Circle of Life

This weekend, we'll be attending a baby's blessing (my cousin's new son), a child's baptism (my nephew), a 40th birthday bash (Doug's brother), and Doug's grandmother's funeral. If only we could squeeze in a wedding...

Just One Day

If you were me, and you had just twenty four hours to spend in "The Big Apple", what would you do?

And if you were going to buy tickets to just one Broadway show, which show would you see?

Garden Variety

On the right we have a grape tomato that grew in my garden.
And on the left...I guess you'd call that a "tomato grape"...? (It didn't grow in my garden. It just came in my Costco cluster.)



By the way, speaking of produce, if you're wondering what to do with those giant zucchinis, here's an idea: hand weights. That was my inspiration this morning. I can't really try it myself, because my hands are busy holding a leash and a poop bag. (Positive Mental Attitude: Having a dog gets me out exercising daily!) But we passed another walker who took her zucchini-lifting-power-walking very seriously.

Don't let me forget...

...how I love waking up Olivia on these late summer mornings,

watching her pucker her lips and stretch,

stand up, rub the sleep from her face,

and point to her closet, and say,

"Shoes!"

P.S. In case you are curious about this, I do not generally believe in waking a sleeping baby. But Olivia sleeps in til 9:00 these days, whereas my other girls were all early risers at this age. I just miss her, and have to go check on her by the time it's past 8:30 or so. And if I open her door, she usually pops open her eyes, and is ready to hop out of bed. It will be interesting to see how hard it is to get us all back on the school schedule next month!

P.P.S. Isn't that the cutest little bed head you've ever seen? ;)

Two Wheels

We like to bike.

When we lived in Washington, it was one of the most enjoyable family activities on a beautiful warm day: a family bike ride through the trees, with frequent stops for wild blackberries.

When we moved back here, everything was closer and more convenient to us: school, church, friends, library. And there were also more sunshiny days. So we've done more bike riding. In fact, sometimes I laugh at my neighbors (and even sometimes myself) for starting up the car just to go a couple of blocks in beautiful weather. I guess it's all about saving a little bit of time.

Anyway, Doug's two brothers who live nearby have taken up cycling as a hobby, and they have encouraged Doug to join them. So he recently bought his first road bike (in his first eBay transaction ever) and some equipment (including stretchy, padded shorts and a bright orange jersey--it's pretty hot!), and he has started biking to work. It's still only about half the time he spent commuting in Washington, and he's getting great exercise.

As impressed as I am with Doug, though, Hannah has really blown us away with her determination to join the biking fun.

A few weeks ago, Hannah announced to me that she needed to learn to ride a two-wheeler. At the time, she was riding a "big wheels" sort of trike, or pushing herself along on her scooter. She had no bicycle. So we borrowed Lauren's, and Hannah started to ride. It didn't take long for her to get the hang of pedaling and balancing, but starting required a push from Mom or Dad, and stopping required something drastic: she'd either head for a patch of grass and tumble onto it like Jackie Chan, or she'd brace herself and crash into the curb, Mom or Dad's legs, or (if it was pick-up day) a neighbor's trash can.

{Insert funny video of Hannah crashing. I really need to learn how to upload video!}

Bystanders were shocked at Hannah's bravery. She'd pick herself up, dust herself off, and start all over again! Over, and over, and over!

But she eventually got tired of the bumps, scrapes, and crashes. And she started losing interest in riding a bike that was too big for her little legs. Not wanting to lose all the progress Hannah had made, I took her to WalMart and bought her the tiniest two-wheeler they had. Twelve-inch wheels. Hot pink, of course.

That was all it took. Thirty-nine bucks for mad skills on a mini bike. Within a day, Hannah was independently riding around the cul-de-sac. Pedaling as fast as her little legs can go (and a bike that small requires a lot of pedaling!).

One funny thing about Hannah is that she prefers riding barefoot. Last night we walked to a nearby park. We walked, but Hannah biked, barefoot. She brought her shoes with her, and put them on when we got to the grassy park. And when we headed home again, she removed her shoes and pedaled her way with bare feet.

Funny, awesome kid!

Re: Your Questions (about the D-O-G)

Dear Cousin Laura,

Your comment made me laugh. I'm going out on a limb by telling you that, because I'm still not completely sure you were trying to be funny. Were you seriously "seriously offended"?... Let me apologize and assure you that we didn't remember the connection with your newborn son at the time the name was suggested. In fact, I don't think it hit me until I was writing about it (in the comments). Sorry I'm so dense, and sorry for any negative association I may have introduced to your mind, but please be assured that I really like the name. I do realize that we gave our dog a human name; it's not like you named your son Fido or Spot. So let it be known. Anyway, you may or may not recall that when I was polling about names for Olivia, I posted Abby as an option, but my mom said "No Way!" because that was your family's dog.

