Highs, Lows and the In-Between

So the Little People and I survived our road trip to the Midwest last week.
We had a great time, even with the weather.
I don't know yet if any of them love road trippin' as much as I do, but all three hung in there like super troopers.

A few highlights...

1.  The City Museum-simply one of my favorite
places and something my kids have talked about since we were there last summer.  TOO COOL.

Yes, those are my older 2 suspended in mid-air in only a tangle of chain link fencing

2.  Good old-fashioned playing in the dirt 

3.  Building homes for Roly-Polys

 4.  Seeing the Sights in the 'Lou-I had never taken them to the Old Courthouse before and they thought it was way cool.

A few lowlights...

We're at the park and Mommy is visiting with friends she hasn't seen in literally 20 YEARS.  Our little people are entertaining one another while we chat.
Suddenly, D runs up much too excitedly for my liking and announces that "Someone wrote asshole in the slide!"  Now, what do you do with that?
I informed him that it was NOT a word we used to which he replied "I know that, I'm just telling you what it said".
Well.  Thank you, Walter Cronkite, for the update.

My grandma isn't doing well.  It absolutely broke my heart to see her and I fought this overwhelming urge to just curl up in her bed next to her in the nursing home but I could tell my kids were already a bit freaked, so I refrained.
I'm surely glad she got to see my little people again and vice versa.

An in-between...
We came back in time to celebrate Easter Sunday here with daddy.
I'm reminding GoGo of why it's so important to celebrate Easter, why we were leaving our baskets behind to attend Mass, why it's not really about the Bunny.
I tell her about Jesus dying and coming back to life (resurrection is much too large a word to process).
She looks at me for a minute and then says "Well.  That is awesome."
Another pause.   "We should have a Jesus party!"
I tell her that is kind of what Easter Sunday is and she thinks that is "Great!".
Clearly, I'm not doing a good job of driving home the messages of our Faith but I do dig that she thinks it's all "awesome and great".
Better get to work on Christmas...

Snapshots

I love the little moments that happen throughout any given day when you have little people around.
The snapshots in time, where you have a brief exchange of words that later on you ponder and then, either laugh or cry or both.

GoGo-"Mom!  GUESS WHAT?!  I helped Agent P into the swing and I didn't even drop her!  Isn't that awesome??  I am a good big sister."

Me-"D, you didn't even say anything about my new glasses..."
D-"That's because I don't really like them."

Agent P-there was an unclaimed toot during our family movie night and she went person to person along the sofa, asking if they had poo.

Late Bloomers

We're sort of a mixed-up but happy bunch.
It takes us a while to figure out what makes us tick.
Here I am, 38 going on 21.
I only in the last couple of years realized that I really dig taking pictures, really listening to music and writing again.  Throw in a rabid love of garage sales and musty antique shops, cooking and a few Blue Moons and voila.  There I am.
So I probably didn't look like someone who actually wants to learn how to play guitar when I rolled into the music school parking lot in my mini-van, rain boots and yellow peacoat.
I'm sure the dude was like "Whatever".
I even failed my first test (which hand is most important in guitar playing?)  Hint:  NOT the left one.
Ok.  So we started right in on basic chords and strumming and guess what?  I am pretty good, he tells me.
I probably won't make Clapton's tour next year, but perhaps another.

So last night D is supposed to be reading in his bed but spies me with the guitar on the couch and makes a beeline for me.  "MOM!  What are you DOING?!"  He is fascinated with the guitar and wants to use the pick himself to make some noise.  Maybe I will have my rock star child after all...

Out of my 3, he I think is my fellow late bloomer.  He is in the moment, let's play today and worry about tomorrow-well, tomorrow.
Granted, he did just turn 8.  So really, what does he need to plan for?
If you ask him what he wants to be when he grows up, he says lego builder or drawer or fort-maker.  I do feel fairly certain his path will be a creative and wiggly one, but who really knows.  I do know that he does not like to be forced into doing things and I was certainly the same growing up.  I of course did do things I could have gone without but what I came to love the most, I discovered on my own.
I am trying to give D the space to be able to do the same.  Even if it takes him to 38.

