Indoor Fun

Rainy Fall days return us to an old fave: removing the couch cushions and jumping our hearts out... Many parents may opt to pay for their children to take interesting dance classes or play challenging sports...

Not here. We're building forts with our hand-me-down couch.

Pretend naps were taken...

So willing to sleep when it is all a game..

Then Sophia took this self portrait...which alarmingly resembles her 36 week ultrasound pictures...

Monday Funday

The girls spend special time with Daddy every Monday morning. It has grown into such an exciting ritual that Sophia wakes up yelling, "It's Monday Funday!" And she dresses up for the occasion. Surely she wasn't the only one in a Flamenco Dancer Dress at Chick Fil A that morning?

Labor of Love

Here's my dad "Buelo" catching Fried Fish for Sophia for dinner. Yes, the dynamic in my parents kitchen is reminiscent of centuries past...My Mom surveys the supplies and sends my father out for the meat. If he brings a small bounty he is shamed...if his catch is large, they have a dinner party.

With Hope

I began this month excited about new beginnings and schedules and preschool and Fall. But I will always remember this month for something entirely different. I had the honor of being in a dear friends wedding two years ago - and yesterday afternoon, in that same church sanctuary, I had the honor of holding her precious baby while we celebrated the life of her husband, who was killed in action in Kandahar, Afghanistan on September 9th.

It's been a long month - filled, as promised, with preschool and birthday parties and schedules and school clothes. But my heart has been far away and sad. My friend has endured great sorrow this month with grace and beauty and unshakable resolve. I had to remind myself to breathe yesterday amidst both grief and pride as this amazing woman, who I met when she was a junior in high school, so bravely and poignantly eulogized her husband, flanked on either side by her four closest friends - All army wives, two pregnant, two with babies, all four with husbands fighting in Afghanistan. There is a strength I know nothing about. And there is a Hope that I am trying so hard to cling to...Because sometimes it just feels sad.

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" John 11:25-26

VB Overnight...

My Mom just took the girls to Virginia Beach for the night as we have two days full of child-care -needing events. Sophia called it her "vacation" (From what?! Me?) They will go to the Neptune Festival, celebrate Auntie RuthA's birthday, see the Sandcastle Contest, play in the hot tub, and be showered with attention. But do you know what Olivia will tell me about?

Ranger.
He may not feel the same way about her..but he's always been a good sport.

The Truth About Bedtime...

I've considered writing this post for a while...self-consciousness, or "image management" caused me to hesitate. Yet my desire to remember trumps my desire to appear competent so the truth must be told.


Our current bedtime routine is a circus act. It is not for the faint of heart or the sane of mind. It starts out very peaceful and slowly digresses into something other-wordly...


1. We read 3 books, 1 bonus book in the bed, sing 2 songs and pray...
2. Kiss Sophia Good night. Sophia reminds me not to let Olivia (that menace) wake her.
3. Door shut.
4. Count to three...MOMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.
5. Yes?
What follows is a series of requests/desires/complaints/thoughtful quotes/philosophical questions/bathroom trips (necessary and unnecessary)/and general observations on the state of her bedroom.


She has slept in slippers and socks, with socks on her hands, horizontally for fear of her head hitting the headboard, with seven stuffed animals, with no stuffed animals, with a night light, with the hall light on, with Vicks Vapor Rub, and (my current favorite ) in a ponytail due to the extreme hysteria produced by her hair touching her ears while she tries to sleep.


Sophia brought home her classroom newsletter this week in which the teachers reminded us to put our children to bed early as they appeared tired during class. I was horrified and ashamed. I interrogated Sophia about whether she acted tired in class...BECAUSE WE PUT YOU TO BED EARLY YOU JUST DON'T GO TO SLEEP!


Two nights ago, on one of my trips into her her room, she commented, "Mommy, you are talking in the regular voice right now." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, last time you came in you were talking in the "Losin' It" voice."


That is what makes me sad about bedtime and why we will go back to the Sophia Bedtime Success Chart tomorrow night. When I leave Sophia the first time I always say the same thing: "Good Night Sophia. I love you. You are my precious girl." When I leave her room 35 times later, I am huffing and puffing and yelling in the "Losin' It!" voice. I morph into some sort of Ogre of the Night and am sad that these are our last interactions before she (finally) drifts off to sleep...

Until, I am woken at 4am by"MOMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!" And I must deliriously move her head away from the headboard or her hair away from her ears. Then I realize that she is probably not scarred - though I might be.

Sidenote: I kind of wish all of us mothering night wanderers could see each other and feel the solidarity. I often wonder who is up with me at 4am and why...
Also, if you are often up in the night I do not recommend reading books such as The Hunger Games. I found myself being chased in my dreams and then chased around the house as I made my way to my crying child. I found the book riveting but who needs that kind of stress?

85 Days and Counting...

Sophia: Ruthie, on your birthday will you be as tall as this tree? Ruthie: I sure hope so! I've been waiting my whole life to be tall...

Sophia: Yeah... (empathetic sigh) I've been waiting my whole life to turn four...

