I waited to relate this until I had the pictures taken and off the camera and uploaded. Yay!

We had a lovely father’s day. The kids got up and snuck downstairs while James and I slept in a bit. I must say, this is the nicest part about them getting a bit older. When they started making a bit of a racket, I got up and went downstairs with them so daddy could sleep in.

We got out the present we had gotten for James and got to work. I mixed up some concret, poured it in the mold, and then the kids got busy sticking glass bead-like things in it, making hand impressions, and trying very hard to distract me so that they could do letter stamps all over the place willy nilly. I, however, used my mom-powers to not get distracted and kept all the words as actual words.

The resulting garden stepping stone turned out quite nicely.

I am pretty unoriginal, as this is the same thing we did for Father’s Day 2 years ago. I’m glad I got a fancier kit this time, because in the other one, we had to just scratch the letters into the concret with a toothpick and it really didn’t look that great. We had to embellish everything with paint.

I don’t mind that it’s unoriginal and now we have 2 because look at those handprints! We’ll want those later! Too cute!

So we made the stepping stone and set it in a safe place to set for 2 days. After we let James sleep in, we brought him breakfast in bed (poptarts and coke) and all the homemade cards and pictures the kids had made in school.

The sweetest part of the day was after I shooed the kids from basically jumping on Daddy, he turned to me, his eyes moist and said, “I’m so happy we have them. I love being a daddy. They make me so happy.”

We spent the rest of the day poking around at the Potomac mall (legos for ethan, new shoes for jocelyn) and then came home to launch teeeny tiny rockets at a nearby soccer field.

Everyone had a great day.

Thanks for being such a great daddy, James. I love you.

-amy

All taken in southern Utah, in the La Sal mountains near Moab, or in Arches National Park.

Iris

brother Joe’s daughter, Avery

Jocelyn

(L-R) brother James’ son Kirk, sister Susan’s daughter Clara, Avery, Ethan

(L-R) Kirk, Clara, Avery, and Kirk’s younger brother Kade

Clara

Clara Jane and Jocelyn Grace

cactus flower

“Mommy, I love you as tall as a CAR! Even taller! I love you as tall as a huge building! I love you bigger than a CRANE! I love you higher than an AIRPLANE! I love you THIS FAST!”

“Pyioung!” He takes off very fast and then runs back LEAPING into my arms. Just think of every cartoon sound effect noise of when someone runs away very fast. That is the noise he makes right before he takes off.

“I love you THIRTEEN! NO! ONE HUUUUUUUUNDREEEEEEED!”

“One hundred and thirteen?” I ask.

“NO!! EVEN HIGHER! ”

He pauses for dramatic effect.

“THIRTY THREE!”

Which is my age. nice that he thinks 33 is higher than one hundred.

WHY I DON’T WRITE HERE ENOUGH

I haven’t done this in a while, you know, the writing about what actually happens in our lives, type of thing.

Sometimes I feel like this is a “journal” type of thing then I get all hung up about the things that I DON’T post, and I feel like “oh i can’t right about thing Y, that happened today, because I haven’t yet written about thing X, that happened 2 days ago,” and then nothing gets written.

Other times, I want to write about things that I have photographic proof of, but then said proof is either still on the camera, or on the computer at home, NOT uploaded onto flickr and then I put off writing because everyone knows people are more interesting when they post photos, right? Right.

And then we get into the whole shmiel about if I’m writing anything that might have someone I KNOW in it and all the strict and various rules I have in that regard it’s no wonder I write anything at all.

Oh wait. Let’s look at 2007… yup, no need to wonder, I HAVEN’T written hardly anything at all!

I think a part of that is also because when I’m feeling all angsty and weird and ‘how did i end up here in this place in my life?’ depressed, i need a place to vomit all the brain yuck up out of my brain and then i feel better and well, i haven’t had any brain yuck in a long while.

So really it’s a good thing that my blog is more like a random banner that changes every month with a ‘hi there’ and a photo thrown in now and then for good measure.

I’m going to try to stop letting all these reasons keep me from updating more often. Because there’s a big reason I need to overcome all that and just post already.

The children. The cute, cute terribly cute children. I need to document the cuteness if only so when they’re both snots wanting to borrow the car and $20 when they’re 16, I can load up the archives and go, “Awwwwwww..”

