One Single Day

After several frustrating attempts at writing his autobiography Mark Twain finally found success when he threw the planning factor out the window and wrote only about what appealed to him at that particular moment for only as long as it continued to appeal to him.  This year my mom, my grandma, and I are using the Mark Twain approach in working together on a personal history project.  Every month we pick a topic, I'll be making recording mine here... 

One Single Day--- looks like this:

7 AM:  wake up, feed Bebe, sing, play, snuggle with Bebe, open curtains and greet the blindingly bright "happy day" together, change Bebe's diaper, hand her orange plastic doggy to chew when Louise flies in with bedhead to say good morning, get Bebe dressed while Louise makes "a tunnel" over both of us
8 AM:  send Louie to the bathroom, use the facilities while small people happily barge in, oohh and ahh over Louise clever choosing of an outfit that matches Bebe's, comb hair, talk about eggs, birdies, and worms, go downstairs and get cereal and juice on the table, check email, wash, slice and freeze excess turnip greens from the CSA, Curly appears, back upstairs to open her curtains, get her started on getting ready, get more juice and rolls out, start Super Why, make an Instant Breakfast, take Bebe upstairs for a nap
9 AM:  take a bath, shave, use glorious peony scented exfoliating scrub, get dressed and ready, mentally list everything that needs to happen today, water mug
10 AM:  comb girls hair, get snacks of blueberries and granola bars, fold a load of whites, send girls off to get ready for swimming, assemble all swimming necessities, Bebe is up, get her, help Lou get her "x" settled on her tutu swimsuit, ditto Curly, change Bebe, nurse Bebe, 3 handfuls of goody balls for lovely morning, family prayer, off to swimming, Louise picks a flower on the way in and freezes, screaming in horror when a bug ends up on her hand, save her, recover
11 AM:  girls swim, play with Bebe, call mom to remind of personal history project assignment, get girls dry, clothed and loaded back in car, mitigate a back-seat conflict, arrive home and follow thru with consequences, Curly sits in the corner humming
12 PM:  get the girls showered, dressed, hair combed, etc, "how many tiny steps equal one giant on?" discuss, also, "get those badboy's (and by badboy's I mean clothes) on" sparks a giggly progression "those aren't bad-boys, they're bad-girls!"  "they're not bad-girls, they're good-girls, like Cinderella!"  and then get on lunch.  "You are my sunshine"   sandwiches (nutella and jam) strawberries and milk for the girls, sweet potato puffs for Bebe, leftover ravioli, peaches and tomatoes for me, load and start the dishwasher, set up "Tangled" for a quiet time show
1 PM:  Change Bebe's diaper, nurse her and put her down for a nap, relax and read for a minute, come back downstairs to find they've opted to snuggle up together and Curly is reading aloud, also Louie has cleared her lunch dishes, more goody balls!
2 PM:  switch laundry, fold load of towels, pre-heat oven, start pre-soak load soaking, get sweet potatoes baking for Bebe, start dinner: chop 3 sweet potatoes, thinly slice 1 onion, dice a big bunch of CSA turnips, saute all in butter, garlic and ginger, wilt in big bunch sliced bok choy, add stock and miso soup mix (tofu picked out), start slow simmer, get chicken marinating in soy sauce and spices
3 PM:  snack with the girls (a Drumstick ice cream cone) and finish Tangled with them, "finally, they're gonna kiss!" and then we dance, call Mammy to see if she's become a doctor at Louie's request after she catches an incidental kick in the face during a rough-housing episode, chat for minute, then Bebe's up, navigate the circus happening on my bed to retrieve, change and play with Bebe, Curly reads us something in Japanese (I'm completely at her mercy, have no idea what these kids books actually say), take Bebe down and plop her in her exersaucer which she finds very exciting while I pull out her sweet potatoes and put in the chicken, blow raspberries at/with Bebe
4 PM:  play peek-a-boo with Bebe, check soup, start rice cooker, 27 fling boogie to clear a path, get Bebe some toys to chew/examine/babble at, think about doing a bunch of other things but play with her instead, nurse a minute, unload dishwasher, Daddy's home! shred chicken, toss in soup to finish simmering, discover that rice cooker was not plugged in, try that again, chat
5 PM:  go upstairs to see the "blanket" the girls made in our room, it's huge, take a picture, do a story, herd everyone down to dinner, insisted everyone each "gis-gusting yams"
6 PM:  hose down Bebe, get sandals etc on to play outside, change and jammify Bebe
7 PM:  bed time!  nurse and sing to Bebe, snuggle and sing to Curly and Lou
8 PM:  reload dishwasher, start preparing Mother Goose Time: cut out craft, gather scissors, markers, glue, calendar boards, little chairs, computer and music, review lesson, tidy living room, sweep floor, wipe table and set everything out

