My, what big teeth you have!

My toddler looks like a preschooler. I know it's not a huge difference to most of the world but from the Mama perspective, it's gargantuan. Our girls are doing a bunch of growing up this summer, as little girls are want to do.

Puddin' is in a big girl bed and had her first trip to the dentist. She's counting, using big words and bigger sentences. She's talking to new people (including giving a kiss to a waitress at a Thai restaurant. She really enjoyed the food.)

While down South, Peanut rode her first roller coaster. I didn't get to see it but heard the stories. Verdict - it was awesome! She's learning to embrace unfamiliar things and leave childish fears behind, just as long as the adults around her push a little. She's on the cusp of independence that comes with the tween years. She's been away from us for a few weeks and barely misses us, which is good, even when it doesn't feel so delightful.

Monkey has discovered that she's good at the breast stroke. She's delighted to find an unexpected skill and is feeling pretty good about herself. She's finding her voice - phone conversations are a barrage of sound from start to finish - which is a big change from the shy girl we had just a few months ago. She's also learning how to tell humorous stories without belittling people and adding snarky attitude. Conversations are oh-so-much more pleasant now. I think she'll come out of tween-dom a rather lovely human being.

After a year of hard life lessons, we're all finally finding joy and rest. If this summer is any indication, I think it's going to be a good year at our house. 

[The astronaut picture is at the dentist office - the same pediatric dentist I went to around Monkey's age. Back then it was an aquarium but still uber-cool.]

Misfit, redux

There's an empty chair at our house today. A friend I haven't seen in weeks was supposed to come over for a chat and iced coffee or home-made limeade. Well, actually the plan was originally to go on a mini-adventure together but we couldn't get our schedules lined up. Even with the simplified plan I was really looking forward to our time together. Puddin' and I planned our activities and play around her expected arrival time, which came and went without a word. I feel like I've been stood up on a Friday night.

I didn't have a good social life in high school. Not many teenagers like to talk philosophically about life and religion and body humor has never had appeal for me. I spent most of my weekends babysitting or home watching movies with my parents. Mostly I was ok with the situation - I didn't have much in common with my peers - but occasionally I'd feel the need to do something about it. I'd meet someone who seemed to have more depth than the average teen or who had enough quirks that maybe mine wouldn't matter much. It never took long for the cautious optimism to turn to deflated loneliness.

I don't feel that way much anymore. Stan doesn't like words nearly as much as I do but he's often willing to talk things through with me for a while. His analytic brain adds needed grounding for my philosophical ramblings. We're intrigued by some of the same big ideas and problems. We're a good match and together we don't feel like the misfits we're sometimes perceived to be. I like to think I've outgrown my awkwardness but situations like the one today make me think I'm wrong.

I know this friend likes me and values time with me. I recognize that her life is full and demanding. I understand that her life - unattached and artistic - requires a different schedule than raising a toddler does. I'm also quite sure we'll get together again soon. In the meantime I'm soothing my wounded pride with carrot cake. Speaking of which - I've got enough to share and would love to have some company. Come on over!

I'm afraid I can't let you do that

iPhoto stole my photos. I entrusted my pics to iPhoto and then the program hid them from me. After weeks of trying to work with and then around the program I declared war. I did a google search to figure out how to get at my photos again and found language from mac users saying things like "iPhoto hid your pictures for a reason." and "Don't go digging in your pictures files or you might mess something up." and even "You don't ever need to know where your files are." I got so frustrated that I even had dreams about my computer turning into HAL. "I'm sorry Heather, I'm afraid I can't show you your photos." Finally, my hero Stan figured out how to get control of my pictures again. Thanks to my honey's efforts, I can get back to posting my own photos instead of stealing from other folks.

The photo above is of me at the pier in Fairhope, Alabama. Behind me is Mobile Bay and in the distance, the Gulf of Mexico. I'm posting this shot in celebration that the oil has stopped gushing. I'm hoping that the well and apparatus are now stable, and praying for a speedy recovery of that beloved shore.

Something's not right on the farm

"Old MacDonald had a farm and on that farm he had some panties." - Puddin', joyfully sung today while sitting on the potty.

Why does Farmer MacDonald have panties on his farm? Are there lots of daughter farmers-in-training? Is he trying to train the chickens? Does he just want to feel pretty? Puddin' didn't have anything further to say on the matter - she was too busy giggling hysterically at her own joke. This may go down as one of the great mysteries of our age.

Have guitar, will travel

This is my first post in quite a long time. I started one a while back and then realized that there wasn't much point to it - it was, in fact, rather boring. Basically it boils down to my kids are smart and I don't let them get bored because I have no tolerance for the whining or fighting.

So that's pretty much been my days. In the evening I tend to crash from all the expended energy and enthusiasm. Some nights I'll try and get a little cleaning done but that makes me more grumpy so I generally just deal with the mess. There hasn't been much room for pondering or creativity. Of course, that's also part of why I'm grumpy and drained but that's a whole other matter.

