It snowed over the weekend. A lot. Sunday morning we got up, got ready for church, and drove through a winter wonderland. Branches that weeks ago wore brazen, ruffled reds and golds dressed for the day in minimalist white tunics with a tasteful shimmer of yellow and blue.
We did our usual thing. Church. Eat. Nap. Eat. Then we wrapped the girls in layers and ventured out into the dark and cold armed with glow sticks in hand. I felt like Max letting the tide deliver him to the island where Wild Things roam. Stepping across the snowy threshold of the white picket fence, I found our grove an enchanted forest and a royal rumpus about to begin!
Glow sticks were buried and dug up like treasure, their green, pink and blue light dancing like a grounded display of aurora borealis. The four of us threw snow like confetti, played hide and seek, did cartwheels and somersaults, lay down to find the "banana" moon framed in a web of branches above. All of it reflected in the crisply drawn shadows over the blank canvas of light, fluffy snow. A short, whimsical, monochromatic film.
For about twenty minutes there were no grown ups, only children. Delicious. Then the wind began to blow a little fiercer and we again took a cue from Max. We sailed back inside to the warmth and the light of the kitchen. And though no mother had left a tray with dinner waiting for us, The Daddy made us mini hot-fudge sundaes that proved wholly satisfactory.
Showing posts with label sparkly moments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sparkly moments. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Monday, September 20, 2010
Silhouette
The other day out at the swing set the sun treated me to a silhouette of myself pushing the girls higher and higher. There I was larger than life, taller than tall. My arms, stretched like tree limbs, caught and released two little bodies on aerial seats. I love the fine detail of a shadow. It gave me lace from the leaves above. It outlined every errant hair blowing in the wind. It reminded me with graceful loops and a tiny heart suspended above my head that I was in fact still wearing the crown from playing princesses with Sue while we rounded up shoes and socks. There was my happy projected in the black. I smiled and kept the crown on. And we kept on playing. Happy me. Happy girls. Happy us. Happy sun. Happy day.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Sneetches
I was in the kitchen getting dinner settled and a little laundry folded fresh and warm from the dryer. The girls were splashing in the tub with their Daddy standing guard. Our new house features a much deeper tub than our old one could boast and the splashing possibilities here are primo. I heard plenty of giggles and swim-itty sounds. Then when I entered the bathroom with towels in hand I caught the tail end of the game:
"Stand up Sweetie!" the Monkey would call, and up the little one would burst, water streaming off her like an ocean fleeing a new formed volcanic peak. Then promptly a bright colored foam letter was firmly placed over Lil' Blue's navel, an orange "X" marking the spot, or a green "A". She ever so proudly displayed her new belly adornment to the audience like one of Suess' Sneetches fresh out of the magic machine with spanking new "stars upon thars". Then crash, she plummets to the white porcelain floor and the water steals her new sophistication in one smooth swipe. The "X" floats off behind a pink rubber duck and the "A" sinks slowly to the bottom. Never mind, there are more: "Stand up, Sweetie!"......
"Stand up Sweetie!" the Monkey would call, and up the little one would burst, water streaming off her like an ocean fleeing a new formed volcanic peak. Then promptly a bright colored foam letter was firmly placed over Lil' Blue's navel, an orange "X" marking the spot, or a green "A". She ever so proudly displayed her new belly adornment to the audience like one of Suess' Sneetches fresh out of the magic machine with spanking new "stars upon thars". Then crash, she plummets to the white porcelain floor and the water steals her new sophistication in one smooth swipe. The "X" floats off behind a pink rubber duck and the "A" sinks slowly to the bottom. Never mind, there are more: "Stand up, Sweetie!"......
Friday, October 23, 2009
Second Star to the Right
We love the park. The girls would be happy if everyday I simply packed them in the stroller and took them to the playground. Gloom or shine. All. Day. Every. Day. And they would slide and chase and climb. But most of all they would swing. They are expert swingers, those two. Sugar Blue is never ready to get out. You can see her savoring the flavor of the air on her cheeks, ingesting it like honey and letting it amplify all that is sweet. She lounges and smiles. Takes advantage of the opportunity to see the world upside down. Giggles and shines. And always wishes for more.
