, Mommy. My socks fell off. And I can't find them ANYWHERE."

I find the socks. Shimmy them back onto her feet. Tuck her in. She rolls over and falls right asleep.

My mind is racing. It takes me another 90 minutes to settle back down and drift off. Two hours later, Miles is up for the day.

Later, in the gym locker room, a mom I don't know complains about her 6-year-old, who still climbs into bed with her each night. Other moms drift in and out of the conversation, moaning and offering up their tales of sleep-deprivation woe. I'm tempted to tell the sock story, but I bite my tongue. Some moms believe that their parenting angst is more special than anyone else's. In the midst of seeking community, they are trying to one-up each other. But really, it's a common thread that unites ALL PARENTS EVERYWHERE IN THE WORLD: sleep deprivation. If you're a parent, you're tired.

I will yawn, and I will occasionally complain and assert that my flavor of sleep loss is unique and more challenging than yours. And I will assert to my husband that he has it good, because he gets to retreat to an adult-only office every day for 9 hours. A break from the kids! What luxury! While I work from home and juggle deadlines and nap times and house cleaning and bill paying and cooking.

But the truth, dear readers: I have it damn good. Really....what's so awful about your 4-year-old needing you to put her socks on at 2:30 in the morning? Is it really that painful to be summoned to your little boy's crib at 6:15, his arms outstretched, his fair hair matted on one side, his sweet voice chanting "Mama, out. Mama, I hungee. Mama, snuggle"?

I sip my coffee and stare at them, in awe of the relatively narrow spectrum of their concerns: milk. matchbox cars. socks. constructing elaborate imaginary worlds. negotiating who gets the yellow crayon first.

They don't worry for a second whether their needs will be met around the clock. It's a given.

This is the salty sweetness of parenting. They exhaust me. I love that my children exhaust me.

ALSO... I recognize when that exhaustion is nearing its crest and I need to take action before I crash and burn. Because no one wants a martyr for a mama.

I am approaching that crest. And serendipitously, this weekend, I am retreating to the hilltops with some dear women. There will be wine. A spa. Hiking in crisp, fall air. There will be no children. But, there will be blessed, blessed sleep.

how to amaze your children: show them snow and the grand canyon in a single day

2011-11-07T11:14:00.000-07:00

This weekend, Kris' mom and aunt were visiting and we drove up to the Grand Canyon. They'd never seen it, and neither had our kids.

There was 4 inches of snow on the rim and a lot of fog, but they still got a sense of the splendor of the world's biggest ditch. B was nervous about falling in, and totally in awe when Kris and I explained that we have backpacked down to the bottom and along the Colorado River for several days.

Miles? He appreciated it in his own way...by driving his Matchbox cars along the rim at Grandview.

preschool t-ball world series

2011-11-04T21:25:00.000-07:00

You know what I love about toddlers and t-ball?

Everything.

"Cracker Jacks. 10 cents"

"Pay up, Dude."

She closed her eyes as she swung the bat, yet somehow still managed a home run. (The fans in the background are older kids from the elementary school.)

Go Spiders!

B's teacher even made a shirt for Miles. He hangs around the classroom enough that he's become sort of a mascot.

He's taking notes for next year, when he's up to bat.

health care crisis

2011-11-04T08:39:00.002-07:00

Remember when Miles cut his chin and I took him to Urgent Care? The doctor washed the cut and glued it shut. Easy peasy. We spent maybe 5 minutes in the doc's care.

The bill came today. Anyone else see a problem here?

I'm thankful for group health insurance (something we didn't have access to when both Kris and I were self-employed). We paid $20 coinsurance for the visit. But how is it okay for the doctor to bill $1,040 for gluing a cut? Am I missing something? Do they have to bill that much in order to get the $206 they deserve from the insurance company?

More importantly....if we didn't have insurance, would they have billed us $1,040?

HopeWalk 2011

2011-11-02T14:16:00.000-07:00

In the midst of parenting, writing, blogging, and generally being extremely busy this past month, I was asked to photograph the HopeKids annual charity walk. HopeKids is a support community for families who have a child with cancer or some other life-threatening medical condition. It gives them outings and events to look forward to throughout the year.

Spending a few hours with them on a Sunday morning was like opening a window and letting a cool, fresh breeze pour over me. My cheeks were sore from smiling so much.

The walk was 3 miles long and many of the kids completed it with their families and friends. At the end, they all received medals (medals were donated from other running events, so the kids could pick whether they wanted a "marathon finisher" medal or even some first, second, and third place medals from triathlons. It was cute.)

I wanted to share a few photos with you so maybe you can smile too and be reminded, as I was, of the infinite blessings in our lives. Even when faced with unimaginable hardship, there are so many reasons to hope.

the adventures of yoda and the spiderman princess (formerly known as the spiderman mermaid)

2011-10-29T16:44:00.000-07:00

One of my kids likes their costume more than the other kid. Can you guess who?

"Judge me by my size, do you?"

"Do or do not. There is no try."

our new favorite dinner

2011-10-27T07:00:00.001-07:00

Have I mentioned we've been living without a stove for over a month? Yes, well. About that. I guess in the wake of the sewer repairs, Subaru repairs and air conditioning repairs, a broken stovetop is a minor issue.

It died, and as we researched replacements, we discovered that the previous owners did a not-so-fabulous job DIY'ing the granite countertops. The hole they cut for our 1980s stovetop is so wonky that virtually no current brands will fit in its place. And cutting the hole bigger could crack the granite (it's tiled), and we can't swing new counters right now...SO. We searched and finally found a stovetop that fits. It's being installed later this week.

In the meantime, I've grown quite creative in using our oven, outdoor grill and microwave to prepare meals.

The kids' favorite? Spaghetti squash.

I'm not sure they realize it's not actually pasta. You can bake or microwave the squash whole (just poke some holes in it with a fork first so it doesn't explode...we microwave it for 10-12 minutes, depending on the size). Then, slice it open, scoop out the seeds and scrape out the flesh with a fork (the kids love to help "make noodles").

Top it with tomato sauce, Parmesan & olive oil, or whatever you have on hand. We usually toss in a little garlic and fresh tomato, and maybe some sweet Italian sausage or grilled chicken. It tastes remarkably like pasta, but is much healthier (and doesn't leave you in a stupor afterward).

I'm trying to decide what I want to cook first once the new stove is installed....I'm thinking crepes. Or maybe I should find a meal that requires cooking on all 4 burners at once, just for the heck of it. Any suggestions?

pumpkin pickin'

2011-10-25T07:07:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, we took a trip to the ole "pumpkin patch." I put "pumpkin patch" in quotation marks because here in the desert, it's hard to find an authentic pumpkin patch where pumpkins are growing on vines. Instead, many places truck in pumpkins and toss them in a field. Voila! Pumpkin Patch!

Thankfully, toddlers don't know the difference.

Not to sound too grumpy, but it was also 98 degrees this weekend. I wasn't feeling the autumn spirit. I missed my sweaters and hot apple cider. Kris and I found ourselves sweating and hurrying the kids along....

Quick! Pick out a pumpkin! Okay, now sit on this tractor and smile for a photo! (Notice B's tatts. She found the leftovers from the birthday party, and now she's working on a full sleeve.)

Time to go!

Actually, we did linger a while. They were giving away balloons. There was a bounce house, which the kids adored. Bronwynn picked out some spaghetti squash at the vegetable stand. (Her new favorite vegetable is squash)

They had a great time, and we had a great time watching them have a great time. That's the way parenthood is sometimes.

Also, we learned the hard way last year...best not to carve your pumpkin before Halloween. It will shrivel and rot in the heat. We carved ours a week early last year, and by Halloween night, our jolly jack-o-lantern looked like a 90-year-old man with no lips and no teeth. Scary, indeed.

So when we got home, we let the kids paint their pumpkins instead.

And, we made some glazed pumpkin donuts, which helped us get in the spirit a little more.

Not enough to dig out my sweaters, but it helped.

2

2011-10-21T06:54:00.000-07:00

Every night before bed, I rock Miles and sing "You Are My Sunshine." He nuzzles into the crook of my neck and his feather soft hair brushes my cheek. I rub his back and steal a whiff of his honey sweet breath. We've been doing this since he was a newborn.

Lately, the past week or so, he's started singing along with me. And when he gets to the word "happy" he bursts out laughing. He giggles, tossing his head back, his little round belly heaving. He can't contain himself. The word "happy" is just. too. funny.

My sweetness is two. He's crafting his own jokes. He does indeed make me very, very happy.

county fair party

2011-10-17T10:28:00.000-07:00

3 + 1

2011-10-13T10:00:00.000-07:00

She says she's not four. She doesn't like four.

Four implies growing up, getting bigger, becoming less of a baby. And growing up is no good, you see.

But birthdays? Birthdays are okay. In fact, they're downright fabulous. On birthdays, Daddy wakes up early and takes us to pick out donuts.

She chooses the pink one, with sprinkles, of course.

Then, eats only the pink part and the sprinkles.

Little brother gets a donut too. He thinks sister's birthday is mighty fine indeed.

"Next year, Mommy, can I be a baby again in your belly?"

That's not exactly how birthdays work, I try to explain. "But you'll always be my baby," I say. "You'll always be my little girl."

"Yes, but I don't want to be 4 yet," she says.

"How about we say you're three plus one?" I ask.

"Do I still get to open presents?"

"Of course."

"Okay," she says. "Three plus one."

overheard

2011-10-12T14:15:00.000-07:00

B: "Mommy, can I have a marshmallow? and a graham cracker? and a piece of chocolate?"
Me: "You want to make a s'more?"
B: "No! I just want a marshmallow and a graham cracker and a piece of chocolate, and I want to smoosh them all together like a sandwich."
Me: "That's called a s'more."
B: "NO MOM! You're not listening to me. That's not what I want. Just give me a marshmallow and a graham cracker and some chocolate, please. I want to squish it together and eat it."
Me: "We're all out of marshmallows."
B (sighs): "Fine. I'll just have a rice cake."

new tricks

2011-10-12T07:08:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that Miles has been potty training himself? Well, okay....he's just mirroring his sister, which means that several times a day he takes off his pants and diaper and sits on the potty. And sits. And sits. And SITS.

He's been doing this every day for two months and has yet to actually GO in the potty. But we praise him for sitting. Good try Miles! Good sitting!

how we heal

2011-10-10T15:03:00.000-07:00

Two days before school pictures, B tripped and hit her forehead on the bathroom counter, leaving her with a nice goose egg. We iced it immediately and applied some Arnica and told her that she might have a bruise showing in her pictures, but that it would be okay.