If you ask GoGo what she wants to be when she grows up, she has a very detailed list...mommy, doctor, teacher and fashion model.  Even if none of those pan out, I know she will have a relatively straight trajectory in life.  She gets that straight from Daddy, clearly.
This seems to go against the grain that is GoGo-she is my rule breaker-sassy-frass-limit pusher.  But in the midst of the mayhem that is Margot there is a strong will driving that train.

Too soon to tell about Agent P, but I suspect she may litter her path with snacks in case she needs to find her way back anytime.

Now time for this late bloomer to practice her D chord.

The Wiggle

D turns 8 today.    How in the world is that even possible?  The ride to this point was way too fast.
He was born on 3-24-03 at 4:23pm.  In my mind, he is extra special because of the transposition of those numbers.  I know, I know.

Some days I wish I could shrink him back down to baby/toddler size and do it all over again.  Mostly because I just miss squeezing on him and his cute baby laugh.  But also because I would do so many things differently with him that I have now learned by having 2 more little people.  Isn't that what most mothers of first-borns say?

I didn't plan on having kids and frankly, didn't even really like them all that much until I had one of my own.  I was not the girl who fawned over newborns and wandered all dreamy-eyed through baby sections in stores.  No, I was the girl giving mothers and children the world over a pretty serious stink-eye when out in public and too much racket was being made.  I had barely held a baby, much less changed diapers or given bottles or knew when to call the doc.

But then I had my Wiggle Worm...named of course for all the wiggling he did in utero as well as out of the swaddling mess I attempted to cocoon him in to bring on the sleep.  I can still remember holding him in the hospital room, just the two of us, and whispering to him over and over again how much I loved him.  I can remember everything about the day he came home-how we didn't know how to install the car seat as we were preparing to leave the hospital, how he looked sleeping in his new bassinet with his little fists tightly curled and how I felt super energetic.  Then, reality hit.  I can also recall standing in my kitchen in my robe, unshowered and hair on end, wondering if I could remember how to operate the coffee maker.

Now he is a "big kid" as he likes to remind me.  I love the little person he is becoming-he is sweet, funny, shy, smart, creative, goofy and incredibly handsome.  I have had friends tell me I baby him too much.  For most of his kindergarten year, I warmed his clothes up in the dryer every day.  It started because in the mornings it was cold and he was hard to wake up so I thought if he had something warm to slip into, it would help.  But then it became a habit of mine, not something he was necessarily expecting.  I quit doing it cold-turkey and he has never uttered a word about it.  Although.
The other night he comes out of his bathroom dripping wet and informs me that I forgot to leave his towel and pajamas out for him.  Whoa, Tonto.  Who is this kid?
Oh, that's right.  He's mine, the one I over-indulge out of sheer guilt.  Guilt for not playing with him enough, yelling too much, forcing things on him, not requiring him to do enough.
A load of crap to sort through that I would wager a lot of mothers of first-borns feel.
How do you know you're getting it right?  Now that I have 2 others and something tangible to compare it to, I know better.

Did my yelling make him shy?  Should I have forced him to do things he didn't want to when he was younger like other moms did?  Would that make him more competitive?  Do I want all that?
Who the hell knows.
I know that I adore this kid and everyday I appreciate more and more his amazing imagination and creativity, his unwillingness to always conform, his love of nature and his general goodness.  I am so thankful that God gave him to us and for his good health.
Maybe my Lenten intentions this year should have included not second guessing my parenting skills and just being happy that I AM a parent.

Happy Birthday, D!  I love you more than any words could convey on paper.

Random Musings

So I have my first guitar lesson this week.
I finally bit the bullet and signed myself right on up.
D thinks this is incredibly funny.  When asked why, he couldn't really answer me but he just knew it was funny that a mommy was taking guitar lessons.
In fact, he mentioned to his friend today that "his mom is taking guitar lessons next to an ice cream shop".
Well.  When you say it like that, it sounds a bit removed from say, Juilliard, now doesn't it?
Well, maybe it is.
I had to pony up and tell my soon-to-be teacher that my goal is to be able to play the guitar solo in "Sultans of Swing" by Dire Straits.  Nothing like reaching for the stars, right?  I am certain that my weekly pickin' lessons at the music shop NEXT DOOR to the Dollar Cone will put me right up there with fellow guitar gods like Clapton and Mark Knopfler in to time at all.