And Curly. Curly, Curly, Curly Sue. She has mastered the art of swinging. She extracts every ounce of fun there is to be had in two chains and a plastic seat. She's an expert at the twist and spin, underdogs and superman style. But her specialty is the classic set up, back straight, face lit. Pumping her legs or coasting, floating. She flies, lets the breeze swirl her curls like a mane around her face. The motion seems to lift her to a secret place, a Never Never Land tailored uniquely to her. She packs the rhythm in her pockets like pixie dust, saves it for later. I think swinging is her happy thought.
I introduced her to the spider strategy not long ago. I slid between the chain links and lifted her on my lap. Then four legs pumped, two shorter, two longer. A gleeful squeal escaped Louise as we swung like a pendulum, gently gaining altitude with each bend in our joints. Wind kissed my cheekbones, whispered in my ear and I looked at my first little girl, already far past the second star to the right and circling the mermaid lagoon. I was transported, Wendy led by Peter Pan's perfect charm. The moment passed, warm and slow as amber syrup from a pitcher. Lately, that's my happy thought.
And Curly. Curly, Curly, Curly Sue. She has mastered the art of swinging. She extracts every ounce of fun there is to be had in two chains and a plastic seat. She's an expert at the twist and spin, underdogs and superman style. But her specialty is the classic set up, back straight, face lit. Pumping her legs or coasting, floating. She flies, lets the breeze swirl her curls like a mane around her face. The motion seems to lift her to a secret place, a Never Never Land tailored uniquely to her. She packs the rhythm in her pockets like pixie dust, saves it for later. I think swinging is her happy thought.
I introduced her to the spider strategy not long ago. I slid between the chain links and lifted her on my lap. Then four legs pumped, two shorter, two longer. A gleeful squeal escaped Louise as we swung like a pendulum, gently gaining altitude with each bend in our joints. Wind kissed my cheekbones, whispered in my ear and I looked at my first little girl, already far past the second star to the right and circling the mermaid lagoon. I was transported, Wendy led by Peter Pan's perfect charm. The moment passed, warm and slow as amber syrup from a pitcher. Lately, that's my happy thought.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Freestyle
A few weeks ago I took the girls to an arts festival while Daddy studied. In a word it was awesome. "Punkins" of every color, free face painting, all kinds of fine pictures for sale, and a kids tent settled next to the hugest subwoofers I've ever seen, or heard. You could paint a pumpkin for two bucks; so I bought two and let Curly style both while Bobalouise lovingly identified every other gourd in the joint...when she wasn't busy hooting with the band on her kazoo. Before the hour had passed Suzie had produced pumpkins so very Pollock meets Rothko and Bugs had been there to help all volunteers understand that pumpkins are amazing in that they are round, orange, and quite easily fallen off of. I scribbled initials in our signature pink and started herding them toward the door. We made a small detour to get the stinker's face painted; then I exited to the sunshine with one Sweetface a bouquet of flowers, and the other greatly troubled by the mess on her sister's cheeks.
The pumpkins were still wet and we had energy to burn so I suggested they dance in the grassy sunshine while our prizes dried. This was wildly successful! The band did cover after cover of everything from Cotton Eye Joe to Michael Jackson through the years. And the girls were busting a move. Little Lou bounced in wide circles across the lawn. Slightly oblivious, and totally delighted. Sweet Sue, she was a blur. Light glinting off golden curls, ice blue polka dot skirt casting shadows on the dying grass. Twirling, leaping, posing for dramatic effect. Song after song after song. I couldn't keep my eyes off her, she was so fun to watch.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning, I found an old woman, purple sweatsuit hanging on her fragile frame, the fuzzy hair of a much loved teddy bear, eyes deep with purpose. She asked me if Curly had dance classes, encouraged me to get her some, discussed the lifelong benefits of music in one's life. Curly could tell she'd been noticed and gave her performance everything she had. I enjoyed it. This woman was sweet, sincere, kind, passionate. And soon I could tell she was tired. Her daughter came to guide her back to her folding chair but not before our patron made me promise to foster the arts in my home. I think she may have had some difficulty with short term memory, we replayed the conversation three times more. But she was right about everything. And we had fun.