We've been talking with her a lot lately about big problems vs. little problems. Spilled milk? Little problem. Broken crayon? Little problem. Ran into street without looking for cars? BIG problem. Miles stole your toy? Feels like a big problem, but really it's a little problem.

So, she was sitting on my lap crying and holding the ice pack on her head ('cause she wanted to do it herself) and she asked, "Mommy is this a big problem?"

I wasn't sure how to respond, so I asked her what she thought. She decided, "it's a medium size problem" because it hurt a lot, but she didn't need to go to the doctor and get stitches.

Thankfully, by school picture time, her bruise was barely noticeable. Not that Kris and I really cared about a blemish on her school photos....in fact, we thought it would only make them more memorable. But B was concerned, and so we were concerned. And so we all gave a collective sigh of relief that she healed so quickly.

Fast forward a week. Miles tips his chair over at dinnertime in one of those slow-motion catastrophes where I'm watching it happen but can't quite leap to his rescue fast enough. He splits his chin open, bites his tongue, and it's a bloody mess. Aware that the kids are looking to me for cues on how to react, I calmly call Kris at work and ask him to rush home so that I can take Miles to urgent care.

Still, B saw the blood, heard Miles crying and yelled "It's a big problem! It's a big problem!" I tried to assure her we can take care of it. "Mommy and Daddy know how to handle all sorts of problems," I told her.

Thankfully, they were able to glue Miles' laceration closed, so it was relatively pain-free. In fact, I'm pretty sure he thought it was a fun outing alone with Mama. And once B saw Miles all cleaned up, smiling, and holding a bouquet of stickers the nurses gave him, she felt much better too.

A few days later, the kids and I were out for a walk and Bronwynn ran her fingers across her forehead and asked, "What happened to my bump?"

"It went away," I said.

"Where did it go? Does somebody else have it now?"

"No, honey. You didn't give it to anyone else. It's just gone. It healed." I replied, and we continued walking silently for a few moments while she pondered the concept of "healed."

"Mommy, I think my bump went up into the sky into the clouds and became rain," she said. "And soon, Miles' cut will go up into the clouds too."

Sounds like a perfect explanation for healing to me.

performance art

2011-10-08T07:06:00.002-07:00

This is one of the many things I love about toddlers.

I came across this little vignette in the pantry, courtesy of Miles. I guess toy dogs need to eat too...

caprese skewers

2011-10-07T15:22:00.000-07:00

I'm experimenting with variations of food on a stick. Today: caprese salad. Bronwynn loved it. Miles wasn't so sure (I cut his tomatoes and mozzarella in half to prevent choking....I think that ruined the fun for him.)

Also, I had to take the sticks away immediately so they wouldn't impale themselves.

It's a work in progress...

a little scouting mission

2011-10-06T14:17:00.000-07:00

This past weekend we visited the state fairgrounds. There was a home & garden show going on, which we wanted to check out, but while we were at it, we did a little inspiration scouting for the kids' upcoming birthday party, which will have a county fair theme.

To me, the appeal of a fair is the vibrant colors and festive atmosphere. It's just hard not to be happy at the fair.

But to the kids, the real draw is all the different kinds of fun food you can eat on a stick. And french fries drenched in ketchup.

Miles' cheeks are so very kissable. Kris caught me trying to steal a little smooch.

Kris thinks that no fair is complete without some livestock running around. He's trying to talk me into renting a pig for the party. "You know, grease it up and let the kids try to catch it," he says.

Um, no.

someone alert the us diving team

2011-10-02T21:38:00.000-07:00

We have a couple of contenders for 2016.

morning commute

2011-09-29T14:09:00.001-07:00

Thank you, September, for bringing cooler morning temperatures. Finally, we can emerge from our air conditioned hibernation and enjoy a little sunshine and fresh air!

I often post funny quotes from B on The Daily B's facebook page (scroll down & click "like" on the right and you can go check them out). What I haven't mentioned is that most of those quotable moments happen on our daily ride to her preschool each morning. The journey is just a few blocks. 10 minutes, tops. But, man, do we pack a lifetime of memories into that commute. It's a precious, precious gift to walk beside her as she pedals those little wheels and chatters away.

Today: Expansive commentary on the phenomenon of "bed head" and who of our friends has the craziest looking hair. The winner? Oliver, my dear friend Jes' 2-year-old son. "Oliver's hair is crazy, Mom, but I still want to share my toys with him."

I reminded her that her brother's hair is pretty crazy too, as is hers at times. "Yeah," she said. "No matter how your hair looks, you should always be happy with yourself."

So true.

family room before & after

2011-09-25T10:37:00.001-07:00

Another business trip for Kris. Another mini makeover for the house. You'd think I'd take it easy while he's gone...solo parenting is challenge enough! But instead, when the hubs is away I keep myself as busy as possible. I think I miss him less that way? Time flies when you're over-scheduled? Or, he can't object to my paint color choices when he's out of town. ;)

FAMILY ROOM BEFORE
We've lived with this purple accent wall behind our fireplace since we moved in. I love eggplant. Just not on my wall. It looks black at times and gives our downstairs space a cavernous feel. The wall is the focal point of the room and it's opposite the kids' play area, which is so much more cheerful. Eggplant just doesn't fit.

I put off painting over it because I couldn't decide what color I wanted. Ideally, I'd like to get rid of the accent wall and paint the whole downstairs one color. I'd also like to change the fireplace facade. But that's not in our budget right now (we want to hire professionals due to the sloped/vaulted ceilings and drywall).

Also, that couch on the left is in sad, sad shape. The quilt is hiding years of wear, dirt, and liquid stains from the kids' leaky sippy cups. I recently had the couch steam cleaned, and the cleaners shook their heads in defeat. The upholstery can't be rescued.

But hope is not lost. Here is what I was able to accomplish on a tight budget:
(click "read more" to see the After photos)

FAMILY ROOM AFTER
The paint color is "golden harvest" by Benjamin Moore. (The top photo was taken in late afternoon. The bottom photo is morning.) I wanted something warm and cheerful and knew I could go bold since it's just an accent wall. Even with a primer, it took several coats to cover that dark purple!

For the couch we tried a Sure Fit slipcover (disclosure: Sure Fit provided the cover for me to review). I've purchased Sure Fit chair covers in the past, and I like how snug they are. This sofa cover comes in two pieces: One for the seat and the other for the body of the sofa. It looks less like a slipcover and more like upholstery. Best of all, it's much, much cheaper than reupholstering or buying a new couch, and you can easily remove it and toss it in the washing machine...essential when you have toddlers.

Lastly, I removed one of the end tables next to the leather love seat. It opened the space a little more.

That's it. Nothing fancy. Again, with toddlers we don't have artful displays of stacked books or collectibles. We keep things simple. But the room is so much more inviting now. I find myself sitting on the couch with the kids more often, reading books or watching movies.

All in all (if you count the value of the slipcover) this makeover cost just $175. It took 2 days to complete.

What do you think?

waiting for friends

2011-09-22T06:27:00.000-07:00

I love this series of photos. This summer we were meeting up with dear friends we hadn't seen in months. B really, really wanted to see Tenny, her adventurous, imaginative buddy. I watched B's face as she saw him coming up the sidewalk. Her expression is so lovely. Pure joy.

daughters and body image

2011-09-17T15:34:00.002-07:00

This week, during preschool drop-off, one of the other moms was dressed in workout attire. B noticed and asked, "are you going to the gym?" The gym is part of my weekly routine, so B picked up on the similarity in this woman's clothes and my gym clothes.

The mom let out a big sigh and replied solemnly, "yeah, I have to go to the gym."

B asked, "Why you have to go to the gym?"

The mom said, "I have to work out so that I can eat junk food and still wear a size 8."

Anyone else shocked by that statement? I was too surprised to say anything in the moment. Too slow to cover B's ears. I expect to have to shield my daughter, to help her process negative messages regarding body image. I just wasn't expecting it at age 3.

This mom is a nice woman, good intentioned, but I've witnessed her several times making self-deprecating comments in front of her daughter and mine. I've heard her say jokingly, "I hate her" about women she perceives are younger, thinner and more beautiful than she is. She's asked me blatantly about my dress size. Not wanting to have that conversation openly on the playground, I told her "it depends on the brand of clothing."

Later on this week, when I was dressing to go running, I asked B, "do you know why Mommy goes to the gym?"

I explained that I like to exercise because exercise makes us healthy and strong. "Moving our bodies feels good," I told her. "I enjoy running and listening to music, just like you enjoy dancing and riding your bike." Also, at the gym, we see lots of friends. We go swimming. It's fun!

She seemed to understand what I was saying, but I wondered, am I saying the right things? Am I saying too little? Too much?

I was just assigned a magazine feature about body image, and as I delve into the research and interviews, I'm feeling pretty discouraged. Eating disorders are not only on the rise, they're appearing at younger ages. Once source, a psychiatrist and author on the topic, said she counseled a (healthy, thin) 7-year-old girl who obsessed about the "points" value of everything she ate. Guess whose mom was on Weight Watchers?

That's not a slam against Weight Watchers. And it's not to say daughters whose mothers do Weight Watchers (or any other diet plan) are doomed. The psychiatrist just cautioned moms: your daughter is observing you like a hawk. What is she seeing? How do you interact with food in front of her? How do you treat your body? Do you celebrate its strengths or are you critical? Dads, what do you say about Mom's body in front of the kids?

I don't weigh myself or talk about my size. I don't diet (partly because I grew up with a mom who dieted constantly, and I saw how unhealthy it can be). I do avoid sugar and limit the sugar my kids consume, because I've noticed a strong mood connection (too much sugar has a depressing effect on me, and it makes the kids grouchy). I hope the general message I'm sending to my kids is that exercise and good foods make us feel good, they give us energy and make us strong. Treats are just that: treats. We enjoy them sometimes. Not every day.

I just wonder if the positive messages we present at home (overtly or subliminally) are enough to counter the barrage of information the kids will receive outside our home--from media, their peers...and, yes, other parents. The experts I'm talking to seem to agree: We can't avoid bad messages about body image. We can't realistically put our daughters in a bubble so that they never glimpse a magazine, see an ad featuring a too-thin celebrity, or handle another Barbie doll ever again. It comes down to setting examples at home and learning to reframe our thinking when it comes to our bodies. Filter the messages you receive. Teach your daughter how to filter them. Sons too. They're not immune. (Note: The article I'm writing is geared toward men and women. When it's published, I'll link to it here.)

