A big brother emerges

Asked the kids to hug



L adores her big brother, she just does. She follows him around, much to his dismay sometimes, wanting to do whatever he does. He's building a Lego helicopter and she's right in the thick of things wanting to build too. I think it's sweet, N not so much.


But just this morning I heard him very carefully explaining to her the difference between two Thomas trains. Thomas trains are very important to him and you don't just call them anything you want, no they have names and numbers and status in the railway hierarchies. This lore is sacred and must not be deviated.


N was having a go at some games on the computer and L was by his side watching, when she began to call a certain train by the wrong name. And the more N protested the more she pushed his buttons by insisting she was right. As I waited for the inevitable blow up, or "Mommy, make her stop," I heard him take a deep breath and say, "No, L, look at this." And he proceeded to show her that Percy was a green engine with the number 7 and what shape he was etc. He then showed her a picture of Gordon and pointed out his qualities. Now, I'm sure L already knows all this, but it didn't matter. She was his devoted student taking it all in and asking questions. And, I was so proud of L as he stepped right into big brother mode, he was talking to her not at her and sharing... it was so sweet.


While the rest of the day may have been filled with sibling squabbling and button pushing, that moment was a keeper. And I believe a glimpse into the future of what a great relationship they can have.

Quotes of the Year.

Noah: "Five more days until December, and then it snows!" Another child disappointed by the elements.

"Lucy, do you want me to take your braids out" Pause, pause. "Take my brains out"

CA and/or Patrick: “You get what you get, and you don't throw a fit”

Somehow we got on the subject of the grammatical use of the word 'none' at the dinner table. Out of nowhere Noah chimes in with, "There are no nuns around here".

Patrick, seeing the kids' room, “dear god woman, how did you survive the day”. Me: Ha,hahahahahahahahaha.....

"Daddy, can I have a piece of cheese-y, there's a mousey in my belly" The divine Ms. Lucy, in her best mousey voice

Noah: “Geckos don't like it too hot. Otherwise their bones will dry up and blow away in the hot sun”

Today Lucy argued with me that the color of toothpaste I was using was the wrong color.

N wants modeling clay to which I say, "hmm, I'm not sure I'm ready for modeling clay in the house kiddo." To which he replied, "All women, no matter how big or how small are always ready for modeling clay, mama”

Lucy: "Noah you are very deep" Noah: "Yeah, but I'm not as deep as she thinks I am"

"Noah, why is your hair wet?" "Because I stuck my head in the toilet." "Why?!?!" "Because I wanted to...." This from the boy who reads his encyclopedia for fun....

Nothing like waking up to a sweet girl voice singing "love, love me do. You know I'll be true" in your face.

CA/PW: are you okay?
L: Mmm-hmmm
CA/PW: can you speak?L: Mmm-hmmmm
CA (slightly exasperated) Can you say your name?
L (w/perfect timing and without missing a beat) : PRINCESS

"Sometimes, just sometimes, when no one is looking you fly" N said to me with all sincerity.

"Look Daddy, my nose is melting". (Apparently the divine Ms Lucy has learned to cross her eyes)

Noah says, "Mommy you will have another baby and we will call him Roquefort" When I told him that wasn’t going to happen he said, "oh yes it will. You have plenty of room for an egg in your tummy. You'll see Mommy, it will be a good thing" (for the record we are having no more children!)
”
“Once upon a time there were some letters, they all lived in a school. They lived happily ever after. The End.” by Lucy River

“Taste of Peanut Butter
Taste of Jelly
Taste of Bread
Taste of the Heart eating my blood”.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa:

Do you yawn? Do you spit raspberries, just kidding...

My wish list

1. legos

2. another tutu

3. coloring book

4. a princess

5. please say ho-ho-ho.

please bring daddy new paints.

Love, L

Dear Santa:

I love you. Thank you for the note. Love N

PS here's my wish list

1. Emily, Toby and Gordon (Thomas train friends)

2. Yellow road worker - who lives on the island of Sodor

3. A new floor puzzle, please make it as big as our house

4. new train tracks

5. Lightning McQueen craft kit

6. They Might be Giants - Here come the 1-2-3s (it's a cd)

Please bring Daddy new clown make up, because L used all his old make up.

Love, N

We went on our first family Christmas tree hunt on Saturday. There was no tears, no whining, no yelling and no one cut their finger off with the saw. It was a great success. It was a spontaneous trip, which are as rare as hen's teeth in our family of two preschoolers, a stage manager and a planner. But we did it. We had intended to go to a local lot, pick out a tree and be done with it, but the the lure of a long-held wish of mine proved to strong.


I have a vague memory of going to "the" mountain with my sisters and various assorted family members and friends when I first moved to the Pacific NW. I don't know if it's romance of the passage of time that makes it a or the the spiked hot cocoa. Either way, it's been a wish of mine to take my children up the mountain to recreate a sort of Walton's mountain Christmas tree hunt adventure (don't kid yourselves, you know John and Grandpa had some of the Baldwin sisters' "recipe" with them on those cold winter days)

As I thought about various ways to propose this adventure to the troops the stage manager/worrier/practical/boring side of me began to gnaw at my conscious. There are so many things that can go wrong on an adventure like this (do we learn nothing from the evening news people!) And it really would take us about 2 hours to get the appropriate clothing lined up, provisions, maps, permits, books for the car, Christmas cds to listen to, and "damn, did N take a potty break", "Where's L's pink blankie" on and on... I could envision us in our old, smelly, w/no tire chains car getting half way to the mountains only to realize we had no earthly idea what the hell we were doing.... Somehow the spontaneous magic was fading.

What to do, what to do. Obviously we could grab the little red wagon and trek on over to Fred Meyer or Walgreens, pay the clerk with the Santa hat and a cranky attitude some money and call it good. We could drive to a local neighborhood lot walk up and down the rows of trees pulling them out one by one and turning and posing them. (it's a science people!) All the while trying to keep fun alive in a parking lot for two small children who are wrapped up in the magic of the season this year.

Nope none of those ideas appealed. So, a quick googling of "Christmas trees Oregon" gave me the perfect compromise. There staring back at me was the golden ticket. A tree farm on Sauvie Island where we could let the kids run loose and we could pick our tree- fresh. And hell ,it would already be standing, so we could walk around it, viewing on all sides, to make sure it was perfect. Throw in a $5 off coupon and I was sold!

Off we went! Properly bundled from the elements, a quick stop at coffee shop for caffeine and a sweet treat for the kids. I found the 24-7 Christmas music station and the scene was set for a lovely outing.

"Are we going to the pumpkin patch" "Can I pick the apples" "Oooh, can I climb the hay pyramid again" "where's the corn maze" Hmmm, guess we spend a lot of time on Sauvie Island thru out the year. Careful explanation of where we were going, with repeated telling of same information, finally sunk it. "ohhh, it's a Christmas tree farm" "What's a Christmas tree farm?" "Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer!!"

It was a small farm, and their first year in operation. It was not crowded at all. Patrick got the law of the land and the saw

N and L grabbed the tree wagon and the fun began.

