Errata

Much like our local paper, it appears my post last night was riddled - simply riddled - with errors.  To wit:

1. "It's Purple HULLS," Joe yelled out after reading the blog last night.  OK.  Purple Hulls are vining out of control in our garden.  Not Purple Hulled peas.  Regardless, most of you have never heard of them before.  Darn yankees.

2. After putting in print the reasoning for naming Blaze the Bunny, Joe did some research.  Apparently, the blaze mark on a horse is more like a line down said horse's nose.  Our Blaze(s) has/have more of a spot.  Which in horse lingo, would be a star.  So, Blaze's spot is not a blaze, it's a star.  Except really, it's a spot.  Did you follow that?

3.  When I joined Joe in the basement last night, I realized that I'm much more likely to rock out to Bon Jovi's You Give Love a Bad Name than Living' on a Prayer.  Oh yeah, I can rock.

More later this week, I promise.  I still haven't filled you in - that is, that 3 of you who weren't here - on the family extravaganza that was Corrie's baptism.

"And you give love..... a bad name...."

Coming up for Air

So, there are a few blogs that I like to read... mostly, families I know or are once or twice removed from whose lives I enjoy following like a teeny fly lurking in the corner.  And when they don't post updates regularly, I get a little irked.  I mean, how will I know what's going on in their lives?  What ever will entertain me when I'm waiting impatiently for a conference call to start or while Calla's taking her time on the potty?

Ahem.  Pot, kettle, black.  So to speak.

Anyway.  So I'm suffering from the "there's too much to tell and too little energy to do it" malaise.  So, once again - let's do a summary.

Summer here.  It's hot.  We've officially transitioned from strawberry season to blueberries.  Just as yummy, but my inclination to make jam has waned.  Perhaps because it's about 97 degrees out.  I did make a yummy blueberry sauce, in case you're wondering and I think I'll sauce up the remaining blueberries and get in the freezer before this Saturday when it's time to buy another few pints at the Farmer's Market.

Speaking of farming... our garden is beautifully out of control.  Peas (purple hulled, that is - if you're from my side of the blog, you don't know what those are) are vining everywhere.  Beans are ready to be picked.  Tomatoes are looking quite plump, although green.  And my basil is gloriously fragrant. 

Kids.  Doing fine.  We had a rough three weeks when both caught the bad-sleeping bug (it must be contagious), although I'm cautiously optimistic we're on the back swing of that trend.  Corrie had a rather innocuous virus for a week that turned her rather spotty.  We called her Spot-acus.  She didn't seem to mind the name or the rash.  It's all gone now.  She's sitting up on her own, which gives her a whole new view on the world.  I think she rather likes it.

Did I mention it's hot?  Hot, hot, hot.  Mid to upper 90s for about a week now.  The pool was 88-degrees on Sunday.  Really, quite nice.  Have I mentioned that you all are welcome to join us for a swim whenever you like?

Joe's in the midst of grants once again.  One is submitted and the other one goes in this week.  When it gets too dark to work in the garden or the yard, he's either at his computer or downstairs jamming out to Guitar Hero.  We've even bought the Guitar Hero microphone so I can jam along with him.  Want a laugh?  Picture me at the mic, singing Bon Jovi's Living on a Prayer.  No, really.   Just try to.

In addition to the baby finches nesting in our grape vines (ooh - did I tell you we have actual grapes?!) and the baby robin who has since fledged, our grounds are also now home to a baby bunny.  He/she is just so darn cute - with a sweet little white patch on his forehead, much like (Joe tells me) the "blaze" patch of a horse.  So, we named him/her "Blaze."  And then realized that Blaze seemed to get bigger overnight.  And then smaller.  So perhaps, there are several Blazes.

Regardless, we've grown attached to the little bunnies.  So much so that when it was abundantly clear that something needed to be done about the weeds attacking our rock pathway, we decided that using a chemical pesticide was just too risky.  How could we live with ourselves if something happened to the Blazes?

So, tender-hearted Joe took the weed eater to the weeds, cutting them back to a less embarrassing height.  Mission accomplished.  Until we noticed a spider web of cracks in our garden door where a weed-eaten rock had been kicked into the glass.  No good deed, you know?

And finally, a word from Calla.  After noticing some condiment spillage down her shirt from her hotdog at dinner last week, she turned to me and said "It's OK, Mom.  Mustard happens."