I haven't decided if I'll say anything to this other mom at preschool. I don't know her well, but I see her several times a week, and I genuinely wish she could be happier with herself. There are days she oozes self-contempt. I'm caught between feeling deep compassion for her and wanting to avoid her entirely. I don't know if there's anything I could say to change her attitude. But I could ask her not to discuss body image/body size in front of my kids. Does that make me a self-righteous jerk? Or a protective mom?

Have any of you encountered body image issues with your young daughters? With other parents? How do you handle it?

DIY layered skirts

2011-09-14T13:32:00.000-07:00

I hated dressing up as a kid. Jeans have been my wardrobe staple for as long as I can remember. B, on the other hand, has probably only worn jeans a handful of times in her life. She is actually the one who's helped me realize that you can effortlessly wear skirts and casual dresses around town, on the playground, or kickin' around the house. Skirts don't have to be fussy. You can get them dirty. Run in them. Bike in them. Bonus: They're oh-so-breezy in hot weather.

Before school started in August, B asked me to sew some skirts for her. I'd never tried it, but found a couple of tutorials for layered skirts that looked pretty simple. The first skirt is made from fabric of my choosing. The second skirt is fabric that B chose.

The skirts are a little longer than I intended, but I figure they'll fit her all year :)

I really love that B was so involved in the project, picking out fabrics and helping me cut the pieces. She told everyone at school that she made the skirts herself :) Maybe one day soon, she will.

HOW TO MAKE YOUR OWN: If you're familiar with sewing, the basic idea is this: Cut strips of fabric that are twice as long as your daughter's waist. If you want it more frilly, cut longer strips. Less frilly, shorter strips. But a safe minimum is 1 1/2 times the length of her waist.

Sew a basting stitch at the top of each fabric strip (tier of the skirt). Pull the basting stitch to gather the fabric, then sew the tiers together (lay the right sides together, and sew a zigzag stitch along the inside of the basting stitch to maintain the gathers). Once the tiers are all assembled, fold the skirt in half, right sides together and sew up the seam. Then finish the hem. The waistband is just 3/4 inch elastic. You can see how I sew a waistband HERE.

If you're like WAH? Basting stitch? HUH? Never fear. You can follow some easy tutorials HERE and HERE.

Each skirt took me about 45 minutes to make. I'm thinking I might need to sew one for myself...

mug shot

2011-09-11T08:39:00.000-07:00

the shirt

2011-09-09T06:49:00.001-07:00

Parents: Do you ever develop a sentimental attachment to clothing your kids have worn?

I love owls, and when B was about a year old, I saw this adorable owl print shirt at Target on sale for $3. I snatched it up and dressed her in it often. It wasn't fancy. Not handmade. It was just cute and simple. It reflected the cuteness of my 1-year-old and the simple pleasures she enjoyed.

When we moved and I went through all our old baby clothing, I donated that shirt and immediately regretted it. I actually missed the shirt....or at least I missed the time that shirt represented, that transition from babyhood to toddlerhood.

So, imagine my delight when I was at a garage sale with a friend and saw that same shirt sitting on top of a clothing pile. I picked it up and looked at the tag. Size 4T. Perfect! I paid 25 cents and brought it home for B. She took one look at it and said, "Mommy I love that shirt! It's so beautiful."

trucks, Mama! trucks!

2011-09-07T08:27:00.000-07:00

4 trucks + 1 digging crew + 5-ft-deep trench = big entertainment for toddlers.

And I will not ever take for granted again the beauty and privilege of flushing a toilet or doing laundry or washing my hands without incident. Nor will I forget the pain of flushing our entire savings account. Happy anniversary, honey. I got you a new sewer.

silver linings

2011-09-06T07:04:00.001-07:00

This Labor Day weekend, we tried again to escape the heat (and also the memories of last Labor Day weekend.) I'd say we were moderately successful in that:

1) We did escape the heat by camping up on the Mogollan Rim.
2) We escaped the bad memories of last Labor Day by replacing them with a few new, bizarre memories. Namely, the place we chose to camp--an idyllic, remote area in a national forest--somehow drew crowds of drunk hooligans. Our scenic campground was violated by the sounds of gunshots (no joke), country music, chainsaws and various all-terrain vehicles tearing up the forest. Oh, and there was an ambulance, sirens blaring. We assume they had to evacuate someone who either fell off an ATV or accidentally shot themselves.

That said, the kids had a blast, and we savored the cool weather. But after two sleepless nights, we left early on Sunday to escape the other campers and enjoy the rest of the holiday weekend by our swimming pool.

Then, Sunday evening, as I was doing laundry, I heard a strange gurgling noise coming from our downstairs toilet. When I went to investigate, I saw dirty water seeping from the base of the toilet and flooding the tile floor. I stopped the washing machine and yelled to Kris, who plunged the toilet to no avail. He ran the sink and flushed an upstairs toilet to see if the problem was just the toilet, or the washing machine or the main sewer line.

It was the main sewer line. Stinky water flooded half our downstairs. We used every towel in our linen closet to sop it up, and then the shop vac, and then called an emergency plumber (our usual plumber not available on a holiday weekend, of course). Within an hour, a plumbing truck arrived and two guys snaked the line about 100 feet out beneath our driveway, but then they realized the problem was bigger than their equipment could handle, so they called in reinforcements. That's how we found ourselves Sunday night at 8:30 (did I mention it was our wedding anniversary?), two plumbing trucks parked in front of our house, the news wasn't good. Tree roots (yes, in the desert, tree roots from the ONE mature tree in our yard) penetrated our sewer line. They cleared it temporarily, and today they'll come back with a camera to assess the damage.

This comes on the heels of our air conditioner breaking (on a 115-degree day), my computer crashing and our Subaru threatening to die for good.

Let's just say we're hoping for the best...whatever that means. In the meantime, I went through my photos of our camping trip and found several that make me smile. I look at how much fun the kids had playing together outside, how much fun I had watching them play, and realize it wasn't a failed adventure after all.

Also, unlike last year when I felt really alone, this year we have so many friends and neighbors offering support. Last night while Kris cleaned up the water and dealt with the plumbers, the kids and I crashed our friends' dinner party...except, they made it seem like we'd been invited all along and they sent a plate of food home for Kris too. I'm so very very thankful for friends like that.

And, dear readers, I'm thankful for you too. I was overwhelmed by the Facebook response to my last post and thankful for everyone who clicked that "like" button to share it with friends. So often, when you blog, you send your words and photos into cyberspace and you never know who reads them and who was touched by your stories. I'm always grateful when you share these posts and comment. Thank you!

light and love

2011-09-02T06:20:00.005-07:00

The dawn is just edging its way past our white curtains, and already I hear them. Thunder roaring down the hall. They tumble into our bed and vie for the best spot. If I’m lucky, they won’t fight for me. One will nuzzle beneath my chin and the other drape across Kris’ broad chest. And together we’ll snooze another 20 minutes.

But today, I can tell, they’re too awake, giggling and unable to settle.

“Smell my feet, Mom,” she says, and I crack one eye open to see pea-size toes staring me down. And yes, they do smell. I tell her so. She responds with big, heaving belly laughs.

When did this happen? Babies don’t act like this. Kids do. It’s sad that those toes are less kissable than they once were.

Another foot whacks me in the ear. “Smell. Feet, Mama. Smell.” His are not much sweeter. But his breath is. I pull him close and accept a sloppy kiss on the lips.

Kris grumbles. It’s too early. He acts genuinely surprised by their presence every morning. Like this is supposed to be the day they finally sleep past 6:30. Like, remember that time? When we were on vacation and they slept until 9? We had coffee and read the newspaper.

If he was more awake, if I was more awake, I could remind him that they slept late because we were in a different time zone. I could remind him that someday he’ll miss this.

He knows. Things are changing. We all can sense it.

B says in one breath, “I don’t ever want to get bigger,” and in another she pines for the privileges big kids have. She knows she is funny. She's discovered the art of the joke and the allure of mischief.

Last week at lunch, she tried “dammit” on for size. “Dammit, Mom, I said I want milk!” And immediately she repented. She knew it was not the right thing to say, but a boy at school said it, and she wanted to say it, to see what I’d do.

It made me sad to hear that word from my baby’s lips, and I told her so. There are words that just make people feel bad….and truth be told, “damn” isn’t always one of them. But it was the realization that this is where we are. She is in the world, hearing things she’s not used to hearing, exposed to things she’s not familiar with.

Later that same day I heard her in the playroom. “Dammit, where’s my pony?” And this time I laughed, because, well, she had “dammit” down pat. She used it in context, and that makes the writer in me proud.

We talked about it. No anger. Just conversation about words and how words can make people feel, including the person who speaks them. It was a surprisingly intellectual conversation for an almost-4-year-old. And she hasn’t said “dammit” since.

rock family, pine cone family and seed family. see all the baby rocks?

There’s a mental spiral I start to go down when I think the kids are growing up too fast. I begin to imagine them two years from now, then five, then ten, and I fear I will wake up tomorrow and they’ll be out and gone. I feel it when a stranger approaches me in a store and comments on how cute they are and delivers that cliché that so many seasoned mothers do, “enjoy them! It all goes by so fast!” Though I can see the sincerity in her eyes. Hers are teenagers now. Still, I despise those words.

My advice is to be present today and write it all down. As much as you can. Write. And tell the stories to the people in your life who keep your stories safe.

I’m learning to dig my heels in and remember that this is just today. Things are changing, but it’s not linear and it’s not exponentially fast and today is still one day. I can’t slow them down, these ~~babies~~ kids of mine, but I can slow down and savor it. Stinky toes and all.

overheard

2011-08-31T08:27:00.002-07:00

.
B, singing to Miles in his crib this morning:
"you are my sunshine, my only sunshine. you are happy when skies are grey. you never know dear how much you love me. please don't take my sunshine away..."

travel snacks

2011-08-30T10:26:00.000-07:00

Someone asked me recently what snacks I carry around in my purse for the kids. I learned the hard way that snacks like string cheese, fresh fruit and granola bars don't hold up in my purse when it's hot outside. There's nothing like reaching down into the bottom of your purse and feeling something squishy, slimy or just plain rancid.