Things in Common

Dear Babies,

Tonight I rocked the Little One while you, Curly and Louise, were snuggle buddies upstairs.  Soon the house was quite and it was just me sitting in the semi darkness, letting my mind wander as it so often does.  And, as it so often does, it wandered all over but constantly came back to touch on each of my three every few seconds.  One track mind I suppose, even when it's supposedly free.  I thought about your gorgeous hearts and faces and your brilliant little minds and how each of you individually makes me laugh and breaks my heart in the best kind of way.  I wondered again at what a miracle it is to not only be a mother, something a previous me was never particularly planning on, but even more so what a pure gift it is to have daughters.  So what if you're 3 and 5 and 3 months.  You're my babies and my best girlfriends all rolled into one, and you'll simply never escape that....

One of the best elements of this part of my life is that right now I know you adore me every bit as much as I do you.  I see it in your eyes and feel it in the sparks that fly when you invite me into your beautiful worlds and I have the good sense to accept.  And I just want you to know that I'm storing it up.  In a great big invisible warehouse where there is infinite room for more.  Because I know there will likely come a day, or a week, or an era (oh, please bless, not a long, horrible era) when you forget for a moment that I'm your darling mother.  It will likely be my fault, but maybe it will be yours, or probably a little bit of both.  I'm gonna hate it.  Fully.  But you should know I intend to stick to my guns about all of it, live on the love I'm hoarding now so I can do what's best for you.  And don't worry, this will all come full circle and we'll come right back to this place eventually, except it will be new and improved.  Mammy and I did.  But I'm hoping when you and I are in the middle of whatever temporary mess we create for ourselves, that maybe you'll read this.  I'm getting it in print for you:  You're my favorite.  In some ridiculous, jaw-dropping way.  I loved you when you were chubby and smiling and emitting that delicious baby perfume.  I loved standing in the dark for hours, doing the Texas two step and humming Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's "Fishing in the Dark" with you in desperate attempts to coax you to sleep.  I loved you when you glued things to the wall or gave yourself a swirly and a haircut or committed any other horribly hilarious (or not so hilarious) misstep.  I loved you when you triumphed and I loved anyone else who could ever see the faintest glimmer of how wonderful you were.  And I love you now.  No matter what.  I just can't help it.

So read this later, ok?  You might think it's false.  But read it again a while later, and you'll see.  It's nothing short of the truth.  Love you,

Mama

The Light Show

We got the girls out of bed at midnight.  The Daddy got the girls piled in the car, cozied up in jammies and blankets, then drove circles around the cul-de-sac, trying to calm our crying Bebe while I grabbed a few other last minute incidentals.  He pulled into the garage just long enough for me to climb in shotgun and then we were off down the Seward highway, away from the lights of the city that cannot outshine the white moon.  The aurora forecast was impressive and it did not disappoint.  Not in the least.  A thirty minute drive led us to Beluga Point.  Then just a little waiting and we had the most amazing display playing out above us.  Aurora Borealis.  Aurora Borealis!  I've always wanted to see it and tonight I did!  Soft, green swaths of light ebbing and flowing across the sky.  It was like watching some celestial current work its way in ripples over and around pebbles and stones in an aerial creek-bed.  My sweetheart told me that he'd been told the lights crackle faintly as they move, but we were never quite still enough to hear.  We sat there in the darkness, that wasn't very dark.  Craning our necks and letting the wind blow in the car a bit for the sake of a better view through the open moon-roof.  Curly stuck her head and hands through, shouting "Boo-yah!" and deeming everything "awesome!"  Little B was more quiet about it, but clearly happy just to be out of bed doing anything in the middle of the night.  Bebe was nursing (as always).  I had my sweater wrapped around her like a blanket and I could just see her profile etched out beyond the shadow of her hood.   Beautiful and soft.  The lights kept shimmering above us, with the moon and the stars shining through.  And that's when it struck me again.  What an incredible life this is.  What an incredible, gorgeous world.
I thought of the God who made it for me, for my us, for all His children.  Alaska has such raw, dramatic examples.  Stark, bold, harsh at times, and breathtaking everyday.  He created this earth as a staging ground for us to embrace challenging, edifying gifts.  I thought of how we individually have, and are expected to use, the capacity to add beauty to the world; as human beings our station may be humble but our souls are not small.  And though they may be subtle, neither are our gifts.  God made a world grand enough to showcase each one.  Sometimes I struggle to include myself in that.  It seems...too much for me.  Like a task I am completely unequal to, one I wouldn't even know how to approach attempting.  But lately I have had more perspective, I've been able to recognize more happiness trailing behind us, spreading and dispersing like a wake behind a boat.  Effects I didn't understand were being created as I fought to plow through the water that was then ahead of our family.  I still, honestly, have trouble identifying what exactly I might contribute.  I can see, though, that maybe sometimes to just live a good and happy life is brilliant enough.  Quiet expressions can be spectacular.  I saw that tonight.  

