Did Anyone NOT Think This Would Go Well?

Dear Hagen,

Last week, your doctor gave us the go-ahead to start you on solid food. You did not need to be told twice.

You had a serving of pears, then a helping of peaches. You wanted thirds, but I thought it best to cut you off.

Yes, I know this shirt is absurd, but somehow, covered in peaches, you manage to make it work.

Love,
Mom

Magical Weekend

Hey y'all -

It's been a rough couple of weeks. You two have been sleeping in shifts, with Hagen waking up at 12a, 3a and 6a, and Laney waking up at 2a and 4a. Your dad and I go up and down the stairs all night, and it's not unusual to catch a scene like this:

To make matters worse, Laney's been having some crazy nightmares, and woke up in the middle of the night last Friday screaming, "I TOLD YOU TO SIT DOWN, SPARKLES!!" Your dad asked me what was going on, and I told him, "I think Laney's been managing a gentleman's club in her sleep." No wonder she's been so tired at preschool.

Then, Grandma Sue came to us with an amazing proposition: She'd switch houses with us for the night! She would come out here and spend the night with you guys, and your dad and I could spend the night at her place in town. She couldn't even get the whole idea out of her mouth before your dad and I were nodding our heads and agreeing to the plan and packing our bags.

Of course, she would need to work while she was here, but that would be okay, since she could make Hagen her receptionist:

Your dad and I hightailed it to town, where we had a wonderful dinner together. We talked about everything under the sun except you guys, and we were reminded of how much we like each other. Of course, we love each other, but this night away from home was a chance for me to be newly impressed with the man I married. On our first date, he talked about string theory. I remember thinking, "He may have the most boring small talk in the world, but one thing's for sure - he ain't stupid." Last night was no different: we talked about cultural geography and the Neanderthals and all kinds of other things I know nothing about, and as we were walking out of the restaurant, I thought, "That would have been an amazing first date." The fact that it happened a few years into our marriage made it all the more special.

When we came home this morning, we had a chance to play in the yard together while Grandma Sue planted new flowers in our flower box, and Dad built a fence around our garden.

Of course it's good to be back home where we belong, but it's also nice to see your Dad as more than just the sleepy-eyed dude I pass on the stairs in the middle of the night. Thanks for helping me see it, Grandma Sue.

Love,
Mom

Nappin' Hagen

17 Pounds of Sweetness

Dear Hagen,

You turned four months old yesterday, so we went to see Dr. Hoover for your well child check-up. This is you, hanging out in the waiting room:

The short version is that you're a very well child: 90% for weight, 50% for height and 74% for head circumference. You'll fit in well with the rest of us swarthy types here in the Shire.

I asked Hoover about your spit-up situation - that you seem to kick back about half of everything we feed you - and she said it's not a cause for concern, just an inconvenience. Then she said, "I mean, it's not as if he's (giggle, giggle) failing to thrive (chuckle, chuckle)."

I'm sorry that you've been getting the short end of the stick on the blog lately. Being quiet and sweet and well-adjusted doesn't get you much coverage in the press.

Please know that you are an unending source of love and joy in our lives, that you begin and end every day with a smile, and we can't imagine a time when you weren't a part of our family:

Love,
Mom

Garrrrdening

Dear Laney,

Spring has sprung here at our little house, and the last of the snow has melted. Being that he's a Communist* raised by hippies**, your dad is especially psyched that it's time to plant a garden.***

(Yes, he is wearing expedition socks with Crocs in this picture. 

Yes, I did bear him two children. The heart wants what it wants.)

You decided to supervise help him, which I'm sure he enjoyed. I mean, what serious gardener doesn't show up to the job site wearing rain boots,  sporting a pirate eye patch and wielding a wooden shiv?

Speak loudly and carry a little stick. Hmmm. I think you might have that backwards.

