saffrondaisy

He smiles!

2012-01-22T14:15:00.000-07:00

I dare you not to eat him.

He gave us his first smile the day after his one-month birthday, but he's still very stingy with them. I finally caught one on camera phone today. How stinking cute is this guy? Ayayay I just can't stand it sometimes.

One month

2012-01-13T10:09:00.000-07:00

He celebrated with a raucous all-nighter. It was awesome.

Now, for some random and unrelated observations on Elliott's first month ex utero:

He's generally a decent sleeper, just as long as he's in full-body contact with me. I realize I'm setting the stage for misery by allowing it, but in the middle of the night there's just about no trade I wouldn't make to just get back to sleep. Try me.
I should know better than to ever write about a child's sleep habits, because children, even as young as one month, read their moms' blogs and respond by making liars of them.
Scratch everything I just wrote. He's a terrible sleeper.
Children don't fall for reverse psychology. I'm screwed.
He doesn't look like me or Greg, as far as we can tell. Still, he's pretty cute.
When he was first born, I said to Greg, "Weird, he doesn't have any teeth. Do you think we should call a dentist?" Greg said, "I don't know, I guess maybe? I can't remember: How many teeth did Nora have when she was born?" He was serious.
Nursing has been really, really hard this time around. Another thing I thought would be a breeze with number two, especially since it was so easy with Nora. But it's been painful, and now I have mastitis, which is basically like the flu with the added bonus of boobs that feel like they're about to self-destruct. Fun times.
Elliott is a pretty serious little kid. He furrows his brow so intently sometimes that it turns completely white. I'm looking forward to the smiley stage, but enjoying this scornful phase as well.
Time is passing quickly, as it always does when you're watching your babies grow. It's different this time than last, though. I think with the first I often wanted time to accelerate so we could get through the difficult aspects of whatever phase we were in. With the second, I realized how wasteful it is to wish away even a minute, given how precious each minute is. The passage of time seriously depressed me with Nora. This time around, I'm prematurely nostalgic and look back wistfully on photos from two days ago, but at the same time I know that each of the next stages holds its own beauty. And so I'm slightly more at peace with Elliott's rapid growth.
Speaking of rapid growth: He was 8 lbs. 2 oz. when he was born. In the hospital he dropped down to 7 lbs. 9 oz. On day three he was 7 lbs. 15 oz. At one week he was 8 lbs. 14 oz. At two weeks he was 9 lbs. 11 oz. (I realize this is interesting to no one but his parents, but since I have never done a baby book, this is where I record such things.)
His first month birthday falls on a Friday the 13th. Spooky! Do you think it's too early for his first horror movie marathon?

The all-nighters are catching up with him.

Sibling love

2012-01-01T11:57:00.000-07:00

The big kids' first meeting with their little bro:

All in all, the big ones have adjusted very well to their new sibling. In fact, I think it's brought them closer together, as they're forced to find fun and companionship in each other when mom and dad are busy. Their interest in the baby comes and goes; most mornings Nora comes into our bed to hold the baby for about four seconds, and then she forgets about him for the day. Sidamo is interested in him when he does something interesting, like poop audibly.

We are careful not to let Nora alone with the baby unattended, as her affection can sometimes get a little too, umm, assertive (as we've learned with the chickens). His second night home, Nora asked, "Why does Elliott need to have a sleepover with us?" Greg answered, "Well, he's our baby, so he's going to be having quite a lot of sleepovers with us." She asked, "Why did we need a baby?"

A little later, I saw her walking toward Elliott with a pillow in her outstretched hands: "He's cold, so I'm just going to warm him up."

Yikes.

But fears for Elliott's survival aside, I'd say life is going pretty well so far with three. It has helped that Greg has taken off work, so he has been on big kid duty while I've tended to the baby. The timing is quite lucky, actually: Elliott was born just before the kids' schools closed for two-and-a-half weeks, and I shudder to think what I would have done if I'd been thrown into full-time care of three kids without Greg's (enormous, indescribable, superhuman …) help.

Sidamo's 6th

2012-01-01T11:45:00.000-07:00

Here's a very belated happy birthday to my first little man. Sidamo turned 6 a couple day's before the baby was born, and we had a super-fun celebration for him and about a billion of his closest friends at a local sports club.

The day started with pancakes, champagne (a.k.a. apple juice in champagne flutes), and presents.

The themes of the day—sports and Legos—reflect the themes of Sidamo's life right now. Every minute of every day, it seems, is spent doing Legos, playing sports, or talking about Legos, sports, and the intersection of the two. He likes to play football, by himself and without a football, on the rug in our living room. Here's what it looks like: He throws himself to the ground, tackled by some phantom linebacker, and then asks for help dissecting the play. "Was I in bounds? Did I get a touchdown? Where was my knee? Did you see the clock?" And you better come prepared with solid answers, unless you want to see the instant replay (in slow motion, or course). I have learned more about football and basketball in the past few months than I managed to learn in three-plus decades of life.

We normally do mellow birthday parties at home, but this time we decided to outsource the whole thing since it was four days past my due date. So in a completely uncharacteristic feat of organization, I arranged all the details of the party back in August. The theme was basketball, and Sidamo was in heaven. He even had a basketball-shaped cake, courtesy of my extremely talented friend Sarah.

Sidamo had a great time, both on the day and in the coming days, when he dedicated himself entirely to building all the Legos he received on his birthday. The thousands of pieces were almost enough to carry him through Christmas, when he received thousands more.

Happy belated birthday to my sweet, funny, brilliant, and completely sports-obsessed little man. We love you!

The birth

2011-12-18T22:44:00.001-07:00

I love hearing other women's birth stories, so I'm going to share here the details of Elliott's arrival. If childbirth makes you woozy, go ahead and skip this post. If long, detailed stories about suffering with happy endings strike you as self-indulgent, move right along. Otherwise, settle in and read on.

Nora's birth was hard. I was induced when I was a week overdue because of apparently low amniotic fluid (turns out I had plenty), and the induction was slow and difficult. Maybe more so because I didn't want an epidural. I managed to deliver without the epidural, but it took 30 hours—22 of which were spent on pitocin, which causes really intense, non-stop contractions. Not pleasant.

This time I was determined not to go down the same road, so I opted for a home birth. I found a wonderful nurse midwife with a home birth practice and saw her for my whole pregnancy. She, and pretty much everyone I met, assured me that a second birth that started on its own would be smoother, quicker, easier. I had high hopes.

At 6 p.m. on Monday, when I was six days past the due date, I went into labor. By midnight, contractions were two minutes apart and pretty strong, so my midwife came over. She examined me, and I was already 4 cm dilated. Awesome. It took me 20 hours to get there with Nora. We all thought baby would be there by sunrise.

During the night she checked me again, and I was at 5 cm. And when she checked me again a few hours later, I was still at 5 cm. After 14 hours, I was still at 5 cm. We tried everything to stimulate labor—including walks around the neighborhood during which I'd have to hang onto Greg every 2 minutes to work through a contraction. (Our neighbors have some stories to tell.) Still no change. At around 3 p.m. my midwife suggested I get in the tub and think about whether I wanted to transfer to the hospital for pitocin. I was exhausted and in lots of pain, and while the idea of giving up the dream of a home birth was hard to swallow, the idea of being done and holding my baby pulled me toward the hospital. I decided to transfer, but that if I had to have pitocin again, I was getting an epidural. Pretty quickly, we were packed up and headed to the hospital.

The quick relief I had envisioned (honestly, I thought we'd pull up, they'd give me an epidural, and they'd wake me when it was time to push) did not come to be. Somehow it was 5:30 or so before I finally got into a room. Not long after that, I met with the anesthesiologist about that epidural, who crushed my illusions entirely: Because of the rods in my back, I was not an epidural candidate. So I had to have the pitocin again, and again with no epidural.

I cried.

And then we got on with it. I was given fentanyl, which took the edge off and let me rest but didn't eliminate the pain. It made it manageable, though, and it made me a little loopy and happy (at least between contractions). The pitocin did its job and got the labor moving in the right direction, and by 10:54, a mere 29 hours after labor started, little Elliott Owen was in my arms.

So far I'd say he was worth it. And I'd also say three kids is plenty.

Welcome Filbert

2011-12-15T13:30:00.001-07:00

a.k.a. Elliott Owen (though truth be told, the four of us still call him Filbert about 75% of the time). He was born 12/13 at 10:54 p.m. Stats: 8 pounds 1 ounce, 20.5 inches, and a whole lotta perfect. We're all smitten.

Thankful

2011-11-23T18:44:00.000-07:00

And for my countless other blessings.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Playgrounds of New York

2011-11-22T14:00:00.000-07:00

You Can Dress Them Up

2011-11-21T10:07:00.000-07:00

Here's one of about a million photos from our recent trip to New York. Is it just me, or do the boys look like Secret Service agents tasked with keeping the crazy lady away from the president?

Biotin supplements

2011-10-18T11:24:00.000-06:00

I can't say enough good things about what biotin supplements have done for our family's hair health.

You really should give them a try.

50-ish States That Rhyme

2011-09-28T09:15:00.000-06:00

Did you guys have to learn the "50 States That Rhyme" song in elementary school? I did, and it stuck with me. And somehow I found myself singing it in front of the kids a couple months ago. And they loved it. Then I made the mistake of singing it double-time, as the song instructs, and since then I've been taking requests for it at least daily.

Yesterday Sidamo started singing it in the back seat of the car—not unusual, as he'll often start and get a few states in before giving up. But this time, he started and made it all the way to Wyoming. Wow. A-freaking-mazing, right?

I got a recording today.

Sorry Iowa. Oh, and also Misery.

And then, as I was commenting on the fact that he's probably the youngest kid anywhere to know the "50 States That Rhyme," his 3-year-old sister busted out with this:

Sorry, Indiana.

Crazy, right? (I've since learned, thanks YouTube, that my kids are not in fact the most precocious geography singers out there—and hell, they don't even play an instrument as accompaniment—but still, I was pretty darned impressed.)

Now here's the flip side: It's been about 36 hours since the kids have discovered they can sing this song on their own, and I have heard it no fewer than 7,658 times since then. The lid is off, and there doesn't seem to be any getting it back on. The price I pay for excessive maternal pride, I suppose.

8 years

2011-09-27T09:54:00.000-06:00

Hard to believe it's been 8 years since this:

I love this picture of us. We have it framed in the house, and we always get comments on it. It makes us look sooooo-phisticated, as a friend's grandma used to say.