I'm Having a Moment...

...Because this sweet guy just turned five... I remember the day Braden was born. When Bryce called to tell us the news I burst into tears. Some moments are so big and mean so much that tears replace words and I think with Braden's birth somehow I had an instinct that our lives too would soon enter this season - and change in the biggest way.

My instinct proved right. And Braden has paved the way for us from the beginning...I know next year when Braden enters kindergarten, I will tear up. When Sophia starts... I will probably be stressed about whether she had enough breakfast. Sadly, I tend to be too engrossed in the details of my own children's milestones to be emotional - so I preemptively experience them through Braden:)

I've learned that you need a all types of community to raise children:.

- You need friends that are right there in it with you so that you can talk ad-nauseum about sleep schedules and baby food and giving up pacifiers.

-You need friends with grown-up children to remind you that it goes fast and though your adult children may not wake you up at night to eat, their more complicated issues can lead to an even lesser amount of sleep.

- You need friends without children to remind you of who you are and who you want to be outside of being Mommy Hold Me Mommy Hold Me and facinate you with tales of The Outside World.

- And you need friends that are In It With You but Just A Little Ahead. They have survived beautifully but it was recent enough that they remember how they did it and have gear to lend you to help you do the same...
Laurie told me what to register for for my baby shower and what books were worth reading and basically said over and over that I was making it in those dark post-partum days...And one day soon she will explain bus schedules and school supply lists...

and how to throw 5 Year Old Birthday Parties Your Child Will Never Forget..

I've always been a firm believer in Birthday Magic, having been a recipient of it quite a few times (Oscar Party anyone?) But when 5 Members of the Tribe Basketball team

made a surprise running entrance onto Braden's Backyard Basketball Court...

I think we all felt we really were at The Happiest Place on Earth...

Throw in some hot dogs and cheese balls (!) and it was a pretty great Saturday.

Not to mention the Basketball Birthday Cake (I might have to commission Laurie to construct the Ariel cake in December.)

And as always, there's Braden and Coleman's Playroom. We just don't have these kind of dress up clothes at our house...Hey! Wanna trade? 4 Sparkly boas for one Tribe Football helmet?

Because We're Completely Normal Over Here...

So very shortly after publishing my manifesto against bizarre stranger interactions, I send my child out into public like this:Am I just asking for it? (And, yes, Bobito ends up in the 3-point harness...)
Somewhere out there I know someone is ranting on their blog about people's inappropriate behaviors with their pets and how they prance them about in public - assaulting innocent bystanders with images such as the ones above...

Another First, a Jaunt, Some Pizza, and a Rant

Today was Olivia's first day in Mom's Morning Out...3 hours every Wednesday morning she is in the "Ducks Class." My favorite part of this whole scenario is that the class says "Waddle Waddle Quack Quack" as they move around the building. Foo was not as enthralled. She was crying when I picked her up. Told me she cried the whole time and was hungry. Wow, she knows how to get the guilt going here. The greatest fear of the Latina mother is that her children be hungry or skinny...We shall see how this goes. Sophia was a Duck Class drop out two years ago when the emotional burdens of becoming a big sister took their toll...

Sophia goes to the "Bumblebee Class" on Wednesday. This afternoon she became a bumblebee for our walk to Colonial Williamsburg. Here she is in an ensemble she created herself pointing her "stinger" right at me.

I was only allowed to address her as "Bumblebee" and she refused to ride in the stroller because Bumblebees need to fly. I convinced her the stroller was the beehive and she got in. Two can play this game.

We ended up at Doraldo's for slices of pizza. The Bumblebees were very hungry.

Warning: I am stepping onto my soapbox with this next part...

I have this issue with strange people touching my kids, getting in their space, and basically being all-around too familiar. I take S and O out a lot in the stroller in Colonial Williamsburg so maybe what I experience is unique to tourist areas teeming with relaxed people with lots of time. I'm fine with strange people talking to them, saying hello, commenting on something they are wearing or doing. But please Strangers Who Swarm Around Us(!!!) do not get in their faces and talk on in your own strange child-language. Don't take their stuffed animals and tickle them with them. Don't try and soothe them if they are crying. I don't care if you have grandkids just this age or a stroller just like this. I don't care if they are cute and you miss these years. Give them the dignity of a little distance.

My stance is two fold:

1. I am trying to teach two preschoolers to respect other people's space. This task is complicated when people are always in theirs.

2. I am raising girls who,(fist shaking) heaven help me, will grow up believing they have power over their bodies and their minds - the ability to walk away when they don't want to do something, the strength to say stop when they are being wronged, and the mindfulness to believe in their own strength and capabilities regardless of what other's tell them.

Does empowerment really start in a stroller? Maybe. Or maybe it just starts with hearing your mother advocate for you even if it sounds awkward or rude. I didn't do that today with Crazy I Have Twins Just Like Them Woman, and I regret it. The last time I really said something was when that Pet Smart employee picked Sophia up. (What was I doing at Pet Smart anyways?)