So the weather here was fantastic this weekend and we are all grubby, tired and a bit hungover from it all.  Not the little people on the hungover part, just me and Big Daddy.  Between surprise parties and cocktails by the outdoor fireplace, we were done in.  LOVE my neighbors-in case I forgot to mention it.

GoGo is rockin' swim lessons.  I'm not sure which she enjoys more, the ruffled swimsuit or kicking the water hard enough to make sure the other kids get splashed.  Wonder where she gets that from?
She has begun requesting music off my Ipod and it's not MY music-it's the stuff Daddy put on there for her.  So this weekend she asked to go to a Black Eyed Peas concert, wanted to hear the "Melt Your Popsicle" song and boogied her way through some Lady Gaga.

Lord, Help Me.  Note to Self-BUY GOGO SOME HAIR PRODUCT.

And this one just continues to eat, drink and Be Merry.  Her new favorite words are MINE, WHEE! (if we see or approach anything that looks like it could make her hair blow) and today it was WHERE DID IT GO?  Which isn't quite that crystal clear but close enough.  She puts her hands up and shrugs when she does it, which just kills me.

Loving spring, friends and Blue Moons, dirt under the nails from planting hydrangeas, watching my kids dance and hugging them after bathtime.  Thankful.

Those Crazy Kids

Well, GoGo discovered that our new computer has a built in camera.  How, I have no idea.  But based upon the evidence of over 80 self-portraits, it seems she may have a future as a photographer.  

Or, possibly an extra in a Mike Myers movie.

Meanwhile, D decided to take the Lego thing 3-dimensional.  I especially like his palm trees and fencing.

He also has been writing newspapers, weather reports and short stories.  I totally dig his creative vibes.

This one has been under the weather but is still sweet and singing around the house. 

 I am afraid that paci will never leave us.  At least not before our road trip home to GC.

Sunny Days are Here Again

Glorious weather this weekend.  The kind that makes you certain there IS someone in charge upstairs.

We spent today with my inlaws, up on the lake and it was awesome.  

My kids had a great time, we ate too much food and everyone came home tired and a bit dirty.

Agent P received some good grandparent lovin' today.

This appears to be some sort of lunar landing, only on a putting green.

I would love to know what she found so funny.

I suppose all of the fun-in-the-sun just flat wore them out, hence the collapsing.  

Again, with the golf green.

I can't believe this beautiful boy will be 8 soon.  Blows my mind and breaks my heart, all at once.

Evil Knievel, coming down the hill.  She scares me when she won't acknowledge either brake on her bike, opting instead to only use the tips of her shoes.  

It cracks me up how lily-white my girls are and then D looks like he stepped off the boat from Italy.
That Irish/German blood runs deep!  Probably why Agent P grabbed an empty Blue Moon bottle from the recycle bin and paraded around my driveway yesterday.  Also why Gogo pointed to a Blue Moon display at the Teeter and said rather loudly, "Look mommy, for You!"
Not all Irish/German blooded people enjoy beer.  Just most of the breathing ones, in my family.

In other news, D began working on his Pinewood Derby car for Scouts, Gogo begins swim lessons next week and Agent P is apparently going to sing before speaking in complete sentences.  She sings what I can only assume is the ABC song, Old MacDonald and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.  All day long.  But her actual words consist of maybe 2 word phrases with some grunting or finger pointing to assist.  Maybe she'll become a UTube sensation at 4 and sing her way into college and mommy's retirement.

D's car will be cool-maybe won't win first place but he did most of the work himself and has it all planned out.  He also did a good deed to get his Tiger Scout badge right-side up now.  Proud of him.

Gogo is already making her birthday wish list and it's only February.  She also is planning her swim wardrobe for the summer, telling me she needs a 2-piece and a few "fancy fashion" coverups.
Oh my word.  What will she be telling me at 15?  I am very afraid.

Which is why mommy enjoys her Blue Moon.