Two and Two

The plan was for her to arrive at 10am Saturday morning, and when Sam found out she wouldn't be here when he got home from the Y on Friday he burst into tears.  "But you told me she was coming today.  You told me.  You lied to me!"

This happens a lot.

But when Kelly's Summerfest plans changed unexpectedly, she messaged that she'd be here Friday night instead, "but don't tell Sammy."  It was supposed to be a surprise.  And surprise it was as she walked up to the door moments after Sam and I fought over the placement of the couch on the hardwood floor.  Kelly walked into the chaos of the life we lead, one kid screaming and crying and demanding an ice pack for his scraped ankle while the other kid repeatedly tried to open the front door that is locked just above her reach.

Thankfully, after we took some deep breaths and realized how awesome it was to have her here, we all enjoyed an amazing weekend together that did not involve any more meltdowns.  (Or if it did I don't remember them.)  With adults and children in equal numbers, going to the aquatic center and the beach and a fundraiser for a colleague of mine were no longer terrifying undertakings but downright enjoyable adventures. Kelly and I tag-teamed through chicken Q's and dancing to live music and swimming with fish and chasing children in the pool and multiple sudden i-gotta-pee trips to port-a-potties.  Two adults and two kids.  A nice ratio.  And you have to know there was lots of good food.  And wine.  A lot of wine.  And when the only wine that was left was an old opened bottle of Menage a trois Cab, we dumped in some sugar and watermelon juice and oranges and peaches and fresh strawberries and declared it perfect sangria.  Turns out that when you go with the flow and let things fall where they may, things sometimes turn out perfectly... especially when it's two against two and one of the adults is Kelly.

The New Babysitters

Yes, I know this is a lame Christmas post without all the lyric prose about the beautiful pies and touching moments with Grandma, but I'm a single mama who is training for another half marathon (and possibly a triathlon) and mentoring at the middle school while trying to complete a collection of short stories and maintain a full time job during the hours when I'm not sorting laundry or scraping my food encrusted kitchen table or picking up the urine-soaked pull-ups that have been left on my 3-year-old's bedroom floor.  (And for those of you that have forgotten what 3-year-olds are like, there's this reminder of the creature that lives in my house.) I'm not going to take the time to wax poetic about how beautiful and meaningful our Christmas was and how grateful we all are for TT and Auntie Annie and the friends and family we're so fortunate to have in our lives.  None of that is new.  I'll just sum up this Christmas post by saying that as opposed as I've been to electronics, the Ipad that entered our house this Christmas might just be enough to save my sanity this winter.  That and the invasion of the Barbies.  And Tom & Jerrys.  :)

Gift for a Single Mama

One of the best presents you can give a single mama is the gift of your time, a few hours for her to get away from her children and just breathe.  For Christmas this year (as well as just about every weekend that she comes to visit) TT gave me the gift of a few hours of kidless trail time.  Although I went out on the trails alone last year, this year Scott agreed to rent skis and give it a try and join me during sub zero temps for a Christmas Eve adventure through Perrot State Park.  We watched the forecast and waited until the temperature peeked up above zero and we donned neck gators and triple layers and attitudes of adventure, and we were rewarded with bright red cardinals and distant woodpeckers and lots of deer tracks and roadside turkeys.  When the first loop around the river view trail didn't seem like enough we circled up part of Brady's bluff trail and got treated to some challenging climbs and faster hills and enough laughter that I nearly wet my pants.  If the sun hadn't started to crawl to the horizon I might have made him tackle another loop.  Thank you, TT!

The Meaning of the D Word

TT has said we should sneak away, go get some grown-up time.  She knows how The Man and I have avoided using the D word, and she teases us about going on a date-non-date.  Sam has overheard me talk about how I wasn't going to date until Eva was four years old, but this is perhaps the first time the word has come up in front of him in the context of The Man and me.  Sam snickers just as The Man sets a second plate of hamburgers down on the table between Eva and TT.

"You don't even know what dating is," I say as I ruffle Sam's mop of thick blond hair.  "Do you even know what a date is?"

I smile and push his dinner plate back from the edge of the table and I briefly make eye contact with The Man who smiles and winks.

"Yah," Sam says. "It's when you go out for some love and some food."

The Help

As the garden season begins and the amount of work around the house seems to quadruple, I've been fortunate to have a few extra helpers this year.

 

 

Thanks to all these helpers for making my Mother's Day so enjoyable this year.

What We'll Remember

I was chatting with a co-worker as we washed our hands in the bathroom this morning and I asked her how her little guy enjoyed Easter, if he's old enough to get in to it yet.  He'll be one this month and he's just started standing up, isn't walking and getting in to trouble yet.  She asked me how my kids are, how our Easter was, and I told her that I fondly remember those days of having just one little guy who wasn't mobile and in to anything.  No fighting.  No screaming.  No running off in to traffic in defiance.  No throwing plates across the room because they're the wrong color.  No he-hit-me-she-looked-at-me-the-wrong-way

I'm sure some day I'll look back on THESE DAYS fondly and remember the way my children delighted in each other and the world... during the moments when I wasn't ready to tear my hair out.  Yes, I'm often exhausted and frustrated and at my wit's end from all the whining and fighting and screaming and tattling and defiance, but I look back on Easter weekend and remember the way Sam sunk in to a chair to read the farting dog book with Grandma or the way Eva ran across the pavement at the zoo to show me the blue plastic easter egg she pulled from the pile along the snowbank.  I can smile about the fact that thanks to Grandma we were actually able to go out to public events without me losing a child or Eva getting run over by a car at the Wildlife Center.  

Grandma adores these kids and they adore her, and I suspect I'm the bad guy in the whole thing because they all get a little sick of hearing me sigh and make demands, but nobody will remember any of that.  What I'll remember is Grandma's special at-Sam's-request salmon with dill sauce Friday night and the two children passed out in the backseat after a wonderful morning at the zoo and the way Sam insisted we thank God for the food and for Grandma and for the easter bunny before we sat down to eat our Easter ham.  Yes, I'm sometimes exhausted and overextended and anxious for a little time to myself, but I'm always, ALWAYS so grateful my children have their Grandma and Grandma has my children and we get to spend these holidays together as a family.  

 Feeding the ducks at The Wildlife Sanctuary

 Grandma is Sam's best pal, and he likes to have her all to himself.

 

 Easter Egg Hunt at The N.E.W. Zoo

 Feeding the giraffes - Not too close, Mommy!

 Has anyone yet noticed that I'm being defiant and refusing to go along with you?

 High Five Easter Bunny 

(That's just a guy in a costume, Mommy.  That's not the real Easter Bunny.)

 6:30am  The Loot

 Our Robot Creation

 Perfect spring weather