Now I'd like to say we spent hours chasing each other around the trees shrouded in mist. I'd like to say the adventure lasted longer then drive to Sauvie Island. But the truth is, we trooped into the tree field, looked at about 6 trees. Spotted the tree we liked, took some photos, Patrick cut the tree down and voila we were done. We paid for our tree, kids got candy canes and we headed home. It was a perfect trip!

untitled poem - by N

Taste of Peanut butter

Taste of Bread

Taste of Jelly

Taste of my Heart
eating my blood.


~N. Wohlmut Age 4


When he recited this poem to me today, I swear there was a twinkle in his eye that said, 'heh, heh, heh, I'm gonna freak my mom out with this."

He also said, "because that's what hearts do, Mom. They eat our blood and then pump it out"

and the magic of the season begins

L expected Santa for Thanksgiving dinner. Now, I'm not sure where she got that idea. The best theory I can come up with is this one: N and I were talking about Santa about a month ago and I said we should wait until after Thanksgiving to write out letters and get into the Christmas spirit. She must have heard bits and pieces and came up with Santa's coming for dinner. I told her he probably wouldn't come. N was more direct, "He'll be too busy watching the elves making toys. Then he'll go golfing" But from time to time over the past few weeks L would ask if Santa was coming for Thanksgiving, and we'd have to tell her know.

For a brief and shining moment I thought about it. We could have pulled it off, and have friends willing to step up and make it happen. But, I know how these things work, if you do it one year, you'll have to do it year after year. And long after the truth is out, it will still be expected. And reality says I was just not willing to make a commitment to Santa for dinner for the next 5-10 years.

However, I wanted to do SOMETHING. I mean how cute is it that L wants to have dinner with Santa? So, when we came home from dinner w/family we found the following ltr in our door. With this letter was a photo of Santa (our dear friend James who came complete with suit at 10pm last night - after work and rehearsal- so I could take photos. )

Reactions - pretty quiet, but the you could see the wheels turning. And just before bedtime N turned to me and said, "Mom, that letter was just for me and L. Just so you know" I'm pretty sure the magic is working already.

Thanksgiving 2009


Dear Noah and Lucy:I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving with your family. I stopped by to say hello, but it looks like you are still at your Aunt Robbin’s house.


I just wanted to remind you to send me your wish lists, have your Mommy or Daddy mail them to me at the North Pole. That’s where the elves and are busy making toys for all the good little girls and boys. Are you two still being the great kids I know you are?

Have a wonderful holiday season. I can’t wait to see your tree when I come by on Christmas Eve. Remember, I always come after everyone is all snug in their beds.


Love, Santa

PS I sure do like your mom’s sugar cookies and don’t forget to leave a carrot out for the reindeer, they get hungry pulling my sleigh!

What keeps you up at night?

I know, I know, it's the bills and the job, it's the kids and the braces, and the commute and the gas prices, and the government and the health plan, and the Thanksgiving and Christmas plans (family or no family). I know about all that, but what about that crazy stuff that no one else thinks of, and maybe I'm the only one, who knows....

When the wind's a howlin' and the trees are shaking I wish my first thought was how blessed I am to be in a warm home next to a loving husband with children tucked all snug in their beds. But, I confess that is not my first thought. My first thought is What if the tree falls on the house, followed by and if it falls on the house will it fall on our room or the kids' room. And it just keeps going from there. What if all the trees (we really don't have any trees in that close proximity to the house mind you) fall on the house at once, trapping us all in. Will Patrick or I be able to get to the children? And what if power lines have fallen outside the house, so now there's no electricity to the house and yet live power lines dancing on the sidewalk. How will the firefighters get to us. And will I be one of those super-hero moms who lift the giant tree off my children's bunk bed with one hand while single handedly wrapping an ace bandage around Patrick's fracture leg or will I stand frozen in the midst of the disaster unable to move to comfort my crying children let alone move the trees.

And then there's the scenario where Patrick comes home later then expected from a meeting and so of course he's been in a car accident and one of the children has once again accidently unplugged the house phone and my cellphone battery will probably be dead so no-one will be able to reach me. And if they do it will be to ask me if he is an organ donor which, oh I'm sure he is, but what will his parents want, and how do I get to the hospital to sign the papers with two sleepy children in tow and do I call the in-laws to meet me at the hospital or do I let them have their last quiet night's sleep? Do I try and find a neighbor to watch the kids or take them so they can see Daddy.... and how much was that damned life insurance policy for anyway, and I'm not in any way shape or form ready to be a single parent and oh my.....

oh, there's the keys in the door. He's home.

So, what keeps you awake at night?

Did I mention that little teeny rash on N, that no one else can see....

why I let Superman jump off furniture

Just look at that smiling boy.

Ready

Set

FLY!!!!!!

baking cookies the Wohlmut Family Way circa 2009

1. Gather all ingredients and interested parties.

2. Referee disputes over who gets to put what ingredients in the bowl.

3. Take a deep breath and count to 10.

4. Ignore large piles of flour on the table, it all cleans up.

5. Ignore that extra scoop of sugar going into the bowl...no one eating these cookies is expecting to stay on their diet.

6. Let Noah crack the egg(s). Think..."the frosting will cover any shards of eggshell, won't it?"

7. Warn Lucy that the mixer will be turned on momentarily. Lucy should then proceed to hide in the bedroom with Daddy. Afterall, the mixer is "too loud!"

8. Find the stool so Noah can reach the bowl.

9. Have a quicky safety lesson about eletric appliances.

10. Make a quick sign of the cross and tell N he can turn on the mixer.

11. Wait,

12. and wait.

13. Try not to sigh audibly as N decides he too would rather hide in the bedroom w/Daddy and L until the mixer is off.

14. Mix ingredients, don't forget to add time in for interruptions from children every time you stop the mixer, "are you done with the mixer yet? Okay, don't turn it on 'til I'm back in the bedroom"

15. Listen to pitter patter of feet running down the hall, wait for door to close. And resume mixing.

16. Chill the dough for an hourLet N put the saran-wrap over bowl (amazingly he will be better at this then you are)

17. During this hour you will be required to play a variety of games, most having to do with dinosaurs. Or you may be asked to read the same book again and again to Ms. L.

18. Try and slip in a shower, you'll feel better.

19. Dough is ready!

20. Agree that the farm animal cookie cutters are just as Halloween-ish as Ghosts and Pumkins.

21. Roll out dough.

22. See N dumping a pile of flour on the table. "the duck needs a pond to swim in" (remember why you didn't want to get the farm animal cookie cutters out)

23. Take a step back from the table, breath and remember baking cookies with kids is not really about the cookies, it's the 'process'. Count to ten and repeat if necessary.

24. After about 20-30 minutes of kids pounding cookie cutters into the dough, making footprints w/the animals, arguing over who gets which rolling pin you should have enough cookies on a sheet to put in the oven.

25. Realize you just don't have the energy to make more then two sheets worth, breath...

26. Have Daddy strip children of their flour covered clothing, and clean them up.

27. Stare at the mess and wonder if the pick-up fairy has a cousin who does kitchens.

28. Remove cookies from oven.

29. Let kids have a cookie each, no matter how close it is to a mealtime.

30. Put remaining dough in the fridge, and plan to finish cookies after kids go to bed.

31. Look at kids eating their cookies, listen to their joy in talking about the 'turkey' and 'cow' cookies.

32. Smile...breath

33. Clean up and if necessary take another shower.

Monday, Monday.

