Photo Remainders

Laney got a camera for Christmas. She demands that everyone yell "CHEESE!" and then holds the camera to the side of her face. The camera currently holds 138 photos of whatever was five feet to my right.

Last week, we went to an animal "meet n' greet" at the Children's Museum. I told Laney there would be a fox, so every time the trainer brought out another animal to introduce, Laney yelled, "Yeah? Where's the FOX?" Had it been a comedy club, we would have been bounced for heckling.

The animal pictured above is a huge rodent-like thing called a Cava. Now I can put a face to the elusive creature that has been homesteading in my Subaru.

"Laney is hilarious!" raves audience of one.

Grandma Sue came over for an important meeting of the fashion-forward Gardening Committee.

Just what we need: another young'un who wants to do everything himself. 

Memorial Day trip to town. Laney's tired of walking. Dad's tired of shopping. Everybody wins!

"I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse."

Knows way more than he wants to about Strawberry Shortcake.

The 2387th time we rode the carousel, but the first time I tried to operate my big camera from the seat of a moving horse. Is it in focus? Not really. But did I throw up? Also no. I'm calling this a win.

Love,
Mom

...And They Don't Take American Express

Dear Laney,

According to Granny Jack, when I was about your age, my favorite thing to play was “Restaurant.” I’d get out a little pad of paper and a pen and try to take her dinner order. Typically, she would order a steak, and I would tell her, “We don’t have that.” “But Brooke,” she’d reason, “If we’re pretending, why can’t I have a steak?” “We don’t have that,” I’d insist. “But if we use our imagina-” “We don’t have that.”

In retrospect, she was a problem customer, and she’s lucky I didn’t call security on my toy phone and have her removed from the establishment.

With my history of being a feisty fake waitress (and later, in college, a feisty real waitress), I totally had it coming to me yesterday when you walked behind a little wall at the playground and asked, “So whaddya have, Mommy?”


- I’d like macaroni and cheese.
- We don’t have mac o’ cheese
- How about pizza?
- No, we don’t have that.
- Okay... How about spaghetti?
- No pasketti. 
- Well, what do you have?
- Ice cream chocolate and ice cream banilla. 
- Fine. I’ll have a chocolate ice cream.
- (Handing me a handful of wood chips) 
- Here ya go, Mommy.
- What do I owe you?
- Ummm... forty-two dollars.
- I just have a fifty. Can I get some change?
- We don’t have change.

I mean, I may have verbally abused my customers and denied them service, but I never gouged them. But I guess it's like they say: every new generation improves on the last.

Order up-
Mom

Ring Ring

...of course, in our house, the two year-old hands the phone to the parent with the drama degree, who then improvs a whole conversation. But when the imaginary caller asks to talk to Laney, Laney says "Eh, no thanks," and walks away. In our house, apparently, every call on the toy phone is from a telemarketer.

Love,
Mom

Watch Out For Whiplash

Dear Hagen,

I got back from my trip to New York yesterday afternoon, and my first order of business was to check in with your dad about how things went with you kids while I was gone. Bless your dad, he rearranged his schedule so he could stay home with you and your sister for four days so I could work. He confessed that in the time I was gone, he hadn't taken a single photograph, and also hadn't done Laney's hair. But as he kept reminding me, "your children are alive."

I asked if there had been any developments while I was gone - if either of you had picked up any new tricks or hobbies, and he said, "Well, Hagen has started to like the Jumperoo." As I've mentioned a few hundred times before, your dad is the King of Understatement. (See: "This trail is just a little uphill," and "Montana can get a little chilly.")

It's been less than 18 hours since I got home, and I've been able to slap this together already:

Go ahead, jump!

Love,
Mom

Everybody Calm Day-own

Dear Laney,

I'm in Manhattan today. I'm always torn about this place... For example, I had to ride a small, hot elevator this morning that someone had just tee tee'd in. Potty training note: Elevators are not an okay potty spot. No sticker for that guy. On the other hand, my computer's LCD screen has been giving me trouble today, so I walked two blocks to the Soho Apple store where someone fixed it while I waited. The nearest Apple store to our house is seven hours away. So there's that.

Since the last time I saw you a few days ago, I've been on three planes and two trains. I've driven through Jersey in a rental van. True story: I drove past an exit for a town called Ho-Ho-Kus, New Jersey. Immediately, I thought, "If I were mayor of that town, I would host a big Halloween festival every year called 'Ho-Ho-Kus Pocus." It's thoughts like this that guarantee I'll never actually hold public office.

You know whats been keeping me from getting stressed out on this trip? This video I found on my computer yesterday:

You entertain me so much, even when we're not in the same time zone.

