Monthly Archive

Sick. Sick. Sick. Seriously, I haven’t been so sick in a long time. Blech. Pack your head full of cement and you’ll know how I feel. The best part was, DH got sick too- but with the stomach flu. Yippe! The kids have basically had the run of the place- what with both of us down. You can imagine our laundry room right about now. Yeah.

We missed Jeffrey’s soccer game yesterday- somehow, I don’t think they would have liked us to show up with our barf-bucket and my bottle of Ny-Quil. Beanie, conveniently, had a bye.

I just looked out the back window, to see Jeffrey, butt-naked, on the swing-set trapeze. One moment please….

Ok then.

If you’re looking for a good cold medicine, I highly recommend Alka Selzer cold and flu. Totally works, doesn’t taste nasty like Thera-Flu, and can be drank hot or cold. That, and you get to sing the “plop-plop, fizz-fizz” song in your congested head while you wait for the little tablets to dissolve.

“Oust” does wonders at getting rid of sick smell. Just thought you might like to know.

It’s finally starting to get cold here. We had our first fire of the year yesterday- which entailed Beanie flipping the switch on the wall and us all ooh-ing and aw-ing as the fire burst forth in our gas fireplace. Easy? Yup. This is my first gas fireplace, and I think something might be lost in translation. But you can’t beat if for easy.

Trying to think things out when you’re sick is a bad idea. (I woke up with a sore throat and a cough and my ears hurt) But I can’t help myself. When I picked Beanie up at school today, the teacher needed to talk to me. Seems he is having some behavior issues, which, truth be told, is not a surprise.

Beanie hasn’t had an easy go of it, and while I may joke occasionally about him being a pain, there really are things going on health-wise that we haven’t figured out. I’m not talking ADD or ADHD or even Autism- I am (almost) certain none of those things are our issues. But I strongly suspect allergies, food sensitivity and sensory integration problems. We have an appointment in October, and it can’t get here fast enough.

When Beanie was born, everything made him cry. Everything. Nursing, my milk, formula, having his diaper changed, baths, towels, getting dressed, temperature changes, carseats, riding in the car, baby swings- you name it, he hated it. I’m being only slightly flip. Beanie cried, seriously cried, for months and months and months. The only time he wasn’t crying, he was asleep. And even that was fitfull and light. The only way he could fall asleep, was not in my arms, but swaddled as tightly as we could, in his crib, with a low light and a fan on. Then, he would sleep.

When he was about three months, we accidentally found a formula that soothed his tummy enough that he only cried about 2/3 as much- and we used it until he was 18 months old. It cost us $400 a month. The doctors did all kinds of tests, including an ultra-sound and ECG on his little heart. Nothing showed up abnormal, but my mothers’ intuition has always told me, something is not right.

Recently, my cousin in California called my attention to a book called Too Loud, Too Bright, Too Fast, Too Tight: What to Do If You are Sensory Defensive in an Overstimulating World. I am plowing through it- it’s the first time I’ve ever read anything that sounds like MY child.

The thing is, normal things, everyday things that other people either assimilate in their environment, or else tune out, Beanie cannot do. Rubbing with a towel after a bath therefore becomes torture , tags or crooked seams in his clothes are not just the nuscence they are for most pre-schoolers, they become like a TV, Radio and Vacuum on all at once. Full blast.

The other night, he was in the bathtub, and both his brother and sister had already been plucked out and jammied, and I went in to grab Bean. He was lying on his back in the warm water, eyes closed, ears submerged, silently floating. In his whole entire life, I have never seen him so… so… relaxed. Ever.

Underwater, there was no sound, only his breathing. His eyes closed, there was no input, the water surrounded his little body, and he found peace. Maybe for the first time ever.

I started to cry, and left him to his peace.

When I first wrote the post on CF (compact fluorescent) lightbulbs, it was from more of a “Hey, this is interesting and might merrit some thought” point-of-view. Today, I learned first-hand what cleaning up one of these little toxic nightmares really entails.

While taking down the kitchen (ceiling) light, where I though they would be safe, nice and high- and trying to be extremely careful, I dropped the bulb. Hitting the kitchen tile, the bulb blasted into a gazillion pieces, and all three of my kids were standing there watching, within three feet. (now, if you want to fault me for having them nearby, go ahead, but should a mama have to vacate the house just to change a lightbulb? Evidently, yes.)

