Bliss, chapter one

Pure bliss.  Family.  Ocean. Sand. Sun. Love. Fun. Disconnected. Exploring. Adventures. Fish.  The smell of fresh picked saw oranges.  No cars.  Only boats.  Man O War.

We just returned from 10 days in Man O War.  They were amazing.  We spent 10 days working on the house, snorkeling, going to the beach, going conching, spotting sea turtles, picking saw oranges, and just plain having fun.  We had no phone, no internet access, and no tv.  We were disconnected from the world and we loved every single minute of it.

The good morning

Henni calls morning "the good morning."  As is, "what are we doing in the good morning?," or "it's time to get up, it's the good morning!"  I love this.  

Oliver once told me about the bugs and how they represent spring - that is, one day all the bugs on the tree fly away and suddenly there are leaves.  I imagine trees covered with butterflies or ladybugs, then the sky suddenly filled with their colors, and then green - green leaves and spring.

It's these little phrases, and glimpses into how my children view the world that I adore.  And I do adore Oliver and Henni.  I love watching them grow up and love being able to do more and more things together, but at the same time I am sad that each new phase means an end to another.

And really, who wants this to end?

Spring is here!  We have been out on the cold days, the wet days, and the warm days.  My boot is filled with sand, mud, hay, and who knows what else.  Davis is not sure I fully understood what walking boot means, but I am pretty sure I do.

Oliver and Henni have started new classes.  Oliver is doing Raccoon Club - exploring the woods of Four Rock with Merrohawke (formally Boat Camp).  The first day he returned covered in charcoal.  Henni has started dance and says she wants to be a "ballerina tumble-ina."  Henni's teacher is amazing and makes me want to do dance too (although we had a dance party at our house last night before dinner and Quinn, who always smiles, looked horrified the whole time I was dancing to our good friend Flo.rida).

We had our neighborhood Easter egg hunt.  850 eggs full of fun this year.

Oliver has his art in a local gallery and the gallery had an opening for the class - the kids found it so special.

Henni has been doing art too.  Here's her most recent self-portrait.

Our Easter egg decorating did not disappoint this year.  24 eggs. 11 eggs eaten during the dying process.

Lion v. Lamb

Oliver's class has been keeping track of March.  Each day the class decides if the weather is like a lamb, or like a lion.  Each day Oliver updates me on what the class decided for that day.  Today he came home and said he was so tired of lions.  And Henni - Henni keeps asking if we can move.  She is a self-declared tropical muffin who is done with winter.

Guess what.  I am done with winter too.  Last year we walked to school all but a handful of days. This year we have been forced to take the car every day because the weather has been so damn chilly.

Grumpy pants off, signs of spring are emerging.  Bulbs are making an effort to break through the ground - and snow and ice.  And Henni is practicing her snorkeling in the hopes that she will be ocean-ready by the time we hit the Bahamas.  

Oliver and Henni are also showing signs of being in school for almost a year.  While I've seen some clear advances over the year - I am suddenly seeing leaps and bounds.  Math has become a favorite activity for both of them, as has writing (unfortunately, lots of writing on the walls), and spelling - everything.

Henni has also been focusing on her fashion.  I have a few pictures of her outfits, but have been considering doing a daily documentation of them since they are all so incredible.  Even more incredible is that they evolve throughout the day - always shifting, always accessorizing, always looking for ways to enhance her already amazing choices.

And with the arrival of spring, so comes the mud pit that is our back yard.  

Words of wisdom

My days have been punctuated with deadlines, mountains of work, pages of to do lists, and a race against time - a race that I will never win.  I have been forgoing sleep in favor of deep dark circles, wrinkles, and getting (not enough) things done.

NPR and I used to be close friends when I worked in Boston, but now my car time is limited, and is generally limited to music which is totally inappropriate for Oliver and Henni, but which they adore, so we blast it as loud as we can (our number one favorite right now - Icona Pop - I love it).   Somehow, however, I managed to time my five minute commute from work to school perfectly - perfectly enough to hear just enough of Brigid Schulte's interview about her new book "Overwhelmed."  A couple days later I stumbled upon a Slate.com review of the book.  

I hate the phrase "my mantra," but I guess that is what I have now.  I have decided to repeat over and over in my head that I am not busy.  I have chosen a select few things from my to do list, and have accomplished them.  I have delegated.  I have breathed.  I have decided that I will force myself to go to a make up counter and get something for those damn circles (the last trip to said counter was before my wedding - before my circles). (Just think of what I could do if I actually read the book!)

The result - a much calmer, happier mommy.  One who is paying more attention to my small friends.

Oliver and I have gone exploring together - leaving the house while the rest of the sleepy heads are still fast asleep) - and tracking animals and laughing our heads off.

We've also started to read chapter books together - all of us loving the adventure and imagination that comes with these books.

Tonight I was thinking about all of this when I was snuggling with Henni at bed time.  I thought she was asleep and was about to leave.  I kissed her head and she turned and kissed me and said: "Mommy, you know you can't do it all alone.  I love you."

I have no idea if she was thinking of something else, or if somehow she had gotten inside my head.  But that little girl, at three, is damn straight.  You can't do it alone - nor should you.