Having said all that, I'm happy and willing to change my dog's name for your sake. In fact, I've thought of other names that I might like better. My husband and kids might continue to call him Jack, but I might start calling him Jasper or Tickle. (Tickle, because I love Junie B.)


Dear Gerb (and other Inquiring Minds who want to know),

Yes. I. Am. Crazy. Let me tell you how we came to have a dog.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Rebecca. She was about 5 or 6 years old. She really wanted a puppy. So did her siblings. Her parents considered the possibility. They took Rebecca and her siblings to see a cute litter of puppies. They bought a dog house. They got all ready. And then they went back to pick up their puppy, and something went terribly wrong. No puppy came home. The dog house disappeared.

(Are you crying yet?)

Years passed. Little Rebecca had a couple of incidents with scary dogs. She developed a fear of dogs that became somewhat paralyzing. But she still liked puppies. When Rebecca was 14 years old, her parents consented, once again, to get a family dog. They all went to see the puppies. They were cute. This time, a puppy did come home. He was cute for about 3 days. Then he started doubling in size daily, and also in energy, and he liked to chew on things (including ankles). After a couple of months, Rebecca and the rest of her family decided that they were not dog people. They found a nice home for that puppy, with an older couple who had just lost their beloved pet. Rebecca's puppy went home with this nice couple and promptly bit the hand that now fed him, which required several stitches to heal.

True story. (P.S. It's about me.)

By the time I got married, Doug and I happily agreed that we had no need or desire for pets.

Then we had children.

And those children seemed to be born with a crazy love of animals.

For more than 10 years, we have engaged in the Great Pet Debate. We tried goldfish--no fun, messy bowls, what's the point? We tried a cat--which nearly drove me to the asylum. After one weekend with that creature, it went back to the shelter and to its inevitable doom.
Doug tried birds. He didn't even ask my opinion before he pulled that one. Three unfortunate m birds later, the cage finally found a new home.

Once again, this family had sworn off pets.

But the pleading, begging, campaigning, and praying of the children was incessant.

I stood firm. "If you want a pet, you can wait until you have your own house, and then you can get whatever you want." "Just think of Grandma's pets as your pets." "Play with the neighbors' pets. That's fun, right?"

More pleading. More bargaining. More cajoling. Researching and arming themselves with information.

"I do not want a dog in the house, and our back yard is too small/not fenced/too rainy."

The begging continued.

Then, we moved. And Doug and I knew that we were losing our footing. At least, we lost some of our excuses. We now have a fenced backyard that is big enough for a dog to play in. We have an extra garage where the dog can stay at night or in bad weather. We've seen that the animal love which our children have doesn't seem to fade. We watched Emily spend Spring Break playing with and "training" Grandma's dog. We saw the girls brainstorm and create and deliver flyers around the neighborhood, offering their pet-sitting services.

One evening, I came home from running some errands, and the girls enthusiastically told me that Doug had made a deal with them: something about doing really well in school and earning the privilege of owning a dog.

We were caving. Doug and I had come to believe that we would get a dog for our kids, maybe next summer. I did not want to go through the puppy stage, however. They are the cutest kind of dogs, but way too much work.

Half a block from Doug's office is the local animal shelter. The girls started visiting the shelter with Doug, on occasion. I had no desire to visit that place. The smells? The germs? Ew!

Then one Saturday, Doug and I got up early and went to the temple. On our way home, I told Doug, "Hey, today is seven-eleven." (the date) And he joked, "Good things are waiting for you?" (like the jingle). And then he got pulled over for speeding. But that's another story.

We came home and the girls wanted Doug to take them to the shelter. It turned out that everyone was going, except me. They invited me to come, and I agreed, because after all, Saturday is a good day to be together as a family. The shelter was surprisingly clean. Yes, there were smells, but it was much more inviting than the shelter where we got that dumb cat, years ago.

The girls looked at the noisy dogs in the cages, and I talked to the shelter employees. They told me about a certain dog that had just become available for adoption, and how he was everyone's favorite. We met Jack (who at the time was nameless).

We took him on a leash outside. Jack seemed very sweet. He didn't scare me, and that was a big deal. He wasn't mangy. He didn't bark. He didn't mind when Olivia smacked his nose. That was a really big deal.

As we walked him around the parking lot, we met a man who was about to leave the shelter. (Turns out he was looking for a lost cat.) He was getting into his car, when he saw Jack. This man stopped, came over to us, and asked if we were adopting that dog. We told him we were thinking about it. He went on about how Jack's breed is so obedient, so loyal, so fun with kids, so smart. He was a really friendly guy,and I trusted him. For some unexplainable reason, I trusted Jack.

While the girls played with Jack inside the shelter, Doug and I watched them through the window and talked it over. I could tell he was going for it. It all depended on me.

Frankly, I was tired of fighting the issue. And we agreed that we thought our kids would do well to have a chance with a pet of their own. I knew I would never get to the point of wanting to own a dog. But I wanted my kids to have that life experience. And I guessed I was as ready as I ever would be.