Immediately swooping up Abby and Bean, I rushed all of them outside. I went back in to, a) open the windows (the only thing I could remember from the EngeryStar website) and b) pull up the website to see what I should do next.

Here is what it said:

OK, Mamas, does that sound like a safe and fun activity for your family? Empty the house, dont touch the debris, and double-bag it all. For. A. Lightbulb.

For about half an hour, I played outside on the kids swingset with them, then I went into my toxic waste-dump of a kitchen and began the tedious job of cleaning up without using a vacuum, broom and having no rubber gloves. I used the wet paper towels, per instructions and a stiff piece of paper. Then the Swiffer thing. Disposable pads are ok, I presume. Double bagged all the danger-shards and then, finally, did run the vacuum, just in case I missed a shard. (Paranoid about glass slivers)

So, why do I buy organic laundry soap, organic dish soap, natural and locally grown veggies, use cotton diapers, canvas grocery bags and natural fiber clothing if my lightbulbs are going to constitute a minor Chernobyl when they (and they will, don’t kid yourself!) break? What’s the point?

I’m sorry, but it just seems too dangerous. These things are not welcome in my home. If we are trying to save the earth for our kids, what’s the point if my kids get mercury poisoning or can’t have children of their own someday?

What, exactly, are we saving?

OK, well maybe it’s three. Sorry about ditching the pictures. They were taking up too much room in WP memory. For some reason, my camera saves all my pictures as HUGE files, and I can’t figure out how to change it.

Next: Kids Meal toys suck. Across the board, no exceptions, they suck. Not only are the cheap, China-made landfill fodder, but they never work and always always alwasy lead to tears and wailing from my children. They see a toy, looking bright and shiny in the pictures, their little hearts lust after the shiny-ness, then they open a pale, cardboard immitaion of fun and the crying ensues. I resolve to never buy kids meal again. They are not Happy. 

I’m boycotting JoAnn fabrics. At least my local store. They got a wicked new manager- I’ll call her Galinda - and she wouldn’t let my kid use their potty today. All the ladies there know me, and we are always allowed to use thier potty- but not anymore! Today, Galinda had the gall to tell me they didn’t have a restroom, but I could take my ready-to-pee-on-the-floor six year old next door to the Tasty Trough and he could use thier bathroom. I unloaded my full cart right into her arms, and when she asked me if I would like her to hold my things for me to return, I told her she could hold them all day for all I cared, I wouldn’t be returning.

Didn’t hear back yet from the school.

Man, I took a nap after church today, and I woke up on the wrong side of life. Grump city. No one come near me. When Beanie woke me up, I was all disoriented and thought it was Monday morning and the clocks were wrong and we had overslept and were late for school. Grrrr.

Abby has finally figured out how to go DOWN the stairs. She mastered “UP” a long time ago, but the _down_ system has stymied her for quite a while. Now I have to be even more aware of where she is…

DH and I went out to dinner on Friday to celebrate our anniversary. Like, real, fancy, dim-candle-lit restaurant. Very, very schee-schee. We do that so seldom, I had forgotten how much fun it is to get gussied up, put on some heels and feel pretty for the night. Dinner was easily 2-3 hours and I won’t even tell you what we spent- although it’s amazing how much less you spend when you don’t have a somalier bill. I got to wear my fancy new necklace, too- I really wanted to just tie the box around my neck, but that would’ve  been a little too trailer-park, ya think?

Went apple-picking this weekend. One of the perks of living in the Northwest… acres and acres of orchards and things to pick. The kids had a ball, and learned the difference between Jonagold, Gala, Macintosh and Pippin-  ripe this week. Next week the Golden’s are due to ripen. The boys pulled a handcart around the orchard, Beanie climbed to the tippy-top of a three-legged orchard ladder, and we left with two bushels of apples, three pumpkins and two gallons of fresh pressed cider. Mmmmmmm. I love fall.

We’re making applesauce this week.  And DH has requested a pie. Oh, and we’re dipping caramel apples too. (Julie, call me if you got that water canner- I’ll send you a check!)

I should hear from the school on Monday regarding the preposterous spelling words. I’ll keep you updated.

I’ve been called to teach the Valliant 12 girls in our ward (congregation). Haven’t been in Primary (kids Sunday school at our church) for about 4 years, so I’m due. I like this group of girls, so now I just have to get my act together enough to teach every Sunday. Ought to make Sunday morning even more fun, eh?

