18 months

My little gardener, Oliver, decided that onions would be the vegetable of choice to grow this year (he decided on onions because he likes to eat onions, but only likes the smell of tomatoes).  Thus far I am impressed by their reliance because every day Oliver pulls the onions from the ground to check to see how big they have grown.  He then replants them.  Henni has taken another approach to gardening - she kisses the onion plants.  Her approach to plant care is a reflection on her attitude on life.

Often I will be in the midst of doing something and Henni will stop me and kiss me once on each cheek and then she'll run off to do whatever crazy thing she is up to.  She also spends a lot of time swaddling her babies, bear, crocodiles, snakes... and pushing them around in a stroller, or rocking them to sleep in a cradle.  She gives all the animals kisses, no matter if they are mammal, reptile, or whatever.  She also is the one who is totally in tune with Charlie.  She loves to snuggle him, feed him, kiss him, and take him for walks.  And the chickens...don't get me started.  Oh - and rabbits and chinchillas...  Henni is not much of a talker, but she can (and does) get her point across.  She has made it very clear that in addition to Charlie and the fish we need to add chickens, bunnies and chinchillas to our menagerie.  While I love her enthusiasm and love for animals - I think we have enough beings under this roof.

Henni's love for clothes, shoes and accessories is getting increasingly worrisome.  Davis and I, two people who would be happy to live life in flip flops and a bathing suit, somehow have two children with strong opinions on clothes and shoes - and Henni has taken it a step further and is also very opinionated regarding accessories.  Henni can get herself dressed most of the time - and most of the time what she chooses is exceptional -- one of her favorite new accessories - tying a snake around her waist  - snake belt anyone?  And leaving the house...argh!  She has to try on a multitude of shoes, hats, glasses, socks, etc. until she finds just the right fit.

Bathing suit over clothes

Slippers, shirt, sweatshirt, swim cap - ready to go

Dress, shirt, pants, boots, bag (her favorite kitty socks are in the bag - it took forever to locate said socks, but we could not to leave the house without them)

Dress and silver shoes, perfect for the pool

Hat, dress, and Lucky

Rose colored glasses

Diaper and hat

 The funny thing about her love for clothes and accessories is that Henni loves being naked.  In addition to being able to put her clothes on, she can take them off - and take them off she does. 

Henni also refuses to acknowledge she a a year and a half old.  This girl thinks she is much bigger.  She is convinced she can ride a bike, ride a scooter, or do whatever it is Oliver is doing.  Speaking of that - Henni continues to adore Oliver.  She tries to wake him up every morning and gets so excited when it is time to pick Oliver up from school.  The two of them are having more fun together and I am hoping, fingers crossed, they become best of friends.

My little Henni also remains a vegetable lover.  A fall landed us in the ER last week and we were given Fruit Loops as a snack.  The doctors and nurses were convinced she was not well because she refused the Fruit Loops.  I took her disgust towards those strange colored Os that she was just fine.  

Henni's little personality just cracks me up - and she knows it.  She will smile her way into anything and/or con her way with charm.  As I mentioned before, Henni still is a gal of few words - but she makes herself known and somehow seems to, more often than she should, get what she wants.

Shark Attack

Last Thursday was silly hat day at Oliver's school.  We were given, thankfully, a weeks notice for the big day - as I am not sure we could have pulled the day off if we'd been given less time.

When I read the May/June school calender aloud to Oliver he lit up when I said silly hat day.  For the last four weeks school has not been one of Oliver's favorite activities (in fact he announced the other morning: "Mom, I've thought about it, and it is time for me to retire.") and so when I saw the excitement in his face about silly hat day, I jumped on it like white on rice.  I started to brainstorm with him silly hats - his duck hat, his snake hat, his ski helmet, his hardhat... Oliver gave those hats a bit of consideration and then decided he wanted a shark hat.  I immediately started to think about how we convert a paper bag and perhaps a paper plate into an awesome shark hat.  Then Oliver continues...  "The hat has to have teeth and a mouth that opens and closes.  And I want it to be a blue shark; they are my favorite.  And I want the blue shark hat to be right - it has to be one that has the right number of gills and fins..."  My paper bag vision is ripped to shreds.  Before I can conjure up anything else, Davis jumps in and says - "No problem."  Phew.