SO ON TO THE CUTENESS

Last week Jocelyn had a pretty bad case of pink eye which caused first me, and then james to stay home with her (1 day each) so as not to infect her entire school with the puss and eye boogers (we’re so thoughtful) (and also, her doctor made us).

Me and Jocelyn in the car, driving around, to/from doctor/target pharmacy/home:

Jocelyn is playing with her pink toy cell phone.

Jocelyn: I’m the mommy! And I’m driving!
me: OK! Am I Jocelyn?
J: Yes. You are Jocelyn. Only you’re a baby, and you’re in my tummy. Let me call you.
M: BRRRING! BRRRING!
J: NO! WITH YOUR PHONE!
M: I pick up my cell phone and flip it open.
M: Hello?
J: Hi!
M: Hi!
J: You’re out of my tummy now!
M: OK! Where are we going, mommy?
J: We’re going home.
M: OK. Are we there yet?
J: Nooooooo.
M: When will we get home?
Jocelyn pauses a moment, thinking this over.
J: We’ll get home in nine, six.
M: OK. What will we do when we get there?
J: I’ll make some dinner.
M: What are we having?
J: Cheese. Bye bye!
M: BYE!

We hang up.

Nine, six. Obviously, she’s trying to say something like, 10:30, but it comes out 9 6. I died of the cuteness. I’m dead now.

These sorts of conversations take place over and over and over and over, and all I can say is, I wish both of my children had come out of my tummy with the ease of which I came out of hers.

Other variations of this conversation take place when she is Cinderella, and I am either Anastasia, Drusilla, or the step mother (“only nice!”) Then she usually changes her mind and wants to be Anastasia/Drusilla/Nice-Step-Mother herself. She then regales me with how she is going to the store/ taking me to school/ driving to work/ going to dinner. Very cute.

Let me just add that giving eye drops to Jocelyn is no easy feat. I’m relieved to say that tomorrow is her last day of drops to be administered. HALLELUJAH! We will be a pink eye FREE house!

OK, That’s all I’m going to write today. I could go on, but I don’t want to kill you from the shock.

Hope everyone had a wonderful weekend, and happy father’s day to all the dad’s out there!

– amy is an accomplished concrete mixer

It’s been almost 2 years since I returned to the work force after staying at home with my kids for a few years. When I first went back to work, I took a temporary job in DC covering for a woman about to go out on maternity leave. I got up while it was still dark, put on dress clothes with sneakers, drove to the VRE train and rode for an hour and 15 minutes to L’Enfant Plaza. Then I hopped off, crossed the street and hopped on the metro. Then I hopped off at West Farragut and walked 3 blocks to my office, where I took off my sneakers and put on some heels. Then I did all that in reverse to get home again.

This was actually a step up from what I started – driving up 66 and just metroing up into DC. The train took a little longer, but it was worth it. I got to sit and relax, read a book, work a sudoku puzzle, read the paper.

Still… it was about an hour and forty minutes of commuting. It sucked. Almost 4 hours daily just getting to and from work.

So when I took a permanent position in the Falls Church area (merrifield, really) it was a big improvement.

I seem to recall from last year that the commute was easier in the summer. For some reason, after school gets out the roads clear up. Is it all those teachers who no longer are going to work? Is it because now parents don’t have to get out the door at a certain time to avoid buses, or drop kids off? I don’t know what the reason was, but I do remember it being easier. I keep waiting for it to start getting easier. Shorter. Zippier!

For some reason or another, I’ve begun to think wishfully about staying home with the kids. I don’t know why, but as they get older and “real school” looms on the horizon, I want to be home. Specifically, I want to be home when they get home. I don’t like the fact that they’re in preschool until 5-6ish each day, even though we all love our school. Even though they’re out on a HUGE playground, running around having a ball with their friends. Even though I know they like school, they are happy when they get picked up a little earlier on occasion. On days when they get picked up a little later than usual, and things in the evening are rushed with dinner, cleaning up, laundry, bathtime and bed with little playing time, they complain.

So for whatever reason, when I think about them in elementary school, the thought of extended day just really doesn’t appeal to me. Maybe it’s the fact that I was never in any sort of day care when I was growing up. Do I want to be there when they get home because my own mother was? I don’t know. Ethan is starting kindergarten in the fall. I don’t know about you, but that qualifies as “real school” to me. We are keeping him at his current school, in their private kindergarten, so I am not too anxious about this dream of staying home YET, but I have decided to try to pick them up earlier than we have been doing. I guess the thought is maybe if I can swing it, then maybe later on when they’re in “real school,” I could work it so I’m home from work in time for school ending. I don’t even know when school is out for the day, but regardless, I’ve been trying to get in early to work so I can leave early, and pick up the kids early. So far, “early” has only equaled picking them up at about 5pm. (IE: not very early, but it’s better than nothing.)