DH is doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen right now. Either he felt like being nice, or he just got sick of not being able to find a fork to eat his ice cream with- wither way, I’m good. Speaking of DH, other day a friend of mine was over and DH noticed Abby had stinky pants, picked her up and went to change her. My friend interupted me and asked me if DH had just volunterily changed a diaper. Huh? Yeah, why? Aparently, this is unheard of in their house. I just assumed most dad’s did diaper duty nowdays- am I wrong? Is DH more cutting edge than I thought? What about in your house? Here, DH changes diapers daily- if I’m otherwise engaged, he just does it. Same with dishes, laundry and baths…

Jeffrey got the coolest birthday box from Crazy Chicken Annie. When he opened the box, the entire thing was full of crumpled up one-dollar bills. Mixed in were Koosh balls, coral, seashells, crystal clusters, acorns, leaves and several really cool feathers from her birds. Jeff carried the box around for two days, even taking the whole thing with us to Target to spend his loot. He managed three boxes of Lego with all those One’s. This is a birthday gift he won’t forget.

Here is what I’m ticked off about today.

So Jeffrey got Abby up this morning and brought her into the kitchen where I was making breakfast. She had on her overfull, ready-to-explode-with-pee night diaper still, so I popped it off her and left her standing in just her nightgown while I went upstairs to get a clean diaper and some clothes.

Pamper and clothing in hand, I was half-way down the stairs when the smell hit me. Poop. Very much lots of smell of POOP. Oh Crap, I was only upstairs for, like, maybe two minutes, but…

I peek around the corner into the dining room, and sure enough, there on the floor are two bloppy lumpy little nuggets, and Abby is nowhere to be seen. Oh man. It’s not even 8 o’clock yet. Crap crap crap. Literally.

Abby is off playing in her play area.  The boys are oblivious- thank heavens Abby is going through a “poop-balls” phase, where things are, um, realatively solid and orbital in shape. All I have to do is make sure I found all the “balls”. Anything small on the floor today will be suspect and Lysol-ed.

Good Morning, Mamas. Have a nice day!

Just a handy reminder- t’ tide be National Gentleman o’ fortune Tide, an’ ye all ortin’ ta be ravagin’ an’ pillagin’ th’ villages an’ Target stores near ye. Let th’ kiddos run rampant an’ jus’ fer kicks an’ giggles, run yer blog posts through th’ universal Priate Translator. Happy Gentleman o’ fortune Tide, One an’ All!  Ya horn swagglin’ dog!

Dearest Beanie-

While you liked being the birthday boy yesterday, you weren’t so crazy about the phone ringing and people singing to you all day. You would run and hide, when the phone was for you. That’s ok, sweet boy.

It’s been four years since you popped into this world, screaming your head off, before you were even all the way out of my body. You still are a powerhouse of emotions and willpower. You amaze me daily.

When we talked about if you wanted a cake or cupcakes, you told me you wanted to go to the store and buy a cake- I think you might have been imagining a fantastic Nemo cake or some other confection, but when we got to the store, you picked the biggest, chocolately-est cake they had, and asked for your name to be iced on in blue frosting.

For your birthday dinner, you picked Tacos, and asked two friends to join us. The funny thing is, you won’t even eat tacos, but you wanted them- everyone at the table had overflowing tortillas, and you had a plate of Ritz crackers with peanut butter. That’s your go-to meal these days- breakfast, lunch and dinner, most of the time.

Today you have pre-school, and you get to be the birthday boy- that means you get a crown and get to provide the snack. You love to be a helper, so you’re really excited about taking the Snack Swan and divying up the treats we bought.

When it’s time to leave for school this morning, you’ll put on your Transformers backback that’s as big as you are, your green “bug” Vans, most likely your orange “pretty pants” (that’s what you call them)- grab your bag of cookies, and march off into the wild blue yonder.

Baby boy, I’m proud to be your mama. I pray that we can always meet you halfway on your journey- because you are defninatley on a journey- and that you will carry in your heart how very much I love you.

Love, Mama

It’s the middle of the night. Well, almost. It’s 12:58, but I’ve always thought of between 2-3 a.m. as the real middle of the night. All my babies are fast asleep, there is no good reason to be up- and when the alarm goes off for morning carpool, I will be positively ugly.

