April 2: The Garden Still Grows

Saturday was--busy, beautiful, crazy, fantastic, exhausting (in the best kind of way).  We got up early to get ourselves ready for the 5K that Mike's school sponsored for Olivia's House (a grief and loss center for children).  Mike, J, Brigie, Mary & Brian toughed it out in cold, windy weather, all finishing strong with respectable times.  Megan, Blake and I watched and cheered, with kids in hand.  When Megan (who is training for a half-marathon with Mary) suggested that we walk the 5K instead of standing around and waiting for our peeps to finish, I responded, with great disgust in my voice "I am NOT walking 3.2 miles!  Are you KIDDING me about that??  Maybe a mile...maybe."  With the comedic timing of a laugh legend, Henry chimes in "Mama, where are they running to?"  allowing me to respond "Nowhere honey, they are running nowhere." 

After the 5K, we packed up our stuff, drove home, changed into church-gear and drove to Pittsburgh for our annual mass and celebration honoring my grandfather, William B. Williams.  It was a lovely mass, and I felt so proud and loved as I looked around at the four (maybe five) pews that had been reserved for our family--in true William style they were packed to the gills.  My Nan probably would have preferred that things be a bit quieter--we were in the very front of the church, and it was, after all, a mass dedicated to my grandfather.  Watching my family members reminded me of being a kid at mass, knowing that as soon as this is over, you're going back to the social hall for donuts.  You're trying as hard as you can to sit still and pay attention, but you can't seem to keep your feet from dancing around, and you're excitedly looking back and forth to see if your sisters are as amped up as you are for D-O-N-U-T-S!  The "donut" in this case, was the celebration that followed mass, and it was as fun and delightful as we had anticipated.

There will surely be more pictures that follow (especially if my cousin Aaron was taking shots w/his camera...sooo talented), but this one that I saw today is one of my favorites.  My godmother, Aunt B, and my little angel, Alice:

 The Garden Still Grows.

March 25: "Three on March 25th"

"Three on March 25th" is the age that Henry has claimed to be for the past two months.  I found it quite amusing when he spouted this off at the park a few weeks ago to a little girl who was asking for his stats (name, age, favorite color, favorite Yo Gabba Gabba character...you know the drill).  He proudly stated "I am Henry and I am three in March!"  She said "Oh, so you're two now?"  (note: she was a five year old...a playground sophisticate)  He looked confused, and said, again "I'm THREEEE in MARCH", as if she was hard of hearing.  Well, on this day, he can proudly say "Three", period, end of sentence.

Of course, on a day like this, I'm excited, nostalgic, a little sad realizing how quickly three years has gone by.  I won't even attempt to write about it...way too daunting a task.  I'll just include a few photos from the collection, to celebrate our little firefighter/construction worker/big brother/little bug, Henry.

March 25, 2008

March 25, 2009

March 25, 2010

March 25, 2011

Happy Birthday Henry William!!  You are the best son and brother anyone could ever want.  We love you more than Bob the Builder loves Wendy...and from our observation, that's a whole lot! 

-Daddy, Mama & Alice

March 22: Carlebrities?

Carlebrity: One who has achieved celebrity status in the Carlisle community.  Carlebrities are "chosen" (identified) by Molly McDougall Boegel and Sarah Taby, the two women that founded the term and, after a few glasses of wine, deemed themselves the very first (and possibly only) "Carlebrities".

 

As I mentioned in a previous post, Alice made her runway debut on Sunday.  That would have been occasion enough to deem her a "Carlebrity".  Instead, she goes and gets us in today's Sentinel.  Isn't she a sassy lassie.   

I had to post the above "collage" created for me by one of my second moms (Cathy).  She spotted that photo in the paper, and in true Cathy fashion, immediately put it next to one of our favorite "me" moments...the day of the "birthday favor sunglasses".  I guess the story goes as follows: Little (3-year-old) me attends a birthday party.  Birthday party features these kick-A shades as a party favor (Seriously, are these not rad?)  I am so taken with these shades that I put them on and REFUSE to take them off for the rest of the day.  Absolutely refused.  If I'm not mistaken, there is even a group photo of this party in which I am easy to spot, as the only kid wearing sunglasses.  Cathy aptly captioned this--"From cupcakes to martinis".

On that note, I'd like to add that the martini in the Sentinel photo is fake!  An olive in an empty glass...I swear!

First Day of School

Little Kitten on her first day of "school"

Miss Della is one of my favorite people and so leaving Alice with her today was not as difficult as I expected.  I was sad to drive away, but knew that she was in good hands.  One of the remarks we often hear, especially from the teachers at daycare, is that Alice is a female version of her brother.  I thought I'd include a photo of Henry on his first day of "school" to draw comparison.  He was a month older than she is here, even so, they look pretty similar.