This is what greeted me this fine Monday morning. I knew I should never have rolled over for "five more minutes" of sleep. Oh, but the wind was howling and the rain was pelting the windows. I just had a feeling it was going to be a long day and I was going to need all my strength. Besides, N wasn't even up yet and Patrick told me that L was happily mezmerized by Curious George on PBS. So, really what could go wrong?

20 minutes later I hear N at my bedside, "mooommmy, I'm hungry" "Okay, buddy I'm getting up" I roll out of bed, grab my bathrobe, stumble down the hall and... "Holy Shi....." (bite my tongue) What a sight! I really don't know what to do first, pee, laugh, cry or clean her up. So, being who I am, I naturally get the camera first, take a picture, pee and then begin to clean her up.

Grease paint, clown make up, this-shit's-never-gonna-come-off-is -it stuff! Out came the baby wipes, they did a little damage control. I must have spent five minutes trying to get the baby oil opened, because now my hands are covered in grease paint and some genius has decided that baby oil needs a child proof cap on it! Breathe... Put the child in the bathtub. Oh, now it's all fun and games. "I need a toy mommy" Reach for the soap, blink for just a second, and voila now she's washing her hair w/her grease paint covered hands. Shampoo, lather, rinse, repeat as necessary.

20 minutes later and things are somewhat restored to normal. There's still a slight rim of white around her eyes, but I'll deal with that later. Breakfast is now 40 minutes late and we have a play date arriving in 20 minutes. Okay, I'm gonna take a quick two minute show. Everyone cool with that? I mean I do it every day without incident. Today will be just fine.

6 minutes later. "Mommy, L's dumped the whole box of Multi-Grain Cheerios (tm) all over the kitchen floor"

"The whole box, really? That's funny N"

"But, Mommy they're everywhere"

"Shit!"

Grab the robe and the broom, and what the hell the camera too.

... L trots off to her room to get a broom and sweeps up right along side me. (sorry no photo proof of that...ha!) We get the mess cleaned up, breakfast on the table. It is only 10am.

What I learned today

Today I learned to always check that the keys you grab on your way out the door are actually the keys to the door. I learned that libraries close when the power outage lasts longer the 10 minutes. I learned that coffee shops, however, will stay open whether they can run the register or not.

Today I learned that you might be able to get the screens off the windows to the house, but if the panes are shut tight there's no breaking in. I learned that using a credit card or debit card is not really an efficient way to get back into your house. I learned that it is possible to climb on top of two lawn chairs w/out falling (don't try this one at home kids) but it really doesn't give you that much more height.

Today I learned my kids are troopers. That to them being locked out of the house w/out keys or cellphone is not a big deal. A trip to the coffee shop and then the local art store are a grand adventure. (why I had my debit card in my pocket is still a mystery, but I'll thank the fairies for it just the same) I learned that pretty much, as far I can tell, my entire neighborhood works day jobs. (or won't open their house to a strange women and two kids) I learned that even on the windiest of fall days L would rather take her coat off then wear it, 'any more time!'

Today I learned that swinging on the neighbors front porch w/my kids is a great joy and I'm secretly glad no one was home. I learned that there is plenty adventure to be had in my neighborhood even when the wild winds are blowing, the power is out and no else seems to be home.

Today I learned that sometimes an unfortunate turn of events can be turned into a grand adventure. Although I'm sure its safe to say that by the end of the 2nd hour we were all tired of our new coloring books (that we could only read as the colors are in the house), and playing hopscotch in the wind.

Note to self - grab the right keys and put you cellphone in your pocket!

Fall preview

Fall is here! We've been to the corn maize and the pumpkin patch. This weekend it's the apple festival with apples and even more pumpkins! The Wohlmut's are out and about and enjoying the bounty of harvest time in Oregon. I hope you, dear readers, are out enjoying these beautiful bountiful days as well.

The kids continue to grow by leaps and bounds. N no longer looks like a baby or even a toddler. He looks like a BOY! Every time I look at him I am amazed at how much he has grown and changed. As fast as his body is changing, his mind is changing even faster. He's reading all that he can get his hands on these days. Can't find him, chances are he's sitting on his bed pouring over his "Living Life" encyclopedia. In addition to the reading he surprised me this week by writing out "Tasmanian devil", not only did he write it but asked no help from me for the spelling of the words! He also wrote out the word snowflake, but that word was really all the letters on the page, like a hunt a word jumble you had to put them together yourself. Still, this is one of those moments when I say...'he's only 4?'

L, is our budding artist and resident comic in training. Tell her its going to be a craft day, and she'll scramble to the kitchen table faster then you can say, 'jackrabbit'. She likes it all markers, crayons, stamps, stickers and water colors. She make smiley faces and apples, and whatever else strikes her fancy (the above is entitled "clown") Beware however, turn your back and she's apt to have drawn kitty whiskers on her face and stamped hearts on the kitchen table. (This artist's muse must not be contained.)

Got a joke to tell? L will laugh at it and then promptly steal it, she'll find her version of the joke so funny that she'll laugh too hard to even get it out. She never tires of knock knock jokes or pratfalls. She'll leave 'em laughing in the aisles even as she's breaking their hearts.

Never a dull moment with these kids.

More photos and tales of the grand autumnal adventures to arrive after the weekend's festivities.

He's Four

N approaches a new teacher at preschool this week.

"What's your name again?"

"Melinda."

N walks away. Time passes, N returns.

"M-E-L-I-N-D-A Melinda"

"Wow, did you read that somewhere?

"No, I sounded it out. It's only three syllables"

He's Four?!?!?

N and I reading quietly on the couch. I hear some sniffling from time to time. I absentmindedly ask if he needs a tissue, without actually looking up. "no," comes the reply. Sniffing continues. I notice out of my peripheral vision that N is licking his hands, like kitty paws, repeatedly. Often.

"N, why are you licking your hands?"

"Because they have snot on them."

He's Four.

Playing Doctor

Some kids play house or school. I played hospital. I remember that this was something that I did on my own, without other kids. We had an old metal baby-doll crib with sides that went up and down that made a perfect hospital bed. So it was there that baby Tender-Love tm (I cannot recall her name, probably because my mother always suggested names for my dolls and it never occurred to me that I could choose one on my own) spent many a day and night ‘recovering’. She had lots of surgeries and even more casts.

Ah the casts. It took me a long time to get the formula for the casts just right. First I tried strips of Kleenex in baby powder and water. That was a bust. The baby powder just floated on top of the water and would never create a paste. Then I tried just using wet Kleenex-but that just became a mess of wadded up wet tissues. Finally it was a combination of flour water and paper towels that did the trick. It took awhile to create the casts as all of the ingredients had to be obtained when no one was looking (in other words 'stolen') The water was the easiest to obtain. The paper towel a bit trickier, as I didn't want to draw attention to the fact that there might be a mess to clean up (why else would I need a paper towel?) But still the paper towels were easier then the flour.