Earlier I had a booming headache, and made the mistake of taking two Excedrin Migrane pills. Yeah, for someone with no tollerance to caffeine, those babies buzz you out. It’s hours later, and I still can’t even begin to fall asleep.

The boys helped me make dinner tonight. We had spaghetti and foccacia bread. Beanie was in charge of salting the water, pouring the noodles into the water, occasionally stiring the pot (with mom’s help) and watching the timer. Jeffrey was in charge of the sauce; he opened the cans of tomatoes (can openers are fun!), measuring the spices into the pot, and stirring while it heated. I made the foccacia.

I’m on the hunt for new light fixture for the outside of the house, and for the kitchen. There are eight lights on the outside of the house- can you believe that? Means I have to keep the cost of each fixture reasonable, or else sell an organ. The kitchen also need a new fixture, but I can’t find anything I like. What says “farmhouse kitchen”? I have already replaced the chandelier in the dining room, and the lights in the hallway and laundry room. Got some old schoolhouse fixtures, and they look vintage and awesome.

Yes, I wired them by myself. It’s not hard, and I don’t have the patience to wait for DH to get home. I want it done, and I want it done now. So I learned how. As long as the power is off, you really can’t hurt yourself- so I’m careful and so far, so good. Seven lights replaced in this house. About 15 more to go. Oh well!

The weather is turning cooler, finally. The wind is whipping around the giant trees we have in the backyard, and I suspect we will have a few feet of leaves by the end of the week. I love fall. I actaully dug a robe from the back of my closet to come down and write (thanks Heather O.!). And I put socks on for the first time tonight. Soon it will be time to go apple picking and pumpkin hunting!

Beanie will be 4 tomorrow. Well, I guess it’s today now. He wasn’t born until evening, anyway. He told me tonight he doesn’t want me to bake a cake, he wants to go to the store and buy one. Okie dokey dude, less work for mama, and a happy Bean is a good thing. He is birthday boy at school on Tuesday, and we’re taking cupcakes and he gets to wear a crown. He’s thrilled.

Abby finally has enough hair for little pig-tails. She looked so cute tonight with two whale-spouts coming from the top of her head and spaghetti mess all over her body.

The boys had their first soccer game this weekend. I was a little surprised at the outcome. Beanie wasn’t all that interested- he got in the game and when a boy immediately kicked the ball from him, he fell on the ground and burst into tears. He spent most of the next quarter on my lap, crying. For the second half, he managed to pull it together and get in the game, and he seemed pleased with himself. Mission accomplished.

Jeffrey was a surprise too. I half expected him to poop out and not want to play, but he was insanely into the game. At this level, we don’t even keep score, but boy, Jeffrey was keeping score, and he was ticked that the other team had more points. He as red-faced and heated and super-competitive. Hmmm. Ok then, now we just have to direct that drive in a good way. He can’t wait for next Saturday, when I claims he will score 100 goals. I told him a “good” soccer game can end in a 0-0 tie- yeah, doesn’t make much sense to this baseball girl, either.

This week I received a really nice size order for some quilt designs. That’s a bonus, and I’m happy to be in a show this fall. Enough about that.

I’ve decided to re-upholster (is that how you spell that??)  my couch in old-school mattress ticking. That ought to be kid-resistent, eh?

Enough mindless blather. Off to bed.

It’s Stake Conference ( a meeting about the local goings-on for grown-ups at our church) here this weekend, so we otped out and we’re having a nice, quiet Sunday here at home. Well, it was nice and quiet until Beanie bit the snot out of Abby.

She has the perfect oval impression of her big brother’s cuspids on her shoulder. What garnered her such a jem? Oh, she was in the way of the slide, and he wanted her to move. *sigh*

Never in favor of the “bite them back” method, I put him on a time-out and calmed little Sister down. When she was happy again (an m&m helped) I went upstairs to discuss Beanie’s punishment.

Tomorrow he will be four. I think he might be approaching the age when he can both understand that biting is very wrong, and that there will be consequences. For the first time with one of my children, I calmly told him that if he bit anyone again, I would bite him back. I think he got it. I think, by the way he looked at me, it sunk in, and I don’t expect him to ever bit anyone again.

At least I hope so. I really don’t want to bite my kid.

