Our house and the moose and the muffin

There is usually a song streaming in my head.  Sometimes it is just plain annoying, other times it is a rockin' dance party, and other times it just plain speaks the truth.

Recently, Gangnam Style and Surfer Girl have been having a throw down in my head - and in the car.  Oliver has been demanding Gangnam Style and The Badger has been demanding Surfer Girl - both like the volume turned up all the way.  The other afternoon we rolled down our street, parked in the driveway and my phone buzzed: "Gangnam Style...really?"  A quick glance back and I realized the kids had put their windows down and we had announced our arrival home - to the entire North Shore.

But then the snow melted.  The snow melted and I could get a visual on the destruction Charlie has done over the winter (anyone need clear-cutting done?).  The snow melted and the mud appeared.  The snow melted and the amount of mud on the walls of the house (inside mind you) increased a million fold.  And the washer and dryer...constant.  And the muddy liquid being pouring out of boots and children every day... Need I expand?  Anyway, the song rolling in my head now is Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young.  Mind you, the lyrics in my head are a bit different.  They go something like this:

Our House was a very, very fine house
With poop and mud in the yard
Life is now so hard
Now everything is dirty
'Cause of you
And our la,la,la, la,la, la, la, la, la, la, la..... 

I few rounds of this as I clean the walls and pick up the poop.  And then Rick Charrett's song about mud (Mud, mud, I love mud...) pops in as I see the joy in Oliver and Henni's dirty little faces as they race trucks through the mud.  And the joy in Charlie's face as he rips another branch off a tree.

And then, one of the dirty, clear cutting creatures decides to come inside and they announce they are  cold.  How about a bath.  A bath?!  If we are doing a bath, can we have our baking powder powdered submarines?  Sure.  If we have those, can we have bubbles?  Wait, if we have bubbles, can we have jets (the jacuzzi things on the tub)?  Jets!  Can we wear our masks and snorkels to see how they work in the bubbles?  Now we need to take a shower so we can rinse the bubbles off.  If we take a shower, can we fly our sea planes through the monsoon rains?...And so it continues.  That Laura Numeroff (author of If You Give a Moose a Muffin and other similar tales) is damn smart.

And yeah... this is happening....

And this...first experience with Jiffy Pop.

And so it begins

This past weekend I, unexpectedly, found myself on the side of the mountain.  That is, I found myself the mom of a ski racer.  I had thought I had a few years before I had to ensure my racer made the start, a few years before I anxiously watched my skier navigate the gates (ruts, ice, and all), and several years before I would sigh a huge sigh of relief when my racer sped through the finish - safe and happy.

True to form, Oliver turned me into the mom of a ski racer long before I thought possible (seriously, the kid was born early, and since then he has been jumping the gun on oh so many things).

When we arrived at the Snow Bowl on Saturday morning Oliver noted that there was going to be a race that day.  He asked if he could participate and I told him he could, so long as he was old enough.  Armed with that information he headed to the registration desk - and then returned with the registration form.  

Excited about Oliver's first race, but totally oblivious, we filled out the form.  I say oblivious because neither Davis nor I had taken time to learn about the race.  I spent hours racing at the Snow Bowl.  The high school races, the Ragged Mountain Ski Team races, the fun races...they were all held on a little hill called Foxy.  I can remember one occasion when one of my coaches finagled a training run from top to bottom, but I can't recall a top to bottom race.  Which brings me back to Saturday, and being oblivious.

We hand in the registration form and they hand Oliver his bib.  They then tell us the course: from the top of Mussel Ridge (black diamond), over the head wall, down Lower Mussel Ridge, across the flats, then down the length of Foxy to the finish.  I am exhausted and my legs are shaking just thinking about it.

Oliver was so excited there was no turning back.  So up we went.  Oliver got to the start ridiculously early and transformed himself.  Rather than be the shy boy I know, he schmoozed with everyone and anyone - and he developed an odd little swagger.  

The competition...given the course and the conditions, 80 percent of the racers were early 30s+.  There remainder were high school and middle school students and then a handful of younger kids (with the exception of Oliver, the youngest was 7).  In terms of weight - most competitors had between 50 and 100 pounds on our Senor Rocket.

Oliver did an incredible job.  He completed both of his runs (made every gate) - and talked a mile a minute the whole time.  At one point, from my vantage point on the side, I heard him jabbering about going "90 miles an hour!  I am going faster than a car!"  While he wasn't quite going that fast, I was impressed by his speed.  While the competition was finishing in about a minute and a half, Oliver completed his runs in about four and a half minutes.  I was blown away (I had estimated 10 minute runs).  The course was tough, steep, really icy, and had huge ruts -- many of the other racers fell and/or didn't finish.