Bird in the Nest

Dear Curly,

The other night your Daddy was out of town so you, and your sister and I had a sleep-over in my bed.  We watched a movie and giggled and stayed awake until late at night the yellow Alaskan twilight finally, finally faded pink, then gray, then the color of blueberries and your eyelids closed as gently as the setting sun.  We spent the night cozy as three birds in a nest, me with a wing around each chick. 

I woke very early in the morning.  And the first thing my eyes landed on was you.  Warm beside me.  Sweet and beautiful.  Indescribable you.  In the softness of the dawn I saw you as my baby.  Fresh.  Just the way I dreamed you.  But real.  And ready to surprise me.  You gave me several moments to just soak you in.  Then, waking, your eyes met mine and you smiled.  Just the way you did as a baby when you so often caught me watching you dream.

I love you.

Mama 

For the Record

We are moving and I am glad.  Which is sort of a unexpected feeling for me.  This place has been hard in ways I wouldn't have anticipated.  We hoped to make it our home for many years but it turns out this job and this community have merely been a pit stop rather than a destination.  A place to refuel and tune up.  It has made us stronger.  And happier.  And better.  We have changed because of it.  There was a disappointing landlord.  A neighbor whose character was likely the very inspiration for Oscar the Grouch.  An opportunity to make large and hugely unpredicted changes in our path.  A time to close chapters and begin sketching new ones.  People who gave a lot to us.  And a lot of opportunities to give.  I am happy to record that we are leaving this house better cared for than we found it.  I believe that homes have personalities from the moment they are built, and this sweet old building was begging for a refreshing bath and a little kind companionship, which we could give.  We'll leave it with a full host of pink and red flowers waiting for the next tenant.  And the hopes that perhaps we contributed other less tangible things in the vicinity.

Yet I still found myself uncomfortable with the idea that for the first time in my life I will leave a place without the slightest inclination to linger.   I like to put my roots down deep and quickly.  I like to fall in love.  And it just didn't happen this time.  We were here so briefly and in the midst of such a swirl of constant transition that I had doubts as to if I would even remember much about it.  Then today, I felt the crunch of last October's leaves underfoot, and I knew precisely how I our time here will indeed live in my memory.

This morning I let the girls lead me through the white picket fence that an unusually harsh winter battered beyond it's original rustic look.  I saw the tulips we planted poking brave green shoots like spears through the leaves that merely waited out the months under the snow.  The leaves are crisp again now.  They rustle under foot.  And the dappled sun is playing gently with my darlings as they swing and twist and their own kind of light bursts through in the shine of their eyes and the effortless happiness of every muscle in their little faces.  It feels to me exactly like a golden autumn afternoon.  I realized that in my mind it will always be autumn in Connecticut.  Our autumn.  The one with blue skies and endless hours running loose in a yard built precisely for the catching of leaves.  Two little girls in it, chasing after leaves twirling down on a breeze in the hopes of catching a wish.  An eternal moment.  Like the sunset on Oahu, or a moment of quiet solitude under a midnight sky.  A memory you visit like a location, not browse through like a file.  This is where we really lived.  And that is how I will remember it.

The Truck Was Not My Friend

Today it was lovely outside.  Fifty degrees with blue skies on valentine's day lovely.  So I got us all ready to go get Daddy a Valentine's surprise from his little ladies.  Opportunities like this are rare in the winter, since the girls and I hoof it while Daddy commutes to work.  The girls wore their favorite lately: crazy busy tights and delicate tulle skirts.  We added layers in heart patterned fleece hoodies and cozy puffy vests.  As if that wasn't enough texture and pattern for any out fit, the whole look got finished off with sparkly princess/fairy snow-boots.  And the usual dredging in sugar and spice.  Perfect.  I got my boots and cream puffy vest on too, just because.  Looked pretty good, if I say so myself.

