In Love Again

Baby Jack

John Preston Nydegger

December 1, 2009

9 lbs. 15 oz. 21 inches

I might have thought it impossible, even worried that it was. Yet, I here by let all you know, if you didn't already, that yes, you can fall in love four times in a row. Since Jack has come, I have found myself falling deeper in love with him each day. Those skinny feet, big eyes, and content stature. Those all knowing looks, that I like to think he only gives me. We have a secret language that only the two of us understand. He looks at me with a partially open mouth and I understand his meaning.

His birth wasn't as smooth as Anna's, that is, it wasn't for me. His heartbeat stayed strong and he seemed rather comfortable. He probably had no reason to leave his home of nine months. He liked it in there, I like to think. Yet, with legs out for the count and nothing else seeming to respond to placing an epidural three times and a spinal block not doing its magic, seems trivial mere seconds after. I'd do it again for Jack.

I'd do it again for any of them. Another piece that fits.

Laboring

Tonight I'll be laboring. We will soon know what this third addition is like. Things we do know:

1. As the doctor said, "this is one big kid." Oh, Dr., I wanted to say, you don't know the half of it....ten years ago I pushed out a 9 lb. 7 oz. 23 inch boy. Just look at that almost five foot boy now, so much to love.

2. Anna will be very glad when my belly goes in. It has become in the way the last few days, apparently. I commiserate with you my dear.

3. I am still humbled daily that I have been chosen to be his mother. Being uncomfortable is an endurable blessing when birthing is pending.

So, I will update soon with all the stats and stories. Wish me luck.

Siblings

Anna and Harris are planning a sleepover for tonight. Some sort of tent structure is in the makings. It might not seem like a gem of gratitude tomorrow, let's see how well they sleep. Yet, I like that they like each other.

Scouts

We're at pack meeting and the cub master announces for everyone to help put away chairs. So, I get to talking to a lady in the ward about the up and coming Super Saturday (three days and counting...until it is over). Harris comes and takes the chair that she is holding and brings it to the men to put away and then kindly helps me up and takes mine.

Did I really raise this gentleman? Is he really mine? Even after all the goofy jokes and antics of pack meeting, I'll claim him.

What mother isn't grateful for that? Even though this is the last pack meeting until I deliver, I would sit uncomfortably on a folding chair just to watch you and your fellow scouts do age old cheesy cheers and laugh at scout jokes. The bar is raised for your little brother, just so you know.

Centered

1. I am thankful for a daughter who likes to go to the doctor, probably because she gets to watch Toy Story and Snow White and sit in the princess chair.

2. For Ibuprofen and Tylenol.

3. Living in close vicinity to a place that caters to little ones.

4. For princess books and wagons.

5. Daddies who are tenderly wrapped around their daughter's fingers.

6. Skilled and jovial physicians, nurses, and technicians

7. Root beer Slushies.

8. No car sickness.

9. Healing and hope.

Anna had eye muscle surgery Friday. A minor procedure that left her eye bitter-sweetly centered. She is a trooper, braver than most. Leaving a much relieved mother that that hour has passed and she is on the road to recovery with out it jilting her much.

A wish and a request

First off, scroll down and read the goings on of our family this last little bit.

Today is Aaron's birthday. In the midst of the gratitude season, I am indeed grateful for him. Like today when he loaded Anna in the car for me when I took Harris to school or how Saturday he did all the dishes and cleaned the kitchen while I went to get a hair cut. Also, he will always get the good ice from Smith's for me. I know, as most of us who have been in my present state, that this last bit is just as hard on the Daddy to be as the Mom to be. I am not always the best sport. Yet, Aaron has been, sweet, kind, observant, and helpful. I am so lucky to have grown with him in love.

Now a request: We are now narrowed down to three names for this baby boy, I think. If you would be so kind as to give us your vote it would be helpful. It seems to change day to day what one is my favorite but, with d-day approaching we need to give this boy some identity. So here are your three choices:

John Preston Nydegger (we'd call him Jack)

Henry John Nydegger

William John Nydegger (we'd call him Will)

Other suggestions will be considered.