So, after experimenting a lot this past year, I started a list of my new favorite snacks for when we're on the go.

Granola: Granola in a snack cup or baggie travels really well. Bonus: Loose granola tends to be higher in protein and lower in sugar than granola bars. Our favorite right now is Bear Naked brand. It's whole grain, contains no high fructose corn syrup. Plus, it's super yummy and my kids think it's a treat. At home, Kris eats it with milk like cereal.

Raisins: They're already dried, so what's a little desert heat? I always have a few mini boxes of organic raisins tumbling around the bottom of my purse.

Bars: Okay, so I still buy bars occasionally. I like theClif Kid ZBar in Honey Graham or Blueberry. Kashi's crunchy granola bars in pumpkin spice flax are a favorite too. I avoid bars with chocolate or peanut butter because they melt easily.

Seeds: Roasted pumpkin seeds or sunflower kernels are durable and travel well, as long as you don't mind finding a few seeds in your kids' pockets or in their carseats.

Carrot sticks and cucumber slices: Durable. Healthy. And if I happen to forget about them at the bottom of my purse, they just get shriveled, not rancid.

Honey Stinger Stinger Waffles: Okay, truth be told, this is a treat for me and the kids. These little organic waffle cookies are crispy, buttery and chewy and just melt-in-your-mouth good. They're an American version of the stroopwafel you find in Europe. Honey Stinger makes them for athletes to gain some quick energy on the go. But they're also perfect for stashing in your purse as a bribe (er, I mean treat).

Rice crackers/rice cakes/rice chips: My kids have a weakness for potato chips ("salty chips" as B calls them), but they'll accept rice. At many stores you can find whole grain brown rice cakes and chips which are super yummy and healthier.

Roasted seaweed: These are usually stashed in the Asian food section of your store. We get them at Trader Joe's and the kids love it. I've seen other kids (and adults) who hate seaweed too, so you'll have to do a taste test. The flavor isn't for everyone. I like eating roasted seaweed with rice cakes or rice crackers.

Snapea Crisps: Another slightly healthier alternative to chips. Very yummy, easy for little fingers to hold, and easily packed in my purse.

Banana Chips: We either buy banana chips in bulk or Trader Joe's has freeze dried banana and strawberry slices that are so yummy and melt-in-your-mouth.

What do you guys pack for your kids to eat on the go? As I look at my list, I realize most of my convenience snacks are prepackaged and store bought...do any of you make your own snack mixes or bars for your kids? Got any recipes to share?

B's first B

2011-08-29T08:18:00.000-07:00

Of course, as soon as I lament B's delay in writing letters (specifically, the letter B), Sister shows me what's what. She presented this to me on Friday...

Is this not the most enthusiastic, artistic, delightful "B" you've ever seen?

She said she likes drawing Bs now because they look like balloons, which, of course, starts with "b."

Someone call Mensa, please.

Subaru spa day

2011-08-28T16:02:00.000-07:00

Our poor Subaru is on its last leg, I fear. We've poured more money into repairs this summer than I'd like to admit. This weekend, we tried to cheer it up by giving it a bath. Can cars benefit from a little pampering?? We really, really love not having car payments! This past year we've been working toward being debt-free (except our mortgage) and we're so close we can taste it. Of course, just when you're reaching the home stretch, Murphy's Law interferes...In the past month our air conditioner died and my computer went kaput. We're hoping our beloved Suby hangs in there for us another year or two. It's 11 years old, and the first car I ever purchased on my own :)

sweat, cowgirls, and the great escape

2011-08-24T12:46:00.003-07:00

oh dear lord.

I have to admit, I've been in a funk since we got back from Colorado. I attribute it to missing old friends, but also readjusting to the triple-digit weather. I hear people in other parts of the country talk about heat "waves" and I can sympathize, but here we've been riding the wave for months. (According to the National Weather Service, our area averages 100 days over 100 degrees each year.)

I am someone who needs to get outside every day. I just do. Fresh air nourishes my soul. Yet, the 5-minute walk to Bronwynn's school leaves us both drenched with sweat and delirious. That's at 7:45 a.m.

Last weekend, Kris (a.k.a. my hero) suggested an escape. We packed up and headed to Payson, AZ, the gateway to the Mogollon Rim. The rim is basically a 7,000-foot wedge dividing the sweltering desert to the south and the Colorado Plateau to the north. Beyond the rim is another world--lush green trees, dramatic winds and cooler weather. In about 90 minutes of driving, the temperature dropped about 20 degrees. Ahhhhh.

Payson also happens to be the home of the world's oldest rodeo (they claim), so we made a stop to see what that's all about. It was my first ever rodeo (despite my southern upbringing, I've never been much of a country girl).

Holding an oversized cup of freshly squeezed lemonade in one hand, a bag of kettle corn in the other, we settled into the bleachers for the show. A cool breeze bathed us for a couple of hours while we watched cowboys and girls gallop across the ring.

Maybe it was the smell of fresh dirt, or the sea of cowboys holding their wide-brimmed hats against their hearts. Maybe it was the utter joy of sitting outdoors for the first time in weeks. Or the sight of that gorgeous blonde horse. Or the kids' faces, rapt. But when this woman rode in front of us holding the American flag, I got all teary.

There's a patriotism and loyalty to the desert out here. In other places too, but it takes on a unique flavor in the West. And to be present--physically and emotionally present--with people who ooze passion for the land and culture they love.... well, it snapped me out of my funk.

Next up: Big burly cowboys were tossed like rag dolls from the backs of bucking broncos.

It must hurt to land face-first in the dirt. Seriously. Some of the falls were totally brutal to watch. Yet I couldn't help feeling bad for the horses. The cowboys choose to ride. The horses don't.

(There's also the oddity of smelling barbeque from the vendors while watching livestock perform. Hmmm.)

But since I was at the world's oldest rodeo, amongst some of the world's most loyal rodeo fans, I kept those thoughts to myself.

After the rodeo, we found a park to explore with a pond. Some rain clouds rolled in, and the temperature dipped lower and lower, which made us want to stay longer and longer.

I love how small Miles looks next to his papa.

"Look, Mama! Fish!"

When the skies opened up, we didn't run for shelter right away. We stood there and savored every single drop of that rain. We got soaked, and we loved it.

Before heading home, we found a restaurant with patio seating and requested to sit outside so we could enjoy the rain even more.

We drove home feeling so relaxed and refreshed. Even the kids seemed calmer than usual, happier than usual. Fortified and ready to face a few more weeks of searing heat before the wave finally breaks.

love

2011-08-23T06:33:00.002-07:00

the sight of a sleepy toddler in the backseat.

evening swim

2011-08-21T11:11:00.000-07:00

It's their evening ritual from April till October. Kris gets home from work. We eat dinner, and then he takes the kids swimming before bedtime. It's only about 30 minutes, but it's by far the highlight of their day. With temperatures still close to 110F, it's the best excuse to go outside.

Cutest wedgie ever.

Kris teaches them how to find the edge and pull themselves out of the pool.

Little Brother feels left out sometimes because he can't swim to the deep end like B can.

Kris decided I should be in some photos for a change.

playroom refresh

2011-08-19T10:23:00.000-07:00

It's been a year since I first set up the play area in our house, and I wanted to show you what it looks like now. I made a couple changes: I added storage so that we could more easily hide the toys that were piled in the corner and also create more of a play surface for the kids along that back wall. Plus, I covered up the ugly (and dangerous) open railing above the play area with some fabric panels.

Despite my mantra of "less stuff! less stuff!" the kids have accumulated more toys, but a few of them I'm really excited about. We recently picked up an old rotary phone, which I mounted to the wall for them. Of course, I had to explain what it is ("no, it doesn't have an 'on' button....you dial it like this...no there's no window to see Daddy...you just talk with it....put it up to your ear like this...").

She got the hang of it eventually.

For photos of the playroom last year, click HERE. I'm also working on a photo collage for the wall opposite the activity table. Stay tuned for photos of that.

is toddler brain worse than pregnancy brain?

2011-08-17T10:11:00.000-07:00

I haven't had a fetus growing inside of me for almost two years now, but yet my brain is still not entirely my own. I can't blame hormones or sleep deprivation (though, I'd still say I'm sleep deprived, in the toddler-waking-at-3:00-AM-looking-for-her-flashlight sense.)

I set out to do something...say, make a cup of coffee...and I walk toward the coffee machine with purpose. Make coffee. But on the way there, little voices say "Mommy I need some milk!" or "Mommy, I need you to wipe me!" or "Mama, cracker peeeez?" or "Mama pick me up!" or maybe they say nothing at all, but along the way I step on something sharp or slimy or wet and I bend over to see what it is and clean it up and suddenly 45 minutes have passed and why am I so groggy? Oh yeah. I haven't had my coffee yet. Except, how can you remember to make coffee when you haven't had your coffee?

I've long given up on things like peeing and showering alone.

I've outsourced my memory to Google Calendar and a stack of spiral-bound notebooks. Anything work-related, I write down in quadruplicate. Some of my best creative work happens at my bedside table, scribbled onto a blank page when the kids are asleep and my mind is my own.

I say all this because it feels good to say it, and I'm hoping I'm not alone. I am a work-at-home mother of two children under 4 years old, and some days I think I am losing my mind.

But also, I am having the time of my life.

printable writing sheets & our left-handed child

2011-08-13T19:34:00.011-07:00

I have to thank my friend Karen for this suggestion. I was telling her how B is left-handed. (Kris and I are both right handed, though two of my siblings and my dad are left-handed.)

B favored her left hand as an infant, but she would use her right if she had to. So we decided not to encourage her either way. We didn't put crayons in her hand, for instance. We always let her pick them up. Same with forks and spoons...we just let her natural preference emerge over time.

The only drawback to our laissez-faire approach is that she is a little behind some of her peers when it comes to things like cutting with scissors and writing her name. No biggie. She'll get the hang of it, but I wanted to give her some practice with tracing her name at least. She's started to notice that some of her friends can write their names and she can't. (and by write her name, we mean she can't yet write a "B" ...We know "Bronwynn" is going to take much longer to master!)

So Karen suggested these tracer sheets which you can find and customize online. (Just Google "tracer sheets" or "handwriting sheets" and you'll see several sites offer them) You can also print alphabet sheets and block or cursive letters to practice.

Cool, eh?