The pumpkins were still wet and we had energy to burn so I suggested they dance in the grassy sunshine while our prizes dried. This was wildly successful! The band did cover after cover of everything from Cotton Eye Joe to Michael Jackson through the years. And the girls were busting a move. Little Lou bounced in wide circles across the lawn. Slightly oblivious, and totally delighted. Sweet Sue, she was a blur. Light glinting off golden curls, ice blue polka dot skirt casting shadows on the dying grass. Twirling, leaping, posing for dramatic effect. Song after song after song. I couldn't keep my eyes off her, she was so fun to watch.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning, I found an old woman, purple sweatsuit hanging on her fragile frame, the fuzzy hair of a much loved teddy bear, eyes deep with purpose. She asked me if Curly had dance classes, encouraged me to get her some, discussed the lifelong benefits of music in one's life. Curly could tell she'd been noticed and gave her performance everything she had. I enjoyed it. This woman was sweet, sincere, kind, passionate. And soon I could tell she was tired. Her daughter came to guide her back to her folding chair but not before our patron made me promise to foster the arts in my home. I think she may have had some difficulty with short term memory, we replayed the conversation three times more. But she was right about everything. And we had fun.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Tracks
A few weekends ago we had family in town. As usual, we played, ate, chatted, and went to bed late. Then morning came. Soon. Very soon. Somewhere in the six o'clock hour the blue eyed one was smiling and babbling and bouncing me out of dreamland. It's happened before and I know it'll happen again but just this once I wanted to extend a little extra courtesy to the other souls inhabiting our 900 sq. feet so I did my best to sneak silently out the front door before we could wake them; keys in hand, pudger on my hip, and the beach in mind. No baby was ever so delighted to be strapped into a car seat.
We parked and went to watch the blue light stretch into the white morning and grow deeper across the water as the day arrived. She sat in the cradle of my crossed legs, smelling the stillness just like me I presume. And scanning her surroundings with her clear, curious, innocent eyes. Then something captivated her and she hopped off with purpose, like a little bird to peck seed. It's one of the little things that makes Louie our Lou. She spends the day marching around, pointing, and clucking, like a merry little chubby chicken. And this morning was no different.
I sat back and watched for a moment. Fuzzy blonde head, sweet face, cheerful bumble-bee jammers accented with a red plaid scarf to ward off the brisk breeze I hadn't anticipated. She was a sight to enjoy. I hopped down and she let me join her bobble-head tour of the freshly groomed sand. The trucks and tractors that had lately manicured the beach had left trapezoid tracks, dogs later added their circles, and birds their heavily outlined triangles. Looking behind me I saw the oblong traces of two baby feet, criss-crossing and dancing through the rest. I thought of the quiet that preserves astronaut footprints in moon dust. Bugs cooed a question, smiled a smile she couldn't help.
We went home. The day progressed; I bet our footprints were recycled into a sandcastle by noon. I'm glad: we made them in living sand instead of stale debris. So I'm saving them here instead.
We parked and went to watch the blue light stretch into the white morning and grow deeper across the water as the day arrived. She sat in the cradle of my crossed legs, smelling the stillness just like me I presume. And scanning her surroundings with her clear, curious, innocent eyes. Then something captivated her and she hopped off with purpose, like a little bird to peck seed. It's one of the little things that makes Louie our Lou. She spends the day marching around, pointing, and clucking, like a merry little chubby chicken. And this morning was no different.
I sat back and watched for a moment. Fuzzy blonde head, sweet face, cheerful bumble-bee jammers accented with a red plaid scarf to ward off the brisk breeze I hadn't anticipated. She was a sight to enjoy. I hopped down and she let me join her bobble-head tour of the freshly groomed sand. The trucks and tractors that had lately manicured the beach had left trapezoid tracks, dogs later added their circles, and birds their heavily outlined triangles. Looking behind me I saw the oblong traces of two baby feet, criss-crossing and dancing through the rest. I thought of the quiet that preserves astronaut footprints in moon dust. Bugs cooed a question, smiled a smile she couldn't help.
We went home. The day progressed; I bet our footprints were recycled into a sandcastle by noon. I'm glad: we made them in living sand instead of stale debris. So I'm saving them here instead.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Fun in a Bin
Today we had some fun in a bin. A clear plastic bin, whose blue lid is missing, that had mysteriously made it's way into my room utterly free of its contents. So I used it as a toddler-distracter, in the hopes that maybe I could write an email in peace. But still, in fact, I couldn't. 'Cause I got sucked in. It went down like this:
I sat at the desk with a pudgy little cherub fresh from a nap in my arms and made to move like lightning and get through all my business while baby Blue was still too delirious to interfere. Then in flew Curly, with her energy swirling in behind her like a glittering cape. She invigorated Louise with her very presence and the next thing I knew there was no longer space for my finger on the keyboard, nor the rest of my body in the chair. Essentially, I dove at the first possible distracting apparatus that caught my eye: the clear plastic bin of yet untapped magical powers.
