Three

Last Friday Henni turned three.  How this happened - I have no idea.  Wasn't it just yesterday that Davis and I were driving back and forth to Beverly Hospital while Henni was trying to make up her mind when she wanted to make her debut?  All the while me in tears because I felt so horrible that Oliver was no longer going to be the only child - and we hadn't given him any say over the decision?

Henni's decision on when to make her debut ended up being smack dab on her due date.  That decision - that stake in the ground - is very defining in terms of her character.  Henni is stubborn, she is strong willed, she knows every rule - and holds everyone accountable.  She also is known for muttering -"Oh no, we are going to be so late!" whenever we are trying to make our way out the door.

And three years on, Henni and Oliver are best of friends.  Yes, they do have their moments (ones where I am surprised one or both is still alive once the dust has settled), but overall the two of them love each other to pieces.  And Henni - she cares for Oliver - completely.  She picks out clothes for him, will do errands for him, asks to buy him presents... she is extremely thoughtful.

Her thoughtfulness is largely due, I believe, to motherly instincts which seemed to have skipped me and gone - double - to her.  Henni feeds and dresses her babies in the morning, cares for them and takes the for walks during the day, and refused to go to bed until her babies have been put in their jammies, read to, and eaten.  The other day it was cold out - she refused to leave the house until her babies put on jackets and sweaters.  Being such a good mom must be exhausting!

I've often commented on Henni's sense of style.  The other day we were in a vintage clothing store and Henni - she was in ecstasy.  She wanted to buy everything there - despite the fact the clothes were for adults and not three year olds.  And several women commented on Henni's sense of style and projected that she would become a fashion icon one day.  To say that Henni was beaming is an understatement.

Now my little fashion icon is in an interesting phase right now.  She is wearing dresses, sweaters, tights, and button down shirts to bed.  And for school and daytime fun - she is choosing to wear jammies - accessorized with purses, rings, headbands, and necklaces - and the occasional skirt over the jammies.  I asked her what is up with this.  She replied - "I need to be be comfortable - and look good."  Of course.

Henni is not amenable to bribes and is not gift-hungry (like others I know (Oliver)).  When I asked her what she wanted for her birthday she replied - "Nothing.  I have everything."  The joy of those words - and how much they speak to her personality!  But since we were not going to let her birthday go by present-less, Davis built her a dollhouse.

Henni had a very specific request for her birthday celebration - she wanted to go to dinner at the place in town that has a kid's room - that is, a room where kids get to go and play and eat while the parents are in the main dining room eating.  Her birthday wish was to go there with her good friend Lucy, Oliver, and Lucy's brother Max.  At first I was a little hurt that she didn't want to have her birthday dinner with me, but then I did have to applaud the brilliance of her plan.  So yes, she got to have the birthday celebration she wanted - and Davis and I got to go out and have an adult dinner with Lucy and Max's parents (and with baby Owen), with whom we are friends.  It was perfection.

We then had a second party for Henni with our friends Carragh and Maeve.  Pizza, a movie, and chaos.  Also perfection.

Happy birthday Henni!

The very best day of the year

Halloween ended in tears.  Both Oliver and Henni had such fun playing with their cousin Quinn, getting dressed up, running all over the neighborhood in the rain, consuming way too much sugar, and staying up way too late at a neighborhood party - that when we finally laid down they collapsed in tears - Oliver sobbing that "the very best day of the year" had come to an end.  We really did have a fantastic day (although three days later we are still feeling the sugar and late night...)

Henni was in heaven because she could play babies with Quinn - and he happily agreed to be one of the babies (go figure).

 Once Quinn got in his monkey suit Oliver agreed to hold him - the first time Oliver has touched Quinn (although he loves babies, he has been hesitant about Quinn)

Henni was a mommy.  And Oliver...he was very confusing.  He decided to be a ski racer.  He wore a GS suit, number, and helmet.  Then he walked out the door and decided he wanted to be a ninja.  One would think that this change would result in a change of costume.  But no.  He didn't want to change, he just wanted to be a ninja.  So he wore the ski racer costume and, very confusingly, told everyone he was a ninja.  It was very awkward.