So, we wrote a check, signed the papers, and left with Jack in the back of the van with us.

Surprise! We got a dog.

And, surprise! I don't mind him all that much...So far. :)

When Pigs Fly...

...Jack will be sure to alert us! This dog who is usually so quiet was going nuts over this phenomenon this morning.

Now I know that the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade would not be a good place to take him.

Or maybe he just has strong feelings about Bank of A.F.?...

Lazy Days

When school let out for the summer, we sat down as a family and created summer job lists. We do this every summer, and the list doesn't change much from year to year. There's the obvious: make your bed, be sure your room is clean, etc. There's the extra: This year, the extra job varies by the day, but it's usually something like fold & put away a basket of laundry, or do some dusting, or even, entertain Olivia for 30 minutes. And there must be some summer studying: reading is required, math is necessary, and sometimes a little writing assignment.

As I told the girls, none of their summer jobs are very difficult or lengthy. If they would get up in the morning and get going, and stay focused, they could still have most of the day to play.

It sounds so easy, in theory.

But in practice, it turns into this redundant routine: Sleep in late, lounge around in pj's, push sisters' buttons, push mother's buttons, ignore mom nagging the girls to get their work done. Eat dinner. Go to bed. Repeat.

So by halfway through the summer, I'm resigned to chill out as the task master. Frankly, I'm happy if they get dressed and get outside. It's better than having them inside, lazing around in their pajamas most of the day. My nagging about summer jobs is only half-hearted. Discipline is out the door.

Sometimes I think summer really should be more of a vacation. I just want to play.

Today was the perfect combination of great weather and laid back mom for Lauren to do this:

Lauren's happy, I'm happy...the whole darn neighborhood is happy!

Ca-Ching!

It's a BOY!

I know I've said I wouldn't go there. The girls have been wanting one for so long, but I just wasn't ready. Somehow, they finally talked Doug and me into it. Hopefully, this will be a really good thing for them.

Now he needs a name. We've discussed:





Cowboy


Scooter


Rudy


Jack


Archie





...plus a few other unmentionable names that Doug suggested under his breath, but I'm pretty sure he was kidding.





What do you think?

He's ticklish.

He seems like a good boy so far, but really, what do I know?

Senses of Summer

Last evening I was driving around with the car windows open, and thinking about all the ways summer makes me feel good.

Tastes:

Our garden is producing such yummy things. I've only had two grape tomatoes ripen so far, but soon I'll be eating my garden tomatoes like candy. I'm loving the peas and green beans and squash and cucumbers, too. I love picking food in my garden, washing it off, and popping it in my mouth.

Hamburgers. Or anything on the BBQ. And everything that goes along with that.

Popsicles and ice cream. (I like them best when they're melty.)

Fruit: Watermelon. Any melon. Cherries. Strawberries, Raspberries, Blueberries. I still remember the first time I ate fresh blueberries. When I was seventeen and we moved from California to Pennsylvania, I spent the night at a new friend's house, and her mom served fresh blueberries on our cereal in the morning. I'd never heard of such a thing! Bananas on cereal-- of course! Strawberries on cereal--a treat! Fresh peaches on cereal--makes my mouth water! (Can't wait for our two trees full of peaches this summer!) But fresh blueberries (the size of grapes)? I was hooked.

Sights:

Sunshine!

Swimming suits and tanned skin. Sun-bleached hair.

Bicycles, balls, and kids in the streets.

American flags.

Sounds:

Rainbird sprinklers as I go to sleep at night.

Real birds chirping to wake me up in the morning.

Touch:

Warm (even sweaty) skin.

Grass under bare feet.

Toes wiggling in the freedom of flip flops.

Warm evening breezes.

Cool water refreshing sun-heated bodies.

Smells:

Tomato plants.

Cut grass.

Hay. (I actually like some of those farm smells.)

Sunscreen.

So much of my nostalgia is linked to this state where I currently reside. Part of every summer of my childhood was spent here, visiting relatives. Even the 12-hour drive to and from our annual vacation is now a good memory. (Have you seen the picture book called "The Relatives Came" by Cynthia Rylant and Stephen Gammel? You should. It's one of my favorites.)

Last night as I drove, and recognized the perfect combination of summer elements, I remembered a summer night when I was a teenager. I was sitting on my Grandma's front porch swing with her and my cousin, Chad. (I really wish I had a porch big enough for a swing like that today!) My cousin, Troy, drove up in is sporty car. Chad said, "Troy's been out fishin'." It took me a minute to get what he meant by that. Anyway, we hopped in Troy's car (I'm pretty sure Grandma stayed home on the swing) and they took me to Pace's Drive-In for french fries and Pace pops.

Nothing big happened that evening. But somehow, it was just one of those moments that stayed with me and comes back to the surface of my mind whenever I experience that perfect combination of summer senses again.