"Scooby, look at that boat just waiting for you to sail across the sea!" And she took the bait with a "Bye, bye, cabin!". But she couldn't shove off without her rosy first mate, whom I happily plunked down beside her. Mission accomplished, back to business.
And type-type-click, blah-blah-blah... SCREAM! Now there are sharks. Animated toddler, baby is pleasantly confused. Whatever can we do about these sharks?!? There is, of course, only one hope: whales. Curly Sue scans the horizon, paddling frantically. Sweet Pudgers raises her eyebrows and grins. Still no whales in sight! Then splash! Finally, a pod of friends playing in the spray. And now I'm an active player, doing double duty as both whale tail and boat propeller while the captain guides us, giggling, under the desk where we see whales, pink and purple and green, through the glass bottom of our craft. And the baby's eyebrow's climb to new heights. Sue leads us along, painting our adventure as it occurs to her fresh little imagination. Then bright-eyed Lou gave the signal, put her little pudgy hands in mine, and stood up. Then stepped out. Sweet thing overboard, and game over. Just as Daddy's key turned in the lock.
Our voyage was brief. A small adventure among many. But I loved it for more than its obvious playfulness. It was a miniature triumph in my mothering psyche. You see, I've been working on my balance. Because two is more than one. More goodness, more struggle. More work, more joy, more feelings. More multi-tasking, more balls in the air. I have moments where I feel divided, like I lack to ability to give each of them the attention they deserve. Or maybe it's more I'm reluctant to give up the ability to drink in every moment of each childhood as though she were an only child. I can't spend the bulk of every day focusing on either of them alone. And I think I might wonder what I'm missing with either of them. But today cruising our white carpet and observing pink and purple marine life, I felt a little release from that. I found my center of balance for a moment. And I know those moments will grow as I do, as our family does.
I sat at the desk with a pudgy little cherub fresh from a nap in my arms and made to move like lightning and get through all my business while baby Blue was still too delirious to interfere. Then in flew Curly, with her energy swirling in behind her like a glittering cape. She invigorated Louise with her very presence and the next thing I knew there was no longer space for my finger on the keyboard, nor the rest of my body in the chair. Essentially, I dove at the first possible distracting apparatus that caught my eye: the clear plastic bin of yet untapped magical powers.
"Scooby, look at that boat just waiting for you to sail across the sea!" And she took the bait with a "Bye, bye, cabin!". But she couldn't shove off without her rosy first mate, whom I happily plunked down beside her. Mission accomplished, back to business.
And type-type-click, blah-blah-blah... SCREAM! Now there are sharks. Animated toddler, baby is pleasantly confused. Whatever can we do about these sharks?!? There is, of course, only one hope: whales. Curly Sue scans the horizon, paddling frantically. Sweet Pudgers raises her eyebrows and grins. Still no whales in sight! Then splash! Finally, a pod of friends playing in the spray. And now I'm an active player, doing double duty as both whale tail and boat propeller while the captain guides us, giggling, under the desk where we see whales, pink and purple and green, through the glass bottom of our craft. And the baby's eyebrow's climb to new heights. Sue leads us along, painting our adventure as it occurs to her fresh little imagination. Then bright-eyed Lou gave the signal, put her little pudgy hands in mine, and stood up. Then stepped out. Sweet thing overboard, and game over. Just as Daddy's key turned in the lock.