When Oliver reached the bottom of his first run, the first thing he said was: "What is everyone else wearing?"  We replied that everyone was wearing GS suits.  Oliver declared that he needs one.

I was not only impressed with Oliver's racing, but with the camaraderie.  The commentators were just so lovely chatting about Oliver, and being so supportive as Oliver made his way down the hill.  And at the finish - there were so many people cheering.  And in the lodge, people were coming up to him, congratulating him on his runs.  

Oliver, of course, has no idea that he did something incredible.  He was, however, pretty pleased with winning his first ribbon.

I have a feeling I am going to find myself on the side of many hills going forward.

Lifesavers

I don't remember what we were talking about, or what we were doing, but something Oliver said to me the other day has stuck with me.  He said: "Mommy, I really like when I have stains on my clothes.  When I see the stain I immediately remember what I was doing when I got the stain and I remember the fun we were having."

I've had a much different outlook this week thanks to Oliver.  As I am folding clothes I am taken on a journey to the muddy playground, to the gelato place down the street, to the Bahamas, to when Charlie had puppy teeth and tore holes in my jeans... And rather than look at the house in terms of desperately needing to be painted - I am now looking at the walls which are covered in pen marks, crayon scribblings, and finger paints as pure joy - as the fun times we've had together.

I was describing the last few weeks to my mom as being equivalent to trying to tread water with cement block tied to my ankles, and that every time I get close to stabilizing myself, someone adds another block.  I have been spending several hours a day applying for jobs, hours a week in the car traipsing all over the state (and across state lines) for a multitude of interviews, volunteering, working on several freelance projects I've gotten myself into, and then there is the whole other part - you know the being a mom, being a wife, doing laundry, getting groceries, cooking, cleaning, house management, dog walking...  Yikes, writing this makes me tired.  Needless to say, Oliver's sentiments were much needed.  While there are times I think I might go crazy trying to stay afloat with a 4 and 2 year old who have decided that playing deaf when I talk to them is the new black - the reality is that, when it comes down to it - I think the wee crazies are actually the ones who bring me sanity.  They force me to laugh, to get dirty, and to get out.  And get out we have.

I bought Oliver a pair of snowshoes a couple weeks ago and we've been heading to the woods almost daily.  Charlie runs, Henni rides on my back or in a sled, and Oliver snowshoes (until he decides he too would like a ride in the sled).  We've done tracking, collected pine cones, stalked birds, and found incredible beaver damns.

We've also been out in totally inappropriate (for the weather) clothing, and been having lots of fun playing together at home.

In addition to the sanity Oliver and Henni have offered, sanity came in the form of my mom and a quick jaunt north.  Last week mom came down for a couple days to help, and then we headed to Maine for a weekend of snowy fun.

While super fun, the weekend also included a panic attack and heart attack.  Oliver and Henni have both been skiing from the top of the SnowBowl for quite some time.  However, our mode of transportation to the top has been the T-bar.  This past weekend the T-bar was broken and so our only way to the top was the chair - the oldest and highest chair in the world (this could be an exaggeration, but I doubt it).  I had Henni on my lap for the long journey up, and was sure we would both die because I would have a heart attack and then we'd slide off the chair to our death.  What really happened is that I realized half way up that Henni was likely having trouble breathing because I was holding her so tightly.  While I was a wreck, both kids were wonderful on the lift and we were able to ski the day away.

We also did some pretty fun snowshoeing in Maine.

It's a good thing I have everyone and that we have a great play to which we can escape, because reality just doesn't get simpler.  This morning Henni's finger and the bank door had a run in- the door won and Henni ended up with a mangled and broken finger.  Our pediatrician was wonderful and Henni is victorious - happy to show everyone her splinted finger.

Potty Talk

About a month after Oliver turned two he decided pooping in the potty was preferable to pooping in his diaper.  He decided this on his own, no discussion, nothing.  Then, one morning when he was just about 2.5 I was trying desperately to get us out the door as we were running late for something and we had a million errands to run.  Oliver walked out of his room and announced he did not have a diaper on, and had decided he would wear underwear.  I panicked.  I had not read anything about potty training, we had things we had to do and I wasn't sure how the whole no diaper thing would fit in.  But, I decided we'd go with it.  I packed a bag of extra clothes and off we went.  When we were out I did buy M&Ms as I remembered someone mentioning they were helpful with potty training.

Well, that day was a success, and the days going forward were as well. Oliver successfully potty trained himself.  The only training I had to do was to provide guidance on appropriate places to pee.  The potty is good, the tree at the far end of the playground is acceptable, but the neighbor's front lawn - no.  And those M&Ms, Oliver decided that he should get one (as in steal one) every time he went potty since other friends were getting treats for using the potty.