Revived at Last

**It took me a week to get this post together. Enjoy, even though it is a bit belated

I decided it was about time a brought my blog back from hibernation. I think my state as an incubator has been an excuse long enough. I mean, it seems in my efforts to hurry this along, I have stopped even considering posting anything. Not our autumn jaunts or our Halloween haunts, not even that I have a son who is now in double digits. Scary thought. If you haven't hit this stage, this is all I have to say, frightening. It is probably his entering a new decade in his life that has made me realize how time doesn't wait. As much as I want it too, it doesn't pay mind to my heeds. So as all these thoughts have been floating through my pregnancy foggy brain, I decided November was as good as time as any to resuscitate my record keeping. So, to start this off in seasonal fashion, gratitude is on the menu. Which reminds me, I do have a recipe blog that I might actually have to use the paddles to get its heart humming again. So don't click on the link quite yet, but soon, because I have a few yummy things I've wanted to share.

Browsing through the photos we have taken this past month, I realized that at no other time am I more grateful for the change of season. Fall, even in the third trimester of pregnancy, is blissful. Maybe I should say fall makes all the heat and dizziness vanish and leaves a pregnant woman feeling refreshed. So, walk along side us as we frolicked in the crisp fall air. Excuse the order, apparently I have forgotten all my blogging skills.

He won this game where they had to find all the gummy worms in a plate of whip cream....so proud a mother was I.

My Cinderella. Apparently, my Indiana Jones was too busy for any photo ops. He looked great.

Went to a darling pumpkin patch with lots of these. This is my fave.

Harris and his Deathstar cake, hmmm. I can't believe he is ten!

Hanging out at wheeler farm, loving this picture. Not loving how BIG my tikes are.

Hiking in Adam's Canyon on Sunday Afternoon, not the most flattering picture of moi, but the view is spectacular.

Hand Holding

Walking into Walmart I tell Anna:

"You need to hold some one's hand in the street."

Without her immediate compliance I grasp her arm. I look to realize that she is holding someones hand. She is holding her own.

I guess I need to specify that the hand holdee should be at least nine years old and separate from your own self.

I must go now because she is now throwing me my fifth birthday party today. My birthday is four months away, so you all know.

July debriefing

Just to inform you all that we have be busy with many things. Maybe not overly busy. Maybe just busy enough that blogging has reached a record low. We are enjoying sleeping in and not having much of a schedule to the day. My belly is blossoming and #3 seems to enjoy its roominess. Yet, we have found time to do a few things in our spare time.

This little girl will keep her title as princess of the house as we found out that The baby that resides in my middle is a boy. We are all excited to see him in December. He seems quite content in his current accomidations and is even grinning at the fact.

We did some of this to reminisce. Harris opened a detective agency in our garage. He'll solve any case for a dollar a day. So far it hasn't been too lucrative. Also, he is now taken all decisions on his under clothing. Boxers have found their place on the back to school shopping list.

Goatee anyone? Jury is still out on that. Got to love the vanity though.

We marched and ran. Harris ran his second 5K with me and did great.

That concludes our monthly debriefing with high hopes to getting back to weekly ones. Just remember boy, beard and boxers and all is well.

Almost a Decade

Dear Son,

I have to apologize for telling you to act you age. You do and you do it very well. You are very good at pointing out when I mix up words or when my grammar isn't spot on. As all nine year old boys do, as I am told, you are excellent on taking things literally. I might tell you to wait a second so you count to one and then insist that you have waited the allotted time and are ready to be served. Yet in all that nineness I am glad you can now be home for a short while. I will restrain from smothering you in kisses when you make an airplane out of an upside down picnic table for your sister. Sometimes you might forget to use the volume switch on your voice, I know it is hard to do when Indiana Jones is about to discover the secret treasure. No matter what dirt, grime, and grease is on your skin and clothes it is you that I am thrilled to see. So, go on and be nine for, in a few years I'll wish you back where you are now. It is twelve I really fear.

I'm back

So I am back. It might of seem that some how my new adventure in gestating has torn me from my blog. In truth, it did. I was sick. I was tired. As soon as I saw the end of the nausea roller coaster, I got a cold. Yes, my nausea gave a welcome wave goodbye, and in marched a sore, raw throat and a sinus infection. Luckily I was on the mend when we headed off to California last week. So, feeling a surge of energy returning I felt ready to spend two days in the car, and two more days at Disneyland. So some of you know, this is not the first time that maternal bliss has graced me when at the Magic Kingdom. Three years ago the little girl I waited an hour and half to see princesses with, was in my womb. It is fate. If my family, my extended family, plans a trek to Anaheim include a little fetus tagging along in my belly who must be apart of the action. Knowing how much Anna loved all the sights, sounds, and friends at the Park, all seemed to make sense to me. If you are born into my family, have my parents as grandparents, and my mom's parents as great-grandparents, you must love Disneyland. It is a true and verified equation.

