camp mom starts the countdown

In 24 hours, I will be packing my kids (and their mountains of school supplies) into the car and dropping them off in their new classrooms. I will miss them. But I won't miss the fighting, bickering and complaining about how boring their lives are. Perhaps the time we spend together, although shortened, will be of better quality.

Or maybe they will be tired and cranky after getting up early and spending the whole day SITTING UPRIGHT! (egads, no reclining?) and wearing SOCKS! and HARD SHOES! and shirts WITH BUTTONS! that our afternoons will be a whine-fest.

Eh. Whatever. At least I'll get a few things done around here. (But not too many because Shout (Little One) doesn't start school until September 11. Which is a FRIDAY, by the way!??)

ANYWAY, for the past week, I've been running them ragged with fun activities. (And realizing I forgot to teach Cheer (mGuy) to tie his shoes this summer and to have him keep that journal that his first grade teacher passed out in June. Ooops. I'm not a fan of summer homework anyway.)

But last week, we hung at the pool, mini-golfed, went to the sprayground, mini-golfed again. We had pizza, ice cream, chocolate chip cookies and monkey bread.

We toured a recycling facility (recommmended by the lovely Jessica), and can I just say two things? The recycling facility is VERY, VERY COOL. But, if you have a kid (or kids, ahem) who gag with strong smells, beware. It is a strong smelling locale. And when you come in the doors, if you see a basket of these



they are EAR PLUGS not NOSE PLUGS. (Not that any of my campers stuck them up their noses. Ahem.) Strong smells aside, that was one of my favorite trips of the summer.

We went to this fun splash pool, recommended by the lovely Stimey (I think. For some reason, I can't find that post. Stimey?). We had gone earlier this summer and about 15 minutes after we arrived, someone barfed in the pool and we had to leave. So we used our handy rain check to go back. Tres fun, but a little zoo-ish. I don't think I could have managed this pool until this year now that 3 of my 4 are swimmers.

Today, we are going bowling and whatever other fun things I can come up with.

AND THEN, I will be stapling them to their beds EARLY so they can get a good nights rest.

domestic loveliness

My great neighbor K is getting her house ready to sell (and I won't even SAY how much that makes me want to WEEP because she is the neighbor who brings the pitchers of margaritas to the pool, drops Starbucks off on my porch just because and who sent me to the SPA in the Outer Banks).

*momentary pause for blubbering*

ANYWAY, K has a friend (ID) who is a coming-back-into-the-workforce-after-being-home-with-kids interior designer, who has been helping her do some redecorating so that buyers will be salivating to make an offer on her nest of domestic goodness.

So I decided to book my own consult. I've been contemplating some purchases... bamboo shades like Layla (and every other person whose house I covet) has. A new living room rug, because while I like the rug, I noticed it kind of SCREAMS AT YOU in pictures and maybe, just maybe, I should tone it down for a more calm and restful environment. (LORD KNOWS, I need that.)



Anyway, ID came over on Tuesday. I DID clean up quite a bit from my weekend disaster scene, but the place wasn't looking ANYTHING like I would have hoped for my first ID consult.

But she's a mom and she's been there. And in the middle of our consult, her daughter called to go over instructions for making brownies, which I totally LOVED, so I stopped freaking about the dust bunnies and concentrated on KEEPING HER OUT OF THE BATHROOM, because DEAR GOD, I do have SOME PRIDE.

(She did make me let her into my Den of Shame, my laundry room, which I did show on the internet, so really? It's no secret any more. I have a lot of furniture in there that I plan to refinish (one of these days) and she wanted to see it. I first asked her if she had a recent tetanus shot, and then I let her in.)

She gave me some great ideas about sprucing up what I already have. She's all about re-using and not buying new stuff. I was kinda hoping to buy new stuff, but since it's tuition paying season again, it's probably better that I don't.

After our therapy session meeting, I was feeling pretty good about my house and its potential. And the fact that I could stop shopping for rugs on Overstock.com and I don't have to watch the video about how to measure my windows for bamboo shades. On her way out the door, she told me that my neighbor had a couch out on the curb, and since I am a lover of almost all curbside treasures, I grabbed Shout's (formerly Little One's) hand and practically ran down the street.