Side Note: As I was writing this post, I was searching for some information about left-handedness, because I've been told that some teachers and parents used to force kids to be right handed by tying their left hands behind their backs, which just sounds cruel. In my search, I discovered that August 13th is International Left Handers Day! Woohoo! So happy Left Handers Day, everyone. ;)

If you're left handed, please leave a comment with a tip for us right-handed parents. How can we make things easier for B?

painting rocks

2011-08-09T09:17:00.000-07:00

If you're not afraid of a little (non-toxic, washable) mess, set your kids up with some paint and a pile of rocks. We did this outdoors at my friend Jes' house and it kept our 4 toddlers entertained for nearly 45 minutes. Miles was by far the messiest (and most entertaining).

"All done!"

when no one is watching

2011-08-07T15:10:00.000-07:00

Do you ever watch your kids from a distance? Observe them while they're lost in an imaginary world of their own creation?

Singing to a well-worn stuffed bear as if he was a newborn child. Rocking him. Kissing him. Promising to keep him safe.

That expression on her face is priceless. I realize she could not demonstrate this kind of love (for a stuffed animal no less) if she had not been shown it. What a gift to see this reflected back.

snap wrap dress

2011-08-03T10:45:00.001-07:00

I'm getting a bit more confident in my sewing skills, so I decided to take the plunge and follow a PATTERN and make a DRESS. (I know, I know.) I turned to my pals over at Prudent Baby, because they have so many wonderful beginner tutorials to follow. I landed on their Snap Wrap Dress and decided to give it a whirl.

I think it turned out lovely! I made a few mistakes along the way, such as placing the snaps too tight and having to reposition them. I added the little crochet flower to hide some of my ugly hand stitching on the snap.

The skirt is not as gathered as I would like. This was my first time doing a basting stitch (where you sew straight on your widest machine setting and pull one thread to gather the fabric). Next time I'd pull it tighter.

But enough excuses. I made a dress! And it fits! And B loves it!!

I love the back of this dress.

Next up, I'm making some skirts for her to wear to school. I'm so glad she is finally branching out and wearing skirts and not just dresses. For a while (uh, like 2 years, actually) she was only content wearing dresses. This summer she's even worn shorts! and jeans! Hooray.

how to talk to little girls

2011-08-01T15:21:00.001-07:00

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I've been meaning to post about this topic (and the article by Lisa Bloom), but then today I read Joanna Goddard's post, which is just lovely. So I'll link to her instead.

It's worth a read if you have a moment.

And I'll just add that having a little boy and a little girl, I notice this is so true, that strangers compliment B on her looks and what she's wearing and Miles is complimented for being "strong," or "active" or "adventurous." People comment on Miles' platinum hair and blue-saucer eyes too, so it's not a clear-cut gender difference. But I would absolutely love it if a stranger asked B about her favorite books sometime and noticed that she too is adventurous! What would happen if we communicated this message to little girls: that we notice their intellect, their gifts and passions above their appearance??

the long ride home

2011-07-30T08:59:00.003-07:00

Saying goodbye to dear friends and starting on the 14-hour journey back to the desert was bittersweet. A heavy veil of exhaustion fell down upon us a few days before we left. I underestimated how much energy is required vacationing with your kids when your partner is far away (Kris went home a couple weeks ahead of us). I underestimated how much time I'd need to see (truly SEE and spend time with) all our friends who we've missed so much. Miles sprung a fever out of nowhere and was only content being held, which derailed many of our plans the last few days. Though Jes assured me otherwise, I began to feel we were outstaying our welcome. I missed Kris.

I trust her when she says we could stay forever. I think it's more that we all felt a tension between wanting the fun to continue, recognizing how precious our time in Colorado is, and yet also craving just a tad more space. Space to sleep apart from one another. Space to have temper tantrums without disrupting the equilibrium of the group.

Of course, the moment we pulled away and waved goodbye, space didn't matter.

Day One of the drive was about grieving. Wanting to be home, but not wanting to leave. Not understanding why it takes SO long to get from one home to another. Watching the sky-scraping, snow-capped beauty outside my windshield, then seeing it fade in my rear-view mirror. Miles felt much better, but still wanted Mama, and so he screamed for me from the backseat. It was too painful for him to see me but not be able to touch me. I spent a couple hours with one hand on the wheel and my other hand reaching back to hold his foot.

Day One was about being between. Not here nor there. Pulling further away from friends but yet still too far from Daddy, from the comforts of our home. B cried, saying she just wanted Micah and Dana and Ben and all her Arizona friends to move to Colorado and we could all stay there forever. Old friends and new. All in one place.

I felt the same way. But then, refreshed by a night in a comfortable hotel, we embarked on Day Two. We crossed from alpine landscape into desert, and I watched the outside temperature gauge climb, and I saw the soaring buttes, saguaros and alien-like redrock formations, and I realized a small part of me had missed this landscape in all its harsh oddities.

We passed a sign pointing to the Grand Canyon, and had I not been anxious to get home to see Kris, I would have turned. I realized we have so much more of the desert to show our children. And yes, we sorely miss the mountains and snow and green meadows and old friends. But we can trust they will be there next time we visit.

As I write this, Kris is trying to entertain the kids and let me rest. But they want to be with me. B keeps bringing me strawberries (one for her, one for me) and we're eating them in bed and talking about our adventure. Her lips are bright red with strawberry juice. She just made me promise we'll do it all again next year.

snapshots of a summer vacation

2011-07-25T06:05:00.003-07:00

picking dandelions

singing and eating ice cream

scooter rides with friends

playing outside at dusk

playing in the sprinkler

if Miles were a country singer, this would be his album cover

exploring South Park

camping with kids

2011-07-22T10:43:00.003-07:00

Want some adventure? Try: 1 campsite. 13 adults. 12 kids (age 4 and under). 5 dogs. Infinite fun.

playing in creek

rock throwing contest

scavenger hunt

craft time

nature calls!

the pet bug

2011-07-19T06:53:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks in the mountains and she's communing with nature on a whole different level.

Exhibit A: the pet moth. As in, "Mommy, I LOVE him and he LOVES me and I want him to sleep with me in my bed and I'm going to take him home to Arizona."

She wanted to write a letter home to her friend Micah about the pet moth, so we did. Micah also has a nurturing tendency toward bugs...for instance, the 4-inch-long beetle he found next to his pool (that freaked me the heck out).

Mr. Moth is still with us, despite a scare when we lost him and B was convinced he'd been eaten by coyotes.

I figure this is a healthy balance to the princess obsession, no?

fly fishing with kids

2011-07-15T07:05:00.000-07:00

The hubs has found a new fishing partner. At first, he carried Miles in a backpack and Miles happily watched Daddy fish. But then, it was his turn to give it a try...

Kris said Miles cast like a pro....not an easy task when you're 21 months and the rod is bigger than you are.

is this heaven, mommy?

2011-07-14T07:25:00.003-07:00

There's only one thing to do when you stumble upon a loud, colorful, music-filled motorcycle rally in the middle of nowhere, Colorado....

Dance, baby. Dance.

and perhaps run away when the scary biker dude tries to dance with you.

doesn't this look like the Carlton Dance?

Parents of toddlers take note: Disneyland has nothing on a few dozen Harleys, loud music and french fries. Or this:

road kill bike

365/365

2011-07-13T10:05:00.000-07:00

Sunday marked the end of my 365 project. This is a shot from our trip to South Park City, a preserved 1800s Colorado mining town (and the namesake for the cartoon). Normally I wouldn't encourage my child to sit on a railroad track, but since the train wasn't operational, it made for a cute photo op.

I haven't been disciplined about editing and posting photos, but I do have all 365 photos cataloged and ready to turn into a photo book. It's amazing to look back at the past year in pictures. Miles especially has changed so much since the first shot, don't you think?

1/365

On August 1st I'll start another 365. If you want to join me, leave a note in the comments. Or if you're partway through your 365 already, tell me what you've learned so far. For me, I was surprised at how difficult it is to stay on top of not only taking photos, but uploading them and keeping them organized. Also, it's a challenge to discover new subject matter every day. Even with two cute kids around, I wanted to keep it fresh and interesting, which wasn't easy.

Colorado: a love story

2011-07-11T08:25:00.000-07:00

Fifteen years ago, Kris packed his mountain bike in a cardboard box and boarded a Greyhound bus in Appleton, Wisconsin. He rode all the way to Silverthorne, Colorado, 36 hours total. He had a couple hundred bucks to his name and a dream to make the Rockies his playground for a summer. He'd never traveled west of Minnesota, had no job lined up, no friends in Colorado and no place to stay. But that didn't bother him as much as it did his mother. Within a couple days he found maintenance work at one of the ski resorts and a second job cooking at a small upscale cafe on Lake Dillon. He ate Chex Mix, which was a sponsor at the resort (and thus free) until his first paycheck cleared and he could afford real food. And, as he'd dreamed, he rode his mountain bike a few hours every day.

So began his romance with Colorado.

Last week, Kris took us back to the cafe on Lake Dillon where he worked. We ate a huge, delicious brunch of Eggs Benedict and pancakes and all the fixin's. Then, he introduced the kids to the lake. The place where he fell in love with snow-speckled mountains and gushing rivers and icy alpine lakes brimming with trout. (Of course, it would be several more years before he and I would meet back East, move to Boulder, get married and have our children in the shadow of these mountains. But that's another love story.)

pretending to throw them in the lake

So if you ever wonder why I talk about Colorado like it's the only home I've known, it's because in a way it is. It's the piece of creation, the one place, that opened our eyes and tugged at our hearts. It's the place where we were stitched together as a family.

hiking with kids

2011-07-07T12:30:00.000-07:00

One of the first items on our mountain agenda: Take the kids hiking. But of course, not just any hike would do. The ever-adventurous hubs had his sights set on an alpine lake perched at nearly 12,000 feet. Way too steep for the kids to walk on their own, so we loaded them up in backpacks. Yep. Mommy and Daddy were pack mules.

Side note: Comfortable child carrier packs make a world of difference. Thanks to having worked for outdoor magazines, we've tested several, and in the photo we're wearing our two favorites. Kris is wearing a Deuter Kid Comfort. I'm wearing a Macpac Vamoose. (We were not paid to endorse these packs. We just really love how comfortable and functional they are.)

We hiked around some old mining ruins and abandoned log cabins, which the kids thought were pretty neat. And we crossed a couple of snow fields. It's always fun to see snow in July! At one point, the trail climbs so steeply that we used an old mill cable as a hand rail. I was thankful that our little daredevils were secure on our backs and not trying to scramble up the rocks themselves.