Whenever I go to California I think of them, my grandparents, and our many trips to see them. The long hot car rides, broken down air conditioning, Billy Joel and the Beach Boy tapes all swarm to my memory. We would swim in their pool and drink orange juice from the carton. The orange juice being significant because when you come from a family of ten, orange juice is only served on special occasions and in concentrate form. Yet to me, it was just a California thing. I think of them re-living our trips to Disneyland with us the day after our visit. They lived few miles from the park but, our experiences seemed to refresh their excitement for the magic that Disney holds. So, as we sat eating cupcakes, we really did this, for my nephew's birthday near their grave sites, my mom phrased it right, you could see Grandpa sitting in a chair just watching the action with his clear eyes and big smile. I couldn't help but place them in the same spot in heaven watching us that week, so proud of their progeny. Proud as they always told us they were. Sometimes I wish that David Harris and Anna Katherine could have known the lines where their names originated. Yet, as I watched the joy that they held, I knew that part of them knew what it all meant.

So if you care to divulge further after my personal mutterings, here is a bit of a photo journal of our trip.

"Be-bo," Anna, and Harris. She wouldn't move from that spot.

Harris's traditional Sword and the Stone Picture, with the addition of a sister that had to be part of the action.

Go figure, Anna gives Mr. Incredible a big hug and then is hesitant about hold his black glove.

Handy Mandy, we didn't know until we went to CA. Yet, now he graces all conversations. This one's for you Anna.

So we are a bit backward, my blogger skills aren't up to par. This is on the Mark Twain on the evening of the first day. Both kids fell asleep, before we left the Disneyland Parking Complex.

Our one family photo. Also, the first picture where baby 3 is trying to get in the action. So Soon. Really?

So Anna decided that these rocks were worth visiting. Also, dancing in the way of foot traffic was essential.

Belle, after a rousing conversation about Tinkerbell with our own little princess.

On the Jungle Cruise with Peter and Uncle Brady. Note: the Jungle cruise was the best capture attraction. Aaron was a bit picture happy.

Anna rode the carousel three times and probably could have many more.

Another long wait to capture this lasting Memory. Tinkerbell, Anna, and another Fairy whose name slips my memory.

Oh Minnie, this hug is worth the half hour wait. Really!

Anna and Cousin Levi. I think they might be thinking about the hefalumps too. A bit daunting for the toddler set.
Anna's one wish, other than seeing Minnie Mouse, was to ride Dumbo, here is me, my mom and Anna.
Anna with one of her maps, in their ingenious shirts Aunt Ishuan designed.

Look at the joy on Harris face that he is posing with Goofy. Pure joy. Despite her turned head, Anna was in heaven.

So a little explanation

If I haven't lost my full three people fan base, I will give you a little excuse for my absence.

I have been gestating and to save me from ruining my own surprise, my typing fingers have been hibernating. This hibernation also might have something to do with needing a daily nap as much as Anna and being moderately nauseous. As my first trimester is winding down, I am committed to document my life in the way that I do.

I look at this picture daily in amazement remembering the pulsating heart chambers. The hope I found in a similar pulsation more than three years ago, that I could reproduce again. Anna was sick last week and is I felt that pulse that I thought of her moment, I thought of Harris when his sonar heart echoed in a room, and I thought of the determined healthy embryo I hold. I cry a lot these days. More than with the other two. Not full out sobs and not angry tantrums about not being able to make it all the way through the grocery store without my stomach rising to my throat, but I tear up. Water pools in my eye ducts. I see Anna peddle her bike down the sidewalk, I tear up. I hear Harris practice his lines for his play, I tear up. I hear the occasional giggles as they spend a lazy Saturday morning together, and I am a goner. I probably would have cried more before if I would have known at the starting line about how full my life was to be . How Aaron, I and God's infinite grace would create three heart beats to give rhythm to our lives. I am truly blessed.