Henni.  Henni. Henni.  Henni is a different story.  Henni has announced she is done with pull-ups, done with diapers, and is only going to wear Hello Kitty underwear.  While I embrace the idea of life without diapers, I am not a proponent of Henni's decision.  While Henni has decided she will only wear underwear, she has not decided she will use the potty.  She will, on occasion, sit her little butt on the potty, but the majority of the time she prefers to pee or poop in her pants and deny it.  She's been peeing on the floor at friend's houses, peeing on my lap at story hour, and pooping in her brand new (1 hour old) pink polka dotted pants.  And bribery...the girl will not be bribed.  I present her with a bribe and she looks into my eyes and yells "no!" And then turns around and continues whatever she is doing, and then pees on the floor.  If she could flip her hair in obstinance, I think she would.  Awesome.

Ok.  I lied.  There is one thing that will get Henni on a potty - a public bathroom.  When presented with a public restroom she will jump right on, touching anything and everything in and out of her reach on the way up - and down.  I would love to say I have no idea where this comes from, but I do...Oliver.  Oliver adores public restrooms.  If we are out and he notices a place has a restroom he will use it.  And I am not talking pee.  Nope he can apparently poop on demand.  When we go out to eat, we try and choose a place he has been.  If we choose a new place the majority of the meal will be spent with Oliver in the bathroom, pooping, chatting, and loving life.

I am considering having someone with a wholesale club membership go and buy me an insane amount of hand sanitizer.  I am then thinking of inventing a travel body sanitizing thing (think large bucket which I can fill with sanitizer and then dip my kids in).  Armed with a way to rid myself and the wee ones of the grossness which lives in public restrooms, I may embark on my own 3 day potty boot camp.  Imagine this...3 days in which I spend out and about with the kids.  All activities will be within feet of various public restrooms.  We will spend the day running in and out of those petri dishes.  Going potty, sanitizing...going potty, sanitizing.  For good measure I may carry a Solo cup containing an adult beverage and topped it with one of those little umbrellas.    I am thinking that the happy little umbrella might be helpful when I latch that public restroom for the 12th time and when I realize that - no, I am not smelling a public restroom, but I have acquired the smell of a public restroom.

I am trying to decide when to launch this plan. I want to be diaper free (or rather have us be a diaper free house), but I have to steel myself for the adventure.

Snow!

This winter has not been very snowy here.  The majority of our fun in the snow has had to take place in  Maine where the snow Gods have been a bit more giving.  A couple weeks ago we had promise of a big storm, but the 6-12 inches promised amount to only a dusting.  Given the snow-free ground and promises broken, I was suspect when I heard we were to have a blizzard this past weekend.  Friday morning though I awoke to snow and to an empty refrigerator.  When I say empty refrigerator I don't mean - I only have 4 gallons of milk, 5 loaves of bread, and 12 dozen eggs empty - I mean, no milk, no eggs, no bread.  This is usually not a reason for alarm or panic as it is our fridge on a daily basis.  However, Friday morning it was an issue as I knew I would have to not only go to the grocery store, but I would also have to brave the throngs of people stocking up for the perceived apocalypse.  (Why may I ask, do people stock upon food when there is a real possibility of power loss?  And why does anyone need 12 gallons of milk and a million bazillion bottles of water for a 2 day storm?)  I arrived at the grocery store moments before it opened and ran through - victorious - food for the next couple days.

Bolstered by my survival at the grocery store I thought I would try and move a few things in the garage so that we could actually try and put one of the cars inside.  Now our garage usually looks like a before picture, and so it took quite a few precarious ballet moves and precarious placement of items to clear out a side.  Unfortunately our fun (bikes, kayaks, skis, snowshoes, sleds...) has claimed the garage and despite my efforts we were unable to fit a car inside.  To make myself feel accomplished I parked a dump truck.

Saturday morning we awoke to lots of snow.  And you know what, I am damn happy that we couldn't get the cars in the garage because it was so much more exciting to wake up to this (and it was still snowing!)...

You may think I am being sarcastic, but I am not.  It was great fun for me and the kids to wake up to buried cars.

We spent the weekend digging out and playing in close to 30 inches of snow.

We even attempted a luge of our own.  While it was not as steep or as long as the one in Maine, it had some pretty awesome features.  For starters it was part of an extensive snow fort which included stairs, benches, and cave.  It also had an awesome tunnel.  Not bad for city folk.

It finally looks like winter here.  And we are thoroughly enjoying it (that being said - yes, Henni is not wearing a jacket, socks, mittens or a hat in the above picture.  And yes, today she did wear (with socks) strappy pink sandals, sunglasses and a Nipper's t-shirt - while Henni loves skiing, she is a child of summer).