Then we headed up the street with the double stroller.  Me in the street.  The girls happily navigating the absolute rivers between the "snow tunnels" that have honestly been the best any one could expect your average citizen to carve out above the sidewalk considering the many feet of snow we've had this winter.  I figured it was the safer course for the moment, plus it allowed them to get their hollers and tigger-esque wiggles out.

There was a point, after we crested the hill and successfully avoided overly obsessing over the mummified roadkill specimen that had unfortunately surfaced as a result of the thaw when I saw an opportunity to get back on the sidewalk without getting completely wedged between two walls of gray slush.  Little Blue was dragging, barely keeping herself moving ahead by repeating the goal "Surprise...for Daddy....I'm SuperGirl.." with every step.  Cinderella Baby was starting to look a little droopy in Curly's arm.  It was time for offer these little gals a ride.

They got settled with a little box of candy hearts a piece (courtesy of Mammy) and we rounded the corner, on our merry way.  I was enjoying the blue sky and dreaming of spring and feeling awfully pleased with myself; after all, here I was cruising along with a hundred pound stroller over mud and slush through a luge shoot of greasy, melting ice and feeling cheery as a pioneer at a camp-fire dance.  And then, well, then my friendly smugness was rudely interrupted by a big fat splatter.  Mud and slush and cold wet.  All over me.  And my clean, straight hair and my white vest.  Compliments of the speeding delivery truck passing at a blur through a puddle.  The girls didn't notice.  I didn't cry.  But I don't mind admitting I wanted to.

Sometimes life is like that.

Busy

An itemized list detailing four hours in the lives of Curly Sue and Louisa the Blue....

Curly:

• snuggle mom on the couch
• make a valentines surprise for Ellie
• eat 1 bowl lucky charms
• get dressed
• eat 1 bowl blueberries while sitting on the kitchen floor
• inventory all mom's Nancy Drews
• unpack entire shirt drawer, throw all items over shoulder
• get dressed again
• make bed
• color paper hearts
• stuff them in an envelope for a variety of loved ones
• more beads
• finally go to the bathroom
• let your sister push all your buttons, lose all volume control and screech the word NEVER as many times as possible
• run around without underwear making crazy demands
• notice Shrek is playing, cheerily busy-foot it back to the bathroom for underwear and other necessities so you can watch too
• get your sister on board for a raid of the closet
• settle on two swimsuits and a cover up
• make a "beach out of blankets"
• yell "wahoo!" and daintily sit in the middle of your "ocean"
• swim
• snack
• rub a balloon all over your head, check out the halo it makes of your hair
• chase your sister around screaming because she won't trade balloons.  make it really fun
• have a balloon boxing match
• kick your sister and get sent to your room
• get released. wrap balloons up like babies in a blanket and settle in with them for a long, quiet movie

Blue:

• announce yourself as cowboy girl
• care for Beluga and Gray, they are two sick animals
• make yourself a necklace, sort of
• eat lucky charms
• eat two bowls of oatmeal and blueberries while crouching on the kitchen floor
• bathroom break
• attempt to get dressed.  the tights you want are not clean. 
• rush to the kitchen and collapse in agony in your underwear over the tights drama
• lock yourself in the bathroom as per same drama
• forget about it and brush your teeth instead
• semi-flood the bathroom
• sweetly emerge from your room in a shirt, pants, and skirt
• color some hearts
• lick the window
• find a stick in the living room (why is that there?) dance with it
• notice the stick makes your hand dirty, attempt to flood the bathroom again
• request a pink cookie
• get one
• climb into mom's bed, snuggle up with a cookie, look sweet, get crumbs everywhere
• harass your sister while she goes to the bathroom.  make several attempts to drive a truck that can't possibly fit in there, in there
• start watching Shrek the Third
• remember about your cookie you already finished, stress that it is "not in [your] mouth!" 
• try on several new pairs of panties and parade around in each of them
• settle on a pink tutu swimsuit, announce it's beach day!
• yell "wahoo" and actually cannonball into your "ocean".  don't show any sign that crashing flat-bottomed on a hard-wood floor was anything but delightful
• splash, swim and snack
• find balloons
• have a fun with them and then a fuss about them
• remember you wanted to watch Shrek