Sounds of the Season

Christmas 2011 has come and gone. This year we we celebrated with wonderful food, friends and family surrounding us. All six of us were completely healthy, which has got to be a first in several years. (Uh-oh, I feel myself tempting fate with that bold statement.) Much of it was chaotic, comical and musical, as are many things concerning our family.

Santa delivered some nice goods and left our house without taking Mira, despite Ethan's warning that she'd be whisked away to Spain by Old Saint Nick. (Mira announced triumphantly on Christmas morning, "Ha ha Ethan, Ho-Ho not take me!") Mira was the lucky recipient of a toy saxophone (clearly I am a glutton for auditory punishment, since the norm around here is already for multiple instruments to be played at once. Not the same tune, of course. Hey, let's add another sound to the cacophony!) Apparently all we needed to do as far as Christmas presents was to give every child a toy saxophone - forget clothes, Wii games, faux UGG boots - because the saxophone was the hit of the holiday.

"NO ETHAN, THAT MY TRUMPET!" (Ethan clearly feels bad about offending her)

Ethan had figured out Careless Whisper on the new sax by noon, which is impressive, baffling and disappointing. Impressive because after all, it's a plastic toy, and he doesn't even play the saxophone. Baffling because... Careless Whisper? Really? (I guess that pretty well covers disappointing, too.) Now I walk around with Wham! singing "I'm never gonna dance again/Guilty feet have got no rhythm..." in my head all day. And since I'm griping about Wham!, the icing on the Bad Music Cake is that because it's the holiday season, I have the song Last Christmas, also by Wham!, stuck in my head constantly. In my opinion, Last Christmas is the dumbest Christmas tune ever recorded. So with Careless Whisper and Last Christmas, the holiday was a bad music double Wham!my. (Get it? Get it?)

Because we celebrated Christmas with family early, on the 23rd and 24th, this year's actual Christmas day ended up being delightfully slow. My sister Melissa and nephew Little H came over for dinner, but most of the day was just our gang. A true Family Day, complete with games, naps (the preschooler and me) and lots of cookies. Let me repeat: lots of cookies. I noticed tonight that the past week's cookie frenzy has caused me to look like I'm five months pregnant. Yeah, pregnant with a baby peanut blossom. Not cool. (♫ "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat..." That'd be me as the goose.)

Our northern state was downright balmy for December on Christmas day, so naturally someone suggested going to a soccer field to kick the ball and let Coonhoundus run around for awhile. ("Someone" being Randy, in whose mind it was 70° rather than the actual 41°. I froze my butt off. However, this comes as no surprise, as we've entered the season of the Turn-up-the-heat/Turn-down-the-heat wars in the car as well as "Stop letting cold air in under the covers"/"But my feet are hot" controversies in bed. But I digress...)

After we'd eaten dinner and Melissa had left on Christmas night, we decided to visit some beautiful holiday light displays downtown. It was warm enough to walk through the city parks and look out over the Mississippi - unless you are a teenage boy who insisted that changing from shorts to jeans before we left the house was just too much work. So he was chilly. At one point Mira appeared to be shivering, but then we discovered that was a potty dance. Since literally nothing is open on Christmas and time was of the essence, we realized we had no option but public urination. Randy put her in what he refers to as the hammock-hold (they've gotten quite adept at Mira peeing outdoors since our South Dakota hiking trip) and she left her mark, there among the twinkling Christmas lights in a downtown park on Christmas night. If there had been snow, we could've sung "Peeing in a Winter Wonderland," but as I mentioned, it's been balmy.

A few more holiday pictures...

Abby with Little H

Christmas morning: new hat with nightie

New toys for everyone!

Holidays are exhausting

Preschooler-Highschooler

Living with a preschooler is sometimes like sharing a house with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Or Sybil. She is alternately intense, distractible, impulsive, dramatic and compassionate. She is social and opinionated, and can be absolutely egocentric, displaying a grandiose sense of self-importance. Her intelligence and humor continually astonish me and I am convinced she is the savviest three-year-old in town. As she becomes ever more independent, she needs the security and consistency of clear rules, so it's crucial that we set limits. I know she cherishes that parental connection, even if she fights us tooth-and-nail. She can be defiant and it appears she feels no guilt; insincere utterances of "sorry" are usually coerced by me. And I adore her.

And the physical changes! Even though of course we knew what changes were coming, her rapid growth seems to defy science. In three short years, her height and weight have nearly doubled. Her previously bald head has hair. She talks non-stop, sharing every thought with me. In a year she will be riding a bike. How can a child change so dramatically, so quickly? Even as our hearts are warmed while watching family videos of Mira's homecoming in 2008, we are sobered by how quickly time has flown past us, as this baby who was completely dependent on us yesterday is suddenly almost a regular "kid."