I keep waiting for the “easy summer” commute to start. Every monday I wonder if maybe NOW the traffic won’t feel like I’m sitting in a dentist’s chair just WAITING for the drilling to start. But every Monday it sucks ass. I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting up earlier now, but it even seems like it’s worse than before.

Today it took me 1 hour and 20 minutes to get from home to desk. Grrrrr.

So 2 years of doing this commute is making it really really old. It’s making the romantic visions of staying home seem even dreamier, and it’s also making me dream about moving. To a house in a nice neighborhood with a fenced in yard and beautiful mature trees and ample gardening space with friendly neighbors, excellent schools, and is equi-distant between mine and james’ places of work.

Sigh.

I hope the magical easy 15 minute summer commute starts on monday.

And I’d also like a pony.

Jocelyn loves band-aids. I blame the band-aid makers who put strawberry shortcake, hello kitty and characters from the movie “Cars” on them.

I can’t really blame her. I totally buy this brand of feminine hardware because of the pretty poppies on the box. I’m a sucker for poppies.

She knows that she gets one when she gets hurt.

As such, whenever she even bumps into anything, she will tearfully declare, “I need a band-aid!!”

Therefore, we’ve instigated the “bleeding” rule. If it’s not bleeding, you don’t need a band-aid.

When we were camping, there was a lot of running around full tilt with exposed elbows and knees on hard surfaces, like gravel. And red rocks.

LOOK at all that skin! Of course there were going to be some scrapes!

A lot of the time, the kids were also pretty tired and grumpy. This was due to the jet lag (2 hr difference), staying up way later than their usual bedtime (campfires are so cool, and i need to stay up and burn marshmellows i will never eat!), getting up with the sun, and not napping.

So when Jocelyn fell and bruised herself (which happened about 26 BAJILLION TIMES), there were a few times I relaxed the very strict ‘bleeding’ rules about bandaids.

This is the reason she loves the bandaids.

The day before we left, she took a really bad spill and scraped up both legs, both elbows, her forehead, and even got a cut (which bled) on her nose. She felt so banged up that she actually refused to walk the rest of that evening and the next morning. (I was getting worried, but then she started to run around, though somewhat gingerly.)

A record was broken, because those bandaids, she left in place for TWO WHOLE DAYS before pulling them off and sticking them all over her body.

i’m sitting on the couch. It’s Quiet Time. This is what we designate the hours between 1 and 3ish.

Jocelyn is supposed to be “sleeping” in her room.

Ethan is supposed to be playing quietly in the toy room.

Jocelyn left her room long ago and has been playing in the toy room. I don’t really mind. It’s not like she was actually going to sleep, heaven forbid.

They’ve been doing pretty good, but I’m currently hearing some disagreement noises. No one is crying, so I stay put on the couch in the living room.

Soon enough, I hear the door opening, and soft accusatory voices directed at each other as they make their way downstairs.

“I’m telling mommy that you hit me on the leg.”

“Well, I’m telling mommy that you hit me on the head.”

“Well, you hit me on the leg with your leg.”

“You hit me on the head with your hand.”

Soon they arrive in front of me. Jocelyn is all decked out in several of her dress up garbs, complete with wings. No one is particularly upset. Voices are not heightened. They almost don’t even seem upset with each other. It’s like they’re standing before me JUST FOR THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING. TATTLING IS SOMETHING WHICH MUST BE DONE, NO MATTER HOW MUCH I DON’T CARE THAT YOU HIT ME.

Jocelyn starts. Ethan waits patiently until she’s finished. I hear about the hitting of the leg, WITH THE OTHER LEG, and the hitting of the head WITH THE HAND. As each one finishes, the other starts back in about their body part that has been afflicted. They would probably still be standing in front of me, calmly going back and forth about the head, and the leg, and how each of these important body parts were injured, calming waiting their turn to reiterate, until I interupted. South and North going Zax indeed.

I ask them what happened to cause all the hitting. They look at me blankly. Didn’t I realize that the HITTING just happened out of the blue? Hitting just happens. There is no reason for it, their blank looks seemed to say.