Our voyage was brief. A small adventure among many. But I loved it for more than its obvious playfulness. It was a miniature triumph in my mothering psyche. You see, I've been working on my balance. Because two is more than one. More goodness, more struggle. More work, more joy, more feelings. More multi-tasking, more balls in the air. I have moments where I feel divided, like I lack to ability to give each of them the attention they deserve. Or maybe it's more I'm reluctant to give up the ability to drink in every moment of each childhood as though she were an only child. I can't spend the bulk of every day focusing on either of them alone. And I think I might wonder what I'm missing with either of them. But today cruising our white carpet and observing pink and purple marine life, I felt a little release from that. I found my center of balance for a moment. And I know those moments will grow as I do, as our family does.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Chicken Nuggets and Fries
Today was full. Of meals and errands, smiles and tantrums, schedules and phone calls, and rain and messes and conscious efforts to just keep it together. The baby has officially abandoned the infant box I've been desperately trying to trap her in. She's got two teeth on the way and has decided that she stands. With our help, but on her own two feet. Always. And the monkey is shunning the very idea of a nap. Like it reeks. As for me, my gear shift has been stuck in go-speed for at least nine days now. And Daddy kissed us goodbye before I was even coherent this morning. So today, in all of it's exhaustiveness was a pretty representative sample of a day in our life as of late. With the exception of a couple fantastic hours in the car this afternoon.
We were driving home from Target when it happened. Curly asked for a restaurant and a green and crusty "NOPE" was on the tip of my tongue. "We didn't have time for it." Which technically, we didn't. But I did some quick math mixed with some toddler-mode realism and found my car heading for the drive-thru window and my voice was ordering chicken nuggets and chocolate milk. I paid and made sure BBQ sauce and ketchup had been included. Then Goldie the car kindly chauffeured us to the beach. Where we the three of us enjoyed our junk food in the front seat, in full view of green stormy water and the city skyline. Pushing every button on the dashboard while seagulls bobbed on the waves. Sue and I talked about Daddy; that we miss him every minute and what he's having for lunch downtown. Then dogs, as a variety passed by. And finally named our bobble-head retriever. I believe we settled on Kyle. Meanwhile, the rosy little chubosaurus we like to call Lou stood, of course, on my lap. Most pleasantly focused on the traffic out the window. Tasting fries and chocolate ice cream. And occasionally honking the horn with her big diapered bottom. And just like that we got lunch, complete with clean up, checked off the list. Which is all we probably would have done with that space of time anyway. But this way we got cars zooming, birds surfing, and canines dutifully walking their owners. And it was just plain lovely.
We were driving home from Target when it happened. Curly asked for a restaurant and a green and crusty "NOPE" was on the tip of my tongue. "We didn't have time for it." Which technically, we didn't. But I did some quick math mixed with some toddler-mode realism and found my car heading for the drive-thru window and my voice was ordering chicken nuggets and chocolate milk. I paid and made sure BBQ sauce and ketchup had been included. Then Goldie the car kindly chauffeured us to the beach. Where we the three of us enjoyed our junk food in the front seat, in full view of green stormy water and the city skyline. Pushing every button on the dashboard while seagulls bobbed on the waves. Sue and I talked about Daddy; that we miss him every minute and what he's having for lunch downtown. Then dogs, as a variety passed by. And finally named our bobble-head retriever. I believe we settled on Kyle. Meanwhile, the rosy little chubosaurus we like to call Lou stood, of course, on my lap. Most pleasantly focused on the traffic out the window. Tasting fries and chocolate ice cream. And occasionally honking the horn with her big diapered bottom. And just like that we got lunch, complete with clean up, checked off the list. Which is all we probably would have done with that space of time anyway. But this way we got cars zooming, birds surfing, and canines dutifully walking their owners. And it was just plain lovely.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Windows
I love our apartment in the afternoons. Clean, white daylight pours through the big windows in the bedroom and the nursery, gently lighting our dreaming space. I love those windows. They make our home open and airy. They lend magical qualities to everyday moments. And today especially, I loved them twice. First for the minutes I spent with that lucsious lil' blue eyed baby. Nursing and playing together on an antique bed, with its antique mattress. Sunny yellow bedspread rumpled at the the foot, as bed-making is not a habit for me....yet. And light, fresh as new sheets, magnifying the perfection of those sweet cheeks. Then later, when the curly one woke from her nap and dove directly into a terrific fit. Screaming and kicking and beating the wall. There's been much of this lately; she's two. I ignored. Then scolded. But the tantrum only got worse. So then I just stared, stupidly. 'Cause I'm just learning too. And after a moment tried again. I scooped her up and cuddled her in the rocking chair. To my surprise, she let me. She softened and snuggled. And asked for a lullaby. A request I happily granted as the sunshine washed over us. I let it soak into my skin, the pure light of winter giving way to a fresh lively spring. Rocking and singing, grateful, and humbled, and warm. And a little bit new myself.