The truth is, though, that almost all the pictures of our wedding look a little something like this:

Gaping-mouthed and doubled-over with laughter. Which, I guess, is a little more representative of the day—and the marriage.

Take this morning's exchange with my hopeless romantic as an example:

Greg: Happy anniversary!
Me (caught off guard): Oh yeah, happy anniversary! I guess I forgot.
Greg: Yeah, what's another year in a life sentence.

See? He continues to sweep me off my feet. Happy anniversary to my sweet, loving, dedicated, hard-working, and hilarious husband of 8 loooooooooong years. Love you big time.

State of the dog

2011-09-25T22:33:00.000-06:00

I've been hesitating to post on this topic because it's been such an emotional experience, but it's been a big change in our lives, so I think it's important to get it out there.

After the last post about Eden, we continued trying to make it work. We took her to two more behaviorists. The first told us, "You absolutely cannot keep this dog. There's no way she can succeed in a busy home." Number four outlined a last-ditch one-month training plan, which we implemented religiously but without much success. One day when we were locking Eden in the bedroom for the 10th time of the day, Greg and I looked at each other and agreed that it was no way for a dog to live. It became clear that the constant state of anxiety caused by our frequent visitors was just more than she could handle; she needed to be someplace without so much stimulation.

We contacted the rescue and asked them to start looking for a more suitable home for her. It wasn't easy—most people who want a Golden Retriever are not interested in an aggressive dog. But a few weeks ago, we got a call that there was a couple interested in her. I took her to meet them, and they were totally amazing. They have decades of experience dealing with dogs with all sorts of behavioral issues. Their kids are grown. They have visitors once a week, tops. They live in a quiet area and go for long walks and/or hikes daily. Plus they're sweet as pie. I wanted to live with them. Eden took to them immediately, and vice versa. They kept her for a couple weeks as a trial, with the understanding that we'd take her back if it wasn't a fit. Then last weekend, they let us know they'd fallen completely and had decided to keep her.

The whole experience was so difficult emotionally; there was guilt, anxiety, sadness, loss—compounded, of course, by having to help the kids through it. In short, it sucked. But at the end, Eden ended up in the absolutely perfect home for her, and we have had a huge weight lifted.

We thought about getting another dog, but given the timing—baby #3 will be here in a couple of months, we're renovating the basement, and we have some travel ahead—we decided against it. Unless we could find a Saffron clone, we decided it would just be too much stress to try to add another dog right now.

And then … we found a Saffron clone.

Seriously, isn't it uncanny?

Introducing Puddle (Pudsy for short). She is a 4-year-old Great Dane and is perfect in every single way. She loves people (especially children), is calm and affectionate, walks perfectly on a leash, and is submissive to every animal she meets—including chickens. We are completely, totally, head-over-heels in love, and I think the feeling just might be mutual.

What we can do

2011-09-19T08:25:00.000-06:00

Guest Blogger: Sarah Lenssen from #Ask5for5

Family photos by Mike Fiechtner Photography

Thank you Deirdre and nearly 150 other bloggers from around the world for allowing me to share a story with you today, during Social Media Week.

A hungry child in East Africa can't wait. Her hunger consumes her while we decide if we'll respond and save her life. In Somalia, children are stumbling along for days, even weeks, on dangerous roads and with empty stomachs in search of food and water. Their crops failed for the third year in a row. All their animals died. They lost everything. Thousands are dying along the road before they find help in refugee camps.

At my house, when my three children are hungry, they wait minutes for food, maybe an hour if dinner is approaching. Children affected by the food crisis in Ethiopia, Kenya, and Somalia aren't so lucky. Did you know that the worst drought in 60 years is ravaging whole countries right now, as you read this? Famine, a term not used lightly, has been declared in Somalia. This is the world's first famine in 20 years. 12.4 million people are in need of emergency assistance and over 29,000 children have died in the last three months alone. A child is dying every 5 minutes. It it estimated that 750,000 people could die before this famine is over. Take a moment and let that settle in.

The media plays a major role in disasters. They have the power to draw the attention of society to respond—or not. Unfortunately, this horrific disaster has become merely a footnote in most national media outlets. News of the U.S. national debt squabble and the latest celebrity's baby bump dominate headlines. That is why I am thrilled that nearly 150 bloggers from all over the world are joining together today to use the power of social media to make their own headlines; to share the urgent need of the almost forgotten with their blog readers. Humans have the capacity to care deeply for those who are suffering, but in a situation like this when the numbers are too huge to grasp and the people so far away, we often feel like the little we can do will be a drop in the ocean, and don't do anything at all.

When news of the famine first hit the news in late July, I selfishly avoided it. I didn't want to read about it or hear about it because I knew I would feel overwhelmed and uncomfortable. I wanted to protect myself. I knew I would need to do something if I knew what was really happening. You see, this food crisis is personal. I have a 4-year-old son and a 1 yr-old daughter who were adopted from Ethiopia and born in regions now affected by the drought. If my children still lived in their home villages, they would be two of the 12.4 million. My children: extremely hungry and malnourished? Gulp. I think any one of us would do anything we could for our hungry child. But would you do something for another mother's hungry child?

My friend and World Vision staffer, Jon Warren, was recently in Dadaab Refugee Camp in Kenya—the largest refugee camp in the world with over 400,000 people. He told me the story of Isnino Siyat, 22, a mother who walked for 10 days and nights with her husband, 1 year-old-baby, Suleiman, and 4-yr-old son Adan Hussein, fleeing the drought in Somalia. When she arrived at Dadaab, she built the family a shelter with borrowed materials while carrying her baby on her back. Even her dress is borrowed. As she sat in the shelter on her second night in camp she told Jon, "I left because of hunger. It is a very horrible drought which finished both our livestock and our farm." The family lost their 5 cows and 10 goats one by one over 3 months, as grazing lands dried up. "We don't have enough food now...our food is finished. I am really worried about the future of my children and myself if the situation continues."

Will you help a child like Baby Suleiman? Ask5for5 is a dream built upon the belief that you will.

That something I knew I would need to do became a campaign called #Ask5for5 to raise awareness and funds for famine and drought victims. The concept is simple, give $5 and ask five of your friends to give $5, and then they each ask five of their friends to give $5 and so on—in nine generations of 5x5x5...we could raise $2.4 million! In one month, more than 750 people have donated over $25,000! I set up a fundraiser at See Your Impact and 100% of the funds will go to World Vision, an organization that has been fighting hunger in the Horn of Africa for decades and will continue long after this famine has ended. Donations can multiply up to 5 times in impact by government grants to help provide emergency food, clean water, agricultural support, healthcare, and other vital assistance to children and families suffering in the Horn.

I need you to help me save lives. It's so so simple; here's what you need to do:

Donate $5 or more on this page (http://seeyourimpact.org/members/ask5for)
Send an email to your friends and ask them to join us.
Share #Ask5for5 on Facebook and Twitter!

I'm looking for another 100 bloggers to share this post on their blogs throughout Social Media Week. Email me at ask5for5@gmail.com if you're interested in participating this week.

A hungry child doesn't wait. She doesn't wait for us to finish the other things on our to-do list, or get to it next month when we might have a little more money to give. She doesn't wait for us to decide if she's important enough to deserve a response. She will only wait as long as her weakened little body will hold on...please respond now and help save her life. Ask 5 for 5.

Thank you on behalf of all of those who will be helped—you are saving lives and changing history.

p.s. Please don't move on to the next website before you donate and email your friends right now. It only takes 5 minutes and just $5, and if you're life is busy like mine, you probably won't get back to it later. Let's not be a generation that ignores hundreds of thousands of starving people, instead let's leave a legacy of compassion. You have the opportunity to save a life today!

Pooped out

2011-09-14T08:28:00.000-06:00

Sidamo just discovered, to his great delight, the phrase "pooped out." He heard it in a Toot & Puddle book and couldn't stop laughing. Now he keeps trying to recreate it but can't remember exactly how it goes. Instead he has been saying, "Are you knocked out of the butt?" So very close. Feel free to use it if you're so inclined; I'd love to see his rendition enter the vernacular.

Pretty faces

2011-09-12T10:31:00.000-06:00

Yesterday there was a face painter at our neighbor-friend's super-fun 6th birthday party.

How is it that already adorable kids can be made even cuter with a little artificial color?

Sidamo managed to keep his superhero face on all day. Nora made it a few hours before her first crying fit caused the pink and black to run and meld into what looked like a face-sized bruise. So much for adorable.

Time capsule

2011-09-10T10:04:00.000-06:00

Our friends are having a welcome party this afternoon for their baby girl, and instead of gifts they've asked everyone to bring something for the baby's time capsule. Not liking to procrastinate, I'm tackling the challenge good and early—right now.

I thought it would be fun to ask Sidamo and Nora to make predictions about the future so when Ruby opens her time capsule in high school, she can laugh at how dumb they were. So I asked Sidamo, "Do you think the world will be the same or different way, way, way off in the future—like 15 years from now."

"Oh, different!"

"Really?" I asked. "How will it be different?"

I don't know, he said, and went back to reading. I realized I'd have to get specific. "Cars, for instance: Will they be the same or different?"

"They'll be different. Definitely."

"How will they be different?" I asked.

"Well," he said, "For one thing, they'll be older."

Sooooooo … we're back to the drawing board. If you have any brilliant ideas for a time capsule, send 'em along.

Exoneration

2011-09-04T09:34:00.000-06:00

A certain someone who feels wrongfully maligned by a certain previous post would like me to point out that dentists sometimes give out denture care packs for things other than dentures. Like for nighttime mouth guards, for instance, for people with tooth-grinding tendencies.

Speaking of which, I've read that tooth-grinding is a sign of repressed anger. I wonder what a certain someone would have to be angry about?

Showing his age

2011-08-25T20:04:00.000-06:00

Look what Greg brought home from the dentist.

Time for me to look for a newer model, I guess.

Airplane affection

2011-08-20T21:28:00.002-06:00

Is it a new trend, after a flight, to hug the person sitting next to you when saying goodbye? Or have I just had the good fortune of sitting next to exceptionally affectionate people on my last two flights? Or maybe I'm somehow giving off the impression that I'm much nice than I am. Or people just like hugging pregnant ladies.

Or maybe, as their breath would indicate, they were both just drunk.

If I asked you for $5

2011-08-18T11:05:00.000-06:00

You'd give it to me, right? And if you asked a few of your friends for $5, I'm sure they'd do the same. Well, that's the idea behind my beautiful friend Sarah's brilliant new campaign. Except instead of passing the money amongst ourselves, it will be going to provide direct relief to those families struggling to survive the drought and famine in the Horn of Africa.

