The Perfect Storm

In the weeks leading up to our beach trip, I was increasingly nervous that our annual vacation would be ruined by a hurricane. The summer's weather had been strangely quiet despite predictions of a rough season, so I feared Mother Nature was storing up for a disastrous storm.

As it turned out, the weather was mostly beautiful while we were at the beach. But I was right to be worried -- although it may not have made the news where you are, there was a big coastal tempest by the name of Hurricane Pippi:

Hurricane Pippi brought sunny skies and nice breezes, but also 5 a.m. wake-up calls, nap strikes and perpetual motion accompanied by serious teething. When she wasn't chasing the sea gulls or running into the ocean, she was attempting to remove her swimsuit, rolling in the sand, stealing our friends' snacks, yelling at the top of her lungs and tasting shells.

And as if that weren't enough, there was the Friday evening adventure to urgent care to check her wrist that may or may not have been sprained by her mother (who was holding Pippi's hand and jerked on her arm to keep her from sticking the other hand in a bag of poopy diaper -- you know the move because you've done it a million times before). She was fine by bedtime, but her anguished sobs and complete refusal to use her left hand had us scared for a few hours.

All in all, it was a wonderful vacation with family and friends. But now I need a week to recover from Hurricane Pip. Thank goodness preschool starts on Wednesday!

Definitely Not the Duggars

Four summers ago, we met the T and H families here at the beach. They had come down together from Charlotte, but it was a happy coincidence for us that we were staying next-door to families who each had a one-year-old like us. We bonded over early morning playtime on the beach (why can't these little ones understand the joy of sleeping in on vacation?!) and had so much fun that we made plans to return to the same place same week every year.

Since that first summer, our group has grown from three babies across three families to nine kids and four families (two with three kids each). For my children, it's all the fun of having seven extra cousins without any of the work. For me, it's a joy to have interesting people to talk with and share life with, outside the busy context of our "regular" worlds back home.

One of the topics of conversation this summer has started with the lead-in, "So are you guys done?"

Over the past year, my husband and I seriously considered joining the three-is-the-new-two approach to family planning (I mean really, I have SO many friends with three kids now). In fact, it was a tougher decision than I expected. After growing up in a family of four, I always assumed I would have two kids as well -- but it's such an amazing thing to create a tiny person out of nothing and then watch him or her grow, it's almost addictive. Our children are beautiful, healthy, funny, smart and interesting (if we do say so ourselves), so why wouldn't we want more? Plus, maybe if we had another one, I'd get one who looked even remotely like me (although probably not).

But my response to the question this week has been, "Yep. We're done." Followed immediately by a long-winded explanation of why we made that choice, including a host of reasons like...

• our age (I was already "advanced maternal age" when Pippi was born, which is still several years younger than my husband)
• our cars (which are paid for, but can't hold more than two car seats)
• our energy levels (severely depleted after not sleeping through most nights for the past four years)
• our marriage (which doesn't get nearly the attention it deserves while we try to manage everything else)
• our concerns about a third c-section (which means a longer, more painful postpartum)
• our finances (which are holding on for the moment, but would get thin with more family members requiring food, clothes and college funds)
  

I'm not sure why I can't just answer, "Yes -- our family is complete," and leave it at that. Maybe it's because, ultimately, I'm afraid I can't handle a third -- just not organized enough or patient enough or creative enough to manage any more than the chaos I already have. My tenuous hold on sanity and good parenting might not survive two more little hands pulling me in every direction, accompanying me on every trip to the toilet, making demands on my every waking (and sometimes sleeping) minute. If I'm honest, I think we're done because I'm done.

But then I hold a sweet new baby, sniff that fresh baby head, cuddle those tiny rolls and creases. In that moment, I think maybe just maybe we rushed into the decision to stop, maybe there's another baby in my heart, maybe we really could manage three.

And then that sweet new baby starts to cry or spit up or fuss and I remember how hard and exhausting and lonely those new babies can make me feel. And I'm over it.