Friday, January 9, 2009
The Giggles
I'm climbing out of my annual winter funk. The after-holiday, gray, fat, and exhausted, all-I-wanna-do-is-dig-in-and-hibernate sticky mood that is just a frigid fact of January. For me. Usually. But I seem to be thawing a little earlier this year; my energy level has experienced a bit of a burst that just needs constant fueling to maintain. I'm seeing the light and I'm ready to say enough with the funk already! I've relieved the TV of babysitting duty, gotten dressed nearly every day this week, and even spent this morning playing kitchen and pink play-dough with Curly and her blonde and blue-eyed cousin, the one and only "Good-Job-Bob"bette. This has got to be some kind of record; it all started with an attack of the giggles.
You know those giggle fits that strike unexpectedly? That leave you breathless and utterly refreshed? Little Lou had her first one in the church parking lot Tuesday night. Bedtime, frozen darkness, time to go home. I'm settling the little chunk of chub into her car-seat when she graciously filled her drawers......Nice. Then she beamed at me. Unbelievably pleased. Which made me smile as I got her all bundled up in her lady-bug softy and transferred her to the front seat, to attempt a somewhat up-side-down diaper change while crouched between shotgun and the glove box. I smirked and squished myself into position while her little eyes gleamed with amusement. Oh my, she wiggled a whole bunch. Apparently this was a game. Chee-ky. All the same, I still cringed as I reached for the little monkey's diaper tab after wrestling her into place. My fingertips were icicles! But I did it, and instead of a cry, or a squirm, she responded with a perfect laugh. Melodic and sincere. I laughed back. And the atmosphere changed. I got a moment with my little honey-bug that came pre-photo-shopped. A small little spotlight of warmth for just the two of us. Chuckles in razor clarity. Everything else in shadow or soft focus. Our giggles triggered more, then more, feeding on each other, impeding but outlasting the business at hand. Then I surrendered my funk to a blessing. I took some advise from a baby. And remembered to thank heavens for the gift of the giggles.
You know those giggle fits that strike unexpectedly? That leave you breathless and utterly refreshed? Little Lou had her first one in the church parking lot Tuesday night. Bedtime, frozen darkness, time to go home. I'm settling the little chunk of chub into her car-seat when she graciously filled her drawers......Nice. Then she beamed at me. Unbelievably pleased. Which made me smile as I got her all bundled up in her lady-bug softy and transferred her to the front seat, to attempt a somewhat up-side-down diaper change while crouched between shotgun and the glove box. I smirked and squished myself into position while her little eyes gleamed with amusement. Oh my, she wiggled a whole bunch. Apparently this was a game. Chee-ky. All the same, I still cringed as I reached for the little monkey's diaper tab after wrestling her into place. My fingertips were icicles! But I did it, and instead of a cry, or a squirm, she responded with a perfect laugh. Melodic and sincere. I laughed back. And the atmosphere changed. I got a moment with my little honey-bug that came pre-photo-shopped. A small little spotlight of warmth for just the two of us. Chuckles in razor clarity. Everything else in shadow or soft focus. Our giggles triggered more, then more, feeding on each other, impeding but outlasting the business at hand. Then I surrendered my funk to a blessing. I took some advise from a baby. And remembered to thank heavens for the gift of the giggles.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Glimpse
One daddy, one mommy, and two sweeties, somewhere between dinner and bed. The four of us sat together at our twice handed down table....which was, as usual, covered in a veritable hodge-podge of stuff. That table has been at least two shades of brown (and I plan to paint it once again this winter), carries the evidence of various generations of toddlers at play, and tonight, all strewn with the loosely controlled chaos of our life, it was the centerpiece of an impromptu dance party.
Somewhere in the middle of our motley assortment of fresh flowers, crayons, Christmas oranges, and dinner dishes, my hubby's laptop had claimed a spot. And for the moment, instead of merely housing an article about gingivoscopy it was pounding out music with all its might. Beat-heavy, smirk-inducing, neon-throwback, parachute pants music. MC Hammer's "Can't Touch This" to be exact. And the daddy, he was dancing. And the curly one, she was too. With reckless abandon. Dancing like one who has never known shame or shyness, like one who regularly laughs till she falls right over. And picking up the catch phrase faster than you would believe. And the baby, was eating. And smiling, and eating some more. And the mommy? She was laughing. Laughing and looking forward and backward at once. And loving the other three. Because they do so often make me laugh. Then jammies happened, and babies slept. Daddy went back to cramming and mommy folded her weight in clean laundry. And that was the happiness of today.