The payoff for a tough climb? Lunch, served by the lake at 11,800 feet.

It was chilly at that elevation, and probably more so for our kids who have fully acclimated to the triple digits in the desert. Wearing winter jackets was a welcome change of pace.

After exploring an old mine car and looking for fish, birds and marmots, we descended the trail. The steady sway of our footfall lulled the kids to sleep in their packs.

Confession: I love running into other hikers on the trail and hearing their praise when they see we're hiking with young children. A few hikers were suffering their way up the trail as we were descending all-smiles, and they said "wow! you guys are tough!" It's not so much that I like to brag, but I like busting myths like "you can't hike tough trails when you have kids." or "you can't go backpacking with young children."

Of course you can. You just have to work a little harder for it...and have more patience, which in turn makes you appreciate the destination all the more.

why we mamas cling to our boys

2011-07-05T20:38:00.001-07:00

Today, my husband taught my son to say “Sasquatch.”

“Sass-satch”

My boy, with his blue headlight eyes and hair so blonde it’s transparent. Get him wet and he’s bald as the day he was born.

My boy who can barely say other, simpler words like “milk” and “car.”

He fastens himself to me like a baby chimpanzee. Wherever I go, he follows and cries “down! down!” when really he means “up! I want up!” He’s happiest in a soft carrier strapped to my back or perched on my hip.

I’m tired. But I stop myself short of complaining. One day I will miss this. I will miss cooking awkwardly, uncomfortably, almost dangerously with my left hand while the boy’s chubby bottom occupies my right. I will miss the sound of his bare feet slapping the tile floor to the rhythm of mama mama mama.

There’s a theory…not mine, but one I’ll adopt: Boys soak up their mamas when they’re small. They devour every ounce of nurturing. They kiss their daddies on the lips and burrow deep into mama’s chest because society has not yet told them not to. One day they will steel themselves against these tender, vulnerable, needy moments. So, for now, they crave more than their share. Deep in their round bellies, they stow away this raw, pure, naked love to draw upon later.

I scoop him up one more time and he says “sass-satch,” spit flying from his cotton candy lips. And I say, “yes, Sasquatch.” It’s a hint of what is to come, this word that’s hard to pronounce and beyond his comprehension. One day, sooner than I would like, he will know what Sasquatch means and he won’t want to cling to me quite so tightly. Independence and masculinity will drop down like a veil between us.

I sense the fragility. So, with sore biceps, and a mind that craves more sleep, more quiet, I do my best to fill his well. And he fills mine.

road trip survival tools

2011-07-02T12:51:00.001-07:00

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How do you survive a 14-hour, 2-day road trip with two toddlers and only one parent? Here are a few tricks that worked for us....

1. Set the kids up with toys and snacks at arm's reach.

2. When you see something interesting, stop and take a closer look.

3. Pack treats. Don't be afraid to use them.

4. Stay at the most comfortable hotel you can afford. There were plenty of $45/night lodges on our route, but since I was traveling alone with the kids, I wanted something a little more comfortable and secure (I prefer when the rooms don't open to the outside). So that meant spending a little bit more. But it was worth it. Also, I asked the front desk for a port-a-crib so that I wouldn't have to unpack ours from the car.

A friend gave us this tip: Pack a small overnight bag so that you don't have to unload your big suitcases en route. In it was our toiletries, and change of clothes for each of us.

5. Remember where you're going and where you've been. We stopped at the Four Corners monument and the kids stood squarely on the quadripoint. So their little Crocs were in all four states at once. They had no idea what it meant. But they liked watching people gather there and perform Twister-like moves--right hand Utah, left foot Colorado! right toe New Mexico! Left pinky Arizona! To me, though, there was another important measurement. I glanced down and saw this on my dashboard:

55 degrees is exactly 55 degrees cooler than home the morning we left. This was at the top of a mountain pass. Our destination is more like 70 degrees, which is right around perfect.

A few other tips that were helpful for us: Break up the trip with activities like coloring time, DVD time, music/singalong time, snack time. Play I spy. Let the kids choose places to stop (within reason)....this is how we ended up at the giant duck.

Have patience. Call a friend. Have more patience. Drink coffee. You will get there eventually.

I poop, therefore I am

2011-06-30T07:16:00.001-07:00

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I've been going back through the archives of The Daily B and pulling out some favorite posts to share. The following is from January 2008, when B was just a few months old. Enjoy!

****

It's one of those things that makes us human: I poop. You poop. Paris Hilton poops. Babies, unfortunately, have no control over their poop. Which is why at 11:15 this morning, I heard a distinctive low-decibel rumble and quickly found my daughter covered head-to-toe in it.

Sure, diaper blowouts are a normal part of parenting. Just toss the outfit in the laundry, dunk the kid in the bathtub and all is well, right? The thing is, this blowout happened during a playdate at a lovely woman's home--the kind of home that looks like it's never seen a diaper blowout--leather couches, flat-screen TVs, white carpet. The toddler has her own inflatable jumparoo castle in the basement, the 4-month-old wears lace, hair bows, and tights. I already felt a bit out of place. Then, my Carters-clad kiddo lets it all loose...smiling and cooing all the while.

Note to self: Pack more wipes in the diaper bag. Also could use a new bottle of hand sanitizer and more plastic bags.

I tell Kris about the adventure and we discuss the etiquette involved in your kid pooping at a fancy friend's house (do you throw the bag of used, poopy wipes away there or bring them home to your own trashcan?). He notes that he's proud of Bronwynn for being herself. We don't want her to feel undue pressure just because she doesn't have her own jumparoo castle and prefers cotton over lace.

The bottom line? You know you love your child when she's covered in shit and still looks cute to you. I didn't take a photo, because I was, well, busy. I'm sure you'll thank me for that anyway.

getting it wrong

2011-06-28T15:40:00.000-07:00

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Do you ever have one of those weeks when you get it all wrong? Everything. Totally, utterly wrong.

This week it was:
1) Letting exhaustion speak to my kids with a harsh tone.
2) Denying B "one more kiss" at bedtime because she's already had 20 (she counted) and somehow to me, 21 kisses seems unreasonable. To a 3-year-old, of course, it's not.
3) Hurting friends' feelings with hastily written/spoken words (unintentional, but still)
4) Greeting my husband, after he was away last week, not with kisses and a joyous "welcome home" but with grumbles, complaints and expectations he would immediately take over 150% of the household/parenting duties (you know, 'cause that's fair).
5) Canceling a playdate (and thus disappointing two toddlers) because I realize I've overextended myself.
6) Not calling when I said I would call.
7) Totally spacing on a doctor's appointment (remembering at the exact moment they call me asking why I'm 20 minutes late)
8) Working more hours than I promised I would work.

There's more, but those are the ones weighing on me, mostly because they happened all within a very short time frame. And I know it does no good to ruminate on a list of failures. But it does remind me how flawed we humans are. And yet, despite my inclination to pull the covers over my head and hibernate for a while, these wrongs are only healed by staying in relationship with people. Apologizing. Reconnecting. Being vulnerable and honest. Rescheduling. Trying to do better next time.

It also reminds me to have empathy when others fail me.

Our mountain escape is just a few days away now, and I'm anticipating the long, long drive alone with my kids. Maybe this past week was a gift, because I go into the trip knowing it will not be perfect. My kids will whine and perhaps tantrum and resist sleeping and make big messes. I will be, at moments, tired and impatient.

I also know that there will be cooler weather and new adventures and laughter and joy along the way. We are choosing not to look for perfection. We will stop at the Four Corners Monument and take photos despite the fact cartographers recently discovered that the real quadripoint is 1,807 feet away.

The more I take my eyes off perfection and what may never be, the more I can focus on what is right here in front of me. And that is a pretty amazing pair of kids who forgive me when I fail, and a husband who is eager to support me when I'm weak, and friends who love me even if I falter. I get to work and be at home. We have the means to travel and experience new things and places. And, I have the ability to give my daughter 42 kisses at naptime (we counted).

I'm going offline for a little while, but I've lined up a few posts from the archives to keep you entertained. So check back in every few days. I'll also try to post a few photos of our adventure along the way. But if I don't get a chance, please forgive me. :)

Adios!

Cars 2: Fail

2011-06-25T19:38:00.007-07:00

Solo parenting week continues. Next up, I thought it'd be fun to take the kids to see "Cars 2" in the theater. Air conditioning. Popcorn. Animated cars. Rated G. What's not to love?

The air conditioning was heavenly. The popcorn yummy. And the manager was really friendly when I asked for my money back after the first five minutes. He said I wasn't the first to walk out. I was expecting another sweet movie about friendship and perseverance like the first "Cars." This was more like an animated James Bond movie. In the first couple of scenes, there were spies, violent explosions, guns firing and cars saying "I'll kill him."

B turned to me and said she was scared. I was appalled by the images on the screen. So we walked out. The kids were not sad. They thought it was all part of the fun.

What angers me, though, is how this movie was rated G. Before we went, I even checked a couple of media watchdog blogs like Movie Mom, which recommended it for "all ages" (note: based on reader comments about the violence, she has revised her recommendation to kindergartners and older. I'm not sure I'd even agree that it's appropriate that young. The plot would go over most 6 year olds' heads, I think.)

I felt compelled to write about this in case anyone is considering taking their toddler(s) to this movie. To me, this was a lesson in not trusting the "G" rating on any movie. I screen films at home and avoid plotlines that are violent, sexist, racist, etc. I know some kids movies are garbage. I should exercise the same due diligence for theater movies too.

Edited to add: I looked up the MPAA definition of "G" and it says the General Audiences rating "[contains] nothing... that, in the view of the Rating Board, would offend parents whose younger children view the motion picture."

Yet, here we are, offended.

To me, it doesn't matter if a show redeems itself after the opening scenes. You can't erase violent imagery from a child's mind once you've put it there.

On a brighter note, the movie opened with a "Toy Story" short film that was really cute and creative. And we all enjoyed watching the previews and eating popcorn. It was a fun outing, even if it was cut short!

A win for solo parenting: I took 2 kids under age 4 to a movie theater, stood in long lines, got them seated and sharing popcorn with no meltdowns :)

a well executed plan

2011-06-23T21:51:00.001-07:00

Today, we refused to let the heat get the best of us.

Our plan: Get out of the house. We keep the air conditioning set at 85, which is barely comfortable when it's over 100 outside. Last summer we learned the hard way: Don't crank the AC below 80. We did, and our electric bill was $585.

