School Pictures

Hey y'all -

Everyone has heard a version of a story from a (typically male) friend or relative that goes something like this: "My daddy caught me smoking a cigarette one time, so he hauled me out to the barn with a whole carton of cigarettes and said, 'You think you want to smoke? Then you can smoke the whole carton.' And I smoked about 6 of 'em, and then I puked and never touched another cigarette."

Having never smoked a cigarette in my life, I didn't think I'd ever be able to relate to that story. And then I took a picture of every one of the 192 kids who attend your school over five days and 20+ hours of school photo sessions, arriving every day at 6:45am. because we learned that by 9am, nap time was setting in and everybody was ornery.

...and now it's going to be a while before I touch a camera again. By day 5, I was definitely feeling like a combination of these outtakes:

Love,
Mom

Love Letters

Dear Laney,

I don't recall when it started, but for as long as I can remember, your great grandmother Granny Jack has been sending you a card every week. In each card, she's enclosed a sheet of stickers, and two one dollar bills, "one for you and one for Hagen." I don't think Hagen's ever seen his cut of the profits. Typically, I hand the letters back to you in your car seat, where you "read" the cards to yourself  and then file away your money in your not-so-secret stash in the car door.

Confession: Dad and I have been known to borrow a few bucks from you now and then when we're running errands and could really use a coffee from the drive-thru. On one hand, I feel guilty. On the other hand, you're the only person in the family with disposable income.

Last night, we talked about what a great idea it would be to write Granny Jack a letter back, to thank her for all of those stickers and cards and dollar bills. So we sat down to work on it, and you wrote this:

Illustrations, clockwise from top left: sun, cloud, flower, heart (colored in)

I don't mean to suggest that you sat down and wrote this with no help. We talked about how to spell each word, and before you'd write each letter, you'd confirm: "That's the one that looks like this, right?" and then trace it in the air with your little fingers. It took half an hour to write these five words, but you wrote every single letter by yourself. I did not touch the pen or the paper, and you stuck with it 'til the end. 

I couldn't be prouder. Let me borrow some beer money, and we'll celebrate.

Love,

Mom

Beauty School Drop-Out

Hey y'all -

So, a few days ago, Laney got out the face paint pencil set that Aunt Nancy had given her for her third birthday and suggested that it would be SO! MUCH! FUN! if only I would let her paint my face. In fact, if only I would let her, she would turn me into a butterfly princess.

Being familiar with Laney's work, I should have been more hesitant, but I thought it might be fun. I also thought you couldn't get much color out of those little pencils. And who wouldn't want to be a butterfly princess, am I right?

I should have been suspicious by the amount of glee your dad and Hagen were deriving from the process.


Eh, what can you do? It was everything I look for in a successful family activity: Laney got to exercise her artistic side, Hagen got to participate and share in the fun, your dad got to see me look like a failed cosmetology experiment, and I didn't lose an eye.

Love,

Mom

P.S. I made this my new profile photo on facebook, and got this response from my cousin Heidi:

Sucker

Hey y'all -

I lost my ATM card a few weeks ago. Well, that's not really true. I lost my ATM card a few months ago, and then called and reported it missing.  The bank promptly sent me a replacement, but before I could even take the new card off its paper backing, I lost the replacement. I'm notorious for losing small items, and I know it drives your dad nutso that I can walk from the couch to the oven and lose the television remote for all eternity somewhere in those fifteen feet. Anyway, now I'm just too embarrassed to admit to the bank that I need a third card. Instead, I've been driving through the bank to make my weekly deposit and withdrawal.

Funny, because for years I've wondered why they still have those drive-throughs when you can do everything at the machine. Now I know: they're for little old ladies who miss the 70's, and moms in their 30s on their 28th ATM card.

The only person profiting from this situation is this guy:

...because the sweet teller can see him on the video camera, and always says, "I see you brought your helper. Do you think he'd like a lollipop?" and Hagen from the backseat says, "YEAH!"

He's in such good graces with the bank staff that as soon as he starts stringing compound sentences together, I'm going to have him call and order me a new debit card.

Love,
Mom

Roughing It

Hey y'all -

Hagen has a new favorite game. It's called "TENT!" See, a week or two ago, Hagen was lying with me on my bed, just hanging out, and I thought it would be funny to pull the comforter over both of us, thrust my leg up in the air like a center tent support and yell "TENT!" from inside our new little Queen-sized teepee. Hagen clapped and squealed inside our insta-hideout and has since grown fond of pulling me by the hand over to my bed and demanding, "TENT!"

Laney loves TENT! too, but the other night, exhaustion set in and I got tired of supporting the weight of the comforter with my one leg while small people climbed all over me inside a hot little pyramid of Burbach sweat. "You know what would be less trouble than this?" I asked myself. "Putting together a REAL tent," I answered.

Because your dad was away serving with the Naval Reserve and wasn't on hand to tell me I was being crazy*, I went out in the garage, pulled a tent off the pile and assembled it in the middle of the living room. Laney thought it was the greatest, though she did request that we turn it to face the TV so she could lie down and watch a movie drive-in style.

Hagen crawled in and out a few times, then decided he'd rather go upstairs and play TENT!

You win some. You lose some. 

Love,

Mom

*Seriously, Thor telling me to take it easy on the nutty projects is probably a greater gift to America than his military service.

Swinging

Dear Laney,

You got this swing for your birthday on August 24th. Since then, you have only emerged from this swinging pod for snack breaks and quick trips to the potty, but only after yelling, "DON'T LET HAGEN TOUCH MY SWING!"