There was a very nice slipcovered couch on the curb. It had seen some wear, but for my basement and the prepubescent boys who would be sitting on it playing video games, it was just fine. But it was missing some cushions.

The neighbor whose house it was had her door open and I could see she was standing just inside the door, so we went to knock to ask about the missing cushions. (Which as it turns out had been picked up by some other treasure hunter, rendering the rest of the couch pretty much unusable.)

But, she invited me in for a second so we could chat and I stepped into a Sanctuary of Loveliness that left me speechless.

Me. Speechless. (I know.) Right here on Mulberry Street.

It was as if I had been transported Down Under. To Sarah's Beach Cottage. (Warning, if you've never been to Sarah's beach cottage, go potty and get yourself a beverage first. You will be there for awhile.)

It was beachy and breezy and white and flowy and everywhere, there were little accents of chippy, distressed, old wood furniture painted in the colors of sea glass.

It literally took my breath away.

Who knew, in such an unassuming little house with toys strewn all over the yard and little kids playing in the grass and a minivan parked in the driveway (just like mine), there was this haven?

Which immediately made me think, "Can I come over with my coffee and laptop every morning?" And then, right after that, I thought, "*I* could do this." It was very undesigner-y. And no offense to designers. If I could afford it, I would have my house decorated by one. But this was casual, and worn and lived in and blended in completely with the three little kids climbing all over the furniture.

All her stuff came from IKEA (the upholstered pieces) and Craigslist. CRAIGSLIST. I could DO that.

So I am on a new mission. As the Nester said, "Make THIS house your dream house." This house may be small, and I may have some hand-me-down furniture that is here to stay, and there are toys everywhere, and I have an IKEA budget and Ethan Allen taste, but I could make my house a nest of loveliness.

Or if not me, my neighbor who offered to scour Craigslist for me and help me achieve my beach cottage dream. I wonder if she delivers Starbucks.

(With this, I am also unofficially announcing that I am a new contributor over at Blissfully Domestic. My first post is all written out in my head, but hopefully will be written out and posted soon. Then I will be official.)

among the malcontents

Mom,

Theire are countless reasons why you shouldn't change your website name.

1. No person is gonna check out a website that has the world "landrey" in it.

2. That picture of you holding the landrey is your avitar? It looks nothing like you.

3. My party of six is so much better.

4. It is just like that Kinko's name. People will get confuesed and still call it My party of six! What is the point of changing it?

NO AFFENCE!!!

Bounce (formerly known as mGal)

(I'm spending a LOT of money on private school and am wondering what is up with her spelling issues?)

cha cha cha changes...

I'm launching some changes around here and sprucing up the place, including a new name. Because my life is a lot more about laundry than it is about parties. (And is that not the CUTEST drawing in my new header?)

Not everyone is happy about the changes though...

to be continued

lest you thought i was being melodramatic

Thank you for all your kind comments. You all are the best. We made a big blitz to get things more under control here yesterday. So some reason freaking the feck out makes everyone suddenly want to help.

But here's what it looked like yesterday when I wrote my last post.

Doesn't this make YOUR chest hurt? (I can't believe I'm posting these pictures on the internets.)

See those toys peaking out from under the couch? There were about 600 more you can't see.

Why does ANYONE have so many bats? And WHY in the dining room?

This IS our laundry/storage room, but if it wasn't so full of crap like this, some of the other things could be put away. (Like the bats, perhaps?)

Rocket Man's office




The never-ending laundry. Notice Lego City on the round table? This MUST. NOT. BE. TOUCHED.

I'll never be able to fulfill my dream of becoming a home design blogger now. My secret is out.

blue

Add this to the thing that no one tells you about having kids. The baby blues can last forever. Or, at least, a whole lot longer than I thought.