Earlier this week, out of the blue, Puddin' looked at me and said "Mama, I like how you sing." "Oh," I said, "you like it when I sing?" "Yeah. So booful." Then later at the grocery store she started singing and I tried to join in. "No, it's my turn. You no sing now." and sang even louder down the cereal aisle.

Last week Peanut - the resident rocker - asked me to spend some time painting with her. This is pretty rare since she doesn't generally see herself as a visual artist. I wish she hadn't asked while I was prepping dinner - I'm not sure I'll get that opportunity back.

Monkey- our painter and ballerina - is taking a break from dance this summer and doing some intro lessons in guitar and piano. Her long fingers work magic on the keyboard, even though she's only had a few lessons. She's also signed up to take violin through the school next year, which she was quite reluctant to even consider a year ago.

Each of our girls is freely taking artistic risks and exploring new avenues. For both Monkey & Peanut this is a pretty big change. They used to be reluctant to try anything unfamiliar. Monkey is starting to recognize how creative her thought processes are and is trying to harness it. (She started a series of baby picture books that are pretty good. I hope she'll finish a few of them.) Peanut is starting to understand the amount of work it takes to hone talent and will choose to practice without prompting at least once a week. And Puddin' is busting out all over. She's dancing, doing percussion, and singing her heart out. Shout out to Papa, if he's reading - she loves drumming, especially on bellies. Sometimes she'll sing a little bit and then say to me in all seriousness "I just made up that song."

This weekend we take Monkey & Peanut down South to Stan's parents for a month. They get to run and swim and have sleepovers and generally be little girls for days on end. Among the many things on my list to pack is two guitars. In my mind's eye I can see them now, each proudly wheeling her suitcase with her guitar case strapped to her back. If they were just 6 inches taller it could be the picture of going off to college, or on the road for the first gig. I love watching them grow, especially into such beautiful works of art. I'm sure gonna miss them.

Tiny Bubbles

We're a musical household. Stan has a beautiful deep baritone voice. Peanut is learning guitar & piano. Monkey is trying them out too but her real love is dance, and visual arts. I'm trying to add guitar to my repertoire but singing is the part that comes most naturally to me. Puddin' is turning out to be quite the singer too. (Of course, at the moment Puddin' is pretending she's playing at a piano bar so who knows where she'll end up.)

Puddin' and I have a song for just about everything. We have food songs, sleepy songs, diaper change songs and now potty songs. Some of them we make up, and some we co-opt to suit our purposes. Along with potty training comes hand washing and hand washing must have its own song. The song we've settled on is "Tiny Bubbles." We put soap on hands, start scrubbing and sing until we see the tiny bubbles appear. This is a schmaltz classic from 50 years ago but it holds great power for this particular toddler. We haven't made it past the first line yet but I'm thinking we can make this work for us. If you have any ideas - brilliant or otherwise - for child-proofing the song I'd love to hear them.

Tiny Bubbles
words & music by Leon Pober

Tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
In the wine (in the wine)
Make me happy (make me happy)
Make me feel fine (make me feel fine)

Tiny bubbles (tiny bubbles)
Make me warm all over
With a feeling that I'm gonna
Love you till the end of time

So here's to the golden moon
And here's to the silver sea
And mostly here's a toast
To you and me

So here's to the ginger lei
I give to you today
And here's a kiss
That will not fade away

The Last Throes of Spring

It's been a while since I've put up a wine post. Rest assured, we're still drinking but there haven't been many outstanding wines in the cue. It's hard to get up the energy to write up a wine that doesn't wow me, (even though I said I was going to.) Earlier this week we had a rosé syrah that I was excited about. I came up with what I thought was a good menu to match but it was merely ok. Honestly, I count my lucky stars that we get "ok" wine as often as we do when our price point is so very low. Times like these I miss working in the wine world.

The big news in our house is panties. Panties, panties, panties! We dance with panties, we sing about panties, we wash a lot of panties. We're trying to convince the toddler that panties really are the bees knees and it's worth giving up the uninterrupted play that diapers allow. It's a slow process but I think we're making progress. This morning she begged for a diaper but we're holding our ground. I imagine the toddler mood swings will work to our advantage and she'll be singing the praises of panties again within the hour.

[I'm sure some of y'all noticed the juxtaposition of pictures here. Puddin' has her potty training tools and Mama has a set of her own.]

In addition to all this we're finishing the school year - and have finally finished the "spring" planting. Summer doesn't officially start for another week so we're technically in the zone. The plants are harder to convince. Hopefully they'll get over the loss of their spring and be willing to grow anyway.

I feel somewhat similarly about Monkey & Peanut as they finish their school years. Hopefully they'll get over the losses and stresses of this year and grow stronger in spite of it all. It's been a rough school year for all of us. The loss of pets, the lack of friends, and scary new stages of growth. Summer brings familiar activities, childish fun, and time to step away from the stress, not to mention the chance to let the toddler run naked in the backyard. Who needs potty training?