The flour was kept in a tin way up on a shelf above the stove. Getting the flour required moving the stool over to the stove and then climbing on top of the stove top to get the canister down. The next trick was to get the lid off with out making any noise or without getting flour everywhere. Somehow I managed to get it all accomplished and downstairs I went to cast her up. That poor doll had casts from head to toe. (Funny, I don't recall if they ever dried or how I got them off. Certainly not a saw like they used in the hospital on me!)

When she had casts on both legs then the iv bottle could be hooked up as well. This was a ingenious invention, if I do say so myself, of an empty glass medicine bottle, telephone wire, and a sewing needle with an eye big enough to get the wire through . Once the wire was secured to the bottle and the needle attached to the wire than the everything was ready and the iv could be inserted. Yes, it’s true that poor doll not only was bound in plaster but now she would have needle stuck into her arm as well. By the end of that dolls career as a professional patient she had more track marks then a junkie on Burnside. I'm not sure that doll ever recovered.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out why I played hospital with my dolls and animals. I spent much of my childhood in and out of various body casts. Sometimes there were surgeries involved, other times it was simply traction and then casts. (hmmm, and I wondered why that full body mud wrap at that fancy spa led to an anxiety attack) In between the surgeries, tests, casts, doctor visits and wheel-chair rides I did my best to be a 'normal' kid. But, just about the time I got back into the swing of it...childhood... there be a "new" procedure awaiting me and I'd loose traction (no pun intended) and it would be months before I could be 'normal' again.

Normal... who needs it? Not me...not now. :-)

Mommy, do you want to see my joints?

I think I have two of the funniest children on the planet. I know everyone thinks that about their kids, but I’m pretty sure it’s true in our case. The difference between the two is that N is more often then not unintentionally funny, ("Mommy, I wanted a Happy Meal, not a Sad meal") Whereas L has figured out funny early on and runs around intentionally making us laugh ("ptzzz-blech-pooo!! Is that a Funny noise, Mommy?!")

N and I had a delightful conversation about Monsters and Villains at lunch yesterday. It was so delightful that I actually stopped him so I could go and get my journal. The next thing I know he is seriously dictating to me the ‘facts’ he’s learned about certain Monsters and Villains. I’ll pass some of this information onto you, after all it could come in handy some day (especially if you are headed to Scotland) For instance did you know that real witches live in Scotland and have hoods and not pointed hats? The other kind of witches have pointy hats and will capture you to put in their pots of people stew. (beware travelers as they also live in Scotland.)

What does N have to say about Werewolves, you ask? Well, they also live in Scotland. Should you encounter them you’ll be able to identify them by the following: they have hair everywhere and wear pants and shirts. They also have underwear on under their pants, but you won’t be able to see that because, well it’s under their pants. The big thing to know about werewolves is that they have pointy fangs on the top teeth whereas, (and this is the big distinction apparently) King Kongs and their babies have fangs on both the tops and the bottom. I’m sure that N has plenty more knowledge to share with me but he was distracted from telling me more by the little fact that he was suddenly turning into a baby werewolf before my eyes. So, needless to say he was unable to educate me on any more villains at this time

We have so many funny conversations that my addled pre-menopausal brain cannot keep up with them. I’m pretty sure anyone walking by our house at dinner time would think Patrick and I have some serious drinking ‘problems’ due to the number of inadvertent spit takes we do.
I am grateful that my children enjoy their lives and our company right now. I hope that dinners can always be so raucous. Although some times too much laughter can lead to situations like this one:

Scene: dinner table at the Wohlmuts on a quiet sunny evening. N tells us yet another obscure animal fact about dinosaurs that can’t possibly be true which sends everyone into peals of laughter. L, wanting to get into the action, attempts to tell her own funny story but with a mouthful of food only ends up coughing and choking instead.

CA/PW: are you okay ?
L: Mmm-hmmm
CA/PW: can you speak?
L: Mmm-hmmmm
CA (slightly exasperated) Can you say your name?
L (w/perfect timing and without missing a beat) : PRINCESS.

Much laughter ensues.
And Scene.
　
　
　
　

CA 1 Inner Critique 0

Hello my faithful readers:

If you are looking for a posting on the kids, you might as well stop reading now. Today I'm writing about ME. Yes, ME the creator of this blog, the mother of those children, wife to their fabulous father and oh yes the WRITER.

So, what do I have to say about me? Just wanted to let you know what I've been up to recently. I have been feeding my soul by doing some writing that has nothing to do with my children's antics or even anything I think will delight you, my readers. Nope I am just writing...stuff. Mad scribblings in the middle of the day sequestered away in the bedroom. I ignore the persistent knocking of small hands, I take a deep breath and wait for my husband's gentle but firm reprimand, "N/L come away from that door. Mommy needs some quiet time, too." (God I love this man). Sometimes I creep out of bed to the living room on these hot nights and scribble 'brilliant' sentences that by the light of day appear to be, well average at best. But, I don't care I am writing again.

I had to fight off a big wall of writers block and an even bigger assault from the inner critique--man she's a bitch. I finally found it's just easier to let the bitch have her say. I sometimes go ahead and let her interrupt my work let her just spew all over the pages all the while I am secretly laughing at her, "silly bitch I'm writing down everything you say and turning it in to prose! Ha ha take that bitch!" Some might say it would be best to ignore her. Problem is, this inner critique was born of something outside of my and planted in my very soul when I was very very young. I have been trying to silence her for over 30 years - since I first discovered the joy of writing. So, I think now maybe I just let her have her say, sooner or later she'll tire out. Sooner or later She's going to see what I have to say is going to be worth all the blood sweat and tears. And tears there will be...

If I were a painter I would paint a glorious battle scene with angels and demons duking it out in a field of scattered memories and hearts. The angels would have the faces of all those teachers, friends, family, lovers, dreamers, writers etc who had inspired/believed in me along the way. And of course the littlest angel, with the biggest heart would be me. The demons would have variations on one face....

I've not been taking this journey alone. I've got the 'hand' of an old friend, Natalie Goldberg, and her book "Old Friend from Far Away" are gently nudging me along. Sometimes going back to the basics is the best way to begin again, I had forgotten that part of the puzzle. I forgot that I like to work the edges of the story first before diving into the middle pieces. It's all coming back to me piece by piece. I think this puzzle is going to take up the whole kitchen table and more, but I think I'm up to the challenge this time.

So, that's where I am. Oh, and don't you fret I'll be posting new antics of the Wee Wohlmut's soon. With quotes like, " I wanted a Happy Meal, not a Sad Meal" and "Can we brush our teeth now? Oh fank you! fank you!" I'm hardly wanting for material.

xxo CAW

MISS L SAYS, "don't bother Mama, she's writing"

Cape Lookout Part II

Hello faithful readers... all seven of you. Okay, there are more, but it's o cool to have 7 "Followers" it makes me giddy inside.

Anyhoo, just acknowledging the fact that I promised you more on the camping trip at Cape Lookout. And I've tried, lord knows I've tried, to write. But, it's been dreadfully hot and I've not been sleeping and all I can come up with is this:

"Look Daddy, my nose is melting" and that's not even a quote from the camping trip. That's just a quote that makes me laugh every time. (Apparently the divine Ms L has learned to cross her eyes)

I could write about the bicycle mafia, as we dubbed the packs of kids ridding their bikes iaround and around, and around, the campgrounds from sun-up to sundown each day we were there. I kid you not. I'm pretty sure they were really spies from the US Forestry Dept trained to keep an ear open for repetitive campfire songs and excessive s'mores consumption. But, I'm too tired...

