Singing in the Rain

There was no rain and no dancing. But there's an umbrella, a little singing and plenty of reasons to smile.

the lazy days of August are here...

Holy crap, an entire summer seems to have flown by and I haven’t written a thing. Well, I’ve written grocery lists, I’ve written in my journal, I’ve written the kid’s names on about a hundred art projects that I somehow manage to recycle once a week (even if N says we need to save them all). But, I haven’t written here.

I have a bunch of excuses 1. It was summer, 2. I’ve got two kids to chase around the house 3. I had out of town guests 4. It was summer 5. I had emergency surgery and 6. Yep, you guessed it, it was summer. Let’s face it, this time of year is not meant for mining the depths of one’s brain and now it’s the lazy days of August and it’s even harder, but I figured I owed it to my 6 readers and maybe even myself to try and get something out there. Just so we’d all know I was still here.

Summer with a 3 year old and an under two year old can be joyous and frustrating. It can be rewarding and exasperating. In other words summer is no different then the rest of the year, it’s just that during the summer we can all go outside and feel like we have a little space to move and fly.

N loves to take off running down the sidewalk at a neck breaking speed these days. While I secretly love the fact that he is so fast and so brave it also makes me nutty. He often forgets to tell us where he is going. And that’s just not cool, because he’s three and one wrong turn around the corner and who knows what could happen. I’m not talking crazy boogie man get the boy kind of stuff (although I do think about that too) no, just your generic getting lost, or falling down and really getting hurt. So, there’s been a lot of tears and timeouts while N tries to reconcile the world of personal freedom and the rules of Mom and Dad.

When N is sitting in said timeout L will often pat him on the back and say, “ahhh”. Then the other day I saw her sitting in the timeout spot sort of fake crying, and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. So, I called her over and gave her a hug, she seemed happy and we moved on. But, then it happened again and again. It dawned on me, she was doing what her brother does. (She loves to do Everything that N does) Right down to getting the hug when she came out of the corner (N always gets a hug and an “I love you” after said timeout and a discussion of why he was there) Once I realized what she was doing I just left her there and laughed. Little does she know that someday that will no longer be a fun thing to do.

For those tracking the arc of N’s potty training, we are at a plateau. He’ll go when asked, sometimes, and still won’t initiate anything. We’ve resorted to bribery and he is rewarded with mini M&M’ s for each sucessfull attempt. Of course, since he’s three sometimes even the bribery is useless. “Let’s try for a couple of M&M’s”, I’ll say. “I don’t want any” he’ll respond. Then it’s like pulling teeth to get him to interupt whatever it is that is so important to go sit on the potty. Nothing can convince him that taking the time to go potty is actually less time consuming and stressful then having to stop and change wet clothes.... sigh... maybe his new daycare provider can help us win this battle.

Meanwhile L, the copycat, toddles into the bathroom attempts to pull off her pants, sits on the potty chair for a couple of minutes and then stands up with great joy and says “Potty” or “ta-da” at the top of her lungs.
Kids, go figure.

Note: While I realize that most of my readers know my children’s names and I have actually used them in earlier blogs, I have decided to use their initials from now on. Why, you might ask? Because someday they are going to be old enough to care about me writing about them. Someday they’ll have friends who might google them. So, this is the first baby step towards the day when N & L ask me to stop writing about them all together. Luckily for you and me, that day is hopefully a ways off still!

‘Til next time, take care.

Flooded with memories

I have spent the last few days glued to the internet and CNN. I am and news junkie on a good day, so the news of my home state drowning in both the small and the mighty rivers was enough to put me over the edge.

First let me say that my family and friends are, all things considered, lucky. Some wet basements here and there. Ruined backyard gardens and rained out activities. Some missed doctors appointments due to bridge closures, but over all they were lucky. For that I am grateful.

And yet Iowa being what it is, I do know someone who knows someone who lost their house in the Parkersburg tornado, and someone else who knew a boy at the boy scout camp in Eastern Iowa. I'm sure as I catch up with old friends over the summer I'll hear more tales of near misses and 'did you know that so-and-so lost....' Because that is Iowa, one great big small town scattered across 99 counties

Personal reflections on the places I know:

Iowa City was my home away from home for most of my childhood, I had many a surgery there. I know the halls of the "old" hospital well, and wonder if the murals painted for the amusment of children passing thru the basement catacombs (to avoid the extreme Iowa winters/summers) to get from the "old" to the "new" survived? No way to replace those. Those flooded dormitories? They hold different memories of partying with friends on weekend getaways.

Cedar Falls was the first town to capture national attention as they rallied and saved the town w/a massive sandbagging effort. It was also my college town. I still have friends teaching at the University of Northern Iowa. I walked along the Cedar River and attended many an improptu concert in Sturgis Falls Park. While the town was saved, I understand the landscape of the park is changed forever.

Cedar Rapids is just another town to me, but still I know those people, because Iowa is one of those places where you just 'know' everyone. So, I feel these are my neighbors and weep with them as their beloved downtown washes away. I know all these families who are wondering just where to begin as they stare at their flooded homes. Homes awash with mud and scattered dreams. My thoughts and prayers are theirs this weekend.

And then there is Des Moines, my hometown. I played in Birland park, now a giant swimming hole, flooded wihen the levee broke. I attended many a football games at North High School. My father worked downtown so I know those flooded street names very well. Saylorville dam was popular make out destination and to see those waters rushing over the spillway is surreal.