I'm solo parenting this week, and swimming in our backyard pool with two toddlers is challenging. B swims like a fish, but she still enjoys being attached to me. Miles thinks he knows how to swim, but he doesn't. And so I stand with him squirming in one arm while B scales my other arm or my back or yanks my bikini bottoms down. It's super fun.

That's why after breakfast we headed to the gym, where the pool has one of those zero-depth beach entries. Basically, it's a huge kid area where the depth is 0-2 feet, so Miles could stand on his own, and B was able to roam, and I was unencumbered. We had the entire pool to ourselves, which felt weird. I hadn't realized it could be too hot outside to go swimming, but I guess it's possible. The lifeguard followed us around because we were the only people to guard. (Or maybe he thought I looked sexy in my high-waisted swim suit from Land's End. It screamed "mom suit.")

Side note: Land's End bathing suits are not nearly as dorky as I remembered them to be growing up. I'd even say they are flattering if, like me, you still have a little belly pooch from two pregnancies.

So, anyway. My goal was to thoroughly WEAR THE KIDS OUT.

I succeeded. Miles fell asleep sitting up.

Here's something interesting about the desert: When you're swimming and you step out of the pool, the air is so incredibly parched and hot that the water evaporates off your body instantly, leaving you with this cool rush that's not unlike being doused with ice water. On a day like today, it felt amazing. Win one for "dry heat."

After nap, we cashed in a two-for-one coupon at the new self-serve yogurt shop down the street. B ordered "pink and yellow with sparkles on top" and requested two spoons to share with Miles.

Oh how my heart swells when they are best buddies, smiling and giggling at their own private jokes and sharing like they never knew how not to share.

It's days like today that fuel me on the hardest days. When the kids are screaming and not sleeping and whining and making colossal messes and I'm so completely spent, I can dip into the well and find leftover joy from days like this.

PS. Miles' hair is always crazy like that. I've given up trying to tame it. And, do I even need to tell you B dressed herself today? Pink cowboy boots, red dress, green headband and sparkly pink banana clip. She thrilled at the realization you could wear headbands and hair clips simultaneously. Oh, the possibilities.

sunbirds

2011-06-21T12:31:00.000-07:00

I think the best thing to do is not check the weather in the mornings. I'm happier not knowing.

Those people who say "yes, but it's a DRY heat," are just fooling themselves. They're in denial. I've lived in sopping wet heat in the South and dry heat out West. My skin prefers the humidity (but not the mosquitoes...you can keep those, friends). Actually, my skin prefers layers of clothing...which is why I excavated our winter coats, hats, and gloves today. Soon, we'll be heading to a place where the highs are in the 60s and lows in the 30s.

It's too soon to pack, but I got excited.

"Are we going to roast marshmallows?" B asked, because she associates mountain adventures with camping, and camping with marshmallows.

Indeed we will. And we'll be trading our pool for a hot tub. So pack your suit, kid.

The retirees who live up in Wisconsin and migrate down here every November to May are called snowbirds. We're joining a new, younger breed called sunbirds. We don't drive golf carts or crowd the corner diner at 6:00 AM munching doughnuts. But you'll know us when you see us: Sitting on a patio at a brewpub at dusk or sipping a hot latte in the late morning as we stroll a brick sidewalk in some high-elevation town. Shorts by day. Sweatshirts by night.

I love a mountain summer.

gonna make a pie

2011-06-16T15:45:00.001-07:00

Have you ever made something with the intention to share it, but then, you know, it looks and smells so yummy that you end up taking it all for yourself?

I tossed together the ingredients while the kids sat at the table eating lunch. My plan: let it bake and cool while they nap and afterward we'd deliver it to a friend on a playdate.

But the aroma was intoxicating. I could hardly stand it. The kids napped a full 2 hours, so I was all alone with the pie. It was torture. When B padded downstairs, hair a tangled nest of sleepy curls and shirt damp with sweat, she climbed into my lap and rubbed her eyes and said, "Mommy, can I please have some pie?"

And so we did. We were selfish. And it was sooooo good.

Anyone else see the movie "Waitress" with Kerri Russel? I have to admit, I wasn't a fan of pie until I saw that flick. Yes, I grew up in the South. And southern women do love their pie (bless their hearts). But I hadn't realized that pie has a soul...and until you look past the ingredients to the soul of a pie, you'll never fully appreciate it.

In the movie, I loved Jenna's pie metaphors. Despite their whimsy, the recipes sounded (and looked) pretty tasty:

I Can't Have No Affair Because It's Wrong And I Don't Want Earl To Kill Me Pie: Vanilla custard with banana. Hold the banana.

Earl Murders Me Because I'm Having An Affair Pie: You smash blackberries and raspberries into a chocolate crust.

Pregnant Miserable Self Pitying Loser Pie: Lumpy oatmeal with fruitcake mashed in. Flambé of course.

And so, in honor of Jenna, I present to you, dear readers:
I Never Was Much Of A Southern Belle Till I Moved Out West Peach Pie
8-10 ripe peaches, peeled and sliced (an easy way to peel them is to boil them for 1 minute and then rinse in cold water. the peels fall off)
1/2 cup of brown sugar (more if peaches aren't super ripe)
1/4 cup of flour
sprinkle of granulated sugar (just 'cause)
some butter (1/4 cup or so)
dash of cinnamon

Combine ingredients and pour into pie crust (I used a premade crust from Trader Joe's). Bake it at 400F for 15 minutes and then turn the heat down to 350F for 30 more minutes. After that, I turned the heat off and let it cool in the oven, which helped it set nicely.

As you combine the ingredients, you need to sing the following tune:

"Baby don't you cry, gonna make a pie, gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle
Baby don't be blue, gonna make for you, gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle
Gonna make a pie from heaven above, gonna be filled with strawberry love
Baby don't you cry, gonna make a pie, and hold you forever in the middle of my heart."

Serve pie warm.

I promise there will be more pies, and we'll share next time.

orphans

2011-06-13T09:58:00.000-07:00

We discovered these little guys in our pool last week, swimming frantically and chirping so loudly the neighbors could hear them next door. The ducklings were separated from their mother. We occasionally see adult ducks in swimming pools around here, but their mama was no where in sight.

I wanted to feed them. Kris insisted we shouldn't. They're owl bait, he said, and feeding them would only encourage them to stay. He tried to help them out of the pool, but each time he approached, they'd dive out of reach.

I am a mother. I have no choice but to feed babies. So, I gave them some bread crumbs. This appeased Bronwynn, who was insisting we move them into her bathtub and dress them up as princesses.

Unfortunately, the next day, only one duckling was left. I called the state fish and game department to see if he could be relocated to a safer place, but before they arrived, the lone duckling had disappeared.

When B looked in the pool and saw he was gone, she said, "oh good, Mommy! His wings got bigger and he flew away!" Which is exactly what my father told me when I was three and the wounded bird I was nursing in a shoebox disappeared overnight.

When you're three, there's no other explanation.

boys and ballet

2011-06-10T09:37:00.001-07:00

.
Yesterday I posted this on The Daily B's Facebook page:

Thanks for all the comments and support!

I had forgotten this issue was in the news recently when a J.Crew catalog featured Jenna Lyons painting her son's nails. There was some interesting (and entertaining in its ignorance) backlash.

To me, this isn't really about gender at all. It's about little sibling wanting to do everything like big sibling. Just look at him. He's infatuated.

He also thinks he belongs in B's ballet class. He's been practicing:

My kids, like most kids, are exploring the world, discovering their own unique tastes and developing personalities. Or, maybe I should say they're honing their personalities, because as moms know, many babies express their disposition immediately from birth. B was social from the get-go. Miles, more introspective. I don't expect a coat of nailpolish to change who he is.

Incidentally, B told me yesterday that she wants to be Spiderman for Halloween this year. Won't that be adorable?

Someone, please call the transgender police.

walking the line

2011-06-07T12:01:00.021-07:00

Living with two children under four, there's a tension between over-the-moon joyful and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or more accurately: waiting for the next hit, bite, fall, crash, time-out or hurt feeling.

For the mama, it's delightful and utterly exhausting. I try to roll with it. I try to hold back when they bicker and let them work it out themselves. (As long as no one's bleeding, that is.) I gently correct, redirect and point out the negative consequences that accompany bad choices, hoping they'll learn to make better ones in the future. But it's hard to not referee or punish when they make their sibling cry.

I praise them up and down when they are kind and gentle to one another. Which is frequently. But sometimes not frequent enough.

We're walking the line. A classic battle of good vs. evil.

This has been one of those weeks. Moment to moment mood swings. Miles is cutting his eye teeth. He's clinging to me so tightly that I call him my monkey baby. To prove to Kris I wasn't exaggerating, I let go of Miles while he was perched on my hip, and sure enough--he didn't fall. Not even an inch.

B is torn between wanting to be a baby--Mommy's only baby--and longing for the independence of "big kids." One moment, she's helping me cook dinner. The next, she resents Miles when he snuggles with me. When I make room for her on my lap, Miles hits her. She smacks him, and I end up putting them both down and walking away...which prompts them to cry and then settle down and we eventually all snuggle quietly and read books. We get there, but it's a winding path.

What's perplexing (and amazing, really), is their ability to emotionally turn on a dime. I grabbed my iPhone and took these photos of them loving on each other just moments--like 90 seconds, people--after they were fighting over a toy truck and wailing. Jealousy has fangs. But it also has a short memory, apparently.

They do genuinely love. Sometimes I think that's the issue. Too much love. Too much togetherness. They feel big, big feelings and can't quite intellectualize them. They don't quite get it when I say that Mommy has enough love for each of them.

How can that be true? But it so is. And it makes all the other stuff so worth it.

P.S. I'm curious how the rest of you handle sibling rivalry? Any tips?

who's pretty neat?

2011-06-06T06:00:00.002-07:00

The following is a guest post by my friend Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser, author of Standing in the Shadows, a blog about parenting, politics and more. Sarah knows that I'm kinda organized. She admits she is not (yet). So we both decided to read Pretty Neat: The Buttoned-Up Way to Get Organized and Let Go of Perfection and share our thoughts. Here she shares hers. And today, over on her blog, I'm sharing mine. So when you're done reading here, hop on over to Standing in the Shadows for my post. Let us know your thoughts in the comments.

Take it away, Sarah!