Sometimes it Hurts

As a mother, I have always wanted my daughter to be my carbon copy with style. For the past two years and four months I have relished in the discoveries that yes she feels right at home in my world. We both love Chocolate Chex and have a unquench desire for milk. She got my brown eye despite my eight moth worry that I would only have blue-eyed children.
Yet, yesterday I discovered a minor difference between us, a slight disconnect between our brain synapses. When I was a little girl I loved band aids. I would create invisible injures, demand at every knee bump and scratch, and even was presented with my own box of band aids to fix my cravings. So as a mother I figured that my mini me pick up my love affair for these medically necessary stickers. So, I stocked our first aid drawer with Hello Kitty band aids waiting to soothe her two year old cuts, scrapes and invisible wounds. Yesterday Anna cut her toe. It spotted the living room rug during Family Home Evening and when we finally discovered the source of the blood, we quickly grabbed a girly pink band aid for her toe.
In my anticipation of her being over-joyed at the girly pink delight I was perplexed by her refusal to put it on. It was a band aid, the one sure fire remedy for bumps, bruises, headaches, coughs, imaginary or real. The real feel good tool. Well, since the blood was trickling down her baby toe our personal physician deemed it necessary that the cut be bandaged up. She ranted, she fought, but finally we securely wrapped her pinky toe. Then came the calming we sang, we cuddled, we even patted the kitty on the band aid. All the while she tried to wiggle off Hello Kitty. Finally we laid our tormented daughter, with a disgust of band aids, down, her foot dangling up in the air trying to get rid of that evil thing somehow.

Luckily, she kept it on and there were no blood splatters on her quilts or walls. Yet, as I came take her from her slumber this morning her first mumblings were, "take my band aid off now."

Anna, just remember that I can give you dislike of band aids but, much dissension past that will be scrutinized. Just so you know.

Spring Break Part 2

Day Four- Day four was not at all as planned. Anna continued to fever and spent a good deal of the day slumbering-two hours of which was spent on my torso. The rain made us all itch with cabin fever and want to go somewhere, anywhere. Aaron and I dosed ourselves with runs during the break of the storm. Around five, with a Motrin dosed girl we ran to the grocery store for essentials and grabbed some dinner. That quick trip even seemed to cure our ailments.

Day Five-Antelope Island. So we have lived a mere seven miles, give or take, from the causeway of Antelope Island for the past two years and have never gone out there. So we decided to go explore this natural wonder in an urban environment, as the brochure pointed out. Favorites: roping wooden cattle, spotting actual antelope, and the mirrored snow topped mountains.

Day Six and Seven: (excuse my lack of words, I never know how to narrate the normalcy in our lives. Then again, that is kind of what the higher purpose of this blog, right? Nevertheless, the pictures tell the story.)

Showing of their bunny loot and Sunday best

Anna's participation in the egg breaking game that I slaughter everytime I say its proper name and would spell even worse. See the guy my cute sis-in-law married? Anna spent half the evening on his lap. Watch out Steph.

Lania and Anna,

Spring Break So Far

Monday- We found out that Anna is only required to resume her pirate duties for two hours a day. Also she is scared, Frances Bread and Jam scared, of the bug puppets at the Natural History Museum. On the other Hand, she feels quite like a kindred spirit to the alive glow in the dark scorpion on display. Go figure. Also, Harris needs constant nourishment for his lanky body and watch out, if you don't eat you lunch fast enough he will help himself to the remains. Unless it is a green salad. I can have the entire thing to myself.

Tuesday-Anna can peddle her tricycle all the way down to the corner of our street but struggles to make it all the way back. Our street must have an incline invisible to the naked eye. I find me being a spinning instructor for toddlers, "push, pull, keep your cadence up, Anna." Late nights are disappointing when they end at eight-thirty. What's the use of that? I have now liked Adam Lambert, American Idol, three weeks in a row, go figure.

Wednesday- To much tricycling makes a tired girl whose tummy has seen better days. Doesn't stop her for wanting her daily dosage of milk. One nine year old boy can consume half a box of Honey Nut Cheerios if eaten by the handful for breakfast.

Stay tuned for the conclusion of our week including Aaron takes two days off, in a row, yes it is hard to believe.

