We awoke this morning to...

...Evelyn's enthusiastic voice at 6-twenty-something a.m. saying, "Daddy!! We turned on channel (they've always called T.V. "channel") and there's a cooking show on and you won't believe what they're cooking--PIGS and BLANKETS!!"

Amelia is FOUR!

Party pictures will come--a tad behind at the moment--but wanted to at least acknowledge the passage of another year for our littlest. She shares her b-day w/Jon and Courtney's littlest, too, so it was a weekend of parties. Aidan's bike party was awesome--20 kids pedaling their way along the NCRR trail on a kiddie-sized obstacle course, followed by cake and ice cream on a gorgeous afternoon.

Amelia requested, MONTHS ago, to have a "Kitty Party," and with the help of a 1983 book called "Happy Birthday: A Guide to Special Parties for Children," which Diana gave me a while back, we enjoyed a simple gathering in our back yard that was enjoyable for kids and adults alike. (Any excuse to get a spread from our local Italian Deli!) I'll post pictures soon.

She got lots of cat-themed gifts, which were all hits. She does love cats (and dogs, too!) Today Amelia told Alan, "Daddy, when I grow up I'm going to marry a man who is NOT allergic."

Happy birthday to my kitty-loving, no-nonsense, somewhat shy but loud-voiced, very stubborn when the need arises, snuggly, sensitive, silly (sometimes downright weird!), adorable daughter who aspires at this point to marry a fellow cat lover and live happily (if fur-covered) ever after.

Amelia's Sound Effects

As if we weren't having trouble enough squelching the humor of the real thing. I think she made herself lightheaded.

Geo-caching with Casey

Last Saturday we joined Mom & Dad Blackman at Matt & Becky's to cheer Casey in his soccer game, then enjoyed some time together. We rarely get to be with Mom Blackman near Mothers' Day, so that was a special treat. We also celebrated Amelia's upcoming 4th birthday. (Aunt Becky, I think we will have to officially adopt the "cha-cha-cha.")

Then Uncle Matt introduced us to something I've heard before but never done. He logs into his geo-caching website to find out where the local "treasure boxes" are. (Anyone can stash a cache, then log the co-ordinates & a brief description into the website.) Then, using an ap that turns his i-phone into a GPS, we hiked to the spot and searched for the treasure. Casey found it under some leaves, and the kids had a blast opening it and exploring the contents.

The only rules?
- You can't take something OUT of the cache unless you have something to put IN. (The kids exchanged little toys for other little toys.)
- You have to put your name & date in the record log (a little notebook in a ziplock bag inside the cache.)

Very fun.

Thanks, everyone, for a fun day together! And happy belated Mother's Day to my mother-in-law, who has made this daughter-in-law feel very welcomed and loved. Thanks for raising some good kids. I like these people!

An Afternoon at the Museum

So after a nice lunch at our place w/Shelley & Esther included, Mom and I headed to the Baltimore Museum of Art to celebrate Mothers' Day together. (Thank you, Shelley & Esther for doing the dishes, and Alan and Dad for watching the girls!)

As you can see, it is risky to let Mom & me go out alone. (And it's an awful lot of FUN!) Mom even had her first Starbucks afterward.

Happy Mothers' Day to my wonderful, crazy Mom. I love you!

Happy Mothers' Day Card

Evelyn made one for me at school and couldn't wait to give it to me. It was so sweet to see her excitement. There was this lovely picture of her, Amelia, and me on the front (which she drew, surrounding us with flowers and sunshine, of course), and on the inside was glued a typed message that said she was going to list her "gifts" to me. Below that, she'd obviously dictated the gifts to her teacher:

My gifts to Mommy:
1. I will help her wash dishes.
2. I will help Meme clean up her messes.
3. I will help Mommy clean up the mess in HER room.

I actually had to ask Evelyn if she meant cleaning up the mess in HER room--but no, she meant the mess in MY room, which is now common knowledge to her classroom's staff. Humility, humility...

Life as a blur

It's all going to be gone a lot sooner than I know. The good, the bad, the ugly, and all the stuff I just adore beyond belief about having these two little people living here with us.