Thankfully, our beach friends aren't done yet, so maybe there will be more sweet babies to hold and snuggle and sniff next year -- and then (thank goodness) quietly hand them back to their parents.

Note: If you don't get the title of the post (or if you have suggestions for a 19th "J" name), go here. And if you haven't commented on my post for the contest at Triangle TRACKS yet, Friday is your last chance.

Remembrance of Summers Past

It's not as elegant as Proust's madeleine, but I had the strangest moment last week when I fixed the beverage shown above.

The glass is one of those Looney Tunes glasses that you used to be able to get with a purchase at Burger King or McDonalds back in the 70s and 80s. My favorite one was a Miss Piggy glass (she's on the motorcycle bursting through the stained glass window in The Great Muppet Caper) -- found this picture on Ebay that shows the whole set; sadly, my glass broke when I took it to college.
Anyway, back to the Looney Tunes glass, which I inherited from my Nana after she died more than 15 years ago. I always loved using those glasses when we would visit her house on the river. She'd fill them with ice and Pepsi-Cola to take down on the pier. As strange as it sounds, that was a luxury -- we didn't drink sodas at home when I was young.

So the other day, I needed some caffeine to avoid joining my kids during their naptime, so I popped open a can of Diet Coke. It was room temperature, so I reached into the cabinet and pulled out this Foghorn Leghorn glass without thinking about anything in particular, added some ice and poured in the drink.

Then I stopped and looked at the glass, suddenly filled with memories of my Nana, of playful summer afternoons by the river, of being young and finding great pleasure in the smallest treats. I was so grateful to have had the sort of childhood that could be summoned up like that. And I imagine that my parents and my in-laws are creating little things like that now for my children, without even knowing it, that will become the catalyst for their own fond memories one day.

Firsts Night

Saturday night was a momentous one filled with "firsts" for our little family. The big event was Junius's first camping trip -- he went to Hanging Rock State Park with his dad and Grandpa (my FiL). They hiked to a waterfall (see photo of Juni and Daddy), rowed in a boat and slept in a tent during an overnight rainstorm. Juni had a blast, and the big guys had fun sharing the experience with him and each other.

Pippi and I stayed with Nonna (my MiL) while the guys were out roughing it. We took naps (or at least they did while I got some contract work done), went shopping, ate dinner in a restaurant and slept in our beds. It was lovely and civilized -- and too bad that Pip isn't yet old enough for pedicures at the salon.

But even though we weren't out camping, Pippi and I still had our share of firsts...

• It was Pippi's first night without Junius since we brought her home from the hospital. Seems funny to imagine, but in her whole life (minus the first couple days), she's never had dinner without her brother, never had breakfast without her brother, never gone to bed without her brother in the next room. She had an unusually tough time in the restaurant during dinner -- could have just been crabby, but I honestly think she was starting to miss Junius. She was VERY excited to see him when they returned home on Sunday.
  
  
• It was possibly my first night in almost nine years without saying goodnight to my husband. We've certainly spent nights apart because of business travel or weekends with friends, but I don't think I've ever gone to bed without at least saying goodnight to him. Felt really strange and kind of icky.
  
  
• It was probably the first time I went 24 hours without talking to my husband. I expected to get a call sometime during their trip since both my husband and Grandpa had their cell phones with them. When I didn't hear from them, my brain leapt straight into the deep end -- car wreck, bear attack, rock slide, lightning strike, whatever irrational disaster you can think of. The rational part of my brain told me they simply didn't have any reception in the park (which turned out to be true), but sadly that tiny part was no match for all the crazy scenarios that nearly drove me over the edge waiting by the phone. I was so relieved to see them arrive home on Sunday that I proceeded to yell at my husband for not making a Herculean effort to call me and tell me that they were neither injured nor dead.
  
  
• It was only my fifth night away from Junius (out of 1,483 days in his life) -- of the other four, one was a getaway with my husband (so luxurious and restful!) and the other three were spent in the hospital when Pippi was born (neither luxurious nor restful). Don't get me wrong -- I'm looking forward to a night away from both of my children sometime this year, but it still just felt weird not to see him, tell him good-night, tuck him under his blanket before I went to bed.