Pre-kids, I was always a pretty mood-stable person. Not over-the-top high-on-life happy, but, you know, the regular happy. I've had my struggles with anxiety (panic-attacks), but not moods.

And let me just say here, I don't really feel like what I'm talking about is DEPRESSION. Maybe it is and that word just intimidates me. It seems too chronic for what I mean.

Anxiety seems more medical... adrenaline based. Heart racing, sweating. While it starts in my overactive imagination, it's a very physical, chemical reaction.

This other thing, let's just call it blue, feels more like an inability to cope. Like a choice. Like I am being ungrateful.

(For the record, I'm talking about myself. I have friends and family members who suffer from depression and I know it is medical. I know it is not a lack of being grateful. For whatever reason, I don't allow myself the same consideration.)

I am healthy. I have four beautiful, healthy children. I am able to stay at home with them. My husband has a good job and we live in a nice house. How could I possibly feel less than happy all the time?

(And I AM happy most of the time.)

But here it is.

There are days when I am on the verge of tears all day long. Where I feel like I want to silently sneak out of my life. Where I am overwhelmed from frustration, boredom or feeling taken for granted. I piss even myself off with these moods. But they come and I can't make them stay away.

It reminds me very much of the baby blues, when your hormones are dipping and surging crazily and the lack of sleep and constant neediness of a newborn can easily send you over the edge. Even if just for a day.

Someone once described it like being in water. And the water gets deeper and deeper and it's ok. And then, with just a tiny bit more water, you are in over your head, and suddenly, it's very not ok. It wasn't just that last little bit of water that caused the problem, that's just where you got in over your head.

One of the things that brings me to my tipping point is when my house gets so messy, it reaches that state where it could be condemned. You would be surprised at how quickly it can get there.

I'm not a neat freak. I just like toys off the floor and clothes put away. We have clutter. We have dust. That's not what sends me over the edge. It's the days where I feel like all. I. do. is move from one room to the next, washing, folding, picking up, putting away, and I NEVER get to the end of the mess. Because in fact, WHILE I am cleaning, the kids are messing up another room. And finally, I look up and realize it's 3 o'clock in the afternoon and we've done nothing all day, except I've cleaned up a bunch of rooms that are still so messy they make my chest hurt.

And yes, my kids should be helping clean up. And sometimes they do. And sometimes they don't. And then there are days where it's another full-time job just to stay on top of them and get them to stop messing up and start cleaning up. And we all end up in tears. And that's not how I want them to remember life in our house. And that's not how *I* want to remember life in our house. But I can't find a solution that works.

So I end up feeling like a maid. And I REALLY resent it. I get not so much angry as sad, and I don't want to be in my house. But I also don't want to go out and come home to that mess. I straighten up my bedroom, and I hide in there as much as possible. And they keep playing and pulling out toys and it just gets worse and worse, until really, it makes me literally hyperventilate and I don't even know where to begin to start getting it cleaned up.

The other thing that brings me to my tipping point is lack of time to myself. This is mostly a problem in the summer, when the kids and I are together 24/7. As much as I love being around my kids, and as grateful as I am that I am home and we have our lazy summers together (and I AM grateful for that, I really am), I also need to do something every now and then that is about ME as a person, and not about ME as a mother. Whether it is a girls night out, or a blogging gathering, or even a shopping trip by myself, I NEED THAT TIME. Regularly. Not just 2 or 3 times a year. And while going to the grocery store by myself may seem like a luxury, That. Does. Not. Count.

I don't have a job, although a part of me desperately wants one. I'm not taking any classes, although I would really like to. I don't shop for myself. I don't go to movies. Most of my friends have lots of little kids too and coordinating two or more schedules to have a night out feels harder than moving a mountain.

I should arrange some sort of playdate trade-off. Or hire a babysitter one day a week. I know. I have it in my head that I have to be able to do this on my own. That I should be completely fulfilled and happy spending the day surrounded by my loving offspring.