Dads and Donuts

Yesterday I thumbed through the school newsletter that came to me along with a jumble of kid enticing ads for community events and programs. As I skimmed the calendar of events I noticed, yes, tomorrow, is donuts with dad, the paper indicating this was a change to the regular set date. So as all good wives I dialed Aaron's cell and realized that if we had any emergency that should pull him out of a patient's room this was it.

"Aaron, it's tomorrow." I said.

"What?" he said.

"Donuts with dad. Can you go?" I said, thinking can you bend over backwards and make your self the target of eye rolls and impatient patients for your nine year old son and a sub par donut.

A side note: Other than alliteration how do dads get to consume donuts and moms are paired with muffins? Now if they were of the poppy seed or cream cheese variety we could talk. In this one instance dad's get the better end of the deal.

So I left Aaron to solve that puzzle and went to solve how to get red punch out of the carpet. Both consuming tasks.

So did he go? Well, yes but they had their own private breakfast dining on donuts and hot chocolate from our corner donut store. Doesn't everyone have one? We do. OF course that was after he got a ticket for a rolling stop and he debated and stressed over the psychological effects missing one Donuts with Dad would have on Harris.

I don't know what they talked about. I only know that I married a man that caters to his children's need for donuts and who's number one son is a good reason to endure traffic tickets, eye rolls, and grumpy patients.

A Note

Dear Smiths Grocery Store,

My Daughter and I love your store. It is well organized and has the best cream cheese muffins on the planet. The neon lights and neatly waxed floors sooth my seasonal depression. You are so kind to give my daughter a cookie, which she makes me ask your baker for every trip even if we are just picking up milk and bendy straws. So I was quite surprised with myself when I began to curse, of course silently, as I entered your lovely store with my girl. You see, she was in one of those carts. You know, the one that looks like a truck and is supposed to entertain a tot and de-stress the mom? I have to admit,it is hard for a two year old to want the old standby when such options are presented: a pimped out red and yellow car, two steering wheels, with beeping horns, and access to anything on the two lower shelves inside the store. I have indulged my children on several occasions and allowed them to be in the driver's seat. In fact, even my nine year old still enjoys pretending to hall our family food around in this miniature semi even if his knees are hugging his ears. I should be praising you, entertaining my kids so my shopping can get done without having them trumpeting off that nerd ropes and Cheetos should end up as part of our weekly cuisine. If only a two year old and nine year old collaberated on the first food pyramid. Solace in the store would be a lovely surprise.

Yet, that is not what I have found. In eight years using these carts, with a four year ban somewhere in the middle, they have been the cause of many breakdowns, miffed old ladies who can't squeeze their slender silver carts past our aisle hogging semi, criminal acts, and chaos added to my regular jaunt to the grocery store. If you have spoken to my husband, he probably would tell you that I need to me sent back to Grocery Cart Ed (Etiquette), but I could be a smart and efficient store patron the right vehicle was provided. So why even use them if I detest them so much? It is their eye-catching parking spot, directly in front of the store. I have to give you a little credit, this was to my advantage during the colder months. I could just simply say, "Oh these are too cold," and my obedient tot wouldn't even think of protesting. As the earth is warming I now don't have an excuse and being the reasonable mom I am, permit my daughter to enter her monster truck, the one kind of monster she isn't afraid of. So I do take some blame in my demise, I do not throw the old parenting prerogative at her and allow her pleasure as I grin, bear, and silently curse it.

Dearest Smith's this is what I am asking. Hide them. Put them in a the far dark corner of the cart corral. Leave them in the far corner where you put your day old breads and pastries. Put them by the broccoli and cauliflower. Better yet, put them in the woman's restroom where my daughter won't go even with bribery of a free cookie from your bakery which she fond she gets whether she disposes of her waste or not. The bakers are much nicer than mommies.

If you would cooperate in this matter I promise we will no longer set off your ant-theft system with ten packs of batteries that sit lay on the floor in the cab being kicked by size six feet.

Thank you for allowing us the pleasure to sniff your pineapples, look at your fancy cakes, and gander at your crab legs.