Love,
Mom

* - 80% true
** - 100% true
*** I should clarify that communists and hippies are not the only people who enjoy planting gardens. I'm quite sure Martha Stewart, for example, is neither. I just like teasing your dad for being both. Speaking of communism, your dad's latest idea is that no one in America should be allowed to make more than 200k/year. But he should know that if I win the lottery or book a huge job, I'm not giving the money back.

Rainy Day Picnic

Hey y'all -

Yesterday, we met our friends Tracy and Jojo at the indoor pool/water park in town. The plan was to swim for a while and then have a picnic in the park. Because this is Missoula, we were the only people in the pool most of the time. There's a lot to be said for avoiding crowds - if you don't believe me, pay a visit to any ski area within four hours of Los Angeles. Remember: Never ski on a mountain where more than 50% of the people are wearing rental equipment. You're bound to get run over by a pack of idiots. I know that sounds snobby, but what can I say? Your dad's rubbing off on me.

Laney did great in the pool; you wore your swim jacket and floated out to the deep(er) end all by yourself, and hopped into the pool by yourself, too. Great progress! Hagen wore his cute little swimsuit for his first trip to the pool and was happy to float around and kick, kick, kick. No, there are no pictures from this part of the outing, because if you think I'm taking an expensive camera into a toddler water park, you're out of your gourd. Mail me one o' them waterproof disposables and I'll take all the pictures you want.

By the time we came out of the pool, it was sprinkling at the park. We had lunch outside and played anyway; still, it was a black and white kind of day:

Tracy had warned me that it's impossible to get a great photo of Jojo - like most five year-olds, she finds a way to sabotage every photo she's in. With all the chutzpah of a new photographer, I assured her she was wrong. "But no!" I said to myself, "She hasn't had her picture taken by ME!" As if Jojo's the Snake River and I'm Ansel Adams. Don't worry - when I play these conversations back in my head, I roll my eyes at myself.

Lesson learned: When a mother describes her child to you, listen to her. She ain't lying.

Love,
Mom

Happy Birthday, Uncle Nate

Watch out, Uncle Nate. She's coming for you:

Happy Birthday, Philip

And now, a message from Hagen to his grandfather in Georgia:

Love Bites

Dear Laney,

A few days ago, you, your brother and I were all sitting on the couch together, watching a movie. Out of nowhere, your brother started screaming. I looked down and - at first - thought you were kissing his arm. But when I pushed your head back and saw a perfect purplish circle below his elbow, I realized that you had actually bitten him.

I yelled, "LANEY! Why did you do that?"  Asking a toddler to explain her motivations never pans out the way you want it to, but it's always my first instinct in these situations to ask what the hell you were thinking. My first instinct when Hagen throws up is to try to catch it, so obviously my instincts are on drugs.

The look on your face was one of shocked confusion - less like you were caught doing something evil, and more like you had been conducting an experiment that didn't turn out as planned. You refused to apologize, and so I sent you up to your room until you were ready to say you were sorry. You wailed and cried and tossed yourself around your room for 20 minutes before finally coming to your senses and apologizing to Hagen. I didn't really feel sorry for you, though, since two hours later, Hagen's arm still looked like this:

That night, at bedtime, you walked me into your room like a diligent tour guide and pointed, "This is where I cried."

- "Do you remember why you cried?"

- "Yeah. Because you shut the door."

- "Well, do you remember why I brought you up here in the first place?"

- "Because I need to say sorry to Hagen." (This is when I decided that you'd be well-suited to testifying before a Congressional subcommittee, because you're a master of responding to a question without actually answering it).

- "Because you BIT HIM, right?"

- (with tears brimming in your eyes) "But I just want to eat him."

I mean - what the - how do you - I just...

I never suspected I'd need to specify this, but here goes: 

Don't eat your brother.

Love,

Mom

March on Washington

Hey y'all.