I'm sure you can understand why this issue is very close to our family's hearts. So what do you say, can you spare a five?

I'll turn it over now to Sarah, who will give you all the compelling reasons you should help however you can.

___________

guest blogger: Sarah Lenssen from Ask5for5
photos courtesy of Cate Turton / Dept. for International Development

First, thanks to Deirdre for allowing me to post on her blog today! Today, more than 25 bloggers, including this one, are standing with me to Ask 5 for 5 for Africa. Here's why....

I began pursuing a BIG dream two weeks ago. After deciding I could no longer avoid the news about the famine in the horn of Africa, I had that gut feeling that I couldn't sit this one out. I HAD to do something because I could. Something bigger than I could do alone. That's when #Ask5for5 was born.

Two of my children, Ashen and Bereket, were adopted and are from the region affected by the drought in Ethiopia. They would be two of the statistics if they still lived there. I see my son’s and daughter’s faces in the photos of those suffering in the refugee camps. It could have been him. It could have been her. The thought haunts me.

And moms just like us are watching their children go hungry day after day. I can't imagine what it's like, but I have to—I have to be there to help them, because it could have been my children. These families have lost their livestock, their crops, food prices are inflated at the market if there is any food there, and they don’t have any more lifelines to tap into. Many are traveling hundreds of miles through parched land in hope of finding help. Many are dying along the way. It is estimated that 29,000 children have died in the last 90 days in the famine in Somalia alone.

But I KNOW we can do something about it. Instead of feeling overwhelmed and paralyzed, we can rally ourselves and our friends to respond! I set up a fundraiser through See Your Impact. 100% of your gift will go to the relief and development organization World Vision, where it will be combined with government grants to multiply up to 5 times in impact!

You’ll receive updates on just how your funding is being used to help save lives affected by famine in East Africa. I'm amazed at how much we've raised already -- over $7,000 in just four days! We blew through our first 3 goals in just 3 days and are well on our way to $10,000 and beyond!

I need you to help me save lives. It's so so simple; here's what you need to do:

Donate $5 or more on this page (http://seeyourimpact.org/members/ask5for5)
Send an email to your friends and ask them to join us.
Share Ask5for5 on Facebook and Twitter, and join our page to stay updated too!

I'm also looking for 100 bloggers to stand with Ask5for5 to spread the word during Social Media week, September 19th - 23rd. If you're interested, email me, ask5for5@gmail.com.

Thanks! Please donate and email your friends right now—don't wait for a calmer moment, because if you're like me, other demands inevitably crop up and you won't get to it. A child's life hangs in the balance, but you can help save her!

Filbert's first photo shoot

2011-08-17T14:56:00.001-06:00

I'm terribly late in posting these, because I thought my scanner was dead. Turns out it was just saving files someplace I didn't think to look. Pregnancy brain is real, people.

These are from our big ultrasound at 19 weeks (I'm now 24). Everything checked out great, and it turns out that all suspicions were spot-on and Filbert is, indeed, a boy. And like his siblings, he is pretty darned adorable.

Also like his siblings, he picks his nose. Already.

Things have changed in the 3+ years since last we did this. Now the ultrasound includes 3D images in addition to the 2D ones. Normally 3D pictures of other people's kids freak me out a bit, so I wouldn't have chosen to have it done. I'm glad they did it, though, because when it's your own kid it's actually sort of cute. So weird to see the little features at such a young gestational age—at this point he was less than a pound, and somewhere around 12 inches long. Unfortunately he was hiding his face, but we got a good enough view know that a) he's a looker, and b) he's keeping up the family trend of enormous noggins.

I love how he looks like he's snuggling up and having a good nap. It gives me hope that he might be a better sleeper than his sister. (And it gives me warm fuzzy thoughts of snuggling him out of the womb.)

If all goes well, this will be our last ultrasound of the pregnancy, so no more pics until he makes his debut. It's a little ways off still, but I'm getting excited to meet the little guy!

Pigtails!

2011-08-16T08:30:00.004-06:00

But don't call them pigtails or she'll yank them out. They're either ponytails or fairy tales. Duh.

The post you (and we) have been waiting for

2011-07-27T17:59:00.000-06:00

Surprise!

And no, it wasn't laid in our bed; Sidamo just wanted to take it to the softest place he could find so it wouldn't break. It's adorable! About a third the size of a regular egg, and just so sweet and delicate. This weekend when Greg is home from his business trip, and our coparent Rebecca is home from hers, we'll all share the world's tiniest omelet.

Christmas in July

2011-07-11T21:21:00.000-06:00

The kids are in full-blown holiday mode, with the Christmas music blaring daily. Even when I hide it and put it out of reach, they manage to find it. If you can't fight 'em …

I made the first Christmas gift of the season: a sleepsack for Filbert (have I already mentioned that that's what the kids call the baby-to-be?). It's super cute, and I'll make matching jammies for the big 'uns. The pattern is from Growing up Sew Liberated, which I love so far.

Apparently the recent muggy weather and monsoon rains are inspiring the Christmas spirit all over this part of the world.

Famiversary

2011-07-06T22:56:00.000-06:00

Four years ago today, we met Sidamo for the first time. It was a monumental day—a day that changed all our our lives for ever, and, of course, for better. However, it was not the wonderful day filled with unfettered love and adoration that we all imagine first parent-child meetings to be. Sidamo was scared, emotional, and unready for another upheaval in his short life. And who could blame him?

For the first several days after meeting him, Sidamo cried anytime we walked into the room. Reluctantly he'd let me hold him and walk him around the grounds of the care center until eventually he'd crash in my arms. He was so emotionally spent and so out of control of the situation that he used the only self-protective mechanism he had at his disposal: full physical shut-down. He didn't let Greg anywhere near him until after we were all home and I experienced a physical shut-down of my own.

This isn't a part of adoption that most people outside the adoption community often consider, but it's the core of the adoption experience: In order to be adopted, a child must first suffer unimaginable loss. A child's life must be ripped apart before we begin trying to piece it back together again.

And then the child demonstrates the remarkable nature of human resilience. Sidamo has grown from a scared, lonely, and insecure toddler into the most boisterous, confident, connected child you'll ever meet. And he loves to laugh about the fact that he once preferred Mommy over Daddy. This evening I overheard him telling Nora, "Nora, when you get older, you'll like Daddy better than Mommy too." Nora's response: "Oh yeah? Well when you get younger, you'll like Mommy better."

We had a very mellow celebration tonight—Chinese takeout, lots of laughs, and a book we brought home from Ethiopia: animal stories from the Sidamo region. In one of them, a hyena eats a wily mouse, and the mouse runs straight through to the exit. Huge hit with the under-6 crowd.

We told Sidamo how lucky we are to have him in our lives, how happy we are that we met him on that day four years ago, and how much we love him. He and I also talked about how hard our first meeting was for him, and how brave he was to take a chance on us. Sidamo was, and continues to be, such a remarkable and inspirational child, and I still struggle daily to make sense of the odd imbalance of luck that gave us the privilege of parenting him.

Thank you to the lovely Sarah for this beautiful photo—and the many others I'll be poaching when I finally find the words to recap our incredible weekend.

Beliefs

2011-06-25T10:59:00.000-06:00

Sidamo: Julian, do you believe in God?

Julian (6-year-old next-door neighbor/best friend): No, do you?

Sidamo: I don't believe in God. I believe in the Piston Cup.

Combine this with Nora's, "We don't go to church; we go to hotels," and I think we've earned an A+ in religious education.

About the dog

2011-06-23T20:32:00.000-06:00

In the camping post, I made reference to some relationship struggles. With a dog. Time to elaborate and beg guidance.

Edie has been with us for four months now. In so many ways she's a wonderful dog—she loves the kids. Absolutely adores them, follows them around, is gentle with them, and puts up with their antics with a smile on her face and a wag in her tail. She's quite mellow for a 1.5-year-old dog, doesn't chew things, is trustworthy left alone, has never had an accident. She gets check marks on much of the Perfect Dog Checklist.

Unfortunately, she also has some issues. Serious issues. She has a crazily intense prey drive that causes her to chase anything that moves—squirrels, birds, bicycles, motorcycles, helicopters, other dogs … making leash training really, really difficult. We've been working hard on it, and she's slowly improving.

However, there's an issue that is not, so far, resolving with training: territorial aggression. When anyone comes to the house, which is about 10 times a day (we have a very busy household), she turns into Cujo. At first it was just barking and retreating, but now she'll actively pursue people while barking maniacally. On Saturday, she lunged and snapped at Greg's uncle during Nora's birthday party. Luckily she didn't make contact, but it was scary.

I've been in touch with a couple more behaviorists and the rescue we got her from. The general consensus is that, with lots of intense training, we might be able to manage her aggression but not erase it. Which freaks me out. Essentially, they're telling me it's going to be months/years of lots and lots of work just to minimize the risk, but she'll never be a bombproof dog.

We need a bombproof dog.

As someone who volunteered for years for a dog rescue, I get what a ridiculous thing that is to say. I get that dogs (especially rescue dogs) have issues. We worked through our 140-pound Great Dane's dog aggression. It was a ton of work and it took years, and we had no kids at the time. The stakes were lower, our hands were freer, and our time was plentiful.

And the truth is, we can deal with issues. Certain issues. But aggression is sort of a non-starter for me. I just can't have a dog who might bite when I have three kids whose friends are in and out all day long. So here's another thing I feel awful typing: I think we might need to return Edie to the rescue. And it's hard on so many levels. Edie has been through so much transition already and clearly has come to love our family. What's more, our family has come to really love her. The kids adore her. They (especially Nora) light up when they see her. She's their favorite playmate. It will be heartbreaking for them if we give her back.

But on the other hand, it would be far more devastating if she were to hurt someone and had to be euthanized.

Ugh. After typing it all out, I guess the answer seems pretty clear. I'd still love some weigh-in, though. Maybe there are some angles I haven't thought of, or just some words of comfort about a crappy situation. Please?

3-year-old baby

2011-06-21T20:18:00.000-06:00

My sweet little girl turned 3 yesterday. In some ways—temper, simultaneous yet conflicting desires, extreme stubbornness, to give a few examples—she's 3 through-and-through.

In other ways, though, she's still the cuddly little baby who wants Mommy to hold, rock, and sing to her. A little like she was three years ago.

