Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Today we're getting anywhere from 1 - 4 inches of rain. There are flood warnings galore, I daresay for every river in Maine. Things have been greening up nicely around here, but this storm is going to open mowing season with a flourish. Ten minutes of sun tomorrow, and I'm confident the grass will be a foot high.
When the kids got off the bus, they tossed their schoolbags inside and slogged across the yard to examine the creek, like a mini-Army Corps of Engineers. They stood on the band for awhile in slickers and boots, gazing on the raging torrent that used to be their favorite playspot.
"Well, two of our bridges washed out," Bear informed me grimly when they came into the house. They've been working for weeks, piling "perfectly good wood" from our scrap pile across narrow stretches of the creek to form bridges, building dams from rocks to create "water bug sanctuaries", and toting buckets full of mud and stones around for God-knows-what. One thing I've learned through these years of mothering is not to ask questions if you don't want to know the answers.
Secretly, though, I think they're pleased. This means they get to start from scratch as soon as the rain lets up.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Then I yell, "Go!" and they go completely berserk. Hee hee.
After all the eggs are collected, the kids plunk down in the driveway to open their eggs. Some eggs have candy, some have "Bunny Money." They're trying to hurry and find all their Bunny Money, so they can head into the garage to the Bunny Store.
The Bunny Store is always loud, chaotic, and crazy. The kids get to spend their Bunny Money on pencils, little toys, bubbles, gum, etc. They looooooove spending the money. And I'm sure all the parents just love me for letting their kids buy dollar store crap. Who cares? It's fun! And, yes, I am Oriental Trading Company's best customer.
So, overall another success. Only two kids fell in the creek, and I think the "falling" part was mostly invented when their parents saw how muddy they were and freaked out. I ate way too much, but as hostess I felt it only polite to sample every dish. Right? I mean, I wouldn't want to be rude, you know.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Your father and I would like to think that we have bestowed certain genetic gifts upon you. You have, for example, both been born with copious thick brown hair, lovely deep brown eyes, nice eyelashes that will come in handy for batting at the boys of your choice, quite decent intellect, and impressive height. Granted, this last trait is going to seem like more of a curse than a blessing for awhile. I'm specifically thinking of junior high here. I seem to recall writing "I feel like such a freak." in my diary after returning home from yet another school dance where the tallest boy came up to my armpit. Later, the tallness will rock. I promise.
Additionally, we have tried to instill in you certain cultural advantages: good grammar and pronunciation, an appreciation of nature, music, and the arts. By the age of four, you were both able to sing along with every Broadway cast recording I own. This became somewhat disturbing when Hannah began crooning "Two Ladies", the song from "Cabaret "about a menage a trois, while playing with her dolls. But still. STILL. I ask you, how many four-year-olds have even heard of "Cabaret"?
There is one area where we've failed you miserably. When in comes to athleticism, your father and I both have a great big sucking void of inability, which is only exceeded by our lack of interest. And, unfortunately, we seem to have passed that void on to you. Especially the sucking part.
This became clear when I watched you both, ahem, "roller blading" yesterday. I don't know if you're aware of this, but most people? When they roller blade? They MOVE FORWARD. While upright. And there's generally a lot less clinging, shrieking, and plunging to the ground. I expected a lot of spills and unsteadiness when you first got the blades. Two years ago. Your average person would have caught on by now. I say this with love and empathy.
Here, Bug has just yelled over to me, "Look, Mom! I'm totally doing it!" I didn't bother pointing out to her that she was on the grass...
Bear positioned herself on the slight (.00001%) downhill grade of the driveway and coasted toward the basketball hoop, reaching out to clutch madly at it as she approached. Then she would look at me for praise.
There was a whole lot of this:
And a whole lot of this:
Don't worry, girls. We still love you even if you aren't star athletes. In fact, we probably love you more.
All in favor of making his blog moniker "Mr. Pickypants"? Show of hands? Any better suggestions?
Friday, April 18, 2008
Sun - check
Chirping Birds - check
Warm breezes - check
Crocuses and (almost) daffodils - check
Greening grass - check
I told Bug exultantly the other night that it was supposed to hit 70 degrees by the end of the week. She leaned forward excitedly, "And we usually get our pool out when it's in the 50's, right??!"
Uh, no. Sorry, kid.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Still, she (we) managed to cobble together a pretty decent project, and as a bonus it turns out that my kid looks darn cute in a turban. She had a minor moment when I pulled her bangs back under the turban (according to her, she is "ugly" without bangs), but I raked her bangs back out from under the cloth and narrowly averted a full-scale preteen hissy fit.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Friday, April 4, 2008
Here's a little preview of dance recital pictures taken last night at dress rehearsal. There will be more to come later in the week.