The good news about all of this is that Junius has convinced his dad that they should bring Pippi and me along on the next camping trip -- might be the ONLY way I'll ever get invited to camp again with my husband (I'll save that story for later, but let's just say the first trip didn't go well and may have caused him to reconsider his intentions to marry me). Honestly, I'm not a huge fan of sleeping on the ground, but at least I won't be waiting by the phone if I get to go along for the ride.

Before and After: Outdoor Dining Chairs

I love a nice renovation project. Probably a good thing, given all the work we need to do to our house. Sadly, I don't have the carpentry, tiling, dry-walling, plumbing and electrical skills to tackle a lot of projects myself. But I can wield a paint can and staple gun with minimal risk to my personal safety, so that's usually where my solutions start.

We inherited a set of six chairs from my husband's grandparents several years ago. They lived in our shed (the chairs, not his grandparents) at three different houses. The chairs had great lines -- especially the slightly curved backs -- but the faded yellow paint was chipped and rusting, while the vinyl green seat covers were sticky and, well, ugly (see "before" photo above).

This summer I finally brought them out of the shed and into the light. After some scrubbing, I spray-painted them to match the legs on the table on our deck. Then I took the left-over fabric from our outdoor cushions, stretched it over the seat rounds and stapled it underneath.

Et voila! A brand-new-ish set of six chairs that we can use to eat dinner on the deck (see "after" photo at left). I think my mother-in-law will be proud of my craftiness and the fact that we were able to re-use some family furniture -- and I feel good about saving some money and keeping a few things out of the trash.

Now if I can just figure out how to get rid of the flies and mosquitoes, we'll be all set for some lovely dining al fresco.

Junius Fest 2009

What starts with Buzz Lightyear and a Lightning McQueen lunchbox and ends with one very tired and slightly sandy four-year-old?

It's J-Fest 2009, a four-day birthday extravaganza!

Here's a list of the highlights from Junius's birthday and the three additional days of celebration:

• Opening presents from the parents (mentioned above)
• Receiving an early morning phone call from his girlfriend (at the end of which he said, "My mom needs to talk to your mom. I love you!")
  
• Riding with the top down on a breakfast trip to Biscuitville with Daddy
• Spending the morning at the park with KT and G (two of his favorite friends), plus a ride in Ms. B's car (which is nearly as exciting as playing at the park) -- including brownies and a Buzz Lightyear kite
  
• Splashing at the pool for more play time with KT and G
• Getting FOUR WHOLE DOLLARS in the mail (three of which will go into his bank, where he is "saving for college," and one of which he plans to spend on chips at the pool snack bar)
• Eating dinner at Chick-Fil-A (with KT and the fam) -- including more presents, ice cream and time to run around
• Listening to a sweet birthday voicemail (to which he tried to talk and respond through the answering machine)
• Hosting a pool party with four grandparents, two parents, one sister and 12 friends -- including cupcakes, Chex Mix (his favorite snack) and juice boxes
• Grilling out cheesburgers and hot dogs for dinner
  
• Opening presents from friends and family, then trying to play with all of them at once because every single one is "just what I have always wanted!" (especially the "Mack" truck from the movie Cars)
  
• Using power tools to help Pop Pop build a super-duper sandbox in the backyard, then playing in sandbox after Daddy filled it with more than 1,200 lbs of sand
• More time at the pool, more cheeseburgers, popsicles and play...
  

The next morning, his first words to me were, "Did any more of my presents arrive?"

Dude can get his money's worth out of a birthday. Guess I can add that to the list of things he seems to have inherited from his mother.

Is that poo in your pants or are you just excited?

Some of you have already seen what I'm posting here, either because you go to the same pool with me or because you saw my status on Facebook. But two days later, it still cracks me up, so I've decided to share it here.