For her birthday, she wanted (what else?) a strawberry cake with a chicken on top. After scouring the web and finding the most unappetizing chicken-shaped cakes you could possibly imagine (really, try a quick google search), I found this adorable one. They were harder a lot more work than I imagined, but luckily my friend Jess came over to help. Voila:

Since Greg's birthday was last week too, we had a combined party on what turned out to be Father's Day (oops—need to check the calendar better next time).

It was a splendid day. Perfect weather, yummy food, and water play for the kids.

Such a fun celebration of my fun, quirky, chicken-loving chatterbox and her handsome, devoted, hilarious, and handy papa. I'm doubly blessed with my wonderful Geminis.

First camping trip 2011

2011-06-15T21:34:00.000-06:00

We took our first camping trip of the year last week, and it was lovely. My kids, as you may have noticed, are happiest when outdoors, filthy, and in some state of undress. Camping is the perfect activity for them. Greg is happiest in the mountains, fishing, with his family close by. Camping is the perfect activity for him, which is why we always take a nice fish-centric camping trip around his birthday (which is today—happy birthday, baby!).

So last Wednesday, we headed to the hills with our good friends Pete and Jess and their two girls, Hazel and teensy little Annie. Also in tow (badum-pum) was their brand-new-to-them Airstream. Oh how that lovely tin can changed the camping experience—for the better.

You maybe can't tell it from the photos above, but the first two days of the trip were outrageously windy—so windy that our heavy-duty tent poles look like they've been run over by a truck. And since we were camping on the shores of a lake, the wind kicked up huge amounts of dust, making it impossible to be outside for good portions of the trip.

Which allowed for plenty of reading time, another favorite of my kids and Hazel. In fact, we had enough holed-up time to read the first 100 pages of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to Sidamo. It's the first chapter book he's really gotten into, and he's totally enthralled. So am I, actually. Much more so than the first time around.

We also took a lovely hike around Monarch Lake. Sidamo was a rockstar—4+ miles with very little complaining. Actually, he probably went more like 8 miles, since he was running laps around us the whole time. Nora on the other hand demanded to be carried for much of the hike, which made it even more of a workout for her daddy. And Edie continued to act like the crazy beast that she is, making me want to push her into the raging river more than once. (Another story, Edie and I are experiencing some conflict in our relationship.)

The campfire food was delicious, of course. The non-alcoholic beer was entirely fulfilling. I'll keep telling myself that. (Pete, above, is enjoying the leaded variety.)

And I sort of wish there had been something totally calamitous about the trip, because that would make the above "Pete Emerges from the Ashes" photo more meaningful. As it is, it's just a pretty fantastic pic. (Speaking of, all the photo credits go to Gregola, the family photographer.)

We're all looking forward to our next trip—and trying to resist the urge to buy an Airstream.

The week that lasted a year

2011-06-03T21:02:00.000-06:00

It must be a year since Sidamo's last day of school, right? It's impossible to think it was just a week ago. Last Friday night, to kick off summer, we had friends over for dinner. The kids stayed up way too late, and one of them in particular handled it with exactly zero grace. While the other kids (and adults) were having fun, this one whined and cried and complained about the no-fairness of everything from food selection to seating to how many times people clapped for one kid's song versus another's. Everything was measured, and nothing came out in this kid's favor.

There's someone else who lost all grace that evening. That would be me. What were designed as encouraging talks to help this kid get it together quickly turned into increasingly frustrated lectures about how we're all in charge of our own happiness, and if we choose to be miserable, no one can make us be anything else. All true, in theory, but probably not age- or event-appropriate.

That point was driven home at 5 the next morning when this kid woke up having vomited in bed from coughing so hard. Poor thing was sick, overtired, and cranky the night before, and mama was anything but supportive. Then the other kid woke, also with an unstoppable cough. We tried to keep them in bed for a few more hours, but no one was feeling any better.

By 11, I deemed Nora's shallow breathing a bit concerning and decided we should take both kids to urgent care rather than waiting through the holiday weekend to see our regular pediatrician. Turns out she was having an asthma attack. The urgent care folks admitted her to the hospital, where we stayed for two nights.

Nora was the ideal patient. She took her nebulizer treatments every two hours around the clock without a single complaint. Even when being awoken in the middle of the night by strange respiratory therapists asking, "Are you ready for your breathing treatment?" she'd sit up, smile, and say, "Yeah! Sure!"

At one point two nurses had to swaddle her, squirt saline in her nose, and suction it out using a crazy mechanized snot-sucking machine. She hated it, but still stayed remarkably civil. The nurses left, and Nora told me, "I don't like that nose water." But when one of the nurses returned, Nora looked at her and said, "You're doing a GREAT job. You really are."

Everyone wanted to keep her, but I snatched her away as soon as her oxygen levels were high enough. Even a non-scary hospital stay with a cooperative kid is exhausting and taxing and stressful and no fun at all. There was little sleep for either of us, we were both stir-crazy, and we were just so ready to be home. We were given an inhaler to keep on hand in case this issue should arise again, but we're hoping this was just a reaction to a virus and will not be an ongoing concern. Fingers crossed.

Oh, I forgot to mention that we had finally taken Nora's pacifier away a few days before. Terrible, awful, no-good timing. The first night in the hospital, she wept and fought and insisted that she's not big, she's little, and little girls can't sleep without pacis. And little girls certainly cannot sleep in hospitals without pacis! I almost ran down to the maternity ward and raided their supply closet. But she eventually did sleep, and, surprisingly, hasn't asked for it since.

We came home Monday. Today is Friday, and even though it feels decades ago, we're still recovering. I can't think it's coincidence that last night, at 13 weeks 2 days of pregnancy, I had my first bout of "morning" sickness, and it's persisting. I think my body must just be worn down and staging a protest. Nora, on the other hand, is going full speed and feeling great. What I'd give for the energy and resilience of a 2-year-old on steroids.

This face

2011-05-26T22:21:00.000-06:00

I just want to eat it up. And sometimes I do.

Amends

2011-05-25T20:43:00.000-06:00

If, in the past several weeks I have:

missed your birthday,
nodded off during a conversation,
lost my train of thought (repeatedly),
been crankier than usual, or
tried to steal your lunch,

I apologize. But I can only take half the blame. The other half goes to the new little being who has taken up residence in my belly. You can take it up with him/her sometime this December.

:-)

Sleeping beauties

2011-05-16T22:14:00.000-06:00

My favorite subject: peaceful, quiet, loveable, quiet, sweet, quiet kids. These photos have been taken over the past several months or more. I just figured out how to pull photos off my phone.

Finally

2011-05-16T12:16:00.002-06:00

A containment system that works.

(Sorry for the rotation. Trying to fix, but if anyone can give me tips for how to rotate photos on a Droid, it would speed things along.)

Mothers' Day Gratitude

2011-05-08T09:17:00.000-06:00

Grateful for:

My beautiful mother and her boundless love.
My beautiful children, who opened the door for me to experience that boundless love for myself.
Sidamo's beautiful first mother, for giving our boy such a loving start.
All the mothers in my circle, who support me, challenge me, and uplift me every day.

Wasted wardrobe

2011-05-02T22:29:00.002-06:00

Every day I dress her, but just about every day I find her like this at some point. This girl was born an eon or so too late; she would love nothing more than to spend her days roving and foraging as nature intended.

Her closet overflows with the most beautiful hand-me-downs, but if given the choice (and really, she has opposable thumbs, so she always has the choice) she'll go naked. If forced to wear something, it's usually a variation on this:

As someone who faked being too short to reach her own clothes until about 3rd grade for lack of interest in picking out her own outfits, I thought I'd have control over my little one's fashion choices for at least a little while longer. Nope. Every day it's the purple skirt, the well-worn tights, and the raggedy polka-dotted fleece (with a hot pink shirt underneath) or it's a tantrum. And I'm learning to pick my battles. Plus, if I can forget for a moment the gorgeous clothes that are going unworn—and ignore every basic tenet of fashion—it's hard to deny the adorability of a little girl in her all-her-own style.

Thank you, Easter Bunny

2011-04-24T09:31:00.001-06:00

Make an on-line slideshow at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Today, in the kitchen

2011-04-23T21:35:00.000-06:00

In preparation for tomorrow's potluck at Grandma's:

Carrot Cheesecake

Lemon Curd Tart With Olive Oil

Cheddar Cheese and Red Pepper Strata

White Batter Bread

I think I gained a few pounds just in the cooking.

Four Years of This Mug

2011-04-19T22:04:00.000-06:00

Four years ago yesterday, we learned that this beautiful young man would become the glowing center of our universe.

The feeling was (and continues to be) indescribable.

Here's that glowing orb now. (Years one, two, and three for a happy trip down memory lane.)

And in what has become an annual tradition, here is Big Sidamo commenting on Little Sidamo's lack of hair (and expressing some sincere affection). This boy knows who he loves.

Make an on-line slideshow at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Tooth Fairy's first visit

2011-04-04T14:00:00.000-06:00

Did you know she can find a kid's pillow even when he's sleeping at a rental condo? She's amazing and, according to Nora, she flies with shoes on. Just so you know.

Something tells me she'll be making a second visit very soon.

First time on skis

2011-03-31T15:16:00.002-06:00

Today was Nora's first day on skis, and she was much happier than she looks. Big brother is off at ski school and has ony been photographed from a non-embarrassing distance (see slow-moving speck in the second photo).

The brood

2011-03-30T15:50:00.001-06:00

Introducing our as-yet unnamed (and long awaited) flock. From left to right: Barred Plymouth Rock, Rhode Island Red #1, Silver-laced Wyandotte, Rhode Island Red #2, Easter Egger, and Australorp.

Maybe we should have a naming contest: first omelet goes to the winner. Runner up gets feathers from their first molt. Think of the tiny little pillow you could make!

Goodbye, sweet friend

2011-03-21T19:54:00.000-06:00

Tonight we said goodbye to the sweetest, kindest, most endearing creature I've ever had the good fortune of knowing. If only we all could embody an ounce of her goodness, the world would be a better place.

Goodbye, beautiful Saffron. Give Daisy a kiss for us.

XOXO

March 13, in Colorado

2011-03-13T12:10:00.001-06:00

Lap dog

2011-02-28T22:26:00.001-07:00

Filling up

2011-02-21T13:43:00.000-07:00

Since we have that new minivan, we may as well fill it a little, right?

Welcome Eden, the newest member of our family.

And before we receive any more sympathy cards (thanks Dennis and Mary Ellin!), I'll clarify that Saffron is alive and well and sort of ambivalent about the new addition.