I can't admit to myself out loud that it's not always completely fulfilling. And that many days, they are not so loving. They fight with each other, they ignore my directions and they seem to love (especially the older ones) subtly pointing out all the ways I actually suck at this job. They're bored. My cooking is disgusting. Their favorite clothes aren't clean. (Even though they just wore them yesterday.) They don't have cell phones. I won't take them out and spend wads of cash entertaining them every day. (Or the latest, "This is the worse summer EVER." Sigh.)

School is starting in just over a week, and while I'm not looking forward to getting up early, packing lunches, washing uniforms, and homework, I *am* looking forward to a little time to myself. It's not enough time to get a job or take a class, but at least it is enough time to clean up a room or two without having someone coming and messing it up behind me.

I'm not usually very tolerant of people who know what their problems are, but take no steps to solve them. So I can only allow myself to wallow in my discontent for a day or so.

We have one more week of summer. And we are going to have so much damn fun, my kids' heads are going spin. The mess may have to stay there. I may have to take xanax just to walk through my house. But 9 days from now, when school starts, I will clean, I will declutter, and I will make sure I give myself a break.

When the black cloud is hanging over my head, it's easy to see that I need to take action to preserve my sanity. When it blows away, I tend to forget that there are things I have to do to try to keep it away for good. I forget that I need to make allowances for the things that make me crazy.

We all have them. I know what mine are. I need to make peace with them and allow myself to try to fix them.

strap on your seatbelt

Little One saw one of my favorite doctors yesterday, her geneticist. He is one of those people who leaves you with your mouth hanging open in awe of his stunning brilliance. Truly. But he is also one of the most unassuming, friendly, down-to-earth people I've ever met. I have no idea how he combines those two features.

I DO know that he knows more about the Disney Princesses than I do. And he is so intuitive about children that he almost seems like a fortune-teller. He guessed that Little One has a pink Princess bike AND that her favorite food is macaroni and cheese. (He also showed off his extensive knowlege of the cast of Dora the Explorer.) After that, he had her eating out of his hand. (Which is good because she went in there ALL attitude.)

I always walk away from an appointment with this doctor with a positive feeling. He has been supportive and enthusiastic since before Little One was born. In fact, back then, he was the ONLY doctor who was even optimistic.

Last year, I wrote about this appointment as my moment of stepping off the roller coaster. After over 4 years of specialists and follow-ups, there was nothing for me to do. Just take her home and enjoy her. It was like a giant weight off my shoulders.

Things didn't completely stay like that. She had her surgery. And her urinary tract infection.* And her insomnia. And her learning issues. But it was nice to have a clear horizon, if even for a short time.

So this year, um... not so much. I left with a list of doctors and specialists to call. And things to watch. And... well... blah.

Cardiology. Yes, we skipped the cardiologist last year. It is a VERY EXPENSIVE appointment and she was seen by another one at NIH. Not a pediatric one, but I was comfortable skipping a year. But now, we must go back as we have some things to look at. Which are too complicated to explain. I'll get to that another day.

Opthomology. Her eyes track unevenly. Hmmm.

Educational consultant. He is concerned by what I told him. We need some testing data to see what is going on. (Cha-ching.)

Orthopedics/Physical therapy. He noticed that her whole body is sort of uneven. She cocks her head to one side. One shoulder is higher. Even her chest is uneven. When I look at pictures, I can completely see it. But I never would have noticed. It could be her spine. It could be a muscle problem. It could be that we should have named her Quasimodo. But that needs to be figured out. The name change would really be the easiest solution.

and finally....(drum roll, please)... Sleep Clinic. He wants us to try to create an incentive package for her to stay in her bed and put herself back to sleep. (paid vacation, bonus, health insurance?) Do whatever we can to try and extinguish any bad habits. And keep a journal.

I do think some of it may be bad habits. But some nights, she is SO VERY WAKEFUL at 3 in the morning, she CAN'T get herself back to sleep. Melatonin doesn't work. Benedryl doesn't work. She just shouldn't have that kind of insomnia on a regular basis. So after trying that - off to the sleep clinic we will go. And apparently, there IS medication that can help. I don't want to do that, but seriously, she will NEVER be able to go to school like this.