I could be overreacting. I could just be a jerk. I'll take the risk. Every parent gets a few soapboxes. I'm going to develop a little dialogue for handling these offenses. Perhaps I will just print my thoughts on a sign and attach it to the stroller. Or maybe I'll just get Sophia Bumblebee an upgraded stinger...

What a difference two years makes?

WiffleBall World Series 2010And 2008...We were Rhonda's Rhinos - named for our mascot "Rhonda" the name my small group girls used for in-utero Foo. (Flashback comparison pictures never get old to me...)

Ready, Set, Preschool!

First Day of Preschool Photo Shoot:
No anxiety here...

That's right...work it girl...

Poor Foo. At this point she still thinks she is going. As you can see she has packed her purse and her backpack.

Looking very mature...

She has to wear her nametag for the first couple of days. They will probably go back and add an "S" after her name to differentiate her from THE OTHER SOPHIA IN HER CLASS. What was I thinking? When your baby name is in the top 5 this is the moment you fear, the risk you take. Did I really think that I was the only one who saw that 2006 movie "The Holiday" and adored Jude Law's daughters named Sophia and Olivia? Sophia go for it: Be Alecia to your heart's content. And I'll just count on there being no other Foo's by the time she gets to preschool...

Here's what I decided about first children. It's really not about their "first" being more intense. It's about our firsts as parents. Sophia loved her first day - she loved Other Sophia and Other Braden and doing stamps and playing on the playground. But she also plays into the fact that we seem to make a big deal of this. Why? Because its a bigger First for us than for her. On Thursday she played in a class. On Thursday we became tuition-paying, carpool-driving, soup label collecting, extra fee paying, meeting-missing parents.

And just like at her first pediatrician appointment when they called her name, not mine, I found myself asking: Is this allowed? Especially because I am realizing who we are doesn't change as much as our seasons in life do... Thus I found myself in the two hour orientation meeting following a very familiar routine: sit in the back with a friend, listen, miss something, identify responsible listener, ask responsible listener what I missed, try and keep up with corresponding paperwork, give up and have a snack, have anxiety over a procedure that I don't quite understand, realize I have already forgotten something, get overwhelmed at the word "fundraiser", feel like I have nothing to offer, feel like I will be a huge asset, look around and get excited about new social scene, wonder if I will fit into new scene, have regrets about my outfit, see someone with haircut I really like, remind myself to ask who cuts it, and so on and so forth - and all the time wondering if Sophia is enjoying herself, being kind, and introducing everyone to Diego and Pedro.

Can such a person really be trusted with the parenting of Sophia S. and Olivia Foo? Is this allowed?

Further Adventures of Diego and Alecia...some highlights from Leah's camera

Sign of a true friend: ablility to immediately assume the persona of your imaginary friends as soon as he arrives. Diego leaves big shoes to fill. Judah is boldly up to the task.

Here are Diego and Alecia enjoying one of their favorite activities: communal baths.

Lydia joins the fun. Olivia refused, probably due to her irrational fear of Lydia ( who is 13 months)


A twilight playdate gets crazy...
and...

Pajama Storytime!

Daddy showed up just in time for the Pajama Parade around the library. It was just what he wanted after a long day at work.

We were quite a crew. The ripped Princess negligee kind of set the tone...

Olivia: "Wear my pajamas to the library? Don't be ridiculous. This is so not my scene."

Lydia wondering why this was the event she was allowed to stay up so late for...

Can you imagine how much they would enjoy an actual sleepover?

What My Child is Teaching Me...

"I'm just so excited. I love this being in the water! And I'm just excited! I'm excited about my birthday and I'm excited about Braden's birthday..."
- Sophia, as she splashed in College Creek in her underwear this afternoon

"It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy...For we have sinned and grown old and our Father is younger than we." - G.K. Chesterton

September!? Already?

Please don't close the pools! It's really hot at the playground!

My eighth grade science teacher Mr. Reffit had a sign next to the clock in the back of the classroom. It read:

To all you Clock Watchers:

Time passes -

But will you?

I was a HUGE Clock Watcher, thus this sign is forever imprinted on my memory - along with most of Mr. Reffit's axioms...(I never see an overhead projector without thinking of him.) I was always wondering how long until lunch...how long until Wed...how long until the weekend...spring break...summer... When I had children the clock watching officially stopped. Oh the times I have given this excuse: it's not that I forgot your birthday - I honestly do not know what day it is. The rhythm of this life space tends to push me along leaving me without energy or brain mass to think very far ahead.

And so I find myself here - surprised that its September, surprised that I have a real preschooler, who will be assigned classroom jobs and has her name on a cubby. I'm surprised to discover changes in myself: the grasping for survival of the past few years is being replaced by a grasping to hold on - to them and to these innocent times in which I am the Divine Mother Goddess and Daddy is a Rock Star. Sometimes "Mommy hold you Mommy hold you" can seem wearisome but I imagine "MOM. I told you I wasn't coming home last night. Didn't you get my text?!" is exhaustion on a whole other level. Oh September. Slow down just a bit...