All in

2011-02-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

In case you wondered whether I was holding back on this whole parenting thing, wonder no longer: I'm officially all in. The sporty 4-seater has been demoted to the Dad-mobile, and I'll now be driving this sexy little thing.

Come on now, I know you want to come along for the ride.

I can see you checking out my rear, by the way.

I'll be printing bumper stickers that read "I feel cooler than I look." Any other minivan moms want in?

Going home

2011-02-07T11:36:00.002-07:00

From Nora: "Daisy died because her feet got old and she needed to go home."

They understand a lot, these little ones.

ETA: Daisy is our dog who died last year; Saffron is still kickin'.

Creature Comforts

2011-02-06T22:07:00.000-07:00

Every old dog deserves a fire.

Quickly

2011-01-26T10:47:00.000-07:00

So much to update, and yet I just can't seem to make it happen. So let's try an easy, manageable bulleted list:

After Christmas we took an epic journey east. The whole family met up in Ohio New Year's weekend, which was lovely. First time in years that my father has had all his kids and grandkids together in the same place. It's a beautiful bunch. My dad has been having some health trouble (I won't go into detail, since I know he values his privacy and reads this blog). I will say, though, that it is very hard to see him sick, and I hope (and believe) he'll be well again soon.
After Ohio, Greg headed back home, and the kids and I continued on to New York City with grand plans for a homecoming tour—complete with a side trip to New Jersey to show the kids where I grew up, went to school, etc.
The kids and I all got strep. Plans changed. We spent a lot of time in bed and at Duane Reade.
Traveling alone with kids is hard. Traveling alone with kids while sick is harder.
I am thankful for my sisters, who made traveling alone with kids while sick manageable. They kept me from sinking.
Sidamo lost our camera while we were in NYC, so I have no pictures.
After getting back home, we were well for a few days before getting sick again.
My birthday fell in the middle of a sick week. Sucked.
I was feeling quite sorry for myself until a few days ago. Something switched. I'm still not entirely healthy, but I feel alive and grateful for my life again. And I have the energy to get out of bed and be nice to people. That makes all the difference.
Greg got me the new Decemberists album for my birthday. Love.
We got a new woodburning stove installed yesterday. Love again. Now I need to find the perfect, comfy chair to go next to it. I spent too much of my life in search of perfect, comfy chairs.
Saffron has been ill, so our search for dog #2 is on hold. Last weekend we thought we were going to lose her. She heard me on the phone with a friend saying as much and immediately perked up, eating for the first time in 5 days. She's down to 63 pounds. (Yes, she's still a Great Dane.)
The kids are amazing, as ever. Sidamo and I went through a rough patch right around my birthday, during which I felt like he hated me. I think we're past it, and I think my general malaise contributed greatly to it. Nora on the other hand is very communicative about her love these days. She'll lean in, look me in the eyes, and tell me, "I love you sooooo much, Mommy." In the next breath: "I love Sidamo's shoes sooooo much, Mommy." Good to keep things in perspective.

Fashion Dysmorphic Disorder

2010-12-28T14:25:00.000-07:00

I'll get to that Christmas post shortly, but I just can't pass up the opportunity to share with you a gem I just unearthed when organizing my office.

At the end of the summer, Sidamo attended a week-long day camp for Ethiopian adoptees. There were very few highlights from the week, but this was one. Actually, it's probably the one. There was a table set up with people shapes, as well as fabric, paper, yarn, etc., so the kids could make replicas of their unique families. In the time it took others to create their entire (often very large) families, Sidamo created this. His image of himself.

Someday this boy will shop for his own clothing. Some parents might fear such a day, but I just can't help but be excited by all the blogging opportunities it will present.

Christmas Eve

2010-12-27T23:02:00.000-07:00

All wrapped up in their mama-made jammies, full of a lovely dinner (eaten on our fancy plates, by candlelight), the kids wrote their note to Santa and stole downstairs for one more very close inspection of the tree.

They went to bed whispering and wondering about whether Santa would come through on their only two requests: a sparkly car (for Nora) and a sparkly Mater tow-truck (for Damo). I can still remember that feeling—holed up with my sister Caity in her bedroom, filled with anticipation, convincing each other and ourselves that we heard hoofbeats on the roof, begging for the hours to pass and sleep to come. This was the first year I've felt that vicarious joy and anticipation from our two. Moreso from Sidamo, of course, but Nora too seems to get it in a way that Sidamo didn't at her age. The precocious nature of younger siblings, I suppose.

I'll do another post with some gift reviews. There were some big hits and some spectacular duds (note: before you quadruple a recipe, try it out first), but really none of it mattered. It was a beautiful couple of days, filled with lots of warmth, family time, creativity, and kindness. Oh, and 60-degree weather. (Sorry east-coasters.) Really, that's just about as perfect a holiday as anyone could ask for. Despite what the photo below tells you.

Skating

2010-12-27T14:25:00.000-07:00

I took the kids skating last week for their first time, and they surprised the ice out of me by pushing off my supporting (hovering) hands and skating independently. I guess nothing should surprise me with these two competent little souls.

Dino Damo's 5th birthday

2010-12-12T21:55:00.000-07:00

Happy number 5 to my budding explorer. Here's to many more years of curiosity, passion, and discovery.

Unfair

2010-12-07T14:26:00.002-07:00

Why should a not-yet-5-year-old wear my super-sexy leather boots better than I do? This kid is destined for stardom, as you can see.

Royalty

2010-12-06T10:04:00.000-07:00

We went to the art museum with the fam yesterday, and the kids spent most of their time dressing up as Egyptian royalty. Clearly they were born in the wrong era; elaborate headdress and jewel-laden collars just don't go over like they used to.

Handmade holidays

2010-12-05T22:42:00.000-07:00

When I first suggested to Greg that we exchange only handmade holiday gifts this year, he asked, "Do you really think you have the electronic skills necessary to make me a Blu-Ray player?" He was a little skeptical about the idea, and I figured I was probably in it alone. When I suggested he make Sidamo a solar system mobile, he nearly stalled out on the specifics—wondering how he'd fashion a sun that's exactly 277 times the size of Mercury, for example. (Greg is, to put it mildly, a perfectionist. He sometimes has trouble starting a project if he can't see the path to a perfect end result.) But today he turned his agonizing into action and began the creation of what will surely be the coolest model solar system this side of the asteroid belt.

Meanwhile, I finally finished knitting Socktopus for Nora. Whew. I started this about a year and a half ago and got stuck at the heel of the first leg. After watching a few tutorials on how to wrap and turn, I cobbled together some cute—if imperfect—feet. I'm glad Socktopus isn't actually relying on my knitting skills to keep his feet warm in the cold seas, because I definitely didn't get it quite right. Still, it's a sweet little toy, and I am beyond relieved to be done with it.

The little guy below is not exactly a holiday gift, in that Sidamo requested it today and we made it together. He wanted an elf to live in the little elfin forest he created yesterday at a local Waldorf holiday festival. It's far less menacing than it looks here, and I'll probably knit a little hat to sweeten it up a bit. What I liked about this project was that it was totally free-form and gave Sidamo an opportunity to practice sewing. And poking himself with needles. He's getting very proficient in at least one of those two skills, but I won't say which.

Also on the list for this year (some are for Sidamo's birthday; some are for Christmas):

A paleontologist toolkit for Sidamo, with a Dino Damo's Field Guide, a head lamp, some dino bones, info cards on dinosaurs, and a few other odds and ends. He's enthralled with dinosaurs right now, so I think this one will be a hit.
Bubble bath, using recipes based on these.
Knitted hats, probably, though I already gave Nora the one I made for her. Plus, boring.
Random art supplies.
A few books (not homemade), which I'll try to list in another post.

I have almost exactly no ideas for Nora, so if you have any, pass them along. Sidamo has such intense interests that it's easy to come up with fun ideas for him. Nora, on the other hand, would be content with a Costco-sized box of Cheerios. Hmm, I might have just decided what's going in her stocking.

Thankful

2010-11-26T14:48:00.002-07:00

For two amazing children, who at least pretend to sleep.

Silenced

2010-11-23T13:31:00.002-07:00

Why haven't I thought of this sooner? For the low, low price of my old iPod, Laurie Berkner has been silenced—at least to my ears.

Applications

2010-11-22T11:38:00.000-07:00

Applications filed this week so far:

Golden Retriever rescue.
Backyard chicken permit.

If I don't get my estrogen levels in check soon, I just might start filling out another adoption application.

Menu: Bean/Pumpkin Soup, Baked Eggs, Ethiopian Food, Vegetarian Bolognese,

2010-11-07T10:28:00.001-07:00

I just can't seem to talk about anything but food these days—which is kinda funny, since with this lingering cold I haven't really been able to taste anything for about a week. Still, we need to eat, which means I need to plan. Here's what's on the docket:

Black bean pumpkin soup. Needless to say we'll skip the ham, and we'll use dried black beans from the garden, leftover Halloween pumpkins, and garden tomatoes (we still have a bunch of them pinking up in a box in the pantry—awesome).
Ethiopian food (yellow peas, spicy lentils, shiro, and greens with injera from the merkato a few blocks from here. Have I mentioned that I love our new neighborhood?)
Eggs in Purgatory with Artichoke Hearts, Potatoes and Capers. Mostly because I like the name. I might swap out the artichoke hearts since a) I don't have any on hand and b) the kids aren't huge fans. Any ideas of what would be good in there?
Spanish White Beans With Spinach tossed with pasta.
Pasta with Vegetarian Bolognese Sauce. I don't have a recipe for this one but can write it up if there's interest.

Recipe review: Pasta with tender greens

2010-11-06T11:09:00.000-06:00

I made this Pasta With Tender Greens recipe (thanks, Lauren!), and it was delish. In fact, I'm counting down the minutes until lunchtime so I can put a dent in the leftovers. Yum.

I used beet greens from the garden and followed the recipe pretty closely but used pureed oven-roasted tomatoes in place of the tomato paste. Here's my gripe with tomato paste: Recipes usually call for one or two tablespoons, but the smallest cans contain much more than that and so I end up with almost-full cans of the stuff spoiling in my fridge every time I use it. When I lived in Italy the tomato paste came in toothpaste-like tubes that kept it fresh longer. Those probably exist here too, don't they?

Bet you regret asking me to explain my gripe with tomato paste, don't you?

Cauliflower & White Bean Soup

2010-11-04T07:50:00.001-06:00

We all have colds, so this soup was the perfect thing for dinner tonight. The only modification I made was to roast the cauliflower before starting. I love the flavor of roasted cauliflower, and I figured it would deepen the flavor of the soup. And, big surprise, I was right.