The roller coaster is still there.

But maybe now it's this one



Instead of this one


Photo by OliverN5

*Funny story. The fireworks at the baseball game we went to the other night were sponsored by the urgent care clinic that we went to when Little One had her UTI. She saw something in the car today with that logo on it from the game and said, "Remember that place? With the moon on the sign? You know... the hot tinkle store?"

interchange

From mGal, sent via carrier pigeon (Little One) from time out:

Roses are red vilets
are blue you make
me wish I was a better
person. I love you.

My reply:

I would like
you to try
your hardest to BE a
better person,
a better example
and a young lady with
manners.

Mom

Her reply:

Let me
get out so
I can show you my better side.

And so, I let her out. Better side? Didn't see it.

photo by Lanci Daniele via Flickr

health care reform virtual town meeting

It's the second day of a Silicon Valley Moms virtual Town Meeting on health care reform. Hop on over to DC Metro Moms and link around to all the sites to read posts and watch videos from many of our contributors. And don't miss the Canada Moms Blog. Sorta makes me want to move to Canada. Except I hate snow. (Don't forget to read the comments!)

You can find my thoughts right here.

too tired for a decent title

First... on Saturday, we went to Rocket Man's company picnic at a minor league baseball game. Although I really didn't see that much of the game because I spent most of the time walking back and forth from our seats to the amusement area or saying "NO, YOU CANNOT GO TO THE FAN SHOP" and "WELL YOU WERE SERVED DINNER. IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU DIDN'T EAT IT AND NOW YOU'RE HUNGRY" and "NO MORE ITALIAN ICE" and "I SAID NO FAN SHOP" and most importantly "ANOTHER BEER PLEASE."

But there were fireworks and fun and overall it was a nice evening. After the fireworks, the kids are allowed on the field to run the bases. Little One ran her tiny little legs around that field and it was one of the CUTEST things I have ever seen.

I couldn't help but remember the months of physical therapy and the fact that when other babies her age were walking, she still could not hold up her head. And when she finally did start moving, she did this strange butt-scoot, crab walk thing and I was SURE she would never get up and ambulate like the rest of us.

And there she was, running the bases and high-fiving the team mascot at home plate. And she didn't even fall!

Second... on Sunday, we had brunch with another neighborhood family who we don't know very well, but whose daughter is switching to our school and will be in mGuy's class. My kids completely surprised me by being quite delightful. They had fun and were relatively polite and even friendly.

I told the other mom I would bring a dish, but failed to tell her what it was, because I didn't know myself until 30 minutes before, but I brought a fruit salad in my faux watermelon rind bowl that I got from Target earlier in the summer. And as I was dumping it in the bowl, I was silently congratulating myself on being ok with the fact that I can put fruit salad in a bowl that LOOKS like a watermelon and not have to be all Martha and put it in an actual watermelon.

So we get to the house and I bring in my bowl into the dining room to set it down when I notice the other fruit salad. The one in the ACTUAL WATERMELON.

(And OMG, I actually used to do things like research how to impeach the President of the United States and now I obsess over watermelon rind. Oh how the mighty have fallen. Seriously woman, GET A LIFE.)



Third... yesterday we bought school shoes. $300 worth of school shoes, DEAR GOD. Each kid has to have dress shoes and tennis shoes for school and Little One got a pair of light-up princess shoes, even though she is only supposed to have fancy-dancy expensive shoes from the Foot Whisperer, but the poor kid has had to deal with such a limited shoe selection in her life, I couldn't deny her. (AND they were 1/2 off. Which is almost like being free, right?)

I can't even begin to say how many times I had to say "STOP RUNNING." "NO WRESTLING IN THE SHOE STORE." "STOP PULLING SHOES OFF THE SHELVES." "KNOCK IT OFF." and even "[Big Guy], DID YOU LEAVE MY PURSE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN AISLE WHERE I CAN'T SEE IT AND JUST WALK AWAY FROM IT?" as my purse had gone missing, yet he had my cell phone in his hand.