Somewhere in the middle of our motley assortment of fresh flowers, crayons, Christmas oranges, and dinner dishes, my hubby's laptop had claimed a spot. And for the moment, instead of merely housing an article about gingivoscopy it was pounding out music with all its might. Beat-heavy, smirk-inducing, neon-throwback, parachute pants music. MC Hammer's "Can't Touch This" to be exact. And the daddy, he was dancing. And the curly one, she was too. With reckless abandon. Dancing like one who has never known shame or shyness, like one who regularly laughs till she falls right over. And picking up the catch phrase faster than you would believe. And the baby, was eating. And smiling, and eating some more. And the mommy? She was laughing. Laughing and looking forward and backward at once. And loving the other three. Because they do so often make me laugh. Then jammies happened, and babies slept. Daddy went back to cramming and mommy folded her weight in clean laundry. And that was the happiness of today.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Twinkly
Lou Boo is waking up. She's coming out of her shell and announcing to the world that she is officially here and ready to play. She's at the semi-cuddly, koala bear stage where all she wants to do is get a good pudger hold on my chin while two clear blue eyes absorb everything about the universe as it exists over my shoulder. And then squeal. And grin and flail and squeal some more. But oh those gorgeous little eyes, they smile. They smile and twinkle and tell me that they have a secret, a hilarious secret that she's never going to quite give up. They sparkle with excitement when she is standing, marching, climbing on my stomach. Because that is a simply fabulous thing to do! And when she realizes those light and magical sounds that ring through our house came from her little own self, those eyes glitter for all the world. But most of all they gleam when she is eating. In ecstasy, she pauses to let her strawberry lips lift those chubby cheeks into a cheshire grin. A very charming, sorta milky little smile. And her eyes joyfully whisper that she has discovered the secret to life: love and be loved, enjoy and be enjoyed. The feeding resumes but the eyes still shine. And I am quite content. Miss Baby....
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Golden
Today we played in the leaves. An absolutely glorious sea of golden leaves that three majestic trees dumped there just for us. Those trees live in this little nook on the apartment complex property that Anne Shirley would have named something utterly whimsical because it is a hidden spacial treasure, walled in by fences on three sides and, on the fourth, both guarded and gated by a wall of trees that provide access through a small arching window in the brush. It has been our sanctuary this summer, will give us virgin snow to play in this winter, and I anticipate a pink fairyland this coming spring. But today it gave us an ocean of fallen leaves to crunch.
And crunch them we did: chuuh, chuuh, chuh. We practically waded through them! Curly Sue gathered a hat full, with delicate brown veins so perfect they might have been printed on weathered cardstock. Little Lou full asleep on my shoulder soaking in the honey mellow autumn light. Then I watched my bearded hubby splash through the leaves toward home with a toddler on his shoulders, waving orange maple flags. And once again, I was happy.
And crunch them we did: chuuh, chuuh, chuh. We practically waded through them! Curly Sue gathered a hat full, with delicate brown veins so perfect they might have been printed on weathered cardstock. Little Lou full asleep on my shoulder soaking in the honey mellow autumn light. Then I watched my bearded hubby splash through the leaves toward home with a toddler on his shoulders, waving orange maple flags. And once again, I was happy.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Flowers and stars
I still have a shirt that was a hand-me-down from my cousin way back in the fourth grade. It's a cream and blue henley with a very dainty little flower/star pattern that in my mind will never be out of style. I still wear it now and again, and I wore it today. And after today I think I'll wear it a little more often because every time I do it will remind me of what happened this afternoon as I put Curly Sue down for a nap.
We had just finished our book and were talking about the girl and the cat and the party in our story when suddenly her little eyes stared so importantly up into mine and she said: "Flowers and stars."
Huh? There are no flower or stars in that book. But again she said: "Flowers and stars. Yots of them....see, mommy? one star two stars, tree stars......blue flower, blue flower, blue flower---pink flower just for me!"
