One Stitch, Two Stitch, Red Fish, Blue Fish

I'll admit that I've been enjoying sewing recently, but I really wasn't a big fan of yesterday's new stitch.

On the back of Max's head.

Thankfully, Grandpa Tom was able to take us to Urgent Care where he gave us some moral support and even some bonus commentary on Le Tour de France.

He also snapped a photo while we waited for the analgesic to take effect.

Nothing like a little bump in the road (or head) to make me realize how fast it can all go downhill, and how grateful I am for my pit crew. Thanks Mom and Dad.

Now, where did we put that helmet?

Great Balls of Fire

Once again, our home is buzzing with getsitement in anticipation of a summertime visit from my folks who are estimated to arrive tomorrow. Max and Sam are bouncing off the newly painted walls (thank you, Mr. "Mellow Yellow" Wonderful). The boys are digging out all the toys that they CAN'T WAIT to show Bubbi and speculating on how much fun they'll have watching "Cars" with Grandpa Tom.

The total self-absorption that defines this stage of child development matches perfectly with my parents' cross-generational adoration and delight in playing with their grandchildren; even if it's the same toy/movie/book played/watched/read a thousand times before on previous visits. Fresh and new is not what it's about.

It's not about scheduling an itinerary of activities to keep us busy and connected through similar experience; those days will come when we have teenagers with acne and ipods and attitude. Right now we have two little snuggle bunnies who want nothing more than to jump and run and show new tricks to an adoring audience. They can't wait to find a loving lap to snuggle on and someone who will read to them about sharks, or dinosaurs or Tow Mater without saying "Ok, I gotta get moving here guys, times up..."

This is what it's all about.

After having lost my own grandmother this Spring, I am especially nostalgic for that remarkable, unconditional grandparental love. I know how lucky our kids are to have this unique and rewarding relationship; and also how lucky I am to have the support of two sets of parents who think their grandkids are pretty special. This kind of love will build us up and stand long after the seeds we sow have been harvested, long after the lego towers have been knocked down or the sand castles washed away.

:::::::::::::::

So, here's our itinerary for the next week: Lots of snuggles and books and playing trains and racecars. Lots of walks in the woods, along the beach, and down the dirt road. And, of course, a bit of dirt digging and planting seeds with Grandpa.


Dirt under the fingernails and hugs around the knees. THAT's what summertime is all about. Ooooh, and some of these great seedballs, too...

Bed shmed

Big boy beds are highly over-rated; the floor works just fine and is actually Sammy's preferred locale for catching some zzzzzzs.

Piston (the) Cup

Sam has been a diligent and dedicated potty learner (Oh Lord, yes, I am really posting about this) who tolerates our eager Getsitement over his voiding accomplishments with mild disdain. Giving what is clearly the toddler equivalent of an adolescent eye roll, he waves me away from the bathroom after I place him on his thrown with a request for "Primacy, please". We are admonished to "No clapping" and there is a great deal of modesty about the accomplishments and newly acquired undergarments. He doesn't quite have the hang of anticipating how the plumbing all works - which I'm sure will come later - but he's doing a great job of making regular pit stops.

Right now we're staying focused on the fundamentals..keeping the race car dry and being reassured that life does indeed go on when we have to stop the fun and run to the bathroom. In order to keep things dry and happy we've been setting the timer for every 30 minutes to remind him (and me) to take a trip into the bathroom.

Consequently, we are a house full of interruption and crazy energy as I madly try to wrap things up in tidy 30 minute windows before the kitchen timer forces us to huddle in the powder room. This has resulted in dry underpants (yay!), constant interruption (boo!) and keeping our eyes on the prize...total independence of diapers (yay yay!). It has also resulted in some veeeerrrryyyy loooooonnnnggg days as we hang out around the house rinsing out odorous, wet underwear while waiting for the timer to ding! This rhythmic shift of constantly having our self-imposed exile and total boredom interrupted by the kitchen timer calling us to the bathroom is aggravating for all members of the household. Much to Max's disappointment, there are never freshly baked cookies when that dinger goes off...just a fast dash to the home of the poopy prize.

Fortunately, Sam's a lot like his dad and is pretty easy to reward with small amounts of chocolate. We're big fans of the miniature M&M's, which he has affectionately termed "Chocowit baby gum" as a reward for making a show at the porcelain racetrack. Today I even looked up to see if I could order some Cars M&Ms and was delighted to find that yes, you can get everything ever imagined off of these here internets.


When placing the photo on here to share with all of you, I noticed the photo's title: DISNEY_CAR_lentils.jpg

With those colors, I can see why the good people in Bangalore who are working diligently on the website for Mars North America might be confused and assume that us crazy Americans are buying lentils with pictures of a rusty tow-truck on them.

Ka-Chow!