I suppose I could write about the time N found a moth in the restroom and carefully picked it up to take it back to the campsite to show Daddy. How bummed he was that, 'it got its wings wet and now it can't fly." And how he thought if he just waited long enough the wings would dry and all would be right. He never actually got to see if that was true, as Ms L pulled the wings off in her excitement to see the moth. Ah, little sisters. But again...too tired.

So many more stories to tell. Stay tuned and perhaps I'll perk up and produce soon.

for now, those you in Portland stay cool. And the rest of you well, I'm too tired to even be pithy...

Cape Lookout Part I - the beach

We went to Cape Lookout on the Coast of Oregon. The company was great, the scenery was beautiful and the weather was ideal. I could not have planned these things with greater precision then they fell into place. (And yes, I am well aware that there will come a day when our camping trip will be plagued by rain, bugs and bad neighbors with foul mouths, firecrackers and offensive music blaring from their boom boxes. But this trip, blissfully, was not that trip.)

When we arrived at the coast we quickly set up camp, grabbed pails and shovels and headed to the beach. L sat right down at the water's edge with Uncle Roger and buried her toes in the sand, and then with great joy and much giggling would fling them out of the sand to Roger's, "Ta-da".

N couldn't decide what to do first. Dig in the big hole? Climb the driftwood on the hill? Climb the rocks? Spin around in circles gleefully? I am quite sure he managed to do all these things and more in that first evening on the beach.

This first evening was the only time either one of the kids ventured to put their toes in the water. As much as I tried to get them in on later visits, they were having none of it. (L didn't even like it when I went into the water. She fretted and worried) Perhaps the vast size and the roar of the waves (things that call to me lika Siren) were too much for them this time around. I cannot say whether they will both fall in love with the water like I have, but I do know they have a lifetime to discover what the ocean is to them.

Sand. Did I mention that while my children may not love the water like I do, they love, LOVE, love the sand.

L was content to lie prone in it and rub her her cheeks into its warm embrace. She would pick handfuls up and and then drop it gleefully into my awaiting cupped hands. Slowly I would open my hands, the sand would fall away she'd grin gleefully, and we'd do it all over again. She would fill the octopus molds and sand buckets full of sand, demand that I dump them over to create shapes and castles only to to knock them over with great delight sending sand scattering across the blanket and my lap. It was a game could have gone on without end.

I would say if L had any complaints about the sand it would be vocalized like this, "Mommy, the baby hurt my eye." While she and a little one from a neighboring beach blanket were engaged in a playful game of, 'who's the cutest toddler on the beach', they slowly began to drop sand onto each other's toes. Oh, so cute... and then L got into her favorite position on the beach, her belly, and the 'baby' continued to drop and fling sand (in that oblivious I-am-the-only-creature-on-the-earth way that children have). Oops, this is no longer fun, now it's in L's eye! L quicky tried to remedy the situation by rubbing her eye with her sand covered hands. Whee! Let the crying commence.

Inner Monologue: "Dear God she's going to be blind for life! She'll need an eye transplant! Can we pick our own color?! Whoa that baby has man hands!"

I rinsed L's eye out with water. Got her to put a cover up on and she just sat on my lap for a quiet few minutes. Well, quiet in the sense that she repeatedly said, "the baby hurt my eye" with a random "we missed the elephants at the zoo , mommy" thrown in for good measure. (we went to the zoo over 2 weeks ago kid, give it a rest!) Eventually, the lure of the sand won out and except for the sandy hand on the tongue incident (did she not remember the eye incident!?!) her remaining hours in the sun and sand were blissful.

N also has a love affair with the sand. He happily immersed himself into a group of kids nearby who were digging (and jumping, dancing and rolling) in one of the biggest holes I've ever seen in the beach. Blissful hours were spent in that hole.

But, if the sand on the beach made him happy it was the dunes at Pacific City, that really sent him over the moon. It was all he could do to contain himself when he saw those dunes. Ah hell, there was no containing him. There was a dune to climb! And climb it he did! He tore off up the side like a goat climbing in the Alps, or like a sand-flea leaping from grain to grain. There was no stopping this determined little boy from his destiny. While he did not make it the entire way, he certainly scrambled higher then I imagined he would. And then he did it again. The grins on these faces truly do say it all.

NEXT UP - family, campfires, dead bugs, bicycle mafia and other fine moments from Camp Look Out 2009

Superheros Part I

Do you like your cape SuperMan? Weeellll, I do have a duck on my head....

RIP Farrah

Rest in peace Farrah.

Man I loved Charlie’s Angels. I’m a little surprised I was allowed to watch a show that inspired the phrase “jiggle television”, but I was, and I did . I’m sure there are others who remember much more about the show then I do. I mostly remember the teaser of never seeing Charlie’s face, Bosley’s deep laugh and the great outfits. (And of course the episode where they broke out of prison... but really, who doesn’t remember that one?)

Many a summer afternoon you could find Erin, Cathy and I playing ‘Charlie’s Angels” (as, I am sure, were thousands of other girls across the country) First there was the ritual argument of who got to be which angel. Everyone wanted to be Jill, (and subsequently her sister Chris). I rarely got to be Jill, I usually ended up being Sabrina. I honestly can’t remember if I was Sabrina by default or if I just opted to be her to get onto the playing of the game. After divvying up the roles there would be major discussion on what outfits we were wearing (we’d use our bubble gum Charlie’s Angels trading cards as guidelines). Sometimes Cathy would show up with written instructions from Charlie that she would have painstakingly created the night before. Other times we’d just wing it. We’d hop on our bikes and go off into the neighborhood to solve our case. The capers never lasted long however, eventually Erin and I would get sick of Cathy always insisting, since she wrote the instructions, she got to be Jill. Because even as we were young enough to still be playing make-believe, we were beginning to understand the power of sexuality and beauty. And man, did Farrah have both.

I don’t know where I first saw “THE” poster. My guess it was in one of two taboo stores of my childhood Spencer’s (they had that all mysterious and giggle inducing ‘adults’ only section in the back) or Co-Op Records (the local head shop). I do remember thinking, “Wow, she’s beautiful” and feeling some sort of longing within. I certainly had no idea what the longing was and couldn’t tell you why she produced the same longings that Donny Osmund and Scott Baio did. I just knew she had a power that was too big to be ignored. I understood that her power resided in that red suit and those long flowing locks. And for years afterwards I longed for both the figure and the hair.

While I know Farrah went on to do some much more serious and powerful acting (I loved her in the Apostle) it is the gift of ‘awakening’ that I will remember her for most of all. And though it was a gift, like Pandora’s box, that was full of unknowns and frights, it would eventually prove to be a gift worth keeping, no matter how many years it took me to begin to understand it.

RIP Farrah.

2 year anniversary

Lucy has now passed the two year anniversary of her open-heart surgery. And while she has yet to have her yearly check up I have no doubt she will pass with flying colors. If for no other reason then she will simply announce, "I'm okay" as she does after each tumble. And any child who believes she can will the rain to stop simply by looking out the windown and saying "NO RAIN" must indeed have a special kind of healthy heart.