Her little mind had soaked in the tiny detail of my shirt. And she found it worth wondering at, talking about, and to tell the truth, improving (because the sad fact is, there are no pink flowers on this shirt....as of yet). It reminded of me of how the world became brand new when we had her. Colors, sounds, textures, concepts, the most mundane and basic details became refreshing, exciting and fascinating because she finds them so. And also, I suppose, because in truth they really are. It's the small things that make the big things, the sand that makes the beach. In my heart I always knew it but I needed a child to remind me. So we together we celebrated flowers and stars and blue and pink. Then I tucked her in and kissed her cheek. She was falling asleep, and I had fallen in love with her all over again.
We had just finished our book and were talking about the girl and the cat and the party in our story when suddenly her little eyes stared so importantly up into mine and she said: "Flowers and stars."
Huh? There are no flower or stars in that book. But again she said: "Flowers and stars. Yots of them....see, mommy? one star two stars, tree stars......blue flower, blue flower, blue flower---pink flower just for me!"
Her little mind had soaked in the tiny detail of my shirt. And she found it worth wondering at, talking about, and to tell the truth, improving (because the sad fact is, there are no pink flowers on this shirt....as of yet). It reminded of me of how the world became brand new when we had her. Colors, sounds, textures, concepts, the most mundane and basic details became refreshing, exciting and fascinating because she finds them so. And also, I suppose, because in truth they really are. It's the small things that make the big things, the sand that makes the beach. In my heart I always knew it but I needed a child to remind me. So we together we celebrated flowers and stars and blue and pink. Then I tucked her in and kissed her cheek. She was falling asleep, and I had fallen in love with her all over again.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Apple Snack
I think we have a new favorite snack: Apples, smeared with peanut butter and dipped in sprinkles. Three bowls, each sitting on its own square of tile. Curly Sue and I sat on the kitchen floor and munched our snack during Lou's morning nap. And talked about "our" dragons. Her's is pink, of course. And mine is purple. My dragon, as you might have guessed, is her dragon's mama. And tomorrow we're going to ride them high in the sky---whoosh. And eat more "apple snack.....with 'prinkgos". I could have sat there with our heels crossed and our backs against the white cabinets, talking about dragons all day long.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Hello, Old Friend
Little Lou was sick last night. And today. Things are looking up tonight and I'm so glad because I hate when my babies are sick. Especially my baby babies. It's the saddest thing in the world to see that troubled, pudgy face just begging me to make it better. But I can't. So I hold her, and love her. And sing and nurse and we wait together. Until, finally, her miraculous little body works it out, whatever it is that made her so stuffy and downright uncomfortable.
This morning, as I was trying to feed the poor thing, and it wasn't going very well....my mind drifted back to the time I spent recovering in the hospital after she was born. I was having trouble settling down for a nap. Apparently I always get like that when my babes are new, just amazingly over-charged. My mind was so full of nothing and everything at once that I couldn't make it shut up. It just kept buzzing. I looked over at my tiny companion in her bassinet. Sleeping soundly, exhausted from the effort of her debut into the world. And although she was so brand spanking new she barely even had a name, to me she felt as welcoming as an old friend. The kind you will always love just because you simply do. I picked her up and put her in the bed with me. And she brought with her that cozy old familiarity. Then, basking in its warmth, I fell asleep.
This morning, as I was trying to feed the poor thing, and it wasn't going very well....my mind drifted back to the time I spent recovering in the hospital after she was born. I was having trouble settling down for a nap. Apparently I always get like that when my babes are new, just amazingly over-charged. My mind was so full of nothing and everything at once that I couldn't make it shut up. It just kept buzzing. I looked over at my tiny companion in her bassinet. Sleeping soundly, exhausted from the effort of her debut into the world. And although she was so brand spanking new she barely even had a name, to me she felt as welcoming as an old friend. The kind you will always love just because you simply do. I picked her up and put her in the bed with me. And she brought with her that cozy old familiarity. Then, basking in its warmth, I fell asleep.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Sweet Dreams
This morning there was a moment when I very much feared that the day was going to begin at 4:30 AM. Impossible! I don't do mornings well in the first place but anything earlier than 6 will inevitably spell nasty mood which yields awful day. So when my toddler started calling for mommy and the baby wanted to nurse I got the three of us snuggled up in the cozy darkness and through some blessed combination of "Abc tickling", nursing and sheer will my dear ones drifted back to sleep. And just before I followed suit I looked at them: the little big girl with curls forever in her eyes, and the newbie sleep-giggling at some secret funny. And I was happy.
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