Everyone except Nora gobbled it up, but she's been more or less boycotting dinner ever since she stopped napping. Actually, boycott has a sort of "silent protest" connotation, so that's not the right word. More accurately, she's been staging violent, screaming mutiny when asked to behave like a civilized human being anytime after 4 p.m. So she didn't eat it so much as fling it around the room while her head spun and she spoke in tongues.

Also, don't let the truffle oil scare you off. If you don't happen to have any in your pantry (what kind of barbarian are you?), you'll be fine without it.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-11-03T13:06:00.000-06:00

White Bean and Cauliflower Soup with Truffle Oil
Pasta with Tender Greens (using beet greens and chard from the garden)
Fried Rice with Tofu and Veggies (don't have a recipe, but I can concoct one if there's interest)
Leftover Lentil Tacos
More Pizza (in case I haven't mentioned it before, I should make it known that I make the best pizza between the coasts. If you live between the coasts, you know that's not saying much.)

While we're on the topic of yummy family food, be sure to check out my friend Lauren's new blog: Cookbook Recipe Mom. It's the source of the Pasta recipe above, and so far all the recipes I've seen there look like ones that would go over very well in this house. The blog, in Lauren's words, "is about seeking, testing, and reviewing healthy, easy recipes that my whole family likes—and, yes, we've got some picky eaters in the mix."

Tiger vs. Goldfish

2010-11-01T11:25:00.001-06:00

This is fun!

This is a little less fun.

This is officially un-fun.

Recipe reviews

2010-10-26T21:02:00.000-06:00

Thus far, we've made three of this week's recipes.

Reviews, as promised:

Chard and Swiss Cheese Strata.

Changes: Subbed chard for the spinach, used Swiss instead of Gruyere, added in tomatoes, skimped on eggs a bit (we only had seven—I need chickens!!), and used a mix of (many) day-old bread.
Comments: Everyone liked it well enough to eat it, but it wasn't magical. Also, needed to cook for a long time, but that's probably because the liquid-to-egg quotient was higher than in the original recipe.
Overall rating: 3 out of 5

Pasta with Butternut Squash and Parmesan Sauce

Changes: I wouldn't roast the butternut squash; instead I'd just peel it, chop it, steam it like I usually do. The roasting was a PITA and didn't add anything. I'd sub balsamic for the lemon juice. Truthfully, I think I'd just pass on the recipe.
Comments: Nora more or less refused this dish. She even spat out a few bites, and she's not a dainty eater. I thought it was bleh, Greg thought it was "pretty good for squash," and Sidamo ate it with a moderate degree of enthusiasm.
Overall rating: 2 out of 5

Vegetarian Pot Pie

Changes: Upped the carrots, potatoes, and shrooms, but not the fennel. Chopped everything pretty finely (including the shrooms, excluding the potatoes) to make it more kid-friendly. Seasoned with thyme. After sauteing everything, added a bit of Marsala and cooked it down. Skipped the vinegar. Used this pie crust recipe instead of the puff pastry (skipped the sugar and subbed in some whole-wheat flour).
Comments: Huge hit. I doubled it and gave half to a friend who had a baby an embarrassingly long time ago (I swear, I meant to bring a meal two months ago!), so we'll have to see if she concurs, but in this household it was loved and devoured.
Overall rating: 4 out of 5

I'm hoping for good things from the gigantes (which will actually be Great Northern beans, since apparently gigantes exist only on the coasts) and sweet potatoes. Oh, and if you have any suggestions on what to do with the remaining 15/16ths of a can of chipotles in adobo sauce, please pass them along.

Menu planning

2010-10-21T10:53:00.000-06:00

I'm living dangerously these days. My gas light went on two days ago, and I haven't filled up (granted, I've driven approximately 3 miles since then, but still). And my fridge is just about barren, save for a dozen eggs, a bunch of scallions, and half a stick of butter. The snack drawer has nothing in it but popping corn. The pantry has about half a million jars of canned goods, but I can't bring myself to break into them yet. The garden is still providing a couple of things (butternut squash, chard, and beets), and I have many pounds of green tomatoes ripening in boxes around the house. All good foods, but hard to eek a dinner out of them.

I hate to do it, but I think I'm actually going to have to go grocery shopping. And so I'm menu-planning. Here's what's on the lineup, and I'll try to post reviews after it's all been made:

Spinach and Cheese Strata (will swap chard for the spinach and might toss in some tomaters)
Pasta with Butternut Parmesan Sauce
Vegetarian Pot Pie (will swap some of the veggies for others, and will use this pie crust without the sugar)
Gigantes and Twice-Baked Sweet Potatoes
Pizza (I can already vouch for this dough and approach—yummilicious)

Okay, so that's not a full week's worth, but it's a start!

Thank you

2010-10-18T11:43:00.000-06:00

Thanks to everyone for the support and kind words (and to one someone in particular for the cookies). It means the world.

Sidamo is doing great. We've been spending a lot of time indoors to prevent further head injury, and that has led to a rediscovery of train tracks. We've also done some more painting (really, why do I bother giving Nora paper?), reading, and a bit of driving each other crazy, just for good measure.

The weather is absolutely gorgeous, and he'd much rather be outside tackling his friends and doing other unsafe things than staying cooped up in the house. Which, I presume, is what led him and his friend to SNEAK OUT OF THE BACKYARD and go to the neighbor's house to ride scooters yesterday. He got seriously mad at me when I had to physically remove him from the scooter and, of course, lecture him about not leaving the house or yard without notifying an adult. I (and the whole neighborhood) heard an awful lot about what a "not nice mommy" I am, which, to be honest, made it a little difficult to stick to my "be a nice mommy" resolution from the other day.

Here's hoping that the weather holds through Thursday, which is when he's allowed to get back to his normal activities. And here's hoping our patience with each other holds through then as well.

Thanks again for all the love!

If/then

2010-10-13T22:55:00.000-06:00

If: Your employer (or, in this case, your husband's employer) switches from pretty awesome health coverage to a plan with a multi-thousand dollar deductible

Then: You will, two weeks later, ride in an ambulance for the very first time in your life.

If: You have your only can't-miss meeting of the month, coinciding with your husband's only meeting of the day

Then: Your child's school will be trying desperately to get in touch with you to tell you that he needs his parents.

If: One evening, you tell your husband you wish you could have a single minute of quiet from your very, very talkative kiddo

Then: You will, the very next day, spend six hours in the emergency room begging that child to say something—anything—to let you know he's okay.

Sidamo suffered a pretty severe concussion at school today. He and another boy were running and chasing the same ball. Sidamo dove for it and hit a brick wall with his forehead. His teacher (who is incredible—she came to the emergency room, in tears, to check on him) said she heard the most horrible sound and turned to see Sidamo on the ground. He got up, cried, asked for ice, and seemed coherent for a while. Still, she took him up to the office for attention, and for a call to mommy and daddy (neither of whom answered; see above). While he was there, he went from being a bit dazed to being completely unresponsive. When he started vomiting, they called the ambulance.

I got off my conference call and saw I had missed four calls—including one from Grandpa, who is one of our emergency contacts. I listened to the voicemail and heard "Sidamo … head injury" and raced out of the house as fast as I could. Luckily we live less than a mile from school, because I was able to hop into the ambulance before it took off.

Poor Sidamo was completely out of it when I got to him. He was in a neck brace, strapped to a stretcher. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he was slurring his very limited speech. He looked awful, and I was terrified. The paramedic told me his concern level was only a 4 out of 10, and that was why they weren't turning on the sirens and lights. About 5 minutes into the ride, Sidamo started vomiting again—and profusely. The concern level rose; sirens went on, and we blazed to the hospital.

Greg met us there. Sidamo had a CT scan, and we sat and waited. And waited. And watched. Sidamo remained unresponsive, sleepy, and miserable. He vomited some more. In my gut I felt like he'd be okay, but then I had these terrible thoughts about long-term brain damage. He was just so not himself. If you know Sidamo, you know his smile, his verve, his light. None of that was there. He was a shell. For six hours. And I worried, at least for a little while, that he mightn't come back.

Praise Jesus, Allah, the universe, or whomever: The light returned. By late afternoon, we had the scan results and everything looked good. I left to get Nora, and Greg waited by Sidamo's bedside. While I was gone, Damo perked up, drank two Gatorades, took a little walk, and watched SpongeBob. By the time I got back to the hospital, he was demanding food, making jokes, and negotiating for screen time for the coming week (which he'll spend under very close supervision, and, probably, helmeted).

Any parent who has ever been through a scare with a child knows that it shakes you to your core. It's exhausting and terrifying and awful in ways I certainly couldn't have imagined before having kids. But it also was a huge reminder to celebrate the beautiful children we've been blessed with. They are such fantastic, lovely, vibrant individuals, and we GET to be their parents. How freaking lucky are we? So yes, they talk. A lot. And yes, sometimes I long for a single minute of peace. But after being confronted with a silenced Damo for a frighteningly long time today, I'm making a commitment to enjoy and celebrate the vibrant (and noisy, and inquisitive, and mildly demanding) light that he is.

God, I love this kid.

Rainy day

2010-10-12T09:43:00.004-06:00

It's so rare that we have a rainy day here that it took some effort to dig out raingear for everyone—and there was some relief to discover that we actually do own raincoats for both kids (hooray for hand-me-downs).

Nora looked at her raincoat as a total novelty and asked repeatedly, "What's this thing called, Mommy?" She asked the same thing about her tights: "These are like socks? But they also are like pants?"

Every so often I think I'd like to move to a lusher climate (usually when I'm experiencing garden or ocean envy). But it just takes one gloomy day like this to remind me how much I love our 300+ days of sunshine a year.

Unfortunately it looks like this rain might bring with it the season's first frost, so I'm frantically scouring garden websites to determine what needs to be pulled from the vine today and what can stay. The tomatoes and peppers are coming in, but I'm not sure about the beans, which I've been leaving on to dry. Feel free to weigh in.

Damoisms, version 4.8

2010-10-12T09:00:00.000-06:00

First his words, followed by his definitions of them (yes, these are direct quotes):

Shookalax = Making bad choices

Shaboodles = Another way of saying shookalax. It's just a figure of speech.

Channering = Eating (editor's note: this applies specifically to computer games, though he's now claiming he sometimes channers his dinner, too.)

Trucking = That means just hanging out.

Pumice = You'll have to ask Julian; he knows. (So does the editor: It means to pummel. Not knowing what it means didn't stop Sidamo from saying it approximately 534 times yesterday.)