“Was there something that someone wanted and the other one had?”

Finally Ethan comes to life. Eureka! That’s right! THERE WAS A REASON FOR THE HITTING, he seems to think.

“She had my parts.”

“Your lego parts?”

“Yes. My lego parts. I wanted them back.”

“Jocelyn did you have his lego parts?”

“No.” (this, for ONCE is said in a normal, soft tone. Usually when the word “no” comes out of her mouth, it is emphasized as if she is explaining something to the dumbest person on earth, and it sounds like, “noooooooo-wuh!” This “no” consisted, miraculously, of only 1 syllable.

It’s also a miracle that Ethan doesn’t interupt at this point, but he just listened patiently.

“Did you?” I press her.

“Yes. I did. I took his parts.”

“Tell him you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry I took your parts.”

“and that you hit him on the head.”

“I’m sorry I hit you on the head.”

“Now Ethan, tell her your sorry you hit her.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hit you. I’m sorry I hit you on the leg with my leg.”

“OK guys, it’s still quiet time. No more hitting, and if someone has something you want, ask nicely. OK?”

“OK!” they holler as they scamper off up the stairs.

Most polite, calm, patient and quiet disagreement ever.

If only they were all like that.

We’ve been talking up our trip to utah to the kids more and more as the Big Day approaches. First it was broken up by what event is between it and us.

“First is Daddy’s birthday, and then is Ethan’s birthday, and THEN we go in an airplane to visit grandma and grandpa.”

Since Ethan’s party last week, nothing stands in between us and our trip.

Jocelyn asks, “Are we getting on a plane today?” just about every day. Sometimes every hour.

She also often asks us, “Is it wake up time?” I think she does this because she gets out of bed when it is supposed to be bed time or nap time or quiet time that she wants to check and make sure she’s actually allowed to be running around playing.

She also often will do silly things like hold her shoes over the trash can and say, “In here?” with that look in her eye. “YOU KNOW..” I say to her in a silly voice, and she will reply, “SHOES DON’T GO IN THE TRASH!”

Ethan has a bit better idea on when exactly we’re actually going. We count down the days. Yesterday, he knew it was only 3 days away.

So yesterday morning, I knew they were going to be getting excited, because we were going to buy some luggage and actually get some packing done that day. I decided to guide their obsession in a singular direction instead of letting them careen about willy nilly. I got their attention for a little talk about what to expect on the plane.

“So guys, I know the plane ride is going to be very exciting. First we’ll get on board, and then it will take off and it will be really cool watching out the window and we’ll be able to look down and maybe see clouds..”

“I CAN’T WAIT!” — this is Ethan’s general response to anything plane/trip related.

“… but it is going to be a long plane ride, and even though it’s exciting and this seems very unlikely…. we might even get bored.”

“No, we won’t mommy. Jet-planes are VERY VERY FAST.”

“Yes, they are fast, but we are still very far away from grandma and grandpa’s. It’s going to take a while even for a very fast plane. I think maybe we should think about what we can do while we’re up on the plane so we won’t get bored. Like maybe we should bring some coloring books, or..”

“I KNOW!” Ethan exclaimed, and he was off like a shot. Jocelyn and I looked at each other and followed after, to see him digging through his bin of cars/trucks/things that go.

“Which one are you looking for Ethan?”

He just made a clamping motion with his hand and kept on searching.

I had gotten my point across and James showed up so I headed upstairs to hop in the shower and get dressed for the day.

Imagine my surprise when I got back downstairs to hear Ethan announce, “I’m all packed, Mommy. I’ll just put my backpack by the door.”

He really was. ALL PACKED. I convinced him to show me everything he packed. Here is the inventory:

• toddler leapfrog computer thingee
• book about clampy construction machine
• toy construction machine with clampy thingee that came with book
• helicoptor
• snow speeder
• snow speeder plastic snow bank
• snow speeder luke skywalker
• luke skywalker’s light saber
• several small matchbox-sized cars/trucks

I was impressed. The computer wouldn’t work on a plane though, I searched for headphone jacks, didn’t find any, and then broke the news that it would be rude to use it on a plane, where other people might be trying to read, or even sleep, and wouldn’t want to hear it. Off he scurried, got his leapfrog book thingee (leap pad i think) that did have a headphone jack. He blithely exchanged the one for the other and then zipped up his backpack.

“I’m ready mommy.”

Ready, indeed. Maybe he could do the rest of the packing for James and I.