Pic of the Week

Why I love California: First "summer" dinner outside, during the rest of the countries winter

Missing the Actions

I'm going to miss so much.  It's becoming evident.  Going forward, as the girls get older and I keep climbing the "ladder", our activity schedule will be in conflict.  When they're little, things like naps and lunch and Momma's sanity kept them limited to what they could do during the daylight hours.  But now, in the remaining years leading up to Kindergarten, they have all this wonderful time to fill with amazing things.  Today they started "Princess Ballet" classes.  Unfortunatly for the girls there were not real princesses to meet when they got there, but for me they were the princess to see.  But here I sit; 40 miles away; bills to pay and stacks of paper climbing higher then I care to describe.  And they danced.  And they loved it.  And they made friends. ... And I missed it.  "Missed" is a word that can be interpreted by the hearer/reader.  I don't lament being abscent, I lament not absorbing the moment.  I'm sure there were plenty of parents there that still missed it.  Parents who didn't realize how important that moment would be to someone else; but that's how it goes.  And it's only going to get worse.  Soccer starts for them in a few weeks.  This summer will hold theme parks, and water parks and park parks.  There will be craft classes and story times and play dates and all sorts of crazy-enducing moments.  And I'll miss those.  Desperatly.  It's the cruel paradox of life that, in order to support your children you must miss a great deal of that life your supporting.  Whoever had this brilliant idea of creating "work" was a real @$$hole.  I was never bothered by working before the girls.  But now, I feel like there's always some place better I could be.  If only a Nigerian banker would send me an e-mail asking for my help transfering a large some of money in exchange for a reasonable percentage; then I could retire and enjoy every princess dance class imaginable!  But alas, all I get are e-mails about Orbitz deal of the week.

Pic of the Week

Plan B(ieber) Hair

Fake It Till You Make It

First of all, I didn't even notice we passed the 600 posts  mark.   Seriously, this is 603 and I'm just noticing.  Is that where we are at now?  Centennial milestones are no big deal?  Kind of like after 40 you just stop celebrating the birthdays.  Fine. ... so be it. 

I think some people have this impression that this time around is a repeat of all the the things I experienced double when the girls where this age.  But it's not.  It's a little the same, but like a Seinfeld rerun it hits you different based on where you're at in life now.  Something funny then isn't as funny now.  And somethings that went overlooked or, god forbid, unappreciated then are relished in this  new moment.  But, that aside, experiencing a baby is, in it's self, completely different then experiencing a baby with toddlers around.  Here's the example: Participation.  Rosaline knows about 10 words at this point: Quack (a favorite first word around here), Please, Thank You, Caltsa (socks), Mama, Daddy, Wow, No and a couple others that are escaping me.  Nothing to really saturate a conversation - unless you're talking about impressive socks geared towards parents which you politely refuse. ... with ducks.  The girls, on the other hand, are participating in one long conversation that has endured for 16 months straight.  So what's a verbally limited sister to do?  Pretend.  As they sat in the bath last night and the girls (playing with dolls, perpetually) commented on how pretty the other's hair was and beautiful her dress was, each turned in toward the other leaving Rosaline with a view of a back, Rosaline held her own doll (upside down) and then gibbered in response to everything they were saying as though she was thoroughly entrenched in the conversation at hand.  The girls didn't even know she was there.  She probably KNEW they didn't know she wasn't there.  But that did not stop her one bit.  As my momma always said, you're not a part of the conversation until you ACT like you're part of the conversation.  So fake it till you make it kid.  If nothing else, I find it thoroughly amusing.

Pic of the Week

"Really into books. Like, literally!"

Princesses AARRREEEE Superheros!

While I don't agree at all with how Chic-fil-a "defines" a family, I do applaud they way they see their children customers.  More then just putting in a jungle gym so french fry saturated tykes can accumulate static and shock each other after each slide, they really do care about the well being of the children that come in.  Free cheerio snacks for their still teething customers.  Diapers. ... free diapers!  Even a bookshelf filled with children's books because, hey, maybe the mind could use a work out after a chicken sandwich!  Then, there's the theme nights.  This is where I really stand up and applaud them.  A few years ago I took the girls to "Daddy Date Night".  There we shared a romantic meal and milkshake while they were fitted with tiara's, had their portraits drawn and got to go for a ride around the parking lot in a stretch limo. ... all for free.  It was one of those moments where I said "this company get's it" (granted I don't think they get "everything" but they certainly get this).  So last night, our NEW Chic-fil-a held a Super Hero night.  We, of course, had to go because Daddy is a bit of a comic book dork.  There was the promise of real life caped crusaders, sketch artists and even a costume contest.  So while I really wanted the girls to go as the power puff girls, they were having nothing to do with superheros.  They, instead, demanded to be princesses.  So we settled in a middle ground.  They went as princesses.  Well, they left the dresses and just wore t-shirts with princesses on them.  It was great though, a really nice opportunity to go out and do something different, fun and free.  Naturally we couldn't force them to wipe off their face paintings an hour after getting them, so everyone went down for the night with princess superhero masks on.  Not sure if that makes us good parents or bad parents. ... and I don't really give a damn.  I'm content with another beautiful memory to carry around for eternity.  And that makes them MY heroes.

Pic of the Week

"Dogs Pile, Felines Lounge"

Say My Name

There are so many mile stones that make a parent's heart skip a beat.  But I think none as palpitating as hearing your name escape the lips of your little one.  It's moving, on a deeply, inexplicable level.  And you say to yourself, nothing is as melodic as "Daddy" being said.  Then, of course, you hear "Daddy" 754,692 times over the next 48 hours as she's discovered this gibberish is actually a word that communicates something.  So she's going to run that word right in to the ground.  No matter.  She could call my name a billion times, and every time I turn and catch her big blue eyes waiting to greet mine, that smile spreading across her face when she makes contact, it makes the moment just as fresh and touching for me.  Definitely my favorite sound.

Pic of the Week

New Things To Play On