 

I, however, look like a teenager in this photo with Henry, and like a 30-year-old in the photo with Alice.  Time, you are so unfair. 

February 23: The Art Wall (and Acorn Baby Jesus)

Recently, Henry discovered the joy and self-satisfaction that comes with the completion of an art project.  He's dabbled in paint, crayons, markers and even received his first pair of scissors this Christmas (oh, the coveted safety scissors.  Such a big deal.)  Henry would, on occasion, put these tools to use, creating some real masterpieces which we proudly display in our home.  Our collection includes three framed beauties that hang in his room and two very colorful works on canvas which are featured above our refrigerator.   There is also, the art wall.

The art wall began in our kitchen and, just today, was moved to a corner of the playroom.  It seems like the most appropriate place for what we expect to be a larger and more varied collection.  Until recently, Henry was immersed in what we'll call his "blue period", because, well, he rarely chose any color other than blue, and he really would lay it on thick...it took days for the paint to dry and we were left with these heavy, cracking, bluish cloud-like masterpieces.  Now, he's working more with mixed-media, bringing home a cotton ball wig for President's Day and a perfectly cut, laminated and popsicle-sticked groundhog puppet (not the work of unsteady safety scissors, clearly there were teachers involved).  No matter what he creates, I praise it.  I feel proud and in awe of how big and smart he is getting, but I am starting to wonder...do I have to hang on to all of this stuff?  It's starting to add up.

Is it my job, as a parent, to become a collection site for every single art project that walks through the door, or can I admire it and then chuck it in the recycling bin, for the nice garbage collectors to ooh and aah over?  As a kid, I expected my parents to cherish and keep every single thing I created, even if I wasn't particularly sentimental about it.  I mean, they're my parents, right?  That's what they do.  Even as recently as this Christmas, while checking out their beautifully decorated tree, the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "Mom, where are all of the homemade ornaments??  WHERE IS THE ACORN BABY JESUS?!?!  I made him when I was three, for crying out loud!" 

Now, I'm pretty certain that Acorn Baby Jesus was most likely assembled by my preschool teacher, Miss Ferry (he has extremely small beady eyes glued to his little acorn head, affixing them would have been way too difficult for my sausage-like three year old hands) and yet, to me, he is beautiful, delicate and very, very important.  I am so pleased that my parents kept this treasure so safe for over 25 years.  It does mean a lot to me.  However, if Suz & Mac held onto every single thing that I or my sisters made, they would no doubt end up on TLC's disturbingly addictive show, "Hoarders" (did you see the one with the rats? *shudder*).

So, I guess my charge, as a parent, is to keep an eye out for the thing that will be Henry or Alice's "acorn baby Jesus", treasure it, keep it safe, give it a place of honor in our home, and know that many years from now, seeing their childhood artwork in the house will still mean as much, if not more than it does today.

In the Land of Milk and Hondas

We got a van last month.  I find that I say that to people almost as if I'm sitting on the guilty side of the confession booth when really, I feel like shouting it to the rooftops!  We got a VAN!!!  And not just any van, but a Honda Odyssey.  This thing is bananas--enough room for a small country (exaggeration..maybe a city-state).  Tons of leg room with storage under the floor and a completely removable eighth seat.  Eight seats?!  Hellooo luxury!

I'd like to be cool enough to say that it pained me to get a van.  That I just couldn't bring myself to admit that we were now "van people".  That I yearned for my younger days, rattling around in a manual transmission white Toyota Camry.  Yeah, I do miss that little car, and am nostalgic about that time in our lives, but not enough to deny my true feelings about van-dom and to embrace the evolution of my wheels.  Perhaps this is because, growing up, we almost always had a van.  Four kids and a dog? You'd be crazy not to.  To up the "rad" quotient and impress you mightily, I'll share that it was this van.  Or, one almost exactly like it--and yes, we did kick-A stunts in it like this guy in the photos (not true--we drove it to basketball games, the grocery store, and Pittsburgh).

If it wasn't my early introduction to the convenience and comfort of the party bus, then it was definitely this video that got me fully on board.  I'm such an easy sell.  Swagger Wagon?!  Come on, who doesn't love that?

In addition to the Odyssey, we also rock out in our silver CR-V.  Jealous much?  We quickly realized that these two vehicles are among the most popular driven, at least in our area, and in order to always easily identify ours, we've left our mark on them by way of the Vermont peace sign magnet:

  

We bought these when we lived up north during the great ribbon magnet craze (2005-2007) and have held onto them ever since.  A reminder of our life before kids, I guess.  If you told me 4 years ago (when I bought this magnet) that I'd be slapping one of these babies onto a sweet-A mini-van, hustling around town with a sassy-mouthed preschooler and a chunky-thighed baby girl, I would have shaken my head in disbelief...but in secret, I'd be high-fiving myself for getting to van status.  Where my mother-fathers at?!