Kari

Just a Regular Sunday

Doing dishes after a belly pleasing meal and listening to Aaron's music tastes for the day consumed me yesterday. The kids had rushed down stairs to finish the last trailing minutes of a movie and it was just us. I cleared. He washed. I smiled at his thoughtful profile. I often tease Aaron that he has no idea what I am prattling on about when he is looks like this. He is lost in solving the mysteries of the medical world or thinking of some quote he read in one of those books like, The Third World Anthology, that he some how finds in the stacks at the local library. He is pensive. This time, I was not prattling just merely observing his thought process, listening to his choice in music switch from Man of La Mancha to the Monkees, beautiful.
At that moment I thought our Sunday evening habit was missing someone, our two someones. Banging on the stairs announced their arrival. Anna- my sea urchin with her after nap foamy curls and dinner crusted face. Harris-who has captured Aaron's pondering profile at moments, his world becoming more complex and more engrossing by the second. Then we danced. Anna took Aaron out of his trance and scooped him up in her softness, leaving me observing. Harris quickly put me to action and informing me that yes, He can lead now. So he led me and Anna led Aaron, we became followers. I don't think we waltzed around our living room on a regular basis until Harris came. Anna made it even more frequent.
Later, after we smoothed Anna's curly head and made sure Harris's favorite blanket still covered his toes, I took Aaron's hand in the sudden quiet and realized it was seven more days until Sunday came again.

Ignoring This

Last week I consciously decided to ignore my blog after walking outside to get the mail and be greeted by my long lost friend, warm sun. He was bathing in his blue bath water and I was very pleased at his greeting. So much to my dismay, cruel old man winter has made a triumphal return and given me goose bumps on my bare legs as I walk into the gym and forced me to zip up my jacket. So in rebuttal, I must share the mercies of a few days of spring frolicking. Oh, how I love the frolicking weather.

Anna and I took many leisurely strolls that ended in finding many good rocks and sticks and left me pondering about why anyone would fill their parking strip with smooth creamy rocks knowing that every child two to twenty-three would need one for their pocket. In our neighborhood that would give the rocks about a two day lively hood.

As the sun erased the snow, I became enthused at the prospect of a zoo trip. Just, me and my little girl soaking in cheerful vitamin packed rays and looking at more things frolicking. So it snowed. Yet, a slight dusting might keep away the average animal spectator but not me and my wee one. As real jungle explorers, we braved the weather (although, I thikn heat usually is the concern there) to see the animals in their almost natural habitats. Now every day Anna tells me it would be a "good idea" to go to the zoo. In fact today she mentioned that three times would be about the right number.

So now I have come down with it. I have self-diagnosed myself as having spring fever. It seems like I will have to suffer with this plague a bit longer as my yellowed grass is under a full down comforter of snow not alowing to change its color. To try to self soothe I write this in hopes that my ignorance of the current conditions with bring wihter to a quick closure.

Look for my pining to change for a longing for fall about mid-August. Right now, I am ready for my sweaters to go back in storage.

Create

I went on a run yesterday. A tough run. My thighs reminded me at each step of how hard I had worked at my spinning class the day before and they begged for rest. Yet, the sun was giving a late winter salute and as the mild air rushed through me, I couldn't relinquish. Snow-capped mountains pushed me, blue sky and stretched out clouds made me endure. Mid-run I thought about turning around, there is always a next week. There is plenty of time for exhausting runs. Yet,I told myself, this is not because I have to but because I want to. My air, my pace, my frozen surroundings, my exhaustion were for today. As I rounded the bend to the pond where I had started it mirrored the great sky that had been my umbrella. My breathing slowed, my pace faltered. Not out of tiredness but because this is what I was given. This is what God has given me. Tears slowed me even further as I let my gratitude fill my lungs and compensate for my lagging pace.

Just now, my sister e-mailed this to me because she was touched and then I was touched because of her effort. I think of this talk often when I write, when I look in a set of azure blue and a set of chocolate brown eyes, and when I am amongst His creations soaking in their strength and gratitude overcomes me.

***The pic is of one of the last wintry sunsets we spent in Idaho. There was nothing to end the sun's great descent.

Did You Know

Stop. Before you scroll down any further go and grab anyone under six. Boy, Girl, happy, sad, democrat, republican, or steadfast green party member, go and get one of those little ones.

Ready? Now scroll down and ask if they know who this is?