Just then, an ever-so-helpful woman a few aisles over said "Here it is!" and held it up. As she passed it to me, she gave me That Look. You know the "LADY, YOU ARE IN WAY OVER YOUR HEAD" Look? And she didn't even take my wallet. So I forgave her for The Look, because she was totally right AND she could have robbed me blind but didn't.

After that, we went to Old Navy to get school uniform components. By this time it was well past lunch time and everyone was starving so I promised McDonalds for good behavior (which seems counter-intuitive now that I'm writing it... if you behave, I'll let you eat artery-clogging crap for lunch! Zoooooot!)... but I hoped we could avoid a repeat of the shoe store fiasco. (When will I ever learn?)

ANYWAY, have you seen these guys at Old Navy? (and can I just say that while I was looking for this picture, I learned these are called Super Modelquins and each one has a life story... bizarro)



So while I was waiting in the ETERNALLY LONG checkout line (which only had 2 people ahead of me, so WHY did it take so long?), my kids were hanging out by the Modelquins. By the time I got over to retrieve them, they were UP ON THE PLATFORM with the modelquins, patting them on the head, making up stories about them and FEELING THEM UP.

Yes. You read that right.

mGuy got to 2nd base with one of them. (Dared by mGal, of course.)

Do I need to say there was no McDonalds? Which was really a treat because I didn't feed them crap for lunch, so one day they might actually thank me. But probably not.

Fourth... Little One got up at 3:00 this morning and she was ready for business. I tried laying down with her, singing, telling REALLYREALLYBORING stories, drugs... NOTHING would make that girl go back to sleep.

So we went downstairs and turned on the TV (thank GOD for 24-hour kid channels). She ate 2 full breakfasts, I got lost in a vortex of fitness blogs and by 5:30 she was looking a little sleepy again, so we went back to bed.

Her sleep issues have been a little better lately and she has a big appointment this week with one of her specialists and although sleep was on my list of issues to discuss, I'm SURE I would have downplayed it since I'd had at least 72 hours of normal sleep. (Kinda like that psycho-ex-boyfriend that everyone has... after spending a long weekend apart, he didn't seem so psycho anymore, except, WHOA HE WAS SO VERY PSYCHO... or is that just me?? Why are you looking at me all crazy like that?)

ANYWAY, bright side? I have renewed enthusiasm for solving this sleep problem. Because seriously? How is she ever going to go to kindergarten? And my ONLY current long-term goal is to get everyone in ALL DAY SCHOOL so I can go shoe shopping ALL BY MYSELF.

The end.

PS - I keep forgetting to mention, most of you guessed correctly... mGuy is the collector of the miniature lighthouse collection. Mr. Tchotchke.

confession

The summer is flying by. Seriously, where did it go? I was just getting ready to go out and buy some perennials when I noticed everyone else's were dead and dried up. I think I missed my window.

This is the first summer, where I think it's easier (in many ways) NOT having the kids in school. They are sleeping later, lounging in their pajamas. I can throw some food at them and then pretty much read the newspaper uninterrupted. It is still hard to find activities that appeal to both an 11-year old and a 4 3-year old, but we manage. No homework. No lunches to pack. No uniforms to wash. I could get used to this.

I do have to confess something though.

I'm tired of kid stuff.

Kid movies. Playgrounds. The baby pool. Nickelodeon. Kid food. Toys.

Seriously.

I want to go somewhere for, oh, say 8 hours, where everyone is over 30, wears dry clean only clothes, does not need their food cut up or their butt wiped. Where you can put your drink down on a low surface and not have to run interference around it. Where there are sharp corners. Scalding hot coffee. All manner of food groups touching each other on one plate. Permanent markers. Where the music is not Kidz Bop and the TVs are tuned to the Food Network.

Where IS that place, I ask you? PLEASE, someone buy me a ticket!

and then she was four

to be re-dated August 9, 2009...



I have no idea how this



became this



and then this



and this



and now this




when all I did was blink. Seriously. How did this happen? My baby could not be turning FOUR.