On Sunday morning, we all took a minivan taxi from Annapolis into Washington, DC. On the way, Peg Peg was discussing where all of the good shopping can be found in D.C., and even included specific Metro stops in her descriptions. Our cab driver, Walt, said, "Man! I'm glad I'm not married to you." I think that's the hardest I laughed on the whole trip. But since Walt had a shaggy ponytail, pants that hadn't been washed in a week, and no sense of direction, I think Peg Peg really dodged a bullet there.

We walked for miles around the city, checking out the monuments, elbowing our way through the museums, and stopping for frequent snack breaks.

I would like to say that the highlight for Laney was the chance to experience a new and vibrant city, with more people on the second floor of the Air & Space museum than live in all of Montana. But no. The highlight for her was the carousel on the National Mall... just like the one at home, only far crappier and way more expensive. As soon as we saw it, your dad and I just turned our wallets upside down and shook 'em out, 'cause we know how this story goes.

And here's just a little of what we saw on Sunday and Monday:

Boa Constrictor skeleton - Museum of Natural History

Amelia Earhart's plane - Air & Space Museum.

NOTE: You do not need to pick up a visitor's guide if you go to this museum

with your dad, because he can stand in the foyer and identify every aircraft.

silver tree sculpture - National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden

("Graft" by Roxy Paine)

Korean War Memorial - 19 statues reflected in the black marble wall

to make 38 total. The 38th parallel divides the Koreas.

Mr. Lincoln

On the plane home Monday afternoon, I asked Laney, "What was your favorite part of this trip?" She said, "Mmm... Peg Peg!" I reminded her about the pirate cruise and the carousel. She said, "Yeah, still Peg Peg." High praise, indeed.

Thanks to Laney and Hagen for being so sweet on the trip, and thanks to Peg Peg and Tex for their help, and thanks to your dad for pushing that $9 stroller all over Creation.

That's a wrap on this vacation.

Love,

Mom

Flower Girl

Dear Laney,

So, without further ado, this is how the wedding went:

I found out on the day of the wedding that, because there are so many events scheduled at the Naval Academy's chapel, flower girls are not actually allowed to sprinkle or throw flowers. All you could do was hurriedly walk down the aisle, holding your basket. You thought this was bull$#!*, and tromped down the aisle accordingly.

But, I have to say, when you weren't pouting, you looked almost unbearably beautiful.

Complete strangers who were touring the Academy stopped and asked if they could take your picture. Each time, you would smile for them and then turn to me and ask, "Now I can have piece o' candy?"

I think if I'd had enough M&Ms in my purse, you might have sat there all afternoon.

I asked your dad later what his favorite part of this vacation was, and he said, "The memory of Laney sitting on those steps in her dress."

Nice work, flower girl.

Love,

Mom

Pirates of the Chesapeake

Dear Laney,

I think I've mentioned here before that you're kooky for pirates; you even occasionally address your parents as "Mateys." So when Peg Peg found a brochure advertising a pirate adventure cruise, I knew we had to fit it in. The boys stayed back at the hotel (the scurvy swabs!) and the girls ventured forth to The Sea Gypsy.

In the time it took me to run to the bathroom, your grandmother had you outfitted in a leather pirate hat. Here are some phrases that grandparents pretend not to hear: "She doesn't need it." "It won't fit in the suitcase." "No, she can't wear it on the plane."

Though you were the littlest pirate, it didn't stop you from swashbuckling your heart out.

They dubbed you, "Lucky Laney." You got a tattoo on your arm, and a pirate vest and Peg Peg bought you a sword (after I put my foot down about the hat), and we all hopped onboard to look for the Pirate Pete who had made off with our treasure (or some such story). You got to shoot water from a cannon, heave-ho the old Jolly Roger, drink grog (which tasted suspiciously like A&W root beer), dance a pirate shuffle, and fill a goodie bag with yer booty.

Captain Crabby watched you run around the deck, hollering about how we need to hurry and find our "tweasure," and said, "Wow. She's spunky." This coming from a college-aged dude who plays a pirate for a living.

Avast, ye hearties!

Mom