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Living with a preschooler high-schooler is sometimes like sharing a house with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Or Sybil. She He is alternately intense, distractible, impulsive, dramatic, compassionate and sarcastic. She He is social and opinionated, and can be absolutely egocentric, displaying a grandiose sense of self-importance. Her His intelligence and humor continually astonish me and I am convinced she he is one of the wittiest people I know. As she he becomes ever more independent, she he needs the security and consistency of clear rules, so it's crucial that we set limits. I secretly think she he appreciates that parental connection, even when she he fights us tooth-and-nail. Sometimes she he appears to completely lack impulse control and seemingly feels no guilt; insincere utterances of "sorry" are usually coerced by me. And I adore her him.

And the physical changes! Even though of course we knew what changes were coming, her his rapid growth seems to defy science. In three short years, her his height and weight seem like they've doubled. Her His previously bald head smooth face has hair. She He talks to friends non-stop, sharing guarding personal information from me. In a year she he will be riding a bike driving a car. How can a child change so dramatically, so quickly? Even as our hearts are warmed while watching family videos of Mira's homecoming in 2008, we are sobered by how quickly time has flown past us, as this kid who was dependent on us yesterday is suddenly practically a "regular kid" full-grown man.

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I love the relationship and interactions between Madame Toddler and "Man-Child" Highschooler. Yes, Ethan thoroughly enjoys teasing her. Fun games include chasing her around the house and threatening to put her in the oven; wrapping her tightly in a blanket with her arms pinned to her side and pretending he's going to eat her (he calls this game "burrito"); and changing the words as he's reading her stories ("Laura hugged Pa, and his blue eyes smiled down at her. And then suddenly those smiling eyes jumped out of his skull and ran away, leaving Pa blind and unable to play his fiddle.") Each "game" elicits blood-curdling screams of protest from Mira. But as soon as Ethan stops what he's doing, she begs him, "Do it again!" If I ask her, "Who makes you laugh a lot?" she responds, "Ethan and Gigi!" (Gracie). (Abby also makes her laugh, but she definitely sees Abby more as Junior Mother - care and comfort more than rough-housing.)

The influence of the teenage sibling is obvious in Mira's words and actions, and their interactions result in Mira doing a lot of trash talking for someone her size. (She recently said to Ethan, "I gonna throw you in the garbage and get a new brother," as well as "I not like your hair.") It can be embarrassing if strangers are within earshot, and you end up wishing you were wearing a sign that read, "We're a nice family, honestly," but of course you end up just grimacing.

But as much as I might grimace at her "big talk," her close relationship with a brother who is 12 years older makes it worth the imperfections. I think a lot of teenage boys would be too busy to pay much attention to little sisters, but Ethan thoroughly enjoys her, and she adores him. I love it.

A Season of Silver Linings

I am not much of a blogger during times of stress, which explains why I haven't done a post since August. Folks, it has been a rocky road (and not the ice cream kind), and the uphill journey continues. Oh, the struggles, stories and facts I could share about pediatric mental health! but this isn't that type of blog, so I will leave it at that.

But the truth is that autumn hasn't been all bad. In many ways, it's been a wonderful season of kids growing and changing and achieving and wow-ing me. Instead of writing tonight I will share some pictures that capture some of the "silver linings" we have enjoyed. (And if I go a little overboard in celebrating the kids' stuff, please - give me a pass this time. It's been important to focus on the positives lately.)

Mira Rules the School twice a day this year - preschool and speech class (the latter is helping her articulation but doesn't always prevent her from saying things like "bub-wack" for "back rub").

Jam session. Ethan made the top jazz band, and performed in the pit orchestra for the school musical. Meanwhile, I have learned the important fact that if you play a "blowing instrument" you don't refer to your mouth as your mouth; it's your "chops."

Scarecrow Walk at the Landscape Arboretum prior to seeing "Hairspray" with Mom and Melissa

Ethan's soccer team was really fun to watch. They finished 9-1-1, and Ethan learned a few Karen phrases along the way from all his Burmese teammates.

Abby made varsity as an eighth grader and quickly became a starter. I'm not going to lie, the whole experience of seeing Abby improve tremendously and get tons of attention because she was so young, was really fun for Randy and me! Oh, and she loved it too.

Abby was awarded Rookie of the Year

Loungin' in the Patch

We went to a Halloween party as the Ingalls. Abby looked great as Laura, but she was not interested in being photographed in a dress - especially a ruffle-sleeved prairie frock like the one I found her! (Randy as Pa, Mira as Baby Carrie, me as Ma and Gracie as Nellie)

More Halloween...