Love,
Mom

She's So Glamorous

Hey y'all -

I'm on a business trip, shooting a web video campaign for an underwear company. There are friends of mine who think my job is glamorous, but they are wrong and here's why:

On Monday morning, Hagen woke me up at 1am, Laney woke me up at 2am, and at 3am, I figured I might as well get up and get ready to drive to the airport for my 6am flight. I made it to town a little after 4am and had some time to kill, so I went shopping at Walmart. You know who shops at Walmart at 4am? Crazies. And you know who works there? Craziers.

Here's a fun statistic: It's 31 miles from our house to the Missoula airport. On my drive in on Monday morning, I passed exactly three (3) other vehicles.

My flight was delayed in Salt Lake City, so I didn't make it into Newark until 7p, and then had to wait around until 10p to pick up my also-delayed cameraman. And THEN we had to drive from Newark to Poughkeepsie for our first day of shooting. I passed about three billion (3,000,000,000) other vehicles. I made it to bed around 2am, and then had an 7:30am call time.

This morning was the first day of shooting. It's a "rugged, masculine" campaign, so we're filming the models in tents, by campfires, etc. Basically, I left a rustic cabin in the boonies of Montana so I could fly across the country and film people cavorting around a rustic cabin in the boonies of New York.

Your dad would have been so proud of me, because I put up our prop tent in no time and lit a great campfire. Unfortunately, during the very first shot of the day, I also stepped into a muddy pond and had to spend the rest of the twelve-hour shoot in disgusting soggy pants and wet shoes. There's nothing in the world like spending your day sweating in hot, wet denim, lugging around gear and props with flat hair and melting make-up as you're capturing images of a 6 ft tall perfectly-groomed Amazon from France with zero body fat.

Tomorrow, we move into the city for our second and final day of shooting, but mostly I wish I was home on the couch watching Doc McStuffins* with you guys.

Love,
Mom

* Doc McStuffins is a new cartoon that Laney's hooked on. On the show, Doc McStuffins is a little girl who's a "toy doctor," who fixes up broken or injured toys. As a result of watching this show for a few weeks, one of Laney's favorite things to do is grab a flashlight and examine an adult's ears and eyes and then yell, "I HAVE A DIAGNOSIS!" If you weren't familiar with the show, I'd imagine this would be an unsettling thing to hear from a toddler.

Montana's Most Eligible Bachelor

Editor's Note: 66% of my children's grandfathers celebrated their birthday on May 20th. I know we owe them a birthday post, but things have been a little crazy lately. In fact, I am blogging this while sitting on the floor of the Missoula Airport, on my way to New York. More on that later. In the meantime, allow me to play catch up. 

Hey y'all -

On Saturday night, we went to a Hawaiian-themed cookout at Steve and Karin Zandi's house. The Zandis have three adorable, charming sons, but let's ignore the older two and talk about 5 year-old Levi: Levi is quite possibly the sweetest little boy I have ever met.

He pulled out his favorite toys to share with Laney. He showed her how to go for a ride on the zipline. He got in the playhouse and played "Ice Cream Parlor" with her, where they decided to charge the adults "forty... no, a hundred dollars" for a scoop of vanilla.

He introduced her to his dog, people.

As we were packing up the car to come home, he asked me, "Hey, Laney's Mom, can I make Laney a s'more to take home with her?" If this were colonial India, you could consider this marriage arranged. 

As always, Hagen had a good time at the party by socializing for an hour or two and then sleeping through it. Or, as I like to call it, "What I would do if I could get away with it."

Love,
Mom

The Crossley Recap

Hey y'all -

We had quite the visit with Karen and Sam. On Tuesday, we went to the indoor swim park, where Karen's wallet and iPhone were stolen. We lost that afternoon to police reports and phone calls to credit card companies. Karen took it like a champ, though, and we forged ahead with our fun vacation.

On Wednesday, Peg Peg called me and asked, "What's going on with the blog?" because I had missed a day and a half. Allow me to say that when I was a child, my parents would occasionally take photos of me at special occasions (back when you had to remember to buy film, wind it in the camera correctly, and get the pictures developed at the local drug store). Then, they would occasionally send copies of these photos to my grandparents. They certainly weren't taking dozens of photos of me every day and posting them along with a few pithy paragraphs about the day's events.

But back to Karen and Sam. This is what kept Karen (who is expecting baby #2 sometime in September) and me so busy for a week:

We played in the yard, we refereed a hundred stupid fights over the yellow swing (which, in every way, is identical to the red swing), we went to the pond, we threw rocks in the creek, we rode the carousel, we hit the playground, we drove the tractor, we supervised bath time, we grilled out, we played with the dogs, we painted, we gardened, etc etc... until we passed out from exhaustion every night at 9p. 