It has been over 20 years since I lived in Iowa, but she is always home to me. And I hope my home can recover.

Random notes from my head

I tip my hat to Maya Angelou and Anne Lamott. They are two women who, as single mothers, managed to raise their children and still find time to write and live their lives. Damn, how I envy them. Now, I don't have them on some great Mother/Writer pedestal, I know it wasn't easy and like many in the arts sacrifices were made, but still they persevered and to that end I say, "hooray"

Sometimes I am awake in the middle of the night and I write glorious prose in my head, but in the light of day the words have escaped me. So, sometimes I quietly crawl out of bed and I flip open the laptop in hopes of capturing the words before the seep away... but alas, the glare of the screen, the lure of the Internet is all too much. No, if I'm going to get the words down, I'm going to have to do it long hand, on a yellow note pad, with wide, not legal, ruled lines. The pens must be just perfect, even pencil is preferable to a pen that skips along the page, stopping and starting.

If I could only get up earlier then my children in the morning, but it seems no matter how early I get up, 5 minutes after my shower I either hear Lucy calling from her crib or Noah is bounding into the room with a cheery, "Hello my name is _______" fill in the blank with any number of names for the day. Sigh... I have morning children!



These morning children are a delight to be around. Lucy, although still not possessing a complete grasp of words yet, babbles and sings nonsensical words. She'll greet you with a giant grin and a big, "HI!" Every time she says "HI" she beams as if she's just mastered the word for the first time. (and not said it on end for the past several weeks) It is awesome. She toddles around the house with great pride at having mastered walking. Soon she'll be chasing Noah, and there will be no stopping her. I think the only thing keeping her from having a perfect life right now is her inability to open the cabinet where the cereal, crackers and other good things to eat are stored, on her own. If she could crack that puzzle, she would be in heaven. (and I don't mean Iowa)



Noah, sigh, Noah... it's such a wonderful name, Wouldn't you agree? Picked out specially for our first born. But, currently we hardly get to use it. Noah, you see, has turned into a warthog named Pumba, at least it is today. Yesterday he was a Triceratops named Sara, and the day before he was tank engine named Thomas, and the day before that he was a train named Emily. He won't answer if you call him the wrong name. And woe to you, if you forget who he is, or worse yet he's changed his name between the last time you addressed him and the moment you are in now. It's a wonderful, delightful, and exasperating phase we are in. I try to embrace it, but sometimes I just want Noah to come home. Sometimes, I am sure he's living in some world without me and I want him to come back.. now! But, when asked where Noah is, and when he might be coming home, Pumba/Thomas/Sara et al will respond, "Noah can't come home, he's at work." (opening a whole new world of Mommy guilt)

"Will he come home soon?" I ask him.

"No, not for 40 days." He'll respond. And so, on it goes.

I had an overactive imagination as a kid. I used to get so far into my imaginary worlds, whether in reading a book or just playing, that I would not hear my mother come up the stairs looking for me. I would get in trouble for ignoring her... I wasn't ignoring her, I was just gone. I understand the power of the imagination and how it gives you freedom in a world where you might not feel in control or free. I worry that Noah feels he has no control, and it freaks me out. Then I remember that he is three... of course he has no control... that's my job. He is just being three and realizing that while everyone around him tells him what to do, when to do it, and how, there are indeed somethings he can control. He can control when and where he poops (and so far, that's not in the potty. But that's another story) and he can pretend he's something different every day. And that's pretty cool.


And that's just a few of the random thoughts floating around my head this evening, how about yours?

You'll wann do it too!

Too much time on my hands... but oh so fun.

sharing a love of music

I love musicals! I grew up on Showtunes, I can name a showtune and/or musical for every letter of the alphabet, and can sing selections from even more. When I was young I would sit at my bedroom window and sing the slower songs to the outside world. This would often take place on summer evenings when I had to go to bed at 8:30 and it was still light out. While the neighbors caught up on the latest gossip and news, their cool Milwaukie's best cans sweating as much as they were in the Iowa humidity, I would serenade them. "Where is Love?", "(I must have done) Something good", "Over the Rainbow" and on and on... At some point Dad would look up at my window and tell me to go to bed, but I swear there was always a twinkle in his eye when he would do so.

As my life went on I participated in musicals in high school, both on and off stage. I have stage managed many a Musical and, honestly, I think I deserve a medal for stage managing "The Wizard of Oz" three seasons in a row. (The final year I was literally dreaming the show forwards and backwards!!) I have been known to burst into Musical numbers at random both in the house and in public. It's just part of who I am.

I am now the mother of two beautiful children, and despite the fact that my husband is NOT a big Musical fan, they are learning many a showtune. I was pleasantly surprised to hear my son singing a number from Oliver! just last week. Imagine my surprise to learn that it wasn't "Who will buy" or even "ooom-pah-pah" but rather "Oliver" the song where Mr. Bumble berates the boy and threatens to 'feed him on cockroaches served in a canister"!

And the legacy continues - enjoy

I got nothing

I got nothing today. I have been wracking my brain all day for something, anything to write about. I felt especially compelled to write something, anything, since I harrassed my husband about putting up a year old essay on his blog... the gods are now getting the last laugh on me.

Nope, I got nothin' tune in tomorrow.