The spice of life

Busy, busy, busy...

As I chauffeur kids to and from sports, music lessons and friends' houses, I am struck with the knowledge that there are a thousand versions of me across the country, driving their own kids to a zillion activities. All of us leading very fortunate but typical lives as middle-class moms of busy teenage- and elementary school-age kids; participating in carpools and phone trees, managing schedules online. A dime a dozen, we are. As much as I cherish that cup of Caribou coffee we're all sipping, it irks me to think I am a June Cleaver or Carol Brady (minus Alice, of course) of modern times - complete with the stupid minivan. (Although I do drive the smaller stick-shift car more often than the van. That's something.)

The color commentary I tend to have about other drivers while I'm in the stupid minivan (or car) potentially sets me apart from the rest of the (more mature) Mom Taxis at least somewhat. I'm not proud of random outbursts like,"C'mom Mullet Boy, let's go! The light's not going to get any greener if you water it!" (and other examples not approved for all audiences) but they seem to slip out. I keep things in check pretty well when the kids are in the car but when I am by myself - well let's just say those aren't my proudest moments, but they are some of my most creative.

I'm also pretty sure that most of the other moms aren't flying by the seat of their pants like I am when it comes to key details like "Where is the field located?" and "Was I supposed to pick up Annika?" As I have touched on before, I am pretty much the worst candidate you could think of for being responsible for busy schedules. Those last minute moments of panic just make life more interesting, right?

See how serene and in control she is? See that clean vehicle? That's not me. She's the anti-Jules.

Of course, there are many other aspects of daily life that I like to think differentiate my existence from the rest of the world. These are more positive than my comments about fellow drivers or my inability to manage schedules. It's the kids themselves, the ones I am driving around. Impressing me with their music, making the varsity team, unexpectedly cleaning the house, sneaking my coffee for themselves, drying their Clearasil'd faces on my good towels so the benzoyl peroxide leaves bleach streaks. Making me laugh, making me crazy. They are the spice of my life.

One, as you know, is particularly spicy.

In the past week alone, she has made life spicy - and comical - by:

• Biting her finger to see if she could make it bleed after I said "No blood, no Band-aid" when she wanted to decorate her legs with them.
• Turning her back and sticking out her tongue when she was mad. I know she is doing it for attention so I tend to ignore it. As a result, she still isn't sure if it's naughty enough to get my goat or not. Her tongue stick looks more like an exploring protrusion than a mad face, because she doesn't know how to do it right.
• Trying to physically push me out of the way while I held Gracie's hair back as she threw up, saying "I want see!"
• Trying to put Abby's dried up contact lens in her own eye.
• Getting stuck in the toilet. (She was wiggling and and trying to resist sitting on the potty before nap because she wanted to keep playing. She lost her balance and fell into the toilet, legs sticking straight up. She looked more indignant than panicked, and it did shock her out of a brewing tantrum. For my part, I felt the need to call Ethan so he could get a look at the scene before pulling her out. He thoroughly appreciated that.)

I have to say, life is never dull and she always provides good blogging material.

We took a picture of her calves the other day because I realized she has more muscle definition than I do. She three, shouldn't she still have cankles? But when you run everywhere, all day, apparently you get ripped little legs. I guess I should try it.

"Vacation" may be overstating it

We recently returned from a wonderful summer vacation out west. Although "vacation" might be a misleading description for such a trip. Vacation implies rest, relaxation, recharging... Adventure may be more accurate. Or how about undertaking.

Don't get me wrong; it was fun, and there was family bonding time-o-plenty (many of the interactions positive, a few of them suspiciously similar to bickering). We laughed a lot and hiked in some spectacular settings. But like any family vacation, there were some moments that were exhausting. Specifically, there were certain individuals who never stopped moving/chattering/wiggling/questioning/singing.

Constant motion.

Not to suggest that a week of traveling with the other children was stress-free. For certain kids, there was something to worry over at every turn. For others, there were periods of teenage sullen-ity (like that word?) But the Little Ball of Energy was the one that tired me out. (Speaking as the Big Ball of Tiredness).

Oh, but it was beautiful, particularly Custer. In this century in America, to be able to look as far as you can see over low, rolling mountains and see nothing but pronghorn antelope and birds - no roads, homes, telephone wires or power lines - is amazing. We could have been standing in the same spot 200 years ago with the same view. Why, Pa and Mr. Edwards might've come through the grass on horseback at any moment.