Saying goodbye to Karen and Sam, and watching them get in line at airport security, I took a moment to thank the Lord for two things: 1) That Karen remains my best friend through thick and thin, and 2) That I didn't have twins.

Love,

Mom

Moms = Exhausted

Dear Laney,

Some people are less excited about the carousel than others. In fact, some people could take it or leave it.

Otherwise, Sam's visit is going great. Play, fuss, make up, play, nap. slide, swing, spaghetti, bath, sleep, repeat.

Going to bed now, in self defense.

Love,

Mom

Mother Of All Days

Hey y'all -

Yesterday was Mother's Day. Hagen woke me up at 4am, demanding to be fed. Laney woke me up a little after 6am, demanding breakfast and cartoons. For my present, she gave me a painted rock and a tiny terra cotta pot filled with dirt... I presume something she planted at school. Dad reminded Laney, "Why don't you give Mom her cards?" Laney proceeded to open both of my cards, toss them at me, announce, "That's all your mails. I go watch a movie now" and hop off of the bed. The end. I looked at your father and said, "Let me tell you what I hope is planted in this pot..."

We had lunch at Grandma Sue's house; the weather was lovely, so we grilled out and Hagen got a chance to take a nap in the spring breeze.

After lunch, Laney wanted to walk down to the ice cream shop, and I think we all know how that story ends. With a costume change.

Finally, the sun started going down and it was time for Laney and me to go to the airport to pick up our oldest, dearest, bestest friends - Karen and Samantha - who were headed to town for a visit. Laney was so excited for Sam to get here that we waited right by the tarmac fence until their plane arrived. When passengers started deplaning, Laney went into her happy dance. Or was being pursued by a bee. Or was having some kind of fit. Hard to tell.

The classics never go out of style, and this includes hanging out on the Oversize Luggage shelf at the airport. Amazing the difference 8 months (and one photography class) can make:

August 2011

Yesterday

The highlight of my whole day: Laney and Sam are even steven when it comes to talking - both of you love to do it so much, you couldn't possibly stop.  In the truck ride home from the airport, Sam started belting out a spirited version of Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star. As Sam started singing  louder and louder, building to a big finish (I couldn't see her; I can only assume she was using jazz hands), Laney covered her ears and said, "Sam, I can't take the noise. You're driving me crazy. I can't hear it. I can't hear it." This is exactly my internal monologue every time Laney talks for three hours without taking a breath. The fact that I have never actually said this aloud is how I earned my little painted rock.

Laney was so excited by Sam's arrival that she couldn't get to sleep until three hours past her bedtime. We're all dragging a little today, but can't wait to see what adventures this week will hold.

Love,
Mom

Delicious Democracy

Hey y'all -

On Saturday, we went to the "Homesteaders Hoedown" - a political fundraiser for Jessie Nichols, a local independent candidate running for office.  I like the idea of a mom who got so fed up with the system that she decided to throw her hat in the ring. Also, they had me at "hoedown."

Laney was elated to discover that the event featured a bounce house. I think every political event should have one. It might raise the level of discourse if everyone had to take off their shoes and keep an eye out for 25+ mph winds.

After lunch, I went with Laney and Cedar as they mounted the first all-toddler production of Apocalypse Now took a hike to say "hi" to a local horse.

When we got back, I discovered that Hagen had taken up with a local girl, who was engaging him in the standard Montana mating ritual of shoving her fingers in his mouth.

Oooh, boy. You know it's love when you can feel it tingling in the teeth you don't even have yet.

Love,
Mom

Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Bloggers

To the mothers:

I have been a mom now for 33 months. In the big scheme of things, I am the rankest of amateurs. As Laney was prattling on last night, asking me whether or not a specific rock belonged in her collection*, I found myself looking at Thor and saying, "Can you believe we made a PERSON?!?" You would think I would be used to this concept by now. But, no.

I go to bed every night wondering if I was a good mother that day: Are my children healthy and happy? Did I help them become kind and giving? Did I expand their world view? Or, did I let them watch too much television and eat nothing but cheese? Eh, a lot of Column A, a little of Column B.

When I get it wrong, the mistakes are my own, but when I get it right, it's because I'm standing on the shoulders of all the mothers who have gone before me.

These are the women who shaped my childhood, who helped my husband become the man he is today,  and who taught us both how to love our children unconditionally:

I want to wish you all a Happy Mother's Day, but I also want you to know that on the other 364 days of the year, you are an inspiration to me - even those of you who are no longer with us.

Because you taught Thor and me the meaning of family, the value of an education, and the importance of self-respect, we're able to pass those things on to our children. When I'm holding my crying baby or clapping for a successful trip to the potty or chasing away bedtime monsters, I take comfort in knowing that I'm just the most recent link to a long chain of mothers who loved their children just as much as I love mine. And it makes me so, so proud to consider myself one of you.