Last night we were saying Psalm 23 together at bedtime. "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want..."

Evelyn interrupts suddenly with, "Mommy, what does 'I shall not want' mean?"

Pausing, I answer, "It means that the Lord promises to fill the desires of our hearts with Himself."

She's still mulling over the "He promises to fill the desires of our hearts" part, and she queries, "So...that means if I ask God for a house and I really want a house, God will --POOF--give me a house?"

Letting Off Steam

See that room? That is where I want to be right now, in my own personal library sitting, reading a book. But there is dinner to make and I'm still fuming from the trip to the grocery store with my two offspring.

Productive day at work in the home office, after which I got Amelia up from her nap to go pick up Evelyn from school. Amelia wakes up like, well, like Jazzman. Slowly and in her own time. I carry her to the car, limp and whining.

Evelyn is her typically happy self until she gets into the car and sees...the grocery bags. I shop w/those re-usable bags (I'm one of THOSE people) and when she saw them she crumpled. I tried to lessen the sting by telling her we were going to Miss Sam's store first. Miss Sam owns and runs Nature's Pantry, a little hole-in-the-wall natural food store where we get a lot of our bulk dry goods and spices. Evelyn's response? "But Miss Sam's store is not air conditioned!!!" This is not true. Besides, our HOUSE is not air conditioned, so this kid is just looking for reasons to whine.

In Miss Sam's store, they have that just-shy-of-out-of-control thing going on. You parents know what I mean.

We get home. I put away the dry goods while they argue with me about whether or not pineapple is a treat. Come on. Ask some kid in Russia if pineapple is a TREAT! All I'm trying to do is put a little HAPPY in their steps before we take those steps to the next place I'm dreading--the grocery store.

Evelyn insists on taking her umbrella. It is a bright, windy day, and I weigh whether it's more annoying to me to deal with Evelyn crying because I said "no" to the umbrella or because I'm on pins and needles hoping the umbrella doesn't blow out of her hands on Harford Road and cause an accident. Umbrella comes. But of course I don't factor what Evelyn will be like with an umbrella INSIDE a grocery store. Umbrella is quickly confiscated and placed in the cart.

Amelia is still limp and whiny, so I put her in the cart's seat. Immediately she bursts into tears crying, "It's hurting me! It's hurting me!" Apparently, when you're tall for almost four and still limp, the weight of your legs hanging over the edge of the cart's seat is painful. So now I'm CARRYING Amelia and Evelyn is pushing the cart. This does not last long. Now I am at the end of the cart while Evelyn is pushing it and I'm prodding Amelia in front of me like a sick sheep.

A transcript of our conversation would include lines such as:

"Take you're mouth off the cart--do NOT put your MOUTH on the CART HANDLE!"
"No, I'm not buying that just because it has princesses on it. It's not real food anyway, and (boy did I want to say this but I didn't--they're NOT REAL PRINCESSES.)"
"Mommy can we buy pickles?" (The last time we bought pickles they spent the better part of a year in the frig. Besides, I'm walking home & they are heavy.)
"No, babe, I'm not buying pickles."
"But we NEVER buy pickles!! It's not FAIR! We NEVER get pickles!"
"Put that down. Didn't we talk about not touching anything that Mommy doesn't tell you to touch?!?" (I'm starting to feel like someone who doesn't even LIKE kids. It is a yucky feeling.)
"Amelia, get out from under the cart. NOW...one...two..."
"Amelia, stop pulling on my pockets." (I had a vision of her ripping a gaping hole right on my backside from hanging on my pockets like they were a pair of gymnastic rings.)

In the checkout aisle (where I timed-out Evelyn by making her stand in the teeny weeny space where they usually stash the shopping baskets), the angelic woman in front of me paid for her items and then dug around in her bags. She looked up at me and handed me a bottle of bubbles.

"Here," she said, smiling, "My grandson just loves these, and they'll make some magical moments for you and your daughters."

