Rain, rain, gone away

Last week we had several days of rain in a row—very unusual, and it left quite an impression on the little lady. We were driving over to Grandma's one morning, and I heard her singing "Rain, rain, go away, come again another day," all by herself with no prompting from me (though she has certainly heard the song many times before). I love this age, when the words start coming and you find out that they've been listening all along.

The rain is long gone, but she's still singing. Today while she was singing I decided to try to capture it on the computer. At first she seems to have a little stage fright, but by the end she's practically making out with herself.


God, I love this girl.

3rd Referraversary

We saw our little man's face for the first time three years ago last week, and our understanding of joy was immediately altered. It has expanded every day since.

Oh man, I remember those thighs. What a little chubster he was. Now he's the tall, slender, mature, preschooler you see below.

Every year I make him talk to the baby version of himself for the viewing public, and every year he offers some interesting commentary on his lack of hair. This year is no exception.

We still wonder what we did to deserve the pleasure of raising this hilarious, feisty, loving, ridiculously handsome boy who knows it all, but we sure are grateful he's ours.

Inch by inch

She's dressed a little too cutely (in her beautiful dress from friend Qiu Qiu—thank you!) for manual labor but is taking it pretty seriously none the less.

Just a note, because it needs to be said: I picked out a hat that coordinated a bit more appropriately, but I have little say in matters of the little girl's fashion these days. 

The gardening progress so far: wood chips—tons and tons of wood chips—have been removed from two plots in the back to expose deliciously worm-filled soil. Soil has been turned (please tell me it's true that worms recover from being chopped in half), plots have been cordoned, and some seeds have been sown.

Sidamo also has been a tremendous help in the garden, especially when it comes to sequestering those worms so I can dig freely. Unfortunately when he and I are working in the garden, the actual work gets in the way of the photo-taking. I can assure you, though, that he's just as adorable as his little sis. Especially when he refers to himself as the Worm Wrangler.

Fly girl (and boys)

There was a bungee jumping area at the base of the ski lifts in Beaver Creek, and the kids loved it. Catherine, our budding gymnast, dazzled us all with her high jumps and graceful flips. She's a natural.

Sidamo, who is usually quite timid about new physical endeavors, surprised us with his enthusiasm and interest. He actually got pretty high up there with no prodding, and thoroughly enjoyed himself. I think it helps him to see his big cousin trying and enjoying these things—and having George to compete with doesn't hurt either.

George was a little shy about the high jumps on this outing, but word is he almost touched the clouds the next day.

Nora was just plain indignant about the height and weight requirements. Sometimes it's no fun being the littlest one, and she's quick to let everyone around her know it. When Mommy and Daddy (and Aunt Meg and Uncle Andrew) all told her she couldn't jump, she appealed directly to the bungee operator—first with her sweet smile and expectant eyes, and then with her fist pounding and screaming. They must take their liability policies pretty seriously, because even after all that the poor girl was denied her jump. Maybe next year.

And maybe next year I'll make good on my threat to try it too. Doesn't it look like fun?

Pasta with Spanish white beans

My good deed of the day: Sharing this Spanish white beans and spinach recipe with you all. Huge hit last night, super-easy, and very healthy. The smoked paprika, which I've never used before, gave it a very deep and (duh) smoky flavor. I halved the recipe and tossed it with half a pound of cooked pasta, but in the interest of leftovers I'll do the whole recipe next time. Oh, and I'm pretty sure I used less olive oil than called for.

My next good deed (if only it were as easy as the last): Pretend the kids are not driving me absolutely crazy this morning.

S'more and s'more and s'more

The highlight of each day in Beaver Creek was the apres ski s'more roast. An endless supply of gourmet, homemade marshmallows; milk and dark chocolate; graham crackers; and crackling fire. What a perfect way to end a day on the slopes—with a blood sugar infusion and a place to warm your toes. (Of course, it was pretty perfect even for those of us who skipped skiing.)

The kids were beside themselves with giddiness and glut. At one point, long after last call, we found George approaching the fire with five marshmallows on a stick (one of each flavor). Meaghan stepped in; crisis averted.

Cousin sudsin'

That jetted tub makes some mean bubbles.

Vocations

Sidamo to Greg: Mommy's job is to write. Your job is to work. 

Which is only slightly better than his explanation of our roles a few weeks ago: Mommy's a writer. Daddy's a wronger.

Super princess

These pictures have been hanging around on my phone since a couple months ago, when we dropped Nora and Sidamo off at a local daycare for parents' night out. This is how we found Sidamo when we came back.

Settled, happy, healthy

But it was a whirlwind getting there . . .

Quick synopsis of the last few weeks:

• Moved. Holy $%@! we have a lot of stuff. Snow on moving day, but beautiful weather thereafter.
• Unpacked. Seriously—a lot of stuff. Packed up boxes and boxes of stuff to give away, sold some stuff on craigslist. Got most of the essential rooms unpacked that first week. I spent the first few days just on the kitchen, getting it just how I want it. Some boxes (like those in my office) will likely remain right where they are for the next few years.
• Cut a hole in the bottom of our wallets and just let the money pour out. New washer and dryer (LG Steam washer/dryer—on scratch & dent clearance—my new true loves). New freakishly large television for Greg (causing a glimmer in his eye I have never seen when he looks at me or his kids; we must not be high enough def). Radon mitigation. Some roof repairs. Comfy new couch from which to watch Greg's new love. More expensive (but necessary) expenditures to come, like fencing, gardening materials, dining room table. The soft costs of moving.
• Sidamo made a new best friend. Next-door neighbor is a 5-year-old boy (his parents live there too), and they've had impromptu playdates every single day that we've been in the house. Awesome. Immediately validation of our decision to move.
• Sister and family came to visit. And they could actually stay with us—awesome. Cousin love, cousin fisticuffs; it all makes me wish we lived closer. Or they lived closer, since I don't think we and all our stuff could fit into a Manhattan apartment. Pictures to come.
• Ski trip with sister and family. Took advantage of one of the last blizzards of the season and went up to the mountains. Everyone but Nora and I skied. I spa-ed for an article I'm writing about the healing power of water therapies (if I ever complain about my job, smack me). 
• Back home. Got sick. Nora puked about 20 times the evening we got back from the mountains—mostly all over me, but she saved some for her dear Uncle Andrew. The next day (the day I'm home alone with both kids) I came down with a fever of 103 and a throat that felt like it was lined with shards of glass. Never, ever get strep. It's miserable and horrible and will make you want to donate your head and neck to charity.
• Got antibiotics. Back to work. I'm functional again, back to working on my book project, and starting to feel settled in the house. So excited and ready to be at home.

Whew. I'll get the camera hooked up one of these days, but for now here are a couple photos of the house. The interior shots are from before we moved in. In other words, it now has mismatched furniture and is far messier.