Favorite Tomato Sauce

2010-10-04T21:47:00.000-06:00

Since Christina's request a few weeks ago, I've been thinking I'd document the making of my favorite tomato sauce. Unfortunately, I've come to grips with the fact that no camera is safe in a kitchen where the cook is already hanging on by a thread. So while pictures of the process would likely make you drool into your keyboard (or shriek in horror at the calamity in my kitchen), I'll instead have to offer a text-only version if I ever hope to fulfill Christina's dreams. This is a very simple, versatile, light sauce. Just the way I like it.

Ingredients

Olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 28-ounce cans whole tomatoes or the equivalent of fresh, peeled, seeded tomatoes (Note: It's very important to use the best tomatoes you can get—the fancy, expensive Italian brands are worth every penny. And as a subnote, if you've ever grown and canned tomatoes, you'll realize the good ones are actually worth about five times what we grudgingly pay for them.)
1 can or 2 cups veggie broth
2 bay leaves
Salt to taste
Fresh basil, chopped

Steps

Preheat oven to 375.
In an oven-proof pot that has a lid, saute onions in olive until translucent. Add garlic and cook for a minute or two more.
Add tomatoes, broth, and bay leaves and bring to a low boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook until reduced by about a third, stirring occasionally.
Cover the pot and bake for 30–45 minutes, or until the sauce is chunky and delicious and begging to coat your pasta. That's not a euphemism.
Salt to taste and stir in chopped basil.

As you can see in the photo above, I've canned this sauce (with the addition of citric acid). I think it's OK since it's not such a huge variation from canning expert–approved sauce recipes, but if it gives you botulism please don't sue me.

Very Hungry Caterpillar

2010-10-04T13:37:00.002-06:00

Our neighbors recently brought over a box of handed-down books, and in the stack were two tattered copies of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, bringing the total TVHC population in our house to three. In the past couple of weeks, these three books (among the approximately 1,875,323 books we own) have become Nora's constant companions. She brings at least two of them with her just about everywhere. When we finish reading one, she says, "Umm … This book next," and hands us another copy.

It's almost like she's a little obsessed or something.

Here's a video of her reading the book. Apologies for the unfortunate camera angle. I was trying to be sly, since she clams up when she knows she's being recorded, and I didn't consider the whole squatting-in-a-dress factor.

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Anatomy lessons from a 2-year-old

2010-09-28T10:14:00.000-06:00

Recently overheard:

"I don't have testicles. Octopuses have testicles."

"Boys have a penis. Girls have a lunchbox."

Seven

2010-09-27T14:08:00.000-06:00

Seven years ago today, I made some crazy vows to this guy. Honestly, I don't even remember what they were, but I think there was something about baking him fresh bread weekly and not protesting 50-inch televisions. Boy have those come back to haunt me.

But in return, I've gotten a few perks. A really funny, really hunky husband, for instance. And one who's an incredible dad to our kids.

Evidenced by the fact that I couldn't find a single picture of him without a child attached to him.

There's also been the unwavering support, the love, the adventure, the forgiveness, the good grammar, the clean laundry (yes, ladies, he does laundry), and, of course the 50-inch television.

And I'd say that's worth more than all the fresh loaves of bread in the world.

Stop what you're doing

2010-09-26T19:30:00.000-06:00

And go make this tastissimo chickpea, greens, and tomato dish. Modifications:

Didn't de-crust the bread (blasphemy). I used the heel of my favorite new whole-wheat sandwich loaf, and it was yum.
Mixed in a good 1/2 tsp. or so of smoked paprika at the end instead of just sprinkling a bit on top.
Added a bit of cinnamon.
Used beet greens instead of spinach.
Cooked down some fresh garden tomatoes (seeds, skins, and all) and used those in place of jarred tomato sauce.
Served over couscous.

Have I mentioned that it's crazy tasty? Go ahead. Cook now, thank later.

Wordless Wednesday—From the Kitchen

2010-09-22T09:12:00.002-06:00

Public opinion poll

2010-09-15T21:59:00.000-06:00

Where do you draw the line with clothing (or lack of clothing) with pictures of your kids? I'm talking little kids here. Is it no shirt, no shoes, no posting? Or do you allow a little more skin?

As you can see from this blog, I keep the kids' nekked pictures to myself, but that's not because a) they don't exist, or b) they're not abso-flipping-lutely adorable. Both my kids love to be in their most natural state, but I tend to err on the side of safety with photo posting in consideration of a) pervos and b) future embarrassment for the children.

What has me asking this question? It's the fact that I'm sooooooo tempted to share all the rest of the photos in this series:

But I'll probably tuck them away in a safe place. Like the PowerPoint I'm putting together for her high school graduation party.

Filed under: Phrases I never imagined I'd utter

2010-09-08T17:03:00.000-06:00

"When you find trash on the floor, will you please put it in the trash and not your sister's mouth?"

Go ahead

2010-09-07T21:59:00.000-06:00

Just try to say no to these eyes.

Labor Day

2010-09-06T21:05:00.001-06:00

Aptly named. Today I made two quiches, two loaves of bread, two homemade pizzas, seven cups of yogurt, and our first batch of tomato sauce from the garden. This after Saturday's great canning-fest, during which my friend and I preserved 41 jars (!!!) of strawberry jam.

I'd say I labored sufficiently.

We also had a lovely bike ride today—our first family ride with Sidamo pulling his own weight. He lost his training wheels a couple of weeks ago, and today was his first street ride. It was wonderful—Nora had the bike trailer to herself, which meant far less pinching, hitting, pulling, screaming, and threats of time-outs. It was so peaceful, in fact, that Nora stretched out and took a nap as the rest of us burned calories.

Sidamo is amazing on his bike. It took no time at all for him to learn how to ride without training wheels, and since then he's been riding every day—with very few falls, and much bravery on the rare occasions he funds himself under his bike instead of on it. We're very proud of him, and one of these days I'll relax enough to stop clutching my chest at every bump in the road and instead take some pictures of our little road warrior.

Happy first birthday, lil' cuz

2010-09-05T21:59:00.000-06:00

The littlest cousin turns 1 this week, and we joined him for a lovely birthday celebration today.

For the record, he used to be this tiny just a blink ago.

Happy birthday, little guy!

Oh right …

2010-09-02T16:34:00.000-06:00

There is a flip-side to predictable daycare. On day 4 of school, Nora had to stay home for her first sick day. Poor girl is miserable and wants to do nothing other than sit in the Ergo yelling at people.

Here's hoping she feels better in time to attend day 5.

Local living

2010-09-01T08:53:00.000-06:00

It's only been two days, but I'm going to go ahead and say that this new schedule/daycare arrangement is a smashing success. For the past 2+ years, I have figured out daycare for Nora week by week. At times it has felt like a full-time job, piecing together part-time care for my little lovely. We've had the great fortune of not having to put her in any sort of a full-time care situation—between friends, babysitters, a great little drop-in daycare center in our old 'hood, and Greg's wonderful, fantastic, fabulous, and awesome mama, we've been pretty well covered.

For all those people, I am incredibly grateful and forever in debt.

And still … Having regular, predictable schedules for both of my kids—and having both of them within a mile of home (!!!)—has been absolutely life-altering for me. To illustrate …

What my days used to look like:

Leave the house with both kids at 8:30 and drive across town to get to Sidamo's school by 9
Go from Sidamo's school to Greg's mom's house in one of the western suburbs (in the opposite direction of our new house) and drop Nora off there
Head to a coffee shop to work, arriving around 10.
Duck into my car for phone meetings. Even in 100-degree weather.
Leave the coffee shop around 3:30 to get Nora from grandma's and start the trek back east and north to get big brother.
Drive back home, usually arriving around 5:30.
Scramble to figure out what to make for dinner.

In other words, I'd spend 10 hours getting around 5 hours of work done, and I'd get home frazzled and frustrated.

In contrast, here's what yesterday looked like:

Left the house of 7:25 to get Nora to school at 7:30. Greg dropped Sidamo off at school before heading to work (easy, since his school is 7 blocks away).
Got back home at 7:45 and worked until almost 11, when I left to pick up Nora.
Had a nice lunch with Nora at home, put her down for her nap, and got some more work done.
Left at 2:55 to pick Sidamo up at 3, and then came home to play and ride bikes with all the neighborhood kids until Greg came home, at which point we ate the delicious baked garden tomato pasta I had prepared earlier during a little work break. Also prepared during little breaks throughout the day: homemade yogurt, bread, and granola.

And I still got about 5 hours of work done. Yep, I think I'll be getting used to this.

Petey

2010-08-31T10:45:00.000-06:00

At my sister's apartment, Nora laid eyes on her newest, truest love: Petey. Petey has been in our family since my oldest sister was born—so for somewhere just over 29 years (you're welcome, Meg). When Meg had kids, our dad returned Petey to his first, rightful owner. (Note: Not Nora)

Nora discovered Petey while we were staying in Meg's apartment at the end of our trip, and she was pretty sure they were destined to be together.

Don't mess with destiny, Ma.

Either he's coming home with me, or I'm staying here. Don't make me choose.

Pleeeeeease, Mama?

First day of school

2010-08-30T10:25:00.000-06:00

Nora is off at her very first day of daycare/preschool.

I'm off to stock up on Kleenex.

Here she is having her umpteenth bowl of Cheerios (she's addicted).

And here's how the scene unfolded when her brother insisted on sending her off to school with a hug.

In case you can't tell, that's a hit, not a hug.

Finally, she gives in.

Is it really possible that my little girl is big enough for preschool? And a backpack? This is the very same backpack Sidamo wore on his first day of school. He seemed like such a big kid then, but Nora still very much feels like a baby—to me, at least.

Funny, I just reread that post about Sidamo's first day of school and his singing of the alphabet song. Nora also sang the alphabet song this morning when we got to her new school (it's her hand-washing ritual), in her sweet little sing-songy voice. I'm going to try to hold onto that memory, because it was just so sweet and adorable. But reading about Sidamo singing the ABCs on his first day of school, which was when he was a few months older than Nora is no, reminds me that really she's not any more babyish than Sidamo was at her age. In fact, she's probably less so. I guess I'm just trying to hold on to the fleeting moments of babyhood with Nora since she's, well, the baby of the family, and once she's officially a preschooler, I'm officially not the mom of a baby anymore. And that's just not territory I'm ready to leave.

(Note: Now would be a good time to remind me of the sleep deprivation I suffered during the early days/months/years before I start remembering it all as sunshine and roses.)