Thank you. Thank you.

Love,
Brooke


* It's not so much a "collection" as two pieces of driveway gravel that she wants to keep on the dining room table.

Clay and Jaime's Wedding - The Professional Photos

Dear Laney,

Jaime just sent us these photos of you from her wedding, and I thought folks might want to see:

She made a file of her 50 favorite wedding photos, and you're in 8 of them. Way to steal the show, flower girl.

Love,
Mom

I Thought I Lost You

Dear Laney,

On Wednesday afternoon, I drove into town, dropped Hagen off with your dad, and picked you up from school - determined to have a fun Girls' Day.

For our activity, you chose the Children's Museum, the one located right next to the playground you love - the one with the big tube slide. After painting in the back room of the museum for a few minutes, you set your paint brush down and announced, "Mom, I going to play on the big slide, but I be right back," then took off for the museum exit. The art assistant said, "Wow - she's independent, isn't she?" and I replied, "Yeah, and she doesn't bluff, so you need to hand me that painting so I can skedaddle, 'cause, mister...she's gone." I caught up with you just before you left the premises, and forced you to hold my hand as we walked across the parking lot to the big playground.

Here's the thing about the Dragon Hollow playground: it was built to look like a medieval/Scandinavian fortress. The inside of the thing is one big maze, and is typically teeming with running, screaming young'uns.

You have no trouble winding your own way to the top of the thing and jumping into the big slide. I tried sliding with you the first few times we went, but shoving my big body into that little tube is like trying to force a golf ball into a drinking straw. I kept imagining a search and rescue crew having to dismantle the slide in order to liberate me. So we developed an understanding, you and me: I would watch you start the climb to the big slide, then I would run around the side and meet you at the bottom.

Wednesday afternoon, you violated our agreement. I don't know if you beat me to the bottom of the slide and then ran off, or if you started climbing to the slide and decided to change direction. All I know is that every young'un BUT mine was coming out of that tube and I was starting to have heart palpitations.

I called your name louder and louder, and you never answered my call. I started circling the fortress, and told myself that if I started running around the playground like my hair's on fire while screaming MY BABY'S MISSING! MY BABY'S MISSING!!... well, that's a bell you just can't unring.

My patience paid off when I found you in a whole other section of the playground, talking with another girl about the relative "bouncy-bouncy" properties of the swinging bridge. I experienced a 70/30 emotional cocktail of overwhelming relief and murderous anger. Not for the first time, I wanted to grab your shoulders and scream into your face, "You are not seventeen! You are TWO!! TWO!!!!"I know that this same independent spirit will someday lead you to conquer the world, but in the meantime, it's shaving years off your mama's life.

Dear friend and reader Clay Mercer says he sometimes reads this blog and is reminded of the attitude and adventures of his youngest daughter. He wrote me:

As I told a friend one time about Hannah, I wouldn't take a million dollars for her, but I wouldn't give fifty cents for another one just like her.  Sometimes the blog reminds me of that.  Thanks.  

That might be the most accurate thing I ever read.

Love,

Mom

Seis De Mayo

Hey y'all -

We had planned to invite over a big group of our friends for a rollicking Cinco De Mayo party...not so much because I care about how, once upon a time, the Mexicans beat the French in some battle for something-or-other, but more because I really, really like tacos.  We ended up having to postpone the party for a day because it was threatening to snow. I'm sure there are some Mexican soldiers rolling in their graves at the thought of a bunch of gringo Montanans co-opting their culture, but have I mentioned that I really like tacos? If the residents of Guadalajara want to get together and eat pork rinds and chase a greased pig and do some cloggin' and wrap it all up with some illegal fireworks, my feelings will not be hurt.


Anyhoo, Seis de Mayo was perfectly lovely, and we had a grill-out with Tracy and her kids, Grandma Sue, Brooke and Todd and their kids, and Steve and Karin and THEIR kids - All told: 8 adults and 10 kids. "We coulda filled the back room of the Shoney's," as Philip would say.

Between getting the food ready and trying to make sure that no one took a header off the swingset (FYI: 10 kids is a lot, and I don't know how that Duggar woman does it x 2), I was far too busy for most of the party to even think about picking up my camera. Thanks to Barnibbe Photography for picking up the slack, and for sharing the following beautiful photos:

And a few that I found on my camera this morning, that I completely forgot I took (I'm was a sleep-deprived woman at a party with a 5-gallon drum of margaritas; what do you want from me?)

Happy Seis De Mayo, Everyone.

Ole, and all that jazz.

Love,
Mom