Nuh uh. No way. I refuse to let this happen. So let's just keep calling her the 3-year old, mkay?

Despite my denial, there are some decidedly 4-year old things happening here.



Little One was at the Verizon store with Rocket Man recently to pick up a new phone and she told me she sent me "a text. From one of those side-ways phones. You know the ones with all the letters? THAT'S the one I want."

She's already got her cell phone picked out.

She has mastered so many things this year. Not just texting. And she has worked HARD for every single accomplishment. Like it or not, that may be the story of her life. She gets where she is going, but she will always have to work harder to get there.

I always worry (because, yo, it's my JOB) about the things she can't do. Sometimes I fail to notice the things she CAN do. She is simply AMAZING. She is wise beyond her years in many ways. She keeps up with her brothers and sister, converses with them, fights with them, comforts them. She GETS them. In a way that is remarkable for a four three-year old.

She may not be able to count past 4, but she shows deep understanding for things around her. People and motivations. Consequences. Sarcasm and jokes. (Thank GOD because she would never survive in this house otherwise.) She worries about people, befriends other kids, remembers names, places and details that completely escape me.

And I have to keep remembering, although it may seem sometimes like she has a long way to go, she has been a fighter from the very beginning...



there is no doubt in my mind that nothing will stop her. She will get wherever it is she wants to go. I just have to remember to get out of her way.

auf weidersein

My friend and neighbor of 10 years is moments away from boarding a plane to Germany with her family for the adventure of a lifetime. A 3-year job transfer - perfect timing for their preteen kids who are old enough to go to school, learn German, travel through Europe and see and do things they might have only dreamed about.

Also getting on that plane is mGal's best friend, my friend's daughter. The girls have been best friends since they were fetuses (feti?) and we used to take our boys on long waddles in jogging strollers together.

They have spent every possible moment together since the plans were finalized. Including the last 48 hours when they had a sleepover, got pedicures, went out for ice cream and watched High School Musical 3 together. And when the time came for them to pull out of the driveway and head to the airport, mGal LOST IT. As I knew she would.

Germany is a long way away. Three years is a long time. Although they have the benefits of email and Skype, nothing beats climbing over the back fence and into each other's yards.

I am sad but also excited for them. A priceless opportunity that would be hard to pass up.

As we ran around my house this afternoon, searching for every lost shoe and bathing suit, taping and labeling and passing out water bottles, my mind could not help but go to another family from our neighborhood who set off on a similar journey with their two young kids.

A house was packed up, farewell picnics were hosted, postcards were written and mailed from the airport just before they boarded their plane. It was September 11, 2001. Their plane was the one that was crashed into the Pentagon.

I can't send off another family without thinking of that one. The day so full of hope, expectation and excitement, quickly turned to horror and tragedy.

Our neighborhood is populated by college professors. Families set off every year on sabbaticals. We have watched many go and come back. But I can never completely ignore the fear in my heart that germinates from the seeds planted that horrible, horrible day.

So my prayers tonight go skyward. For a safe and uneventful journey. And for 3 happy, safe and speedy years.

reality... nibbles

I have quite a few half-finished posts sitting in my queue, including a BIRTHDAY post for someone... but it's been BUSY around here these past few days. Tomorrow promises to be a bit calmer.

In the meantime, come read me talking about my PVDS (post-vacation depression syndrome) at DC Metro Moms.

the end of dread

Little One is famous for her hair.

It is gorgeous. Natural highlights. Thick, wavy.

But it's getting kinda long. Polygamy hair, you might say.



And this summer, it has turned into something akin to dreadlocks.



It was time.

Yesterday, I took her to my salon barber shop



and got her hair cut.





It wasn't her first cut, but it was the first in over 3 years.

At her first cut, I made the mistake of dressing her in a gender neutral shirt.



I'm pretty sure they thought she was a boy. (Not a lotta English happening there.)


Sob.

Which is why I never took her to get her hair cut again.



But this time, it is so! much! better! And there's no mistaking, she's all girl. (Even if she's short an X chromosome or so!)