Beach Boys

We celebrated the 4th at a friend's beach house and enjoyed an amazing afternoon that transformed into a mystical full moon evening. The boys played in the sand, moved water from buckets, built sand castles, snuck cookies and paddled in the frigid waters of Puget Sound.

Sam demonstrates his patience and determination by delivering water via net. Once again - despite my suggestions to use a bucket - I learn from Sammy that the joy is in the process and not the finished product. This little guy has so much to teach me.


Sam practices sand dives while his Daddy and Max paddle out to the water slide.

Later, as the hot blazes of a glaring mid-Summer sun began to set, we took a magic boat ride. This gave me ample opportunity to cuddle and nuzzle with pudgy arms and thighs that were slippery with SPF and smelled of salt and sun and sandy goodness.




Sam's cheers of "Faster! Faster!" were surprising and delightful to all of us.

Summer...I adore you!

Independence Day

Operation Queen Car Underwear is officially underway at the Monkey Ranch.

While at the park with a friend yesterday, Sam decided that he was done with this messy diaper business and snuck into the woods, removed his diaper from beneath his pants, and handed me his diaper while proclaiming that he wants to wear underwear. Always.

Fire up the washing machine, load up on poopy prizes, and here we go! Here's to independence!

Real Live Nephew of Uncle Sam

Happy Fourth of July!

Max, age 3 months
What a firecracker!

The Song Always Ends Too Soon

Words I will *never* tire of hearing...

"Mommy...come dance with us!"

Why yes, Freddy Mercury, you are correct. It most certainly is a Crazy Little Thing Called Love.

Metamorphosis

On Max's last day of preschool, his teacher led the class out to the school's Friendship Garden to release little butterflies that had transformed in the weeks before the school year ended. It was magical to witness the little insects fly for the first time after being caged in net. The children and parents had followed their amazing transformation from caterpillar to chrysalis to butterfly inside of a classroom full of screaming and curious banshees.

Max was mesmerized and quiet during the entire process, and in this rare opportunity for stillness, one even landed on his red shirt. He stayed very calm until it flew off, and then he cheered that little butterfly's journey as if it's soaring arches were powered by the sheer getsitement of Max's jumps.

Shark Camp

I'm a veritable machine of efficiency this afternoon as I enjoy the first quiet moments in my house in over two weeks. Sam took a nap (bless you, dear boy) and Max got packed off to "Shark Camp" at the local zoo for the afternoon. Two hours of Nirvana and accomplishment for me.

The quiet stillness coupled with the ability to complete a phone call or task (of which there are many) without someone crying, bleeding, sneezing or fighting is positively motivating. Which is why I'm logged onto this here Internets.

Alright already, Laundry. I hear you whimpering down there.

Photos taken at the Maritime Festival earlier this month.
Video of trout gut removal to follow at a later date.

Harvest

Yesterday we harvested garlic and got our garden ready for planting pumpkins. There was much digging, smelling and cheering for the odorous bulbs, as well as discussion of future jack-o-lanterns.

I love how the garden writes chapters in our lives complete with foreshadowing, plot development and the occasional conflict (with pests, weather and sharing of the water hose). Mostly, however, I love the character development of plants and humans as we get to know each other just a little bit better while crouching on the edge of a garden bed.

No One Wants To Be Defeated

While there is no illuminated staircase and I doubt that Max could defeat an entire street gang in this particular get-up, I hope you still enjoy this little video. It's dedicated with great admiration for the King of Pop and all that his music meant to me in 1983 when I wore out my "Thriller" tape on my Sony Walkman. Sigh.

The 3 minutes of blank screen at the end are due either to (a) my ineptitude at movie editing or (b) a moment of silence as we remember the musical genius that was Michael Jackson. Feel free to acknowledge and move on. Maybe do a little moon walk while you're at it.

Mom - if you have trouble playing the video, try quitting your web browser and then re-opening it and returning to the website. Love you!

Finally

Really? Has it been THAT long? I guess it has been a while since I've updated on the getsitement around here. Forgive me, peeps.

Summer is in full swing, the sprinkler giggles with nearly naked tots, and I am soaking up sun, dirt, and fresh summer fruit like it might go out of season. The garden beckons at all hours and I find myself resenting the staccato of constant interruption that is the soundtrack of life with two small boys.

We wound up the school year two weeks ago with a mad bonanza of sewing projects, good-bye events, thank you gifts, play dates, and then...Wham-Bam! Right into some out-of-state air travel -- standby style.

We actually did relax a bit while visiting my folks and the rest of my family on a slow, unexpected and relaxed pace. In addition to all of our relaxing, we also managed to squeeze in some swimming with the cousins, a Solstice Water Soaker Fest, Father's Day, multiple Farmer's Markets, a round of antibiotics (Sam), a triathalon (Mr. Wonderful) and a raging bout of GI distress (party of four).