Oliver and Davis worked together to make the most amazing blue shark hat.  Throughout the construction they talked about the blue shark - where it lives (temperate and tropical oceans), what it eats (fish and squid) and the nickname "wolf of the sea."  The two of them spent a good chunk of time getting the shark just right.  The hat has all the components Oliver requested - and more (e.g. inner foam for comfort).

Side view, mouth open

side view, mouth closed (note side lever used to open and close mouth)

Shark attack

Teeth - lots of teeth

When Oliver showed up for silly hat day he was swarmed by the other kids.  Everyone wanted to see his hat, touch his hat, watch the mouth open and close...Oliver waltzed into school with a huge smile.  I breathed a sigh of relief (the only drop off in four weeks that has not been tearful and has not involved me having to physically hand him over to a teacher) - then turned around to greet the swarm of parents who had gathered and to address their comments -- "Your husband made that?" (Yes, he swims, he knits, he does crazy science things, he can probably swallow knives while juggling monkeys.)  "Oliver is going to win science fair, ever year - isn't he?" (Probably.)

Soap Box

I have to start out by saying I am totally unqualified to pull out my soap box, jump on top and start yelling - but hey, I am going to do it anyway.

When I saw Time magazine's cover with a woman breast feeding her 3 year old and the question: "Are you mom enough?," I was appalled.  I was not upset or shocked by the sight of a woman breast feeding her child, nor was I upset that the child she was breast feeding 3 years old - what I was upset by was the question - "Are you mom enough?" and the insinuation that breast feeding a 3 year old is what it takes to be good mom.

Full disclosure here:

1)  My children sleep in my bed.  I carried my children around in a sling, wrap, or whatever else I could -- for as long as possible (because containing them is much easier than having them run willy nilly reeking havoc on the house, the neighborhood...).  I am not an advocate of sleep training.  I breast fed Oliver until he was 22 months and I am currently breast feeding Henni (18 months).  I have never used formula.  I took the Time quiz and learned I was I Dr. Sears devotee (note: I do not own any book written by Dr. Sears nor have I ever).

2) I have only seen the magazine cover and have only read a number of op-eds on the cover photo -- I have not read the article as I have not had a moment to go and grab a copy of the magazine.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way and have noted that I am totally not qualified to be on my soap box...I believe the cover does a disservice to all moms (and dads).  I believe the cover paints parents as failures.  Being a parent is tough work.  You get married (or not) and have have a child.  A child changes your life -- so much more than one could ever imagine -- you have to redefine your relationship with your partner, your friends, your extended family, and even yourself.  Then there is that whole work-life craziness -- trying to balance work and family.  And then there is the whole money thing, the whole sleep thing, the whole...did I mention a child changes everything?  So there you are - everything has changed and you have to make it to the end of the day and through the night (parenting is a 24 hour job, not a 9-5er).  You have to laugh, smile, kiss your child(ren), kiss your partner - you have to be happy - you have to figure out how to incorporate a new life into your life.  How to do this is different for every family - for every person.

Being a good parent doesn't have to mean breast feeding until 3, 4, 5...  It doesn't have to mean quitting a job to stay home.  Being a good parent means loving your child.  It means giving hugs and kisses whenever possible.  It means supporting your child's dreams, reading books, snuggling...it means being there.  It means being happy together, it means loving each other.  Setting bars - such as breast feeding until a certain age - is a disservice to parents as it tries to quantify the unquantifiable.  Using breast feeding as a bar also ostracizes many families such as adoptive families and some same-sex couples.  To discount these families is just plain wrong (I was trying to think of a nicer way to say this, but I just can't).

I have been a parent for less than 4 years.  I am inexperienced.  I have no idea what I am doing -- I gauge my days by: 1) Is everyone alive? 2) Was everyone happy the majority of the day? 3) Did everyone have fun most of the day? 4) Do I still have a good portion of my hair? 5) Did I purchase a plane ticket to Costa Rica?  Given that these are my measures of success,  I know for sure I am not qualified to look at another parent and judge them.  As for  Time, I don't think it is in the position to outline what is "enough" and "not enough."

Off my soap box.