 Normally, I couldn’t care less what brand anything is; as long as it’s quality and hopefully not made by children in China, I’m good. Usually. Not today.

I’ve waited 20+ years to get one of these on my pillow, since I was a girl and first saw Audrey staring in that window with those divine sunglasses on…  DH came home from work and called me upstairs. Wrapped in tissue was the unmistakable blue box, tied, just like in the movies, with the requisite thick satin ribon. It’s actually prettier than in the picture- almost luscious. My heart quickened, and I just sat looking at it for a few minutes. No rushing this moment, thank you very much!

I took a picture of it sitting daintily on my pillow.

The ribbon is even tied in a special way, to make it extra pretty- inside was a suede buttoned envelope, dyed the same inimitable blue with the Tiffany logo embossed in the leather. There was thick cotton-paper card with a serial number and verification that this is, in fact, a genuine piece of Tiffany jewelry.

Other than the fact it was a necklace, I won’t tell anything more about what was in the treasure box. I don’t hold too many cards close to the chest, but some things a woman has to keep to herself. But just opening it was such a fantastic thrill. Every girl needs to get a box from Tiffany at least once in her life…

Happy Anniversary Honey. I love it, and I love you. I love that you know how much I wanted something so silly, and you indulged that silliness anyway. I love that you know me better than I know myself, and that you love me anyway. I love that I have learned what love really looks like from you. To infinity, and beyond.

My husband just called me from the airport. He’s on his way home from a business trip, and stopped in the airport gift shop and picked up a snowglobe from that city for each of the boys, then headed to his gate.

Going through the security checkpoint, they confiscated both snowglobes. They have liquid, don’t you know, sir?

He bought them IN THE TERMINAL at the AIRPORT.  I am so stinkin’ mad, I’ve got steam blowing out my ears. What a circus. What a scam.

The kids are each getting a nice, glossy postcard.

Sometimes life really takes me by surprise. All summer I have been looking forward to school starting, to having both boys in school, part time for Beanie, all day for Jeffrey. I was thinking of all the free time I would have, and of the one-on-one I would be able to get in with each of the younger kids. Yeah.

Turns out I was wrong.

I miss my kids. Gah! Did I just say that? Yes, I did. It’s true. Six hours is a lot of time for a six-year-old boy to be away everyday. Beanie misses his brother, and while he’s at school for six hours a week, Abby is a lost little girl- she walks around the house, pulling on doors, calling out in cute little girl squeeles, looking for her brothers. She’ll play with me, but she still wanders around wondering where her fun antagonizers have diappeared to.

It makes me in not-so-much of a hurry to get on with things. Makes me appreciate the messes and noise and chaos of a house full of glommy little hands, maybe a little more.  Missing Jeffrey, and realizing how very, very fast he became a school-age boy, makes me want to slow the clock down, gather my babies in my arms, and sit rocking on the porch-swing a little while longer.

Mamas, it’s true. Babies don’t last. The days may seem to take forever sometimes, but the years- well, don’t blink- because the years fly on swift wings. Now go hug your babies.

Can you beleive it’s been six years already? The memories are still as vivid as the deep blue of the New York sky. How does one commemorate such a day? There was no one I  knew in the Towers or on a plane that day, but that doesn’t matter- any one of them could have been a friend, a loved one- and in fact, they all were, to someone. It seems inappropriate to let the day pass without acknowledging the loss. The loss of life- and the loss of innocence.

For me, I will never forget. I will tell my oldest son, who was 13 days old that morning, how I sat on the couch in the pre-dawn light, holding him at my breast and trembling with fear and astonishment. The tears rolled down my face and dropped into his red newborn hair, and I wondered into what kind of world had I brought this child.

This morning, again in the pre-dawn light, as I put my husband on an airplane for a business meeting- we made uneasy jokes about flying today. We kissed goodbye at the curbside check-in; in my rearview mirror, I watched him enter the terminal- and went home to wait for his call to tell me had safely landed.

How the world has changed.

I grieve and offer my prayers, especially today, for all the families, all the souls, that were forever changed by the actions of that day.  I also offer a special prayer for the soldiers, whatever your politics, who daily bear out the consequences and fall-out of that day. God be with all of you.