And so it does.  Here's hoping you have sprays for all those condiments you can clean, acceptance for those spots you can't.  And the wisdom to know the difference.

I did it!

Here's my first attempt at strawberry freezer jam.  I'm just awfully so proud of it.  In fact - embarrassingly proud of it given how simple it was to do.  But maybe you didn't know that.  In which case, you can be impressed.

Be very impressed.

Toast's on me if you come visit...

Headline News

I keep promising updates, only to disappear for weeks on end.  So, for tonight, just the headlines... and maybe a few photos.

First, Corrie... Nearly six months old and definitely coming into her own personality.  She's happy baby in the morning and then (generally) ready for a nap about two hours later.  The rest of the day is up for grabs.  She's loving nearly every food put on a spoon within reach (except peas) and we can't seem to move that spoon fast enough for her.  She's mesmerized by Calla, Chloe and Lilly, although she hasn't yet learned the cold hard truth that Lilly is Not. To. Be. Played. With.  Calla figured that one out eventually, so it's only time.

And On to the Garden...

The first garden picture was Easter weekend, and the second was just a few weeks ago.  We've enjoyed fresh-from-the-garden spinach salads three or four times a week.  Tonight, we added fresh-from-the-fields strawberries that Calla and I picked earlier today.  Nothing like eating food that had been growing just hours earlier.  There's a big ol' mess of mustard greens that are ready to be boiled for dinner soon also.  We've got some time to wait before the beans, broccoli, peas, peppers and tomatoes make it to our dinner table, but so far, so good.

No story here, I just like the photo.  It's nearly impossible, it seems, to catch both girls smiling; this is the closest I've gotten in a while.  Look closely at Calla, and then look at the next photo...

See anything missing?  Say, a front tooth?  Yes, we've experienced our first childhood trauma, and if this is the worst it gets, we're more than lucky.  A late afternoon playground accident at school left Calla with one chipped front tooth and one smashed front tooth.  The chip could be repaired; the other one... alas.  Fortunately, we found a fabulous pediatric dentist willing to make an emergency appointment.  And even more fortunately, Joe agreed to take Calla so I could stay home and stay calm.    I still cried.  But Calla didn't.  Better yet, the whole process was so kid-friendly that I think she'll be happy to go to the dentist again in six months.  On the other hand, it now means that any dentist without a big doll house in the waiting room and a sparkly princess mirror in the procedure room will never measure up.  Even when she's 30.

And our final big adventure for today... Calla's first bike.  Thanks to one of Joe's colleagues with growing children, we inherited a "new" bike for Calla.  Her bike radar has been extremely strong lately, pointing out bikes everywhere we go.  She was thrilled to find a bike in the garage this afternoon, even if she's still working on how to coordinate the pedaling.

And as for Joe and me?  Working hard and trying to keep up with the kids.  Joe has not one, but likely two grants he's submitting in June.  I'm enjoying my part-time steady job and have found my other once-in-a-while jobs to be busier than usual.  I have two articles due soon for The Lutheran and a meeting this week for my work with The Alford Group.  So tomorrow, when/if I have some moments free, do you think I'll be working on any of those jobs?  Tackling the mounds of laundry that piled up today?  Nope, I'll probably be making strawberry jam.  It just seems like the thing to do when one has a fridge full of fresh, sweet local berries.  It will be my first time - I'll let you know how it goes.

That is, if I have another post in the next month or so...

Just some tidbits..

It's late and I'm tired.  But in lieu of a real honest-to-goodness update blog, I hope a few pictures will suffice.

It's a brave new world at our house.  Corrie's eating oatmeal and, as of yesterday, carrots.  She seems to like this new found culinary variety just fine.  And, of course, she has big sister to show her how real eating is done.

Corrie continues to be enthralled by Calla.  She watches Calla around the room and lights up when big sister gets in her direct line of vision.  More than once I've asked Calla to just "go sit by Corrie" when I needed my hands free and didn't want to hear the "Mom's abandoned me!" crying.  And speaking of crying - let me tell you, that post-Easter egg hunt let-down is a bummer.  After three Easter Egg hunts, Calla thought they would never end.  It was a cruel lesson.

More later... about our garden, wonderful weather and the ongoing adventures of two amazing little girls.  For now, night night to all...

This post wasn't supposed to be.