You like to swing so high that the swing grazes the tree trunk. You like to pretend that you're on a rocket ship and the tree is the sun and the table in the yard is Mars, so we'd better not stop there or monsters will get us. You do not like to stop for nap time: 

Love,

Mom

Away

Hey y'all -

I am in Vermont for what (oh please oh please oh please) is the last time for this show. I have a cold. I'm so congested, I can't hear out of my right ear. I also have a fever. After a 14-hour shoot day, I got a call from Laney, who wanted to talk about how Hagen broke her very favorite necklace, the one with the purple beads on it, and at the end of her rambling story, I wanted to hug her so much I started crying.

I obviously couldn't have the job I have or do the things I do if I had a less supportive spouse; your dad is the absolute best. In fact, the only good thing about leaving town is getting videos like this e-mailed to me:

'Tis best not to wonder why Laney is taking a bath with her bathing suit on. Whatever negotiations have transpired between Laney and her dad that are keeping this train on its rails are none of my business.

Counting the minutes 'til my return flight...

Love,

Mom

Eye Kwee

Hagen works the parking lot at the Big Dipper:

The Patient

Dear Will,

I talked to Laney about going to the hospital to meet little Ethan. And now this is me, playing the role of Ethan, as Dr. Laney goes to work on me. Just in case his doctors haven't considered this course of action, might I suggest brushing his hair with a plastic garden hoe and poking him in the chest with the sand timer from the Lalaloopsy board game?

According to Dr. Laney, it's the cure for what ails you, and can reduce your blood pressure all the way down to "four units."                                                                                          

Love,
Brooke

Little Miracle. Big Blessings.

Hey y'all -

Will, one of my best friends in the world, and his beautiful wife Lindsay were expecting a baby at the end of September. Fate had another plan in store, and Mr. Ethan ended up arriving in the world a little over a month early.

Weighing in at four pounds, nine ounces, he is practically perfect in every way. But because he's tiny, he's going to need to spend a little extra time in the hospital.

When one of the most important people in your life tells you his new son is going to be spending time in NICU, there's only one thing you should do: Get on a plane. Even if it means you have to take a crazy freelance job (more on this later) to pay for the plane ticket that gets you out there.

I drove to the hospital in my rental car, and texted Will a picture of myself in front of the hospital.

Surprise!

I didn't get to meet Ethan on this trip, but I got to let his parents know how much I love them, and how much we're all rooting for their little guy.

My plane home didn't leave 'til the following day, so I got to spend the night with my other best friend, Karen, and play with her little blessings:

Ten years ago - heck, eight years go - we were a bunch of single, underpaid, beer-drinking idiots living in crappy apartments.  My relationship prospects were so dismal that when my roommate Brian gave me a Queen-sized electric blanket for Christmas with dual temperature controls, my mother said, "Well, that's optimistic."

Then Karen met Stephenson - though she had to go to Baltimore to do it. I met Thor on a blind date in San Diego. Lindsay decided that even with all of Will's irritating qualities, she could probably live with him for the rest of her life, hallelujah. And because of those little quirks of fate, there are now five more people in the world who look like us.

Miracles abound.

Welcome to the world, Ethan. We love you already.

Love,
Mom

Diary Of A Work-At-Home Mom

Hey y'all - 

You two go to school three half-days a week. I'm not sure how we arrived at this schedule, other than it felt like the right balance between having a few days to work with no one else in the house, and still having you home enough days that I didn't worry you were being raised by your school. Also, it's what we can afford. So, two days a week, I try to accomplish a normal work day with two small children at home. 

4:58am - Hagen wakes up. Wants to read books. 

6:30am - Laney wakes up. Wants cartoons and cereal. Not that cartoon, the other one. Doesn't like the round cereal, just the flake cereal. Mom makes breakfast while checking her e-mails on her phone to see what the day has in store. 

7:15am - Mom starts ridiculous research & writing projects: Can she find a producer who's willing to go to Turkmenistan and leave tomorrow? Can she convince a furniture company to give us free stuff for a separate cabin-building show? Can she come up with ten ideas for scenes that could be filmed inside a Shell gas station, since they're already a sponsor?

8:15am - Laney and Hagen set up camp behind Mom's desk. Sleeping bags, toys, iPad for watching a movie. Our house is 1500 sq ft, but the whole family is camped out on the landing at the top of the stairs. 

9:30am - Everyone wants a snack and something to do. Mom pushes Laney on the swing for 5 minutes, changes Hagen's diaper. String cheese for everyone. Hagen gets to water the yard with his garden hose. 

10:00am - Mom listens in on important conference call, but just like every other call, she has to do this one on "Mute," because:

12:00pm Lunch for everyone. Mom sets up picnic, then heads back up to her desk: Has to find a company that will give us 30 pair of free waders so our build crew can work in a swamp. 

1:00p Start load of dishes, load of clothes. Back upstairs to respond to an e-mail, which gives Hagen just enough time to do this to every single wall in the living room:

etc etc dinner, bedtime, repeat.

What's amazing is that if you ask Laney, she'll say she likes "Mom days" better than "school days." How can that be? I feel like all I do is keep the train barely on the track - an endless cycle of neglecting you or neglecting the job. 

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, other than I think everyone in America should have to do his or her job in the company of a toddler and a preschooler at least once, just like everyone in Israel has to serve in the Army. Same level of danger, more tears. 

Love,

Mom