He dressed himself

2010-08-29T10:40:00.000-06:00

Here's what happens when Sidamo wakes up before we do.

Yes, those are Lightning McQueen underpants on top of his jammies.

But I think my favorite thing is that he put on his sneakers, too. To play with an Etch-a-Sketch. At 6 a.m.

God, I love this kid.

Move over, Keanu

2010-08-28T10:38:00.000-06:00

The next daredevil action hero has arrived.

Real, live baby doll

2010-08-27T10:32:00.000-06:00

Nora's big cousin Catherine and her friends were thrilled to have their very own moving, talking baby doll to play with during our visit.

At first, Nora was game.

Enjoying her time with the big girls, I think.

It didn't take long, though, before Nora decided she's an independent girl. When she saw the big girls coming toward her, she'd run in the other direction screaming, "No carry me! My mommy carry me!"

I don't think the big girls held it against her.

Every kid needs a beach

2010-08-26T22:12:00.000-06:00

Things I learned today

2010-08-10T19:54:00.000-06:00

All the advance prep and on-time airport arrivals in the world can't get you on a flight if the airline is understaffed and the staff on hand gets a kick out of saying no. (I'm not going to mention the airline in question, but I will tell you that its name starts with an F.)
Not everyone takes pity on small children whimpering, "But Mommy, you said I could go on an airplane today," or "I really, really, really want to see my cousins! I miss them so much."
The name of the airline ends with -rontier. But that's all I'm telling. No more hints.
A long-overdue haircut and mani/pedi can make a bad day better.
Just because you can still do a cartwheel doesn't mean you should.
El Salvadorian food is delicious.
El Salvadorian food is even more delicious when the tab for a decadent dinner for four (plus leftovers) comes to $17.75.

Survivors

2010-08-07T10:18:00.000-06:00

While the cousins were visiting, we went to the fantastic old amusement park that I've talked about before. It has a 100-year-old roller coaster, which (cover your eyes, Caity), Xavier thoroughly enjoyed. Seriously. It's scary. I've told the story of how I was once driving by the park and saw workers tossing pieces of white lumber back over the fence beneath the roller coaster, which, I should point out, is constructed of white lumber. Also, there was the time my friend Mark and I got summoned to the office for taking pictures of the rides, and I really, seriously, thought they were going to smash Mark's camera until we insisted we were just taking pictures of the signs and not of the rides themselves. Instead they made Mark sign a statement saying he'd delete all the photos and never ever ever ever share them with anyone. Most especially not people with any amusement park regulating agencies.

But it's also FUN! And CHEAP! Yay!

So it's noteworthy that the children all survived their adventure, but also significant is the fact that Greg and I survived it. As we were leaving to go to the park, our 5-year-old next-door neighbor (who is probably more accurately described as Sidamo's roommate for all the time they spend together) was hysterical at the thought of missing out on all the fun. Easily swayed by little boy tears (and probably a little delirious from exhaustion), we decided to bring him along.

Which, if you're counting, means we went to a deathtrap of an amusement park with FIVE children. And we returned with FIVE children. Including TWENTY limbs. Miraculous.

Our one faux pas was arriving with an almost-dead camera battery, but it's probably for the best that neither of us was focused on taking pictures, leaving us both able to focus on counting children—and children's limbs.

Here are the couple of pics we did get, though, on a decidedly more innocuous ride.

Clearly the sunscreen issue remains unresolved.

Transitions

2010-08-05T23:03:00.000-06:00

Sidamo finished up at his preschool last week, and it's been sad for all of us (especially him). We really grew to love the teachers and other students, and Sidamo grew tremendously while there. When we first started taking him, he was terribly shy and wanted me to stay with him all day. By the end of his year-plus there, I narrowly averted a broken nose more than once as the door to preschool slammed behind him. He turned into one of the leaders in his class, and it was just such a beautiful thing to see.

This week we have him enrolled in an Ethiopian culture camp that has been … fine. Sidamo has gone back to his old habit of clinging to me in the morning and begging me not to leave, but then telling me after camp that he had a good time and wants to go back. (For the record, when he begs me not to leave—especially at a camp that's all about getting in touch with his adopted side—I don't. Today I stayed for two hours until he felt comfortable staying by himself.)

Next week (the week before Sidamo's new school starts) we go to visit my sister in NY and stay with her and her family at their beach house. We've been looking forward to it for months. Meaghan offered to sign Sidamo up for camp with Catherine and George, and initially I thought it sounded like a great idea. But then last night Greg and I were talking about the fact that this might be too many transitions for Sidamo in a row—ending his old school, going to a week-long culture camp, going to his cousins' camp, and then immediately coming back and jumping into a brand-new school.

So while driving to camp this morning I called Meg and told her what I was thinking. Sidamo was in the backseat and was uncharacteristically quiet as I described my worries about how he might feel going to camp, what insecurities it might stir, and how I wanted him to feel empowered to make his own choice about it—no pressure from anyone. We agreed to just take it day by day and let Sidamo decide what he's comfortable with.

When I hung up the phone, I looked back at my sad-seeming boy and said, "You probably heard me talking about you and all the changes you've been going through."

"Uh huh," he sighed, as he stared out the window.

"I was just telling Aunt Meg that I want you to be able to enjoy your vacation and do whatever you want to do. If you want to go to camp with George, you can. If you want to stay with Mommy and Daddy and Nora, that's great too."

"Uh huh," he said, still not looking up toward me.

"So what are you thinking about that? Do you have any questions?"

"Well, I have one question."

"What is it?" I asked, ready to field whatever he had for me—and feeling immensely proud of fostering such open dialogue.

"Why are squirrels diseased?"

Ready to field almost any question, I guess. Still immensely proud, though.

Born in the wrong century

2010-08-05T10:15:00.001-06:00

Is she not perfectly suited for 19th century frontier living?

Cousins

2010-08-04T13:24:00.000-06:00

Our niece Zoe and nephew Xavier came for a 5-day visit last week, and we had a blast. It was so much fun to have them on our turf, all by themselves, for a spell. Their mom, my sister, moved away from our home state of New Jersey a few years ago, which means that when we take our trips "back home," I don't get to see Caity and the kids. It's been a while since we've been able to really reconnect with Zoe and Xavier, so I decided to remedy that by bringing them out here.

First things first: They're both tall. Xavier, 12, is already an inch taller than me, and Zoe, 10, is not far behind. Not cool. My kids have agreed to never outgrow me, and for that I thank them. They're also both very smart, very sassy, and very funny. I'm still giggling from this exchange:

Me: I'll be right back. I have to go to the bathroom.

Zoe: You go to the bathroom a lot.

Xavier: Old ladies always go to the bathroom a lot.

Me: Hey! I'm not even that old!

Xavier: Yeah, I bet the word "ye" doesn't think it's old either.

It was a week of all sorts of zingers, but my ego is slowly recovering. Sidamo and Nora had so much fun with their cousins and luckily are still too young to pick up on any of the making-fun-of-mommy behaviors.

We did all sorts of fun things (the zoo, the nature/science museum, horseback riding—pics below, an amusement park, etc.) but their favorite thing was visiting our friends with eight children and a Wii. Their least favorite things: eating vegetables and walking places instead of driving.

Zoe loves horses, so we took a trip up to Karolyn's house to ride Beau. He was, as always, a great sport. Zoe was a natural. She and Nora will have lots to bond over in a few years.

Sidamo's angry about something. Xavier is trying to cheer him up.

Seems to have worked.

We were sad to see the cousins go at the end of their visit, but we're hoping to get to visit them sometime soon. I do wish we lived closer to my now-scattered family so the cousins could grow up involved in each other's lives. Sometimes the world is just a little too big.

Squirrel eggs and life lessons

2010-08-03T08:23:00.000-06:00

Sidamo: Look, mommy! I found a squirrel egg in the grass!

Me: That's a mushroom.

Sidamo: No, I'm sure it's a squirrel egg.

Me: Squirrels don't lay eggs.

Sidamo: Then how do they get baby squirrels?

Me: Same way people get baby people.

Sidamo: By adopting them?

Gleesome threesome

2010-07-18T20:22:00.001-06:00

Sizzle and her folks, who joined us for last year's camping trip, met us for two days of this trip, making it even more fun. The three kids had lots of fun, lots of laughs, and just a few tears together, and we enjoyed the company of the other grown-ups. Greg enjoys fishing with Pete, and I enjoy having Jess to talk to (and keep me sane) while the big boys are down at the water.

Oh, I guess this is where I should note that the little boy caught his first fish this time around. Using a real hook instead of his plastic magnetic one (or Nora's pine-cone lure), and an actual worm (much to the dismay of his fly-fishing father). The fish didn't actually make it to shore, but he did have the thrill of the bite and the adventure of trying to reel the wriggly guy in. And I won't pretend I'm not a teensy bit pleased that no fish were killed in the making of this blog post.

Back to the gleesome threesome, though. How cute are these kids?

Just all hanging out.

Shooting the breeze as the sun sets over the Rockies.

Telling funny jokes, and reveling in their great fortune of finding such good company.

Truth be told, it was kind of a Sizzle and Damo show. Quintessential love triangle: Sizzle loves Damo (sorry, 16-year-old Sizzle, if you're back here checking out the blog, but it's true). Nora loves Sizzle (puts her head on her shoulder, tries to touch her just a little too much). Sidamo loves Sidamo. So I guess maybe there's a side missing on this triangle, but you get my point.

Poor Nora seems to be the odd-kid-out in a lot of our social interactions. I don't know whether it's the fact that her big brother has such a huge personality, or if it's just normal for toddlers to all glom onto the biggest kid in sight, but Nora is more or less invisible to her friends with Sidamo is around. Worse is the fact that when Sidamo is around his friends, Nora becomes the target of their jokes and pranks and not the adorable little tyrant she's clearly destined to be. As the youngest of three, this brings up some childhood soft-spots for me. My sisters would point out all the ways in which I had it made (thanks again, Meg, for giving me your lobster tail at Mommy's prodding), but I distinctly remember that feeling of being the one no one played with willingly.

Youngest siblings, unite.

The adventures of potty learning

2010-07-17T21:25:00.000-06:00

It's all better when there's ice cream and a road trip involved, no?

I've been keeping this development under wraps, because as I've mentioned, Nora reads this blog and adjusts her behaviors accordingly. But now that we're three weeks into diaper-free life, I feel like it's safe (lightning, don't strike me now) to post this announcement:

BumGenius diapers for sale. Inquire within.