This was supposed to be a long overdue post about Easter.  Or about Corrie's latest check-up (all good).  Or pictures of our girls from this beautiful spring.  But it isn't.  You'll just have to wait a little longer for all that.

Because see, here's the thing.  We do so much for our children's health and safety.  We get vaccinations, steam vegetables and administer vitamins.  We buckle car seats and set boundaries.  We hug and kiss and scold and yell.  We bribe and bargain.  We teach and tickle and try our best.  Sometimes it's enough.  Sometimes - most times - I fall short.  But then it's a new day and one more chance to try again.

Because see, here's the real thing. Despite the buckling and bargaining, kissing and scolding, there is no magic talisman to protect our children from everything.  The best we can do is try our hardest to protect against the dangers we know about.  And then pray it really is enough.

But sometimes, bad things happen.  This week, a beautiful, bossy, bright little girl we know died in a tragedy that's not mine to tell.  And I ache for her parents - her mother is not quite a friend, but more than acquaintance - her family, her baby sister.  And for this little girl who is no longer.

Tomorrow, like everyday, we will go through the daily parenting routine.  The vitamin, the car seat.  Milk and vegetables, bath and book and bedtime.  But also, I will stand with other moms at the funeral of a little girl too young to attend this mass, much less be the reason for it.  And we will weep.  With sorrow.  In solidarity.  And with more than a little guilt.  Because we will go home to our children and routines.  To hug and kiss, to buckle and bargain and feed and bathe.  And yes, to scold and lose tempers and apologize and then to do it all over again the next day.  To make the same mistakes I made yesterday.  And will make again today.

And God help me if I ever forget what a precious gift that really is.

Nightmares, Toddler Style: The Sequel

Calla, to Joe upon waking up yesterday morning.

"Daddy, I had a dream.  A dinosaur stomped on my book.  It was a little scary.  That wasn't nice!"

A book-stomping dinosaur rampaging through Calla's bedroom.  Librarians and book-sellers among you may now faint in horror.

Nightmares, toddler style

Calla woke Joe up this morning about 2:00.  I know when it must have been, because I was up with Corrie, but somehow didn't hear the screams that got him out of bed.  When he finally calmed down the tears enough to ask her what was wrong, he made out "I spilled my bubbles!"  He was able to get her back to sleep by assuring her that her new bubble solution was safe and sound on the porch.  As it was.

Sure enough, when he asked her this morning what happened with her bubbles during the night, she remembered.  "I spilled them!"  Amid all the scary things we can dream, it's the loss of bubble solution that inspires true panic for Calla these days.  Or, like this afternoon, when she wept in sorrow because a picture of Dora (touting the return of our census form) got wrinkled in the car.  Real tears.

Part of me is amused.  But part of me understands: it's the loss of those things most precious that are the stuff of nightmares.  For Calla, at least last night, that was her bubbles.  That I know it cost $1 at Walmart doesn't make it any less dear to her.

Wishing you all sweet dreams tonight...

Spring is here?

A few random updates...

Beautiful day today.  The forecast promised rain, but it held off all day and the highs were into the low 70s.  I came home this evening to the windows open and the smell of spring was permeating the house.  Chilly weather isn't gone for the year, but it was sure nice today.

And today was notable in another way... Calla had a no accident day, from start to finish.   It doesn't happen every day - yesterday, for example - so when it does, it's reason to celebrate.

We're getting some wonderful smiles from Corrie, but never when we have a camera around.  I promise to catch some soon.  She woke up this morning at 6:30 after 11 hours of sleep, and only had a few happy squeals to let us know she was ready to get up.  She's not always happy, but I love that she's so chipper in the morning.

And a few more choice Calla quips...

We had a few stormy moments yesterday.  At one point, Calla told me "I'm crying a lot today."  I told her that I noticed that and wondered why she was crying.  Calla said calmly, "It's a long story" and walked away.

We had stir fry for dinner tonight.  Calla noticed that Joe wasn't using a fork.  "You've got chopsticks, Dad.  That's awesome!"

I'm sure there's more to share, but I'm tired.  There's more laundry to fold and some work I could be doing, but probably won't.  There's also ice cream to be eaten in the freezer, and perhaps I need to tackle that challenge first.  Good night to you all..