Sure feels good to be back home again...

Atta Boy

Milestones, Progression and Sunshine have been the themes of our week.

On Wednesday, Max and I went to Kindergarten Orientation to meet his upcoming teachers and schoolmates. The highlight, of course, was that Max rode a school bus for the first time. A big, yellow, "real" school bus from which he might see deer sometime and on which he has to sit on his bottom the WHOLE time.

Clearly, the perspective of viewing the world from the inside of a yellow bus has changed things for Max in ways that I can't really comprehend. I have bittersweet feelings about seeing his little head bopping up the aisle and grabbing a seat, pulling his backpack off and inspecting his lunch before the bus even eases back into motion, driving him down the road and into a world that is his own. I lose my breath for a minute trying to imagine how this can be happening when I remember the tender days in which he'd gleefully scream "SCHOOBUS!" "GAR-BAAAAGE TRUCK!" BACKHOE LOADER!" from his tiny car seat. It never, ever occurred to me that on those buses were someone else's babies who'd been unable to say "Firetruck" without making it sound obscene. Now, it will be our little one taking this new journey.

Max also started swimming lessons this week from the Jedi Swim-Whisperer Magic Swim Coach who has molded the spastic and distracted Max into a focused and hard-working "Super Scooper" in just four short hours. Although we've tried lessons in the past and he has loved them, he never really got the hang of swimming on his own and was terrified to jump into a pool.

This swimming gig has boosted his confidence exponentially and we're delighting in seeing its manifestations throughout the day. He's cooperative, eager and secure; and that makes for a kid whose ready to dive into anything.

Including Kindergarten. Even if he needs a friendly push now and then. Watch how he keeps plugging on...I think he'll make it just fine wherever he needs to go.

Greased Lightning

The irony of attending a muscle car show the day before GM fell into bankruptcy was not lost on many of the adults waxing nostalgic over the Pontiac GTOs and bitchin' Camaros this weekend. However, all symbolism and nostalgia was absent for my boys, who were much more interested in sticking their tongues out to see their reflection in the shiny and twinkling paint jobs and seeing who could closest to a car WITHOUT touching it.

Sam was also very insistent that he be photographed with all the RED cars and wanting to know when we would go inside and watch the "Cars" show. There are only so many times you can tell a person "This IS the car show...DON'T TOUCH!" before realizing that a Subway sandwich might be much more up his alley.



We met a very nice man who offered to let the boys and one of their buddies climb on into his antique 1923 truck. Which they "shifted", pressed pedals, and turned knobs. The guy laughed as I continued asking "Are you sure this ok?" He seemed delighted that the old girl was still getting giggles from the kids and was very relaxed. Then he told us that his car was one of FIVE still in existence.

I'm pretty sure he was looking for an insurance payout.

And, then...there was a race car that was very kid friendly and clearly the hit of the day.

Oh. Yeah.

Ka-Chow!

Doesn't Miss A Thing

Preparing for departure to his T-Ball game this weekend, Max looked out the window and calmy stated, "I think we're taking the truck today."

"Oh", I replied "Is Daddy taking the truck?" while quickly running a car seat location /calculation formula in my head.

"No, he didn't say that. But when Daddy wears his brown pants with the paint dots on them and his gray shirt, that usually means we'll be driving in the truck."

It's good to be predictable.

For the record, Mr. Wonderful changed his clothes and they drove in the car. He's crazy like that.

Happy Birthday, Jellie Bean

Don't look now, but I think someone's got his eye on you :-)

Putting the PTSD in Puget Sound

I took the boys to the beach one day this week and an array of events occurred which led to much crying, howling, wailing and shivering.

The boys had a bad day, too.

I think we all have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and I'll slowly be working on some beach therapy to get us recovered and geared up for the glorious salvation of Summer.

I'll be introducing sand into the bathtub and adding salt to the sippy cups, hoping to get us all comfortable and ready for more beach play. Or, maybe, we'll just go to the beach and sit on a towel and play quietly as we build sand castles.

Naaah. Not likely.

The boys walked out to this island not normally accessible (nor visible) except during low tide. Note the boots being used as a creative focal point for my picture, not as footwear. Consider this foreshadowing.

The boys had a wonderful time running back and forth to "Candy Island", scooping up kelp and sand dollars and pointing out crabs and jellyfish in the water.

Our friends joined us shortly afterward and I got distracted and the next thing you knew the tide starting rolling in fast. Sammy was up to his neck in COLD tidal water and not happy. I waded out to get him, shuffled the kids back to shore, and resumed crab hunting.

The kids found a lagoon to play in filled with murky black mud that smelled like that doggy bag of garlic clams that you forgot about and left in your car overnight and didn't discover until after it had baked in the hot sun all day. Or the entire month of August.