With her guess of 8.33 hours, the very last comment, by Heathen! Our actually time was 8 hours 23 minutes, and we set the exact time before we checked the guesses. My legs are still achey from all the bending, kneeling, and picking-up of large pieces of wood. But, it’s done. AND it looks just like the pictures. Jeffrey already tried to ride his bike down the slide. *sigh* I see some trips to the ER in our future…

Thanks for guessing, everyone. Heathen, you can e-mail me at dandelion_dot_mama at gmail_dot_com. The winner gets to chose between a mini diaper bag, or a painting of your family’s name on a rustic barn-board. Thanks!

Yes, we are assembling this beautiful monstrosity in our backyard. It was delivered yesterday- and lays waiting… DH thinks we should be able to do it in three hours. Anyone else want to laugh with me? Now taking bids on how long it actually takes us… Winning guess wins…? Well, something made by me!

UPDATE: Guessing is still open… it’s dark now, and we are exhausted! I’ll announce the winning guess on Monday afternoon, and the winner will get a homemade Dandelion Mama surprise. (I promise it will be good!)

Reading around the blogs today, I came upon this: Qatar and Cenneigdigh. The boy is Qatar, pronounced to rhyme with “Butter”. And the girl is… whatever that says above, pronounced “Kennedy”. Yes, the dad swears, with pride, that he is serious.

Why? WHY? WHY WHY WHY do some parents DO this????

Dearest Jeffrey,

Today was the first day of first grade. You got up early, plopped on the couch, and proceeded to try and convince me you did not need to go to school “all day” today, nor tomorrow, nor on any following day. You fiddled with your Transformer that Matthew gave you yesterday, and burst into tears when you couldn’t make it work.

You had a bad case of butterflies, baby. A full tummy and some fabulous new blue racing shoes seemed to help bunches, and by the time we were loading in the car, you were all smiles and happiness.

There was no hand-holding like last year- but I knew that was fleeing when it happened. There was a boisterous boy who knew his way around the campus, and eagerly waved and greeted friends- and gently and sweetly helped his little brother onto a swing. You pushed him for all of recess. That melted my heart, my son. Seeing you, surrounded by your friends, friends who were racing to and fro to see whose shoes were “fastest”, instead pushing your little brother on a swing, was a gift to my heart.

Watching you grow up is bittersweet- on one hand, I am so proud of the boy are becomming. I relish your accomplishments, yet I mourn the tiniest bit for the sweet haystack of a boy who would nuzzle under my chin. Maybe this just part and parcel of being a mama- trying to make sense of the dance between holding on and letting go.

Abby and I waited by the fence until the recess-lady blew her whistle, and you ran towards class. You saw me by the fence, and quickly turned and ran to give me and Abby a hurculean hug, then whizzed off to join your classmates.

I’m set to pick you up in about an hour- and I know you’ll be a cauldron of excited news and tidbits about friends and new things you’ve already learned. You are such a bright, wonderful boy- your energy and drive are an inspiration to your family. This year is going to be full of goodness for you, my sweet boy.

Love, Mama

My children are different. Well, I suppose most evey mother could make that statement- but, with confidence, I can say that mine are like oil and water. And nitro-glycerine. A case-study:

Riding in the Car:

Jeffrey- did ok in the car, but would often projectile barf without reason or warning. Would frequently fall asleep and be amendable to being moved to his bed, thus continueing his nap in the house.

Beanie- Hated riding in the car, starting with the ride home from the hospital, and never ending. Buckle baby in carseat, commence screaming. And screaming, and screaming, and screaming. He NEVER stopped, as long as he was in his seat. Forward, backward, moving, still- didn’t matter.  Never, ever fell asleep.

Abby- Likes her carseat just fine. Cooperates with buckles, and claps happily and coos to self. Enjoys looking out window, and watching her brothers. I can’t think of even one time where she has cried in her seat- although she did barf once.

Eating:

Jeffrey- voracious appetite- would drink 40oz. of breasmilk a day, had I let him- but had a sensitive tummy. Barfed a lot. Daily- until he was over two. Loves food- much like a goldfish, will eat until he is stuffed and Goldfish are coming out his nose.

Beanie- Hated eating. Refused to nurse. Cried. Would not eat babyfood, and formula made him sick. Would not even taste new things, cried some more. Now, almost four, he eats PBJ’s for all three meals, and milk. Occasionally some butter.

Abby- nursed great- accepted me or a bottle, loves to try new foods. She likes spicy things and ethnic foods and loves fruit and veggies and fish and just about anything we put on her plate. Tummy tolerates everything.