I have never really written about the time surrounding Lucy's surgery and the months leading up to it. I thought perhaps I would try and do so this year, but the truth is the feelings and emotions are still too raw. Or, to be more accurate, because they are still to raw I have buried them deep inside and have not yet released them.

I spent much of the time in a self imposed self protecting fog. It's a place I know well. It's the place I went during all my own surgeries I had as a kid. I was the happy kid in the hospital. I have seen chart notations that talk about 'the patient is in good spirits, singing Christmas Carols to other children on the ward' (Christmas Carols in June!) but clearly all was not so good in the subconscious of my mind because other notations say, 'patient calls out for mother in sleep, but when comforted insists she is fine. Patient also asks someone to make sure her mother has eaten something'

I don't remember much of those years. I see photos of a smiling upbeat blonde girl in various body casts and I know she is me, but I am just as amazed at everyone else at her resilence and bravery. But, I do not recognize her as me...

Lucy will not have any memories from her surgery either, but that is because she was 4 1/2 months old. But we will tell her the story of her scar, show her the photos of her and her feeding tubes. She will know that the scar is a part of her and therefore something that adds to her story. It is a beautiful scar because it means 'life'.

Just like mommy

Ms. L is very busy studying her role models these days. And it appears that I am her favorite subject. She began her studies in a very offhanded manner. It was so subtle at first I hardly understood what she was doing.

The first time I noticed it was when she was walking around the house tippy-toe on one foot and flat-footed with the other. After my overactive imagination went thru a million 'this child has something wrong with her' scenarios, I realized she was limping, like me. She was deliberately trying to copy my walk. My heart did a little tiny gasp and, in a rare moment of clarity, I smiled and moved on . I didn't correct her or tell her to stand up straight, I just let it be.

After the limping incident I began to notice she was doing all sort of things that I do. I was talking to her the other day and noticed my shirt was bunched and wrinkled, without even thinking about it I smoothed my shirt down and continued our conversation only to notice that she also began to smooth the 'wrinkles' on her shirt.

Almost daily she follows me into the bathroom during my morning routine. We brush our teeth together, she brushes her hair and asks (okay, sometimes she demands) to put "make-a-up" on. So, I hand her a blush brush and she goes to town whisking imaginary colors on her face. Some days she smiles so sweetly I give in and she gets a little lip balm too.

Then there was the sweetest moment of all; I was cuddling with her one evening, trying to help her settle in after a particularly long day, and I found myself curled up and tucking my hands under my cheek and chin. I looked over in time to see her peering intently at me, with those baby blue eyes, and slowly she tucks her hands under her face as well. And the sweetest look of satisfaction came over her as she sighed deeply and drifted off to sleep... a job well done.

"N-F Wohlmut you got out of bed right now!!" oh, yeah did I forget to mention that in addition to the sweet and lovely moments of imitation there are those other moments that you wish you could just sweep under the rug? Sigh... it's true, she's also mastering the hands on hip stance and that special tone of voice (some might say bossy) when trying to cajole her brother to do what she wants. At least this morning before she jumped to bossy I did hear her try a little tenderness, "rise and shine N. time to gweet the day.... N-F Wohlmut, you get out of bed right now!"

And they same imitation is the sincerest form of flattery!

"If the second one had been the first one there would never have been a second one."

"L, what are you doing?"

"Color da wall."

"Please don’t color the wall, crayons belong on the paper"

"Color da floor"

"No L, if you can’t keep the crayons on the paper I’ll take the crayons away"

"Color da chair"

"Okay, L time to put the crayons away"

"NOOOOO" and with arms like moving windmills she sends crayons flying around the kitchen. N and I must duck and take cover. A granny smith apple green narrowly misses my head while tickle me pink bounces off the chair and into a bowl of cheerios. I belly crawl across the kitchen floor with as the colorful missiles continue to fly around my head. I reach the launching pad and manage to stop the assault. When I finally look at Miss L, I see nothing but those big blue eyes and an impish grin. While biting the insides of my cheeks to keep from laughing out loud, I tell her to pick up the crayons, not expecting but, hoping for full compliance. Instead she dashes to the end of the hallway and announces, "gonna get a timeout" and sits herself right down. Then right on cue begins to cry quietly, and indignantly so I can see it's for real.

Just as I am about to fetch her from her self imposed exile N (sensing a golden opportunity to erase what few memories are left from his ‘terrible-twos") executes a brilliant play and says, "Don’t worry Mama, it’s okay. I’ll pick up the crayons". And for good measure he pats me on the back.

And in this moment I see the next 15 years played out over and over again in my mind.

90 minutes in the life

We went to the library on Monday. We tend to go to the library most Monday’s, but it had been awhile so the kids were excited to go. We bundle up against the elements put L in the stroller and away we go. N immediately wants to push L in the stroller. My first instinct is to say, "no", but I don’t. I let him push the stroller. Surprise, no one dies! L giggles in delight as N weaves all over the sidewalk, and I bite my tongue to keep from telling him to, "push the stroller straight. Don’t weave, don’t run." It’s not easy being a worry-wart mom who doesn’t want to be a worry-wart. You have to bite your tongue, a lot.

We arrive at the library with all our limbs intact. With Lucy in the stroller and not walking we made good time (two year olds have their own agenda when going to the library and it usually does not include walking fast enough for older brothers). Once at the library we follow a strict protocol set up by N. First we go to the book drop where we deposit the books we had out, one at time, never two, always one. With a running commentary on each book it takes longer then average. We often end up taking the books of those who come in after us and drop theirs as well, it’s just the neighborly thing to do. L meanwhile spends the timely loudly telling everyone it is time to ‘get out. get out now’ of her stroller, and works diligently at the clasp, determined to set herself free.

Finally, all the books are deposited and off we go to the children’s room. N goes straight for the shelves pulls a book and sits at the little table to read. L goes straight for the nearest exit. Delighted to be free she looks back at me with a quick grin and runs into the other room. With quick feet and even longer arms I grab the hood of her jacket and corral her back to the children’s room. We search in vain for a "Maisy" book, alas we are out of luck. L stumbles across a pile of paper and the itty bitty library pencils, she is pacified for a few minutes. In these few minutes I scan the shelves for books to take home, while keeping the eyes at the back of my head firmly planted on the kids. Lucy makes another break for it, this time getting as far as the front doors. Luckily for me a kindly biker dude plants himself in front of the doors, she is going nowhere. She will however take the time to flash him her best, "I’m so cute and I know it" smile and say, "whaza your name." If she had done that first she probably would have gotten past him, as you could see him bedazzled by her smile and eyes, as many before have been.

Time to pry Noah away from his pile of books. Miraculously I get him to agree to just 10 books to take home. To the checkout desk, N reading all the way, like Mr. Magoo he narrowly misses obstacles in his way, never breaking his stride. He will continue in this vein the whole way home. Books checked out and off we go. With moment of potential insanity I decide to let both kids walk home. We pile books into the stroller. Whoops wait, we must stop at the outdoor water fountain for drinks. Can N reach it himself this time? No, but before Spring turns to Summer I bet he will (how did that happen?)