Let's go nudist

While I dread the idea of being naked all the time, I am seriously considering a move to a nudist colony.  1) It would cut down, significantly, on the amount of laundry I do (think increased time for fun family activities or *gasp* mommy alone time), and 2) It may actually keep me sane.

God help me, my two lovely children are clothes horses and shoe divas.  The number of outfits they try on each day and the number of outfits they go through each day is astounding.  And Henni - at least a couple times I week I kiss her goodnight in one pair of jammies and find her in another pair in the morning.

And shoes...shoes are worse than clothes.  There are morning where it takes 30 minutes to determine the "right" pair of shoes to leave the house.

If it weren't for some time spent in Beverly Hospital, I would wonder where these kids came from.  Davis and I are not clothes horses or shoe divas (by any definition).  And, I have to admit, there are times I can not handle the attention to detail.

Last Friday we were close to disaster.   To avoid the approaching disaster I suggested heading to the playground.  Both agreed that would be fantastic.  Then we hit a stumbling block...shoes. 35 minutes later we were in the car, each kid had a pair of shoes on - and a bag of shoes in case they needed to change their shoes at the playground.  While they were agonizing about which shoes to put on their feet and into said bag I, rather than scream in frustration, I texted Davis.  

I believe my texts went something like this: "I am gathering all the kid's shoes and putting them in the backyard.  I am going to cover them in lighter fluid.  Throw a match.  Poof!"  Ok, there may have been expletives thrown in - liberally (very liberally).

Luckily I have a very wonderful husband.  He recognized I was on the verge of moving us a to nudist colony (and going to jail for starting a fire downtown), so he left work, met us at the playground, and sent me to Crossfit.  Did I say he is wonderful?

And I was so close to gaining all that free time by going laundry-free...

Thanks to Mrs. Legee for the wonderful hats!

Fall

Fall and I are not best of friends.  My issue with fall is that it takes away my most-loved season (summer) and hurls me towards freezing temperatures.  I am trying to embrace fall for itself and not what it is not (or what will become).  And really and truly there is a lot that fall offers.

There is peach and nectarine picking which is oh so fun and tasty.

So wonderful that even Bulldozer gets in on the action.

There are corn mazes to explore.

And, of course, cider donuts to eat.

Note how Henni eats donuts.

There are afternoons at the beach with the beautiful fall light.

And more corn mazes.

And apple picking - with Lucky (Bulldozer couldn't make it)!

Parenting is an extreme sport

When you get right down to it, parenting is an extreme sport.  Why?  Because parenting has the components of an extreme sport: endurance, love, challenge, achievement, survival, getting dirty, and fun.   

With most new things one can take the time to master it and then, well, it is mastered.  With parenting everything is always changing.  Just when you master it and get in a groove, things change, and then you are back to square one.  Getting discouraged is not the way to go, rather one needs to dig in and beg, buy, steal, barter, and invent anything that can help you survive and endure.  And, perhaps more importantly, the ever changing life of a parent needs to be embraced and relished - just as those climbing Mount Everest or swimming across the English Channel embrace their adventure and identify the tools they need to survive - and enjoy it.

In the extreme sport of parenting laughter is essential.   Last week I picked Oliver up from school and was pulled aside by his wonderful teacher who wanted to share with me "one of the most wonderful moments" she has had as a teacher.  Right now you are probably thinking Oliver stood up and shared the secrets of gravity with his friends.  Au contraire.  The friends were going around the circle and sharing their favorite songs - one child shared the "Itsy Bitsy Spider," another shared "The Wheels on the Bus."  My cherubic child?  He got up and - totally unabashed - belted out: "Whatcha gonna do with all that junk - all that junk inside your trunk."  Juliet said she almost wet her pants.  I am processing this news when Oliver stands up on the bench in the cubby room and belts out: "I'm on a role and it's time to go solo.  Rollin' in my 5.0 with my ragtop down so my hair can blow."  Really?! When your child is belting out Vanilla Ice (as an encoure performance to the Black Eyed Peas) the only thing that can be done is laugh.

And then there is the love.  After a day of challenges and feeling defeated, Oliver turned to me - half asleep and said: "Mommy, you have no idea how much you mean to me.  I love you more than anyone has ever loved anything."  Immediately nothing else matters.