Sleeping:

Jeffrey- co-slept with us until he was nine-months old. Still likes nothing better than to be nestled under my arm sharing my pillow.  Sleeps like a rock once he is asleep. Quit napping when he was 18 months old, and hasn’t napped since.

Beanie- would only sleep swaddled t-i-g-h-t-l-y. Wakes up at the slightest noise- even if I check on him before I go to bed, the whisper of the door sliding over the carpet wakes him. When he woke, he screamed. And screamed. Then he screamed some more. Now days, is an insomniac, and finds every reason under the moon to get up. Does not, and has never, napped.

 Abby- toss her in bed with her favorite blankie, close the blinds and the door, and she’s out. No fussing, no crying no special tricks, just a peaceful sleeping baby. She may chortle and talk to herself for a while, but that’s it. When she wakes, she chats and plays quietly until someone comes to get her.

Playing:

Jeffrey- Hordes his toys. Collects random things, like “Blue”. Meticulously catalogs his belongings, and subscribes to the “tyrant” method of playing with others. Has a wild imagination and loves to take things apart.

Beanie- Loves to have friends over, but quickly becomes overwhelmed if there is too much chaos. Finds quiet places and plays by himself or with mama. Loves to be naked and run around in the rain or wind storms. At the same time. Elemental child.

Abby- turns the pages of a paper book, even as a one-year old, without eating or tearing them. Will content herself with following her brothers, but is just as happy playing with her toys by herself. Loves water and being outside, but doesn’t fret when brought inside.

 Temperment:

Jeffrey- Stubborn streak a mile wide. If he can’t win, he doesn’t want to play. A very tender hearted boy who really watches out for younger kids. Has a strong sense of justice and fairness, and isn’t afraid, sometimes to his detriment, of speaking out. Loves the mythos of the Hero, and intends on being one.

Beanie- A stubborn streak a mile wider than Jeff’s- coupled with a strong desire to be independant. He wants to do things beyond his abilities and gets frustrated when he can’t.  At the same time, he has great capacity for tenderness and really wants to be snuggled with and loved. He needs lots of physical affection- even though he shrugs it off.

Abby- just goes with the flow. She doesn’t push herself all that hard, and lacks the insane drive both her brother’s share. It has manifested in later walking, talking and general accomplishments. She just doesn’t seem to mind waiting, which is a whole new ballgame in this house. Small things make her happy, and ready laughter is always near the surface.

So how much of any of this is nurturing, and how much is nature? Is Abby the laid back babe she is because of the tidal waves that are her brothers? Is Beanie full of will and force in order to survive having such a strong older brother? Is Jeff just the natural first-born bossy boy?

The thing is, no matter how much you try and sell the “nurture” card to me- I KNOW these kids all came out of my body with these personalities intact. Yes, they’ve manifested in our home and in the environment of our family, but they were not, and never have been, blank slates.

What’s the deal in your families?

We have arrived. Ahhhhh…. I can smell the change in the air- the subtle change in light and color that is already beginning. All year I await this day- No, not back to school (although that’s just two days away!), but the first day after the Bachanal that is Labor Day, when, at least in my little untold book, Fall begins. From here on out, it’s cool, smooth sailing. The “Bers” are here, baby!

…junejulyaugust septemBER octoBER novemBER decemBER. Ber Ber Ber Ber! Notice a pattern? It’s my very favorite time of year- the time I look forward to to carry me throught the dog-gone long hot days of evil summer. Ber, not just a suffix, but a lovely onomotpaeia for the coming change in the weather and the season. Whoo-hooo!

As I sit at my desk, with Phoebe behind me and Beanie hanging on my left arm jumping up and down like a rabbit on crack, I can see random yellow leaves floating  and lightly landing on the warm grass. Still mostly green, the trees have a massive surprise for us our first Fall here. I have a feeling we are going to be burried in leaves soon- we have over a dozen very big deciduous tress in our yard. Leaf-jumping piles ought to be plentiful.

My whole body relaxes and settles into a rhythm when the hotness and hell of summer finally abates. It’s like I’ve been holding my breath for three months, and now the tension in my belly can uncoil. I can breathe again. *Siiiiiiiigh*

So, welcome Fall. Autumn. Herbst. L’autumn. And whatever other language I don’t know- Yay for the changing seasons!