The journey home begins in earnest now. I’m just hungry (having left half my breakfast on the counter to referee an train dispute, and never returned) and hope that my offer of PB&J and chocolate milk (okay it’s a bribe) is enough to motive the kids to move quickly. No such luck. Noah wants to read and walk, L wants to push the stroller. No wait, now N wants to ride and L wants to continue to push anyway. The journey is long, while N may have given L a wild ride full of circles, weaving and bobs; L gives him a S-L-O-W leisurely ride. She can barely push him and refuses all offers of help. N, being ever so helpful says, "its okay, Mommy, I like to go slow" SIGH... the trek continues. But wait there’s an inclined wall to stop and climb, and then L decides to lie face down on the sidewalk and lick it. Or was she trying to lick up the ants... I just didn’t want to know. Finally, I promise we can stop at the church and play on the steps if only they will "hustle", "what’s hustle, Mommy?" "Move your bootie!"

We get to the church, with great glee N runs down the ramp around the front grassy area and back to the ramp again. L heads straight for the rose garden with the tiny pebble beds. Before you can say, "Holy Mary, Mother of God" the receptionist is out the door, apparently having nothing better to do but to keep an eagle eye out for trespassers in the rose bed, warning me that the children are to keep all the pebbles in the beds. In not one of my finer moments, I reply (snap?) that yes, we are aware of this as someone tells us this every time we are on the grounds. And further more in all the times we are on the grounds we have always made sure the rocks, excuse me, pebbles are cleared from the sidewalk.... I turn to walk away, wondering for the umpteenth time why a church cares more about the rose garden then the enjoyment of watching two children playing in the sunshine?

One more block and we’ll be home. L continues to push N, this time letting me ‘steer, but not push’. Cross the last street, I can see the house, no wait L has to stop and try and climb the tree and N has decided now is the time to walk quickly. Quickly down the sidewalk to chase a squirrel and ask it some question (I never got close enough to hear the conversation..drat!) Who to chase first?!? N is lured in by the earlier promise of PB& J L must be physically carried into the house, singing all the way, "jingle bells, jingle way hey!"

All this took only 90 minutes... there is still an afternoon of naps, crafts and dinner (where L will eat the veggies and not the meat and N the opposite). Yippee!

you can fly

"Sometimes, just sometimes, when no one is looking you fly" N said to me with all sincerity, and yet with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. Did I dispute this statement, nope... I just couldn't bring myself to say it wasn't true.

In a world where children seem to grow up faster then ever before, I like the fact that my kids believe in Santa Claus, think their toys enjoy listening to bedtime stories as much as they do, want to play games that require their imagination as much as watch tv, and yes think I can fly.

Bunk beds and a ghost named Tiki

We got bunk beds this weekend and the kids have adjusted very well. L, as I predicted, has mastered the ladder to the top bunk and would spend all day climbing up and down if we would only let her. She doesn’t want to sleep up top, mind you, she just wants to climb up and down. I thought perhaps there would need to be a period of adjustment, L would stay in the crib for a few more days and N would slowly warm up to the top bunk. Nope, everyone moved in one day one and except for one evening where I found L blanket and all curled up on the floor next to her crib, it’s been smooth sailing. It probably helps that there’s the cute contraption that my sister, the crafty-wonder-mom (I say that with great love and admiration, I wish I could do what she can do. Hell, I wish I wanted to do what she can do ...lol) made for her boys when they had the crib. It makes the beds feel like a little house. N loves sleeping on the "roof" and says, ‘L can sleep in my house’. Notice it’s HIS house and not her bed. Ownership is a big deal these days.

L mastered opening doors with doorknobs this week. So now, in addition to being able to climb in and out of bed at will, she can leave the bedroom and wander pretty much anywhere she wants in the house now. So far she's wandered into our room to climb into bed with us.(Yes, Supernanny we encourage her to go back to her own bed) I will, however, not be surprised to hear her in the kitchen looking for a 'nack' or attempting to put a movie into the vcr one night. She is very independent this girl, and I see a long future of tongue biting in my future.

N has a new friend named"Tiki" (inspired by the "Tiki, Tiki, Tiki Room" song on our Classic Disney Songs cd, I am sure) Tiki is a ghost who is very nice and just hangs out in the house. He was living in the hall closet at first, but decided that he liked sleeping on the top bunk with N better. He also really likes to hear, "Francis the Talking Alligator" stories (rule 472:if you make up a stories to tell your kid, you'd better remember them, because they will). N tells me that sometimes Tiki gets up at night and wanders the house, but mostly he just sleeps alot. We don't know what Tiki looks like, but I can tell you he is small enough to sit in N's hand when being introduced to people.

That's it from the peanut farm. We'll have reports on the progress in the veggie garden soon.

guest posting - Noah

Hello all:

What a busy year it's been since I turned three. Now I am four and life is good. I can use the potty and do so with glee. "I have to go pee!", is what I yell (every time!) before dashing off to the bathroom. What's really fun is that Lucy wants to do everything I do, so she often tags along after me and goes potty, too. I think Mommy and Daddy are very excited about this. At first I didn't like the company in the bathroom, but then Daddy told me that it was because Lucy loves me so much and wants to do all the big things that I do. That makes me proud, so now I encourage her to go potty too.

I still love dinosaurs and all things wheels. I like to pretend I am a train and chug around the house. I have a vivid imagination. I am always pretending to be a dinosaur or a jungle cat. Today I am a praying mantis. I got a new puppet theater for my birthday and am spending lots of time with my finger puppets (lucy loves them too!) I love to play with my train set and read all my books.

I really want a puppy, but Mommy says we don't have room for one. I really wanted 101 dalmatians, but, was willing to settle for just one. Mommy says there still isn't room. Maybe when we get a house with a fenced yard. I don't think Mommy really wants a puppy, but I know Daddy and I do.

When I grow up I don't want to be a fire fighter, a policeman or an astronaut, I would like to be a parent. When Daddy asked me why I said, 'Because then I get to take care of of little boys" Mommy thought that was awesome.

I had fun birthday party with my family with lots of presents and a lighting McQueen cake. The party was on Sunday, even though my b-day was Monday. When I woke up Monday I thought I would get to have another cake, since it was my real birthday. I also thought I was five..,. but Mommy explained that one day was a celebration and one day was the remembering day.

I will never forget my 4th birthday, for lots of reasons. But the big reason is that Mommy and I were playing beach volleyball in the house with a balloon and I tripped and fell and cut my forehead open on the edge of my new truck. I bled a lot. (Mommy says to tell you she remained very calm) I went to the hospital and they glued my cut shut! I was very brave and because it was my birthday they gave me a toy chameleon. I also read a book to the Dr, he was very impressed. What a day.

Mommy says I should also tell you I love being a big brother.... whatever....

Love, Noah

It comes without warning

In the movies and on tv there is alway a warning of some kind, usually "Mommy, I don't feel so good," before it happens. Let me tell you hear and now, in real life there is no warning. It just happens, out of the blue.