You know the type (you might even be the type): harried working mama (in my case, of four, ages 15 down to three), devoted to community organizing, always willing to help a friend, tries to walk rather than drive and cook rather than rely upon takeaway (for money and environment and health) and exercise and be socially networked and kind of be married, too, beyond the obvious sharing of a bed and childcare duties. Can you guess what my house looks like?

Yeah. It’s really cluttered.

Did I mention that late at night, when I should be preparing lunches or sleeping or stretching on the floor, sometimes I find myself glued—superglue-d—to design blogs, many of them by mothers capable, it seems (really, not kidding) of churning their own butter, knitting their children’s sweaters and completely color coding their lives. Oh, and photographing all this perfection for the rest of us to drool over. Maybe I exaggerate the teeniest, tiniest bit. Maybe I do not.

I am pretty sure the design bloggers I allude to do not lose their children’s socks on a regular basis.

The writers of Pretty Neat: The Buttoned-Up Way to Get Organized and Let Go of Perfection take a more practical approach to this Superwoman conundrum, arguing that perfection is an unreasonable and even undesirable goal. Partners in a consulting company that helps people achieve this theoretically user-friendly “good enough” standard (still, astronomically higher than any level of togetherness I’d imagine successfully reaching), you could argue theirs is a feminist approach to taking charge of your personal chaos. Less a philosophical or political takedown of our cultural obsession with perfection—the blogs I drool over they have named “org porn,” for example—their book offers many strategies to pare down and streamline and features many interviews to help readers see this both isn’t rocket science and isn’t something people magically “master” by osmosis, either.

The good news, for a gal like me, who really does long for a less frenetic existence but isn’t going to make major lifestyle changes in order to have a clean house or not be the last parent to return the camp forms is that Alicia Rockmore and Sarah Welch are not suggesting I try to become someone I’m not. More importantly, they do not put this task of simplification squarely on my shoulders. Instead, they kind of draw their readers in with the bald truth: we’re living in really busy times and we are bombarded with stimulation. Rather than suggesting that unless eschew technology or kids’ afterschool activities or halt our hectic routine, we are doomed to absolute entropy, the authors—professional organizing consultants—instead prevail upon readers to think in terms of simply making small changes (at least to start).

There’s a question about whether being neat enough falls under a feminist vision for one’s life. I mean, sometimes when I’m sorting through small plastic toys—a task I’ve been particularly focused upon on and off these past six months or so, since deciding to reclaim my house as a place I can enjoy—I have wondered how I got here (here being the mom who just wants to clean up over whatever else I might like to do more or that might seem more meaningful).

Living well is the best revenge? That’s the phrase that runs through my mind. I don’t need my house fancy, tricked out or even perfectly neat. I really don’t. Nor must I emulate those design blogging mothers (I loved stumbling upon this article about another nonreligious woman’s obsession with Mormon mom blogs and learning I wasn’t in any way alone in my—seemingly-dissonant-to-the-rest-of-my-life—attraction to them). Yet, now that I am “in it” with four kids and all that entails, I actually do yearn to find stuff and to see the surfaces of counters and tables and have the clothing in the drawers fit the wearers. I want my kids—three boys, one girl, in case you wondered—to be better at taking care of their needs and their stuff than I was when I entered adulthood. A little self-sufficiency goes a long way is what I’m thinking.

As I read the many lists of ideas about how to become pretty neat, I noted—with much more attention than I’d imagined myself to pay—what I was already doing, what worked for me, what hasn’t worked for me, and I really latched onto the idea that little by little, I may just get myself somewhat organized and more or less neat enough. It’s not going to happen overnight—not even by the end of 2011. But I’m making strides.

Giveaway Winner!

2011-06-04T09:01:00.000-07:00

Thanks to those who participated in the giveaway and helped spread the word about The Daily B!

I used a random number generator to figure out the winner, and the result was 5, which is Timmi!

Timmi, please shoot me an email with your mailing address and I'll get the cozy to you ASAP.
dailyb.blog [at] gmail.com

Have a great weekend, everyone!

xo
Gina

irony

2011-06-03T07:58:00.000-07:00

Me: Get in your seats, kids. Your oatmeal is ready.
B: We don't have time to eat, Mommy. We're too busy taking care of our babies.

Reminder: Giveaway ends tonight. Enter by commenting on Tuesday's post! I'll announce the winner on Saturday.

teacher gifts (and a giveaway)

2011-05-31T09:58:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned B's preschool class has 4 full-time teachers? (1 head teacher, 2 aids, and a speech therapist, because some of B's classmates have developmental delays). That translates to a lot of one-on-one attention for the kids...but it also means we give a lot of teacher gifts. Plus, this spring her head teacher underwent chemotherapy and surgery (she's okay), so there was a regular substitute who the kids got to know very well.

That makes 5 gifts...I wanted to give something personal and creative but not expensive, so I decided to make some cloth coffee cozies and pair them with gift cards to a coffee shop. As B said, "teachers and mommies like coffee." I wonder why??

To make the cozies, I traced one of the cardboard sleeves from Starbucks, adding an inch or so around each side for seam allowances, and used that as a template. I used scrap fabric and quilt batting to provide the insulation.

There are several patterns online if you search for "cloth coffee sleeve," but honestly, it's easy just to trace and sew on your own like I did. Just remember to layer the batting on the bottom, then one piece of fabric right side up, then the other piece of fabric right side down (so the right sides are facing each other). Sew around the edges, leaving one end open, and turn it right side out.

Next, sew the open end closed. I also sewed around all the edges again to give a finished look. Finally, fit it to your cup and sew the edges closed, or you can add velcro to make them adjustable. It took about 10 minutes to sew each sleeve.

I tucked a note and the gift card inside each cup and wrote the teacher's name on the outside of the cup with a Sharpie.

GIVEAWAY: I have an extra cozy here, and I'd like to send it to one of you! To enter, just leave a comment on this post. On Friday night, I'll choose a winner at random. To increase your chances, "like" this post on Facebook, link to it, or Tweet the link, then come back and let me know in the comments and you'll get another entry.

Good luck!

millions of peaches

2011-05-29T13:41:00.000-07:00

Yes, even in the desert. Even when the temperature is measured in triple digits. You can still find a shady orchard and pick your own peaches. So, we did.

We brought home about 9 pounds.

Next up: peach ice cream, peach pie, peach smoothies, grilled peaches, peach preserves...

while you were out (bathroom before & after)

2011-05-27T12:27:00.000-07:00

Big things tend to happen when the hubs is away. Way back, when he traveled on weeks-long expeditions in the uncharted wilds with no phone contact, I'd find ways to keep busy. Rather than lie awake at night brooding over his safety, wondering if the bush plane would pick him up on time...I'd focus on other stuff. Happier stuff.

Our dog Ollie, our "first born," our "bastard child" was actually an impulse buy. I adopted him eight years ago while Kris was trekking in Corsica. Surprise, honey! Also, many years ago, when Kris was away, I blew my first freelance paycheck on a race-worthy mountain bike. It cost more than my first car. We weren't married, and it was my money to spend...but we had talked about marriage and a house and saving. But the bike was just so pretty and so fast. And I did race with it a handful of times before the kiddos came along.

Things also tend to break down when Kris is away. At our old house, the hot water heater busted and leaked while Kris was in Alaska. I'm adept at fixing garbage disposals and dishwashers because they've failed frequently during Kris' business trips. And, of course, you know what happened when Kris was away last fall...

Kris' adventures are less dangerous than they used to be, and slightly less frequent. But I still like to keep myself distracted whenever he's away. So, when he traveled for work this past week, I set my sights on our ugly brown powder room:

It's tiny and the beige walls just made it feel so dark and gross.

I realized we had some paint leftover from our master bathroom. And a couple pieces of artwork in the garage that had not yet found a home. So, I was able to do a quick transformation:

The wall color is "China Blue" by ACE. And I spray painted the mirror frame a sunny yellow. That was my only expense for the room, actually: $3.49 for a can of spray paint. Not a bad makeover for $3.49!

Eventually I'd like to replace the light fixture with something smaller and more modern. But for now, it works, so it stays.

Kris says he loves it. But really, he's just glad I didn't buy a couch or adopt another puppy.

Photography note: I took the "before" photos with my iPhone. For the "after" photos, I stood in the pitch-black bathroom and bounced my flash off the ceiling. Without a flash (using just the bathroom light), the photo looks like this:

Not bad, but the walls look gray, which isn't accurate at all. The photos with the flash give the best representation of the room.

life is good

2011-05-23T15:07:00.000-07:00

We sipped cold beers from the bottle and popped fat, organic blueberries into our mouths like candy. The clean, smoky smell of grilled free-range chicken and roasted fingerling potatoes wafted through our neighbors' backyard. The kids were in the grass, gathering the grapefruit and oranges we'd just picked from their tree.

Someone mentioned the Rapture. What if you knew it was going to happen? How would you spend your last day on earth? Would you see the world? Stay close to home and pray? Does travel time count against your last 24 hours? Who would you want with you?

I thought back to this past week and realized I wouldn't do a thing differently. Not every week is so lovely, but during the past seven days I savored my time with my kids and my husband. I also jetted off to surprise one of my best friends who is recovering from major surgery--spending fewer than 24 hours with her, yet hours packed with rest, laughter and sweet conversation.

The desert wooed me this week with a few rare, mild days. I walked to the local coffee shop with new friends and our babies and sipped lattes on the patio. The last of the ripe citrus hung low on trees, begging to be plucked before the heat settles in.

We took the kids to the zoo for a birthday party and stayed long enough to wave to the zebras and ride the carousel. We napped and cooked and danced and laughed and made big messes every day. We didn't always clean them up.

I felt ill Saturday night and Kris took care of the kids while I curled up and finished a book I'd been reading. It was a welcome retreat.

Then we closed the weekend with a casual, fun dinner with new friends. It felt easy, like the years-old friendships I've missed so much since we moved.

We're rounding the corner on our first year in the desert, and so much of that year has been challenging. And, with the weatherman predicting a high of 105 on Friday, it would be easy to brace myself for more suffocating heat, more isolation, more challenges this summer. But I don't think that will be the case at all. I predict we'll be bobbing around our pool with new friends and exploring museums and escaping to the mountains. And I've begun my list of projects to complete inside the house, under the cool blanket of air conditioning.

Hopefully we'll have a few more precious evenings of grilling out with friends and sipping fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice on the patio in the mornings.

I think I kind of like it here.