February 16: The Legend of Baby Man-Hands (featuring, his sister, Princess Frowny-face)

I've been thinking a lot lately about how quickly Henry went from baby to preschooler and am wondering what little kitten will look like/sound like/act like when she is an older girl.  Right now, it's so difficult to imagine her being anything but this cuddly little cooing baby doll.  I wondered the same thing about her older brother, but with more impatience.  I was so anxious to see how he'd grow, so excited to experience each new phase, that I don't think I really basked in the joy of the presence.  I find that I appreciate the baby phase so much more with the second one.

Mike and I were talking about how quickly they grow (Alice weighed in at 15 lbs 1oz yesterday...doubled birth weight), as we looked back at pictures of Hen when he was around her age.  This is one of my favorites---

Ohh, the chubbiness can not be contained!  Behold, "baby man-hands"! This is a photo from my sister Megan's wedding day.  We bought that seersucker suit (size 3-6 months) before he was even born.  I had no idea that he'd just barely squeeze into it at 10 1/2 weeks.

I am sure we'll look back at these photos of Alice and comment on how her chubby cheeks weighed her face down so much that she always looked like she was frowning, or how her hair naturally spiked into a faux-hawk.  I imagine we'll comment on how she just looks like an older version of her baby self.  For now though, I think I'll stop imagining what "preschool Alice" will look like and just soak in the wonder of faux-hawked frowny-faced baby Alice.

February 14: Happy Mummert Chocolates Day!

Today is Valentine's Day. An event I've celebrated joyously on some years, and cursed mightily on others. I still remember my first valentines gift from a real and true boyfriend...a chocolate rose and large Hershey Kiss w/a card signed "love, Matt" (oh...how my heart filled with joy). I remember an awkward but touching first V-day with my husband--he cooked quite a feast for his doting girlfriend...and his roommate Charlie. Not really a holiday meant for three, but it was just one of the many examples of his thoughtfulness and loyalty.

On the flip-side, I remember a less than pleasant V-Day on which there was a rather emotional break-up. I also recall the pain of unrequited love, when, in third grade, I tried to muster up the courage to tell my first crush, Michael, that I "like, liked" him...but got scared and ran into the girl's bathroom where I turned about 76 shades of red.

No matter the year or situation, though, I have always had one very true Valentine. My dad. He never forgets, and delivers on the day with a box of Mummert Chocolates or some other equally delicious treat. I've come to look forward to it each year, and even though I sort of expect a valentine from my dear old dad, I'm always caught off guard when it arrives. As I think about it, I realize that what strikes me the most is how understated my dad's valentine is. It's not done with show, it's not boastful or looking for any kind of instant approval or praise, it just appears, all of a sudden, at your door. A little reminder of something so big--your dad's love for you, his daughter.

This morning was like any morning--crazy, last minute, rushing out the door. My hands were full as I juggled two children, a diaper bag, Hen's backpack, snacks for his V-Day party, his pillow pet, the car keys, one leg shoving the dogs back in the house as I grasped blindly for the door knob. I looked up from the middle of my "mom-capades" and there it was, the box of Mummert Chocolates with the big red bow resting under our mailbox, waiting for me and only me.

Happy Valentines Day! I hope you feel as loved and appreciated as I do.

February 7: My original muse

As I look through our iPhoto at the seriously daunting number of pictures that we've accumulated over the years, I can't help but to notice a very clear (and understandable) shift in subjects that occurs right around March, 2008. Before Henry and Alice, there was always Elsie. Our first real shared responsibility, Mike and I adopted her from the Rutland VT Humane Society on January 21, 2006. This date marked our one year as a couple and we did things in style, by picking up a pooch. We knew it would be a lot of work, but were blissfully ignorant of the true impact that caring for another creature would have on our lives. Elsie is a really good dog, honestly, I go so far as to say "the most well behaved dog ever", and I don't tend to speak in superlatives (ha! so false, I know, but it sounded good). However, when we got our second dog, Laika, Mike was quick to remind me of the maaaaany shoes, rugs, clothes, pieces of furniture, home decor accessories, pillows, comforters etc. that Elsie chewed through. I guess having a dog is a lot like having a baby--involves patience, love and a very selective memory!

Here's to my original muse, Elsie Mae, and many more years of life with the prettiest and most well behaved dog ever.