I was stunned, grateful, and didn't know whether to cry (which I rather felt like doing) or saying (which I rather felt like saying), "Magical moments? How? Does it make them disappear for a while?"

Sorry for the lengthy post. But I admit I feel better.

Where did all the pink petals go?

They are short-lived, but a good reminder of why we need to stop and smell the roses while the roses are in bloom.

And speaking of roses, last night at dinner (Jazzman made Lemon Asparagus Pasta) Evelyn glanced out the window, and with a sudden, enthusiastic intake of breath declared, "OH, MY GOODNESS!!!"

With mellow wisdom and understanding of his eldest daughter, Jazzman simply asked, "Is the rosebush starting to bloom?"

This morning's routine included each girl picking one.

A Day in the Sun

So the day after my giddy date w/Jazzman, he gives me yet another gift--HE got up with the girls and let ME sleep in. (Only if you are married to a Jazzman do you know what true GIFT this is. "Morning" and "Jazzman" do not even go in the same sentence unless joined by terms of embitterment.)

The only downside? The coffee Jazzman made at 6:30 a.m. was no longer hot by 9:30 a.m. when I sidled downstairs in my jammies. But believe me, this is a small price. As Garrison Keillor says in one of his Wobegon monologues, "He put a price on sanity, and it was low."

The day also included a family trip to the farmer's market, where Jazzman bought three potted herbs (no, not THAT herb. He is not THAT sort of Jazzman.) He planted them immediately in the back yard, which is apparently a possible side-effect of Jazzmen marrying Prairiegirls.

Then we all went to a lovely strip of beach along the Gunpowder River. It is PERFECT for young children and weary parents, who need not fret that little ones be sucked into the surf or toppled by a wave. Jazzman and I took turns watching the girls and resting (admittedly, I rested more than he did), and the girls exhausted themselves clambering along the beach and swimming undaunted in the FRIGID water.

As you can see, we've enjoyed taking pictures using the "Hipster" setting on my i-phone. It turns ordinary moments into ones that are somehow more special because they look like they were taken 40 years ago and have the sting of reality removed. We've tried relentlessly to take pictures of OURSELVES with it, but apparently it will take more than the word "hip" to take the sting out of how tired I really look right now.

Oh well...I think I'm heading in the right direction. Given the gifts of this weekend and some new, healthy resolutions, I just may be rested enough in the coming weeks to feel confident posting a picture of myself that is of more than just my feet.

Date Night with Jazzman

It's been way too long since Alan and I went out! Last night we drove to Frederick to hear Brad Mehldau and Joshua Redman and it was SO FUN. I got to thinking about what it's like being married to a jazz musician, and all the things I probably NEVER would have learned had I not married Alan--my Jazzman. In fact, last night I started calling him "Jazzman," and I think I'll just keep referring to him as that.

The concert was AWESOME. We were in the 2nd row--close enough to see that Josh Redman had missed the bottom button of his shirt and Brad Mehldau just might bite his nails. We saw "jazz face" up close and personal (a facial expression used by jazz musicians when totally engulfed in the moment and was, in Brad's case, a mixture between regretting the shrimp salad and awaking too early to too much light.) Josh is a sax player, which doesn't lend itself to jazz face, but rather jazz BODY. His were similar movements to the ones I make when I have to pee really badly and still have to wait for the restroom. (And I wonder where my girls get it!!!) Of course, he looks VERY COOL doing this. I do not.

There were three encores and I wanted every one. I hooted, whistled, clapped, and cheered, and I am happy to say I was never an embarrassment to Jazzman. That is because I did it all at the right TIME. I could tell that there were some folks in the front row (likely high-level patrons of The Weinberg Center who go to ALL the concerts), who were taken aback by the fact that people were making all this noise in the MIDDLE of the songs. But to their credit, they got used to it and seemed to enjoy themselves, right along with the older man playing air piano and the lady eating M&Ms out of her purse.

What fun. A nice drive w/conversation, quick dinner at a hip restaurant (I ate WELL--more later about some of my healthy habit resolutions), and basically a really enjoyable evening relishing some of the things that make life really interesting as the wife of Jazzman.