And big sister is a delight, too

After reading my last post, Joe gently chided me for making Calla sound like a tyrant.  Which she isn't, of course.  She's a two-year-old.  A highly opinionated, highly energetic, occasionally stubborn two-year-old.  Qualities completely absent from her parents, mind you.

She's also growing so quickly.  Although just two-and-a-half, she was recently advanced to the 3-year-old classroom at school.  Sure, the twos class was bursting at the seams, and apparently, this is a common practice.  We, of course, think this promotion was because she is also brilliant.  And on this theme, a few choice Calla-isms of late:

"I love my baby sister.  And Cinderella."

"I'm too busy to give you [Dad] a hug.  Maybe tomorrow."


"I love pastor.  He talks and talks and talks."

"You have a new job, Mom?  That's pretty awesome."

And on that last point, I guess we agree.  I do have a new job - two days a week, not even full days, but a job all the same as a development specialist for a struggling social service agency here in town.  It could grow into something more, but for now, I think my 12 hours a week with a few other odd jobs thrown in will be just right.

After all, I need time to keep up with all this blogging...

Our beautiful babies, February 2010 edition

And just to complete the catch-up, here are a few of those photos from the past month. The first was from January 31st, the others from February.

Corrie Lou, on Grandma Cheatwood's quilt.

A big sister hug from Calla. A little sister not minding it too much.

Hey! I have a thumb!

Last Saturday was beautiful. We took our first hike of the year in Giant City State Park. Here Joe and Calla pose in one of the many rock formations for which the park is famous.

Mama and her girls. Corrie tolerated the hike quite nicely and Calla made it the whole way without a tantrum. Really, a very successful day for everyone.

More photos later. I don't want to overwhelm you with so much communication. You might start to expect this sort of thing regularly.

And now back in real time...

I just clicked "publish" on the previous blog post, and realize it took the date of my first attempt at writing it - way back in 2009. Making this post the first of 2010.

If blogs still exist by the time Corrie gets to be reading age, she'll likely realize a little disparity in the blog of her infancy and the one of her sister's. If she is the type to compare and contrast, she may come to me with a legitimate question: you didn't blog much about my first months, so what do you remember? And when she does, here's what I'll tell her:

I remember knowing that you were going to be strong even before you left my body. And your first sucks, your first kicks, and your first cries didn't prove me wrong.

I remember realizing that it was possible for a baby to be awake, alert and not crying. This was mind-blowing. You taught me that, my dear child.

I remember when you stopped crying for me at night and started chirping. You seemed to realize that a full-on tearful cry was just not worth your energy. You got the same response with a few coughs and chirps, and with a lot less effort than angry sobs. Even when you wake hungry at 3:00 am, you generally greet me with a smile and we smile and talk all through your diaper change. Your mood only darkens if I take too long, my tired fingers fumbling at all those snaps in your sleeper.

I remember your first smiles, around six weeks. Shy smiles, smirks, that crept up one side of your face. It didn't take long for them to broaden and fill up your entire face, all chubby cheeks and triple chins.

I remember how little you cried. Sure, you scream in deep fury when buckled into your car seat. And we can set a watch by your pre-nap fusses. But if there's no car seat around, and if a nap was at least 30 minutes away, you were happy. Or at least, content.

I remember how you started to slide into sleeping through the night quite easily, about two weeks ago. And even when you don't, it's an easy hour together and then we're both back in bed.

I remember how fascinated you were by your older sister. Even when she's not as gentle as she needs to be, even when she pushes and prods and grabs and pokes, you stare at her with huge eyes, taking her all in. And tonight at dinner, I do believe she was the subject of your first baby giggles. I will always remember that.

But most of all, I'll tell her, what I remember the most of your first few months are those moments where you were lying on a blanket, or perched on the middle of a bed, staring at me with wide-eyed wonder as I negotiated another terrible twos tantrum of your older sister.

I'll confess, the squeaky and screaming wheel of our family does get the attention she seeks right now. But I love you, my dear Corrie Lou, in your silences. I love you in your chirps and in your car-seat furies. I love you in your smiles and in the deep frowns that take about five minutes to turn into sobs.

And if, as I suspect, you grow up to often play the audience to big sister's emotional outbursts, know that I love you in your steadiness and for teaching me that a few well-executed chirps and smiles will be even more effective than screams.

And I'll say, sure, the blog is a little lacking for your first three months. Sure, your baby book is a tad sparse. But we took lots of pictures...