It's the opening paragraph from an email sent to pool members by the pool managers on Monday. Not sure if it was intended to be hilarious or not, but I laughed until I snorted the first time I read it. Also, I think it's relevant to the story to know that the pool managers are a married couple with school-age children and she is a former NASA engineer and science teacher, i.e. they're "grown-ups" and not teen-agers.

Seems that we had a "code brown" at the neighborhood pool on Monday -- the second since the pool opened a month ago. So our pool managers are understandably frustrated because of whatever de-tox/sanitation process they have to go through to be able to re-open the pool.

And now, without further ado, the excerpt (emphasis, mine):

"We had to close the pool this afternoon because of another fecal incident. Our apologies to anyone who showed up during pool hours to yet another locked gate. These things do happen, but you could help us by reminding the younger kids to use the bathroom before they come to the pool and during the rest periods. It is a wonder of childhood that you can be having so much fun that you don't realize you are about to crap in your pants."

Did I mention how much I love my neighborhood?

Image from FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

What would happen if I just put my hand here?

Last weekend we took Junius to see the N.C. Symphony's Summerfest concert with Cirque de la Symphonie. It was a big night out for the three of us -- we left Pippi at home with a friend from the babysitting co-op because we knew she'd a) never sit still for the concert and b) need to go to bed about the time the show was starting.

The amphitheater was packed when we arrived and got more crowded as the night went on. But despite the lack of space and lack of a clear view (more on that in another post), we had a nice time eating our picnic and watching the show.

If you're not familiar with Cirque de la Symphonie, it's kind of like Cirque de Soleil in front of a symphony -- acrobats, dancers, jugglers, and the like. The performers are mind-bogglingly (did I just invent an adverb?) strong and graceful, dangling from the ceiling on ribbons and hoops or balancing on tiny stools and each other.

So here are my questions: After you've done all the strength training and gymnastics training and so on, how do you make the leap to saying to your friend...

"Just hold still --
I'm going to do an upside-down one-armed push-up on your head."

Or "I think I can spin three *more* hoops..."


Or "I'm sure I could wrap these sheets
around my wrists and fly..."

For more photos and a video to get the full effect, go here. In the meantime, I'll be training with Junius and Pippi for the next tour. I'm pretty sure I can juggle both of them at the same time.

Come to my window

I promise I'm not stalking Mrs. Chicken, but she has another interesting post on her blog this week about the fascination of being a voyeur. I'll let you read her post because it's better than reading my paraphrase of her post, but I saw myself in her story about the "allure of... glimpses of someone else’s ordinary evening." Nothing creepy, but I still find it fascinating to see in the windows, whether literal or virtual. Probably part of why I like the movie Rear Window so much -- I get the fun of inventing a story around that tiny glimpse.

Okay, go ahead. Read it -- I'll wait. Seriously -- you don't really need another link, do you?

So here's my "window" -- the photo of me when I was reading her post yesterday. No make-up, bed-head, still sweaty from the morning's walk pushing 75 pounds of children and stroller around our hilly neighborhood. I'm in what my husband calls "Command Central" -- it's the corner of my kitchen counter where my laptop sits most of the time. While my children are napping, I catch up on email, read blogs, check Facebook and prep for dinner. It's not glamorous, but it's me -- and most days, I'm happy with that.

But if you happened to walk by my house later on last night (and one of my friends was doing just that), this second picture is what you saw... not through our window, but outside at the curb. It's Junius and his Daddy watching for lightning bugs.

This sweet scene started when my husband heard Junius walking around upstairs after he should have been asleep. When he found Juni awake, he suggested a trip to the potty might help. Junius looked out the bathroom window into the almost-darkness and said, "Da -- look at that! What's that little light that keeps blinking? Look -- there it is again!"

And so the boy with the early bedtime got his first trip outside on a summer night to catch fireflies with his wonderful father. His eyes wide with excitement, his voice hushed in the dark, Juni went out and hopped around the yard with us as we tried to show him what a lightning bug looks like up close.

Before we went back inside to bed, he turned and said in his most earnest little voice, "Thank you, Da. Thank you for taking me outside to see the fireflies."

If you like, show me your window now... what would I see as you read this post?