Watching pronghorn

Besides experiencing the majesty of the American West, the best moments for me involved laughing with the kids. We laughed with Randy, and we laughed at him. ("Apparently all they sell at Pamida is Pamida Water! I don't trust it. We're going to a different store.")

There were also many times while driving that the words coming out of my own mouth - or Randy's - made me burst out laughing. Things I never imagined saying...

"Mira, if you rub that apple on the bottom of your feet one more time I'm going to take it away!"

Conversations I never imagined overhearing...

"Ethan! Look my teeth!"

"What about your teeth?"

"My teeth clean?"

"What? Hey, what do you have in your mouth? Is that a ... Mira, that's gross! Mom, Mira has a Clorox wipe in her mouth!"

Highlights for other family members? Perhaps for Gracie it was having her hands cuffed in Wall, SD, by her loving brother. (Or not.) He managed to lock the cuffs in a way that couldn't be undone without involving the store manager. It's really cool as a parent when you have to wait in line at the register and then tell the teenage cashier, "Um, my son handcuffed my daughter and now we can't get them off." (Ethan, meanwhile, slunk away, red-faced and laughing, trying to pretend he wasn't with our family). Incidentally, this type of occurrence has long been known as "Pulling an Ethan" by our family. You can read more about "Pulling an Ethan" here.

Mira's favorite part of the trip may have been sleeping in a big bed with Gracie (more like on Gracie). And of course she found it very exciting when all six of us shared one hotel room. (Eleven o'clock at night, Randy and I were sitting in bed, silently reading by barely any light, waiting until all the kids were asleep and we could turn on TV and have a beer. And they were all asleep - except one! One energetic preschooler, whose little braided-and-beaded head kept peeking over the half-wall dividing our "suite" so she could make sure she wasn't missing anything.)

Yes, she quite loved the lodging experiences. There were pools and playgrounds, and refrigerators just her size. And if she ran into the wrong room and made herself at home before I caught up with her and apologized to the startled occupants, what of it?

We did a lot of hiking, and she is one rugged little cookie, with stamina that rivals anybody's (and often surpasses mine). She became quite adept at wilderness peeing, which made me proud. (I have a long history of peeing in woods, from the Adirondacks to the Grand Canyon). The only drawback to this newfound skill was that after we were home, she dropped her pants in someone's yard when we were on a walk. I probably should've explained to her that peeing behind a tree while hiking in the woods = OK, peeing on someone's front yard while walking down a suburban street = not OK.

Ethan's favorite moments? Possibly tormenting Mira to amuse himself. He did entertain her in the car quite a bit, which was a tremendous help because we had some long days on the road. He would be reading to her and I'd suddenly become aware that he was taking some major liberties with the plot: "Without warning, Dora became angry. She took the scissors out of Backpack and stabbed the troll repeatedly, before turning her violence on Boots..."

He also took great pleasure in pointing out "Ho-Ho" (Santa) everywhere we went. Why so many Ho-Ho's? Sturgis, baby!

The fact that there were Ho-Ho's everywhere Mira looked was unsettling to her, because Ethan has been filling her head with tales about Santa that are based on David Sedaris's "Six to Eight Black Men" since last Christmas.

"Look out Mira, there's Ho-Ho! He might get you!"

"No, Ethan, he get YOU! You naughty, he kick you!"

Oh, my innocent, angelic children!

And Abby's favorite moments? I think she liked everything, even a nearly-vertical hike in 95 degree heat one day. As the rest of us collapsed at the summit she said, "That was great!" Of all the kids, she loves hiking the most and she's a born naturalist.

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Pulling an Ethan

Def: Causing one's body, or part of one's body, or part of someone else's body, to get stuck in or affixed to an object unintentionally.

Some examples of Ethan "Pulling an Ethan" include:

• Putting an "I Voted" sticker over his eye to look like a pirate. When he attempted to remove the sticker an hour later, it was securely attached to his eyebrow with some sort of bizarre super-adhesive, and was not coming off without taking good chunks of the eyebrow with it.
  
• Cinching his Cub Scout belt so tight there wasn't even a millimeter of "give" to uncinch it, even when he sucked in his stomach as much as possible. Not a good move when you have to go to the bathroom really bad.
• Getting his index finger stuck in the middle of a CD to the point where we had to break the CD to free the finger.
• Sliding a plastic tamborine over the dog's head, which then seemed way too small to get back over his head. I was in another room and I heard Ethan chuckling, saying, "Hey Fred, now we'll always be able to hear you coming by your jingle." Then: "Uh-oh..." I went to see what was going on, and there was Fred, looking like a miserable jester with a purple tamborine around his jowly neck. Ethan just looked panicked.
• And of course, the handcuffs in Wall....

A few more pictures from the trip