Mother's Day

Being a mom isn't easy.  I think back to when I was growing up and I can tell you, I didn't make it easy for my mom.  In fact, I know that at times I made life down right difficult and, thinking back, I can only think of not so nice words to describe my behavior.  Despite this, my mom still got me to my sports practices, organized a wonderful surprise birthday party for me, transported my friends and I here there and everywhere, made amazing meals, and was just plain a fantastic mom.  My mom and so many other mothers, young and old, are inspiration for me as I try and be the best mother I can to Oliver and Henni.

For Mother's Day Oliver and Henni gave me cards and artwork they made with Hollie.  Henni is so proud of her card - as she is of all of her artwork.  She showed me how she made it (finger paints, glue and scissors) and then gave me a very big kiss.  Oliver made me a big finger painting as well as a book - a very special book:

My Mom and I, by Oliver.

I love it when Mom and I go to the airport.
I love it when Mom and I read snake books.
My favorite thing to do with Mom is paint.
I love it when Mom and I play snakes together.  I liked playing cobras when my cobra first came.
My favorite thing about my mom is that she feeds Henni.

I love this book.  I was a bit surprised about the airport bit, but then again Oliver is angling for a trip to the Bahamas for his birthday, so maybe he thought this would add fuel to the fire (I really, really, want to go to the Bahamas for my birthday.  I want to have my birthday on the beach.  I know you said we can't go, but I am just going to keep begging and begging...).  The other part of the book I was surprised about was the feeding Henni bit.  But then again, he is so thoughtful and loving (a large portion of the time) towards Henni, that perhaps I shouldn't be surprised.

Since being a mom isn't all pictures and books (see the start of the post), I do have to say how lucky I am to have Davis as my partner in this craziness that is being a parent.  He is a supportive husband and friend, and an amazing father to Henni and Oliver.

The Street

I am not sure how we got so lucky.  Our little street is now home now home to 21 kids under the age of 14.  Add in the houses that are at the end of street and the total rises to 28.  The majority of our little gang are boys aged 7 and under.  

It seems as though the kids have some secret way of communicating.  As soon as one kids heads out to the street, the rest sense it and want to join in the fray.  While much of our street time is sent biking and running, a recent development has been that of street hockey.  Both Oliver and Henni have fallen in love with the game.  Oliver seems to be a natural and Henni - thankfully one of the older boys has been patiently teaching Henni the game.

Growing up in rural Maine I loved being able to be outside exploring the woods and running around a huge backyard.  Often times I get sad that Oliver and Henni are "city kids" and don't have a huge yard or the woods to run in.  But then I see their faces light up when the kids fill the street, when kids are climbing back and forth over fences, when toys are being shuffled from one house to another, when a mini Tour de France is occurring just outside, when chickens are just a yard away, when a new game like street hockey is introduced...and I don't feel so bad.  Yes, their experience is different than mine, but that doesn't make it bad - it just makes it different.

So, game on!  If the rain ever stops, we'll be back on the street with sticks, bikes, chalk, balls, and any other craziness we can find.

The days are long, but time is short

We've had one of those days.  One of those days where Henni, Oliver, Charlie and I all awoke with grumpy pants and Attitude (note the capital (boldfaced) A).  I tried putting on a cheery front, tried singing my way through the morning, but I just couldn't shake my grumpy pants and the kids couldn't seem to shake theirs either.  And Charlie, he never took off his devil pants.  We all fed off each other's horrid attitudes and we dug ourselves a deep crabby hole we couldn't climb out of.

I recently finished The Happiness Project.  In the book Gretchen Rubin, the author, writes that "the days are long, but the time is short."  Throughout the day I kept repeating this - making it my mantra for the day.  While it did get me through the day, as I know it is so true, when Davis came home from work I told him I didn't think I could make it through another day like the one we had just (barely) survived.  Oliver, who was in the other room (and I thought couldn't hear us), walked in and said: "Mommy, you have to make it through another day. Mommy's don't get a day off."  Ah, so true.

I was unprepared going into this whole parenting thing about the lack of a day off.  Being a parent is a 24 hours job - 365 days a year (or 356 if it is a leap year).  This can be wonderfully rewarding or utterly exhausting and frustrating -- all at the same time.  Being a parent takes patience, stubbornness, laughter, creativity, and a dose of crazy.  But, I digress...

There truly are days that seem like years.  But Oliver, Henni and Charlie change in the blink of an eye. And, at the end of the day, there is peace.