Anna does. She pointed him out among the other popular titled books that Smith's carries. I wasn't there and had to prove the theory. I pulled out the only copy a good moderate-republican home would have(unless we are living in Idaho then we are democrats, just to give the state some sort of balance) a copy of Reader's Digest with only his profile showing and the other half being of his old enemy. Did I say old, well nothing is meant by that Senator McCain, I promise. So, she then in her toddler dialect recited his name: "Baraka Obama." Then she held it to her little hear and said, "My Baraka Obama." Her new found liberalism confused the older one who we were worried about breaking down the day after the election when he discovered the outcome. Luckily, he held back his tears of rage. So Jake, my outwardly liberal brother, who Anna loves because he owns Copper, a dog who will actually let Anna pat him, must somehow fit into this equation. Maybe it is just the way my two year old is trying to find herself, which I'm O.K. with. Now, if she starts tucking a portrait of Nancy Pelosi under the arm opposite her one selected for her "Baraka Obama" mag, that might be a different story.

Editor's Note: This is the second time I have posted a picture of our Commander in Chief. I do try to reach across the aisle, sometimes.

Maybe I should run away

FYI: I got a code yellow at Kohl's yesterday. One hopeful thought that spring must be close if the already are selling capris and that little escape artist, who would have much rather been home in her lamby slippers broke loose from her strolling prison, belt and all, and was off. Me, and the full Kohl's staff bushwhacked our way through the racks for which seemed like 3 hours, but only ended up to be five minutes, when here she came prancing down the slick white tiled aisle holding some other little girl's grandma's hand perfectly content. The grandma probably was some other little girl's mother and had gotten a Code Yellow too. I folded her in my arms and then she said, "Let go home now," hoping I had learned my lesson.

An Issued Apology

I must apologize for having to be your mother. I am sorry that I must beckon you to emerge from your covers on cold snowy mornings and make you eat more than a handful of Frosted Mini Wheats for breakfast. I regret to have to make you wear your coat, shoes tied, and pants,minus holes in the knees, to school. It is a bit embarrassing to have your mom as your fashion consultant. Twinkies, Cheetos, and pizza lunchables are all the rage, I understand, and all you get is a measly peanut butter sandwich, yogurt and pretzels. I regret that you have to be run around by me to scouts, basketball, and school activities with leaving you little time to play with your Webkins. It must be excruciating to have to do your homework before you indulge in the pleasures of after school: friends, T.V., computer, and snow fort building. It pains me to have to be the mom and ban you from these things when your behavior is not to my liking . I hate to have to tell you to vanquish your temper or lower your jovial voice so your sister can continue napping. I regret that I have to stand as referee between you and your sister and not let the living room turn into the WWF. I would much rather grow with you, spend hours adoring you, and allow you, and me, to eat nachos for dinner every night. The only thing is that I am trusted to be your mother and that is what I'll be, much to both of our great disappointment. That is because I like you. I like that you remember funny lines from the old movies Dad and I make you watch. I love that you like the Monkees a group fifty years before your time. As I watch you brother Anna, you present me with gratitude. Just Remember, as you get older I may not be as cool, my ideas for desserts for the Blue and Gold Banquet a bit lame, and not understand who you are trying to become but, I am you mother and always will be.

My attempt to save three dollars and become a Greeting Card Poetess

Dearest,

Roses are red, Violets are blue.
This is from me, whose back is askew.
Grapes are sour and honey is sweet,
I just stepped on your shoe with my bare feet.
Since it is yours I will forgive
because it is a part of where we live.
You put up with how much time I jog,
and when I put mushy stuff all over my blog.
I ask you to be mine and I’m not being trite,
even if sometimes I confuse my left with my right.
Yet you still work hard to bring home the dough,
as I rush around town with two kids in tow.
Our children we cherish from dawn until dusk,
Yet it is our evening solace that I lust.
I might be the only one who has seen you do yoga
or for that matter, dancing, shower sing, or wear a toga.
These are the things that I daily look forward,
knowing the goals we are together moving toward.
If my rhymes are a little bit slanted,
just remember our tree we have planted.
All my love I give on this crazy holiday,
with much more than I really need to say.
For the one thing that makes me feel grand
is when we are alone and you still hold my hand.

Patch Anna or Our Princess Pirate and her Spectacles of Wonder

For four hours a day we will be pirates. Guarding our bounty (Anna has excelled in this feat) and swabbing the decks. I wonder if real pirates have pink patches. I guess if their bounty includes Elmo colors, princess fruit snacks, and Barney stickers, they would. All two year old playmates please excuse Patch Anna when she pillages- she takes her role very seriously.

More tales of our swash-buckling princess to come.