It can happen when you are sitting down in a restaurant to eat. Everyone smiling, laughing and happy with what they have in front of them. And then your sweet girl will open her mouth and things will come spewing out that you know must have been organic in nature once upon a time, but now only represent toxic waste from the sewers seen in a b-movie. Quick like a bunny everyone springs into action Daddy grabs the napkins and deals with the table. Mommy takes the child high chair and all (thank God for wheels) and heads to the bathroom, only to be foiled by the sign that says, "restrooms for paying customers only. Please see manager for a key" Really!?! Are you kidding me!?!? Quickly, Mommy zips back to the front trying to protect the appitites of all other shielding her child from their view. Requesting a key calmly, Mommy tries to pretend she can't see that ooze dripping off her precious child's chin and leg. After all the two year old thinks it's all a game, so Mommy does, too.

Finally secure in the bathroom Mommy begins the task of getting clothes off wiggly giggly two year old all the while trying to keep any more from getting on herself. Miraculously there is a change of clothes in the backpack! Rinse, wash, wipe and repeat. Stuff the clothes in the empty baggie. Slink out of bathroom hoping most, if not all , of the contents of the stomach made it into the garbage and not on the floor.

Pack up family and head home. Does Mommy want the rest of her dinner, ummm no thanks.

You go about the rest of the weekend, everyone seems fine. And then it happens again. And AGAIN without warning. Now it's the soon to be 4 year old stating quite firmly he does not want to eat his asparagus. "So eat your chicken first and then try your asparagus", Mommy says. And just as Mommy knows there's another protest to come, history repeats itself. A wild torent, a river of ooze comes spewing forth. This time onto the lovely dinner table set for company. Again parents leap into action. Only this child is not done, he has another river of ooze to deposit... on the carpet....

It always comes without warning..

The love you feel for your husband, when you know that a few short years ago he couldn't even change a poopy diaper without gagging, and yet there he is on his hands and knees scooping puke off the floor as easily as if he were digging sand for a sand castle.

It always comes without warning...

The love you feel for your child when he/she looks at you with sweet relief and gratitude as you clean them up.

It always comes without warning...

Miss L and her birthday "blaloon"

One Helium "blaloon" +

One Pastrygirl original +

One roomful of family =

A happy birthday girl...priceless

Miss L turns two

L turned two on Jan 23, 2009. Don’t tell her that , we’ve got her and N convinced that her birthday is on Saturday. Okay, okay, I don’t think she’s paying any attention, but N is pretty excited that we are having a party for her. He thinks she would like a Stanley or a James for her birthday (friends of Thomas the Tank Engine for the uninitiated). He’s probably right, she loves playing with the trains and the hammers and anything else that Noah might have in his possession. If N has it then it must be the greatest thing ever, and must be had now... ah the joys of navigating sharing and personal space.

L is a delight to watch these days. She can spend long periods of time put her doll to bed over and over again. First she rocks her and sings "rock a bye baby" then kisses her, puts her in her little bed and says ‘sweet dreams". Then mere minutes later its "rise and shine baby" grab the doll and start all over again. Before you know it she’s done this for 20 minutes over and over and each time with the sweetest "rise and shine" as if it’s the first time she’s ever said it. Next thing you know she’s tossed the doll to the floor, with its clothes half off, and is off to the next thing. What will it be? A rousing game of hide and seek with N and Mommy? (L tends to like to cover her eyes count to 3 and then watch you hide for the last 7 numbers. I wouldn’t say it was cheating, just the best strategy) She loves to be "n-ked girl" (naked girl) and run thru the house at full speed giggling the whole way. She loves to sit on the potty for about 3 seconds stand up and announce "I went potty" whether anything happens or not. And this is followed by a routine of ‘dumping’ the potty into the toilet, trying to flush and saying ‘bye-bye pee’. Like the doll scenario she can repeat this over and over with great delight.

L loves to draw, she loves to point out letters everywhere we go and counts to 14. She sings songs all day long and thinks her brother is delightful (unless he’s not sharing then the meltdown begins) She can be stubborn and clearly is independent. She would rather sit down on the sidewalk and not move before holding your hand to cross the street. If you peel the banana for her you are likely to be greeted with a great wails of "Do it self! Do it self!" She has opinions about just about everything, from what she’ll eat to what she’ll wear. Wails of "Jammies back on, jammies back on" can be heard daily in our household. (This one she learned from her brother N, who is always negotiating keeping his Pjs on for just a ‘few more minutes, please’)

Happy Birthday L. Welcome to the world of twos. These days will be wonderful and exasperating, triumphant and frustrating, endless and instantaneous. They will be amazing days.

I promise to try and remember that these are your twos and not your brothers. I promise to try and carve out more time for just you and me. We’ll go out with out purses and hats one day and the next we’ll race N’s cars down the sidewalk. I’ll begin to let you have a little more independence and you’ll push my buttons... we’ll both do our jobs. But at the end of each night I’ll sing you your lullabies, kiss your sweet face with ‘earring’ kisses, fish kisses and cheek kisses. I will tell you, "I love you. Sweet dreams" and turn out the light. Silently I’ll shut the door and just as I get on the other side, I’ll pause and say a little prayer of thanksgiving for you. G’night sweet pea.

Please come back, next week

Hello dear readers:

It's been awhile, I know. I hope to get back in the saddle next week, I've survived being snow bound with the kids, kids with the flu, a show opening, my own bout with a head cold and now the arrival of my parental units. All of these things = stress in my life.... And while I have literally started 4 blog posts I have been unable to finish a single one. But my show closes Sunday (see shameless plug below) and my head cold will soon be gone. My parents can only stress me out as much as I allow them to, so I'm going to nip that in the bud too.

SO look for a lovely piece on the joys of being Two starring Ms. L or a piece on cabin fever, starring me! Or maybe both.

Meanwhile enjoy the sun!

VITRIOL AND VIOLETS

Music & Lyrics by: Dave FrishbergBook by: Shelly Lipkin, Louanne Moldovan, Sherry Lamoreaux
Directors: Louanne Moldovan & Shelly LipkinMusical Director: Bill Wells

Vitriol & Violets celebrates the Algonquin Round Table, a group of writers and their friends who gathered daily in the 1920s at the Algonquin Hotel. During the course of their “ten-year lunch,” table associates Dorothy Parker, Alexander Woollcott, Robert Benchley, George S. Kaufman, Edna Ferber, Heywood Broun, Harold Ross, Harpo Marx and Jane Grant gained fame and fortune as much for their widely quoted bon mots as for their significant achievements. The stage play, which Cygnet Productions premiered at Russell Street Theatre, won an Oregon Book Award (2004) and has been rewritten as a musical in collaboration with Dave Frishberg, one of the nation's foremost jazz composers (and a Portland resident).

The ensemble cast includes Lauren Bair, Adair Chappell, Rae Kraemer, Isaac Lamb, Mark Schwahn, Ted Roisum, James Sullivan, Michael Teufel and Joe Theissen.

Vitriol & Violets is produced by Rainy Day Productions and presented by Artists Repertory Theatre as part of Fertile Ground: The City-Wide Festival of New Works presented by the Portland Area Theatre Alliance (PATA).
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Tickets are available through the Artists Rep Box Office at 503-241-1278

Read more about Artists Rep's other festival entry, Gracie and the Atom.