Sam got stuck in the mud and began crying slash wailing slash shrieking, especially when Max and his friends weren't able to lead him/pull him back to shore. So I went in again. Fully clothed.

I picked Sam up and had to forcefully heave him out of the muck while a ginormous Hoover of mud sucked his crocs down into Middle Earth.

Yes, sigh, The Lightening McQueen Crocs that Sam received for his birthday and that HE LOVES! And that I have yet to even acknowledge with a proper thank-you note to his ever-so-thoughtful Auntie and Uncle and cousins (hi guys! private gratitude to follow, I promise!) Oh, God. I suck.

There was crying and wailing and enough tears to fill that salty lagoon back up to high tide. I offered up an ice cream cone to any kid who could find a shoe.


And then we started salvaging items from the deep that had been buried since 1978 and I began to fear that someone was going to pull up Jimmy Hoffa or a jellyfish.

Did I mention that it smelled bad?

We pulled up something vaguely resembling a human limb and my peeps abandoned me.

Except for Sam, who was Never Ever Not Ever Never going to leave until he had two red plastic "Ka-Chow!" crocs back in his ever-loving Queen Car hands.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

There comes that point in parenthood (ok, life) when you just have to step back and look at yourself. Look at yourself in all your ridiculousness trying to make it all better for your kid and at the same time sinking further and further into the detritus of Jimmy Hoffa and jellyfish and ooze. And you shake yourself sober and make the rational decision to release the Queen and offer up a single red croc as a gift to the Sea.

Yeah. You can imagine how well THAT went over.

Just as I was hauling the shivering, salty mess of sorrowful Sam from the burial at sea of his beloved Queen, Max decided to show me the bottom of his foot.

Which I will spare you, and will now attempt to fill my mind with pictures of newborn puppies and alpine wildflowers and a rhapsody of harp music. "Lalalalaalala can't think about the foot" Gag.

Let's just say that there was much gash and ouch and salt and, well, discomfort. And a two lane road to cross at "rush hour" on the island.

Like the limping little sobbing Froggers that we are, we made it across the road and cleaned ourselves off as best we could with 14 wet wipes and a couple of beach towels.

"Hey guys..." I asked when we were back in the car..."Was this fun or WHAT?"

You be the judge.

"Fun" Run

The boys and I "ran" in a local 3K tonight. Max was off like a rocket at the start and Sam burned all his fuel in the first 100 yards trying to keep up with him. But he made a strong finish to the cheers of admiring fans and the motivational coaching that I gave him "to finish fast like Lightening McQueen!" It was all grins and bouncing curls from Sam until Max yelled out from the crowd at the finish line, "MOM! They're out of Otter Pops AND Popsicles!"

It sounded like reverb to me. Echoing over the cheers - in Chariots of Fire style slow motion - I watched the descent into total meltdown as Sam realized he would be denied. Surrounded by over 300 children slurping down frozen corn syrupy goodness; their elbows sticky with orange happiness and Fudgsicle wonder. Right in front of him. And. there. was. none. for. him. My ears will forever echo with the wails.

Fortunately, a quick stop at the mini mart saved the day. And a phone call to Daddy to tell him what great little racers he's got:

"My won the race, Daddy!"

"I picked it up right at the 2K mark like we talked about and still had a kick at the finish, Daddy. I think the key was running through 4 lawn sprinklers to stay hydrated"

Excellent post-race recovery, Sam.

A Perfect Start

I was aiming for a morning with no whining and lots of smiles.

Whole wheat and chocolate Dutch Baby with a hot cup of coffee.

Whole Wheat (and other additives) American Preschoolers.

Things worked out just as I'd hoped.

TGIF!

Summer of Love

My Free!

Ask Sam how old he is, and he'll happily reply, "MY FREE!" and hold up the appropriate number of fingers. Or not.

Today was his birthday, and well, it kind of got consumed with other events. As per usual with Sam, he just rolled with it and was happy to have a "hot dog day" in which his mother offered him nitrates at every meal and shouted out "Freebird" like the true Lynyrd Skynyrd fan that I'm not. I guess I should probably put that lighter away, too.

I love you, little Sammy bird. Hot dogs and 'queen cars the whole year through for you, my darling boy.

Wisdom Beyond Years

"I already know what a funeral is.." Max softly told me this morning when I shared sad news with him.

"..it's where you look at someone's picture and you know that they'll always be with you."

Grandma LaVonne
December 16, 1916 - May 6, 2009

Smoovie Night

The hour(s) between dinner and bedtime can get pretty silly and whiny and destructive with two tired little monkey boys and a worn-out Mama.

Last night we made strawberry yogurt "smoovies" and headed for a relaxing bubble bath. The perfect way to end a long and busy day.