Bob Bilda, et al

Dear sweet, precious Hagen,

At two and a half years old, here are some things you're into:

1) BOB THE BUILDER - Or, as you call him, Bob Bilda. Bob is your favorite show, your favorite character, and your favorite song. You walk around the house all the time, singing, "Bob Bildaa... Can 'e bid it? YES WE CAN!" Sometimes, to entertain ourselves, your dad and I will ask you very seriously, "Can we build it?" just to hear you holler, "YES WE CAN!"Goes without saying that your sister hates this show, so we're on a perpetual Bob/Care Bears rotation around these parts. It's a toss-up as to which is more annoying in bulk. Never mind: it's the Care Bears...except for Grumpy Bear...I love him. I AM him.

2) PIXING T'INGS - Related to Bob Bilda, you're really into home repairs and construction equipment. Screwdrivers, hammers, creating your own imaginary power tools out of unrelated objects. Also: building "rocket ships" out of Legos. Any structure that's more than 3 Legos high is a rocket ship.

3) EATING A SNACK. WEARING A HAT. EATING A SNACK WHILE WEARING A HAT.

4) ASKING "WASSAT NOISE?" - All the time with this. You cup your hand around your ear and ask us "Wassat noise?" even when it's absolutely apparent what the noise is... like when you're 12 feet from a drum kit.

You might grow up to be an amazing builder, but you'd make a shoddy detective.

Also: fruit rope, peach yogurt, keeping your clothes on, avoiding the water, being held by your mom, trucks, planes, cars, anything with a motor, trains!, look-and-find books, taking things from Laney, pretending to be a puppy (still), monkey noises, ice cream, noodles, saying "Can't catch me" and running to your closet (every time), climbing the ladder to the treehouse, your friends Finley and Cooper (or "Fiffy" and "Cupper"), knocking down anything Laney builds and giggling about it. 

Love,

Mom

The Kindergarten Check-Up

Dear Laney,

You start kindergarten in two months. Whew. I'm sure I'll have more to say on how time flies, etc as your first day gets closer. In the meantime, we got a letter from your school letting us know that you needed some updates to your vaccinations before school starts.

I decided not to mention the shots part, and instead tried to sell it as a social occasion: "Laney! We get to go visit Dr. Hoover!" First thing out of your mouth: "Do I have to get a shot?"So I 'fessed up, and spent the rest of the time 'til the appointment talking about shots and why they're necessary.

Most of the exam was great - you sailed through all of the prerequisites. Then it was time for you to get your shots, and you started bawling. You locked yourself in an upright "L" position and covered your thighs, and the nurse told me I'd need to hold you down while you got the four shots. I asked if we could get an additional nurse in there so they could each take a side and we could do 'em all at once, because if I had to hold you down through four individual shots, we'd all need to sign up for PTSD therapy. So they brought in a second nurse.

It was over in 8 seconds; like bull riders, I now know that 8 seconds is an eternity. Then you cried some more and I cried some more and they gave you a popsicle and it was over. By the time we made it to the parking lot, the whole ugly incident had been transformed in your mind to a triumphant rite of passage.

Now, you mention this check-up all the time... "I like playing with Maya, even though she isn't as big as me because she hasn't had her kindergarten check-up." Or, "I can get on and off the horse at the carousel all my myself because I'm so grown up - I've already had my kindergarten check-up." We're just waiting on, "I can charter a plane and fly to Bangkok and violate international law and two of the ten commandments...because I've had my kindergarten check-up."

I was looking through some old photos the other day and found this picture I took with my phone of your 15-month check-up.

...and then here's a picture I took last night at your first baseball game, three and a half years later:

Incredible. You find new ways to amaze and impress me every day, not least of which because you've had your kindergarten check-up.

Love,

Mom

Friday The 13th

Hey y'all -

A few weeks ago, on Friday the 13th, I gave myself a photography assignment to take a picture of something scary/creepy. I don't want to lose any momentum I've gained as a result of my recent photography class, so I occasionally challenge myself to take pictures of things I normally wouldn't (read: anything that isn't your lovely faces, which are already ridiculously over-documented. Said with love).

Figuring it would be just the place to capture something eerie/creepy, I stopped by the Missoula City Cemetery one afternoon on my way to pick you guys up from school. I thought it would be a purely businesslike exercise in composition, but instead, I just got overwhelmingly sad. As one should expect to in a graveyard if one takes a minute to think about what one is actually doing.

The more pictures I took, the more I realized that these headstones all symbolized people who had once been loved and mourned, and the more bummed out I got. And of course there were plenty of instances when the engraved dates of birth and death were far too close together. I stopped doing the math.

I decided to wrap up this little exercise and go pick you guys up from school a little early, determined to celebrate our time together a little more.

Happier assignment next time, I promise. I'm open to suggestions. 

Love (and hugs and kisses),

Mom

P.S. But if I had to pick the most "Friday the 13th" image I saw that afternoon, it would be this girl who is not only creepy as hell all by herself, but has a spider living in her eye. 

Sunday Stroll

June in Bloom

Moms Gone Wild (-ish)

Hey y'all - 

I have some mom friends, and it's always a challenge to figure out how we can spend time together and make it work with our mom obligations. If we waited 'til all 5+ of us had a spouse or babysitter lined up for childcare, we'd only be able to have a beer together once a year when the moon was in the 7th house and Jupiter aligned with Mars. We don't dare meet at a restaurant with children in tow. Naps are usually 12-2ish, and everyone needs to be home for bedtime by 8p. It's like a standardized test word problem: "If Julia's children are only awake for two hours every morning, but Jessica's children have to be in bed at 7, and Vanika's children have to have a three hour nap, when could these women have a conversation?"

So, with Thor out of town with the Navy, I sent an e-mail to some mom friends and invited them over for Mom Brunch. 10:00am. Come in your pajama pants! Don't brush your hair. Bring your young'uns to my fenced-in yard, full of toys and diversions! Bloody marys, mimosas and hashbrown casserole provided! Don't forget your swimsuit.

The day before the get-together, I bought a slip n' slide for $7 at the grocery store and let Laney try it out:

One mom showed up to my house with three boiled eggs in her pocket: "I wanted to contribute something, so here." Definitely the most unique hostess gift I've ever received. I think everyone had a great time. I know I did - it was the first time I'd barreled down a Slip n' Slide since...oh...1986? Yes, there are pictures. No, you can't see them.

Moms: We party more by 10:30am than most people do all day (assuming we can work it in between breakfast and afternoon nap and our husbands don't mind picking us up after).

I love summer.

Love,
Mom

Ring Ring

Dear Hagen -

You love to pretend to talk on the phone. Anything can be a phone: a upside-down walkie talkie, a spatula hanging off the grill, or just your own little balled-up fist.

We have some variation of this conversation about 48 times a day:

You know what you don't like? Talking on the actual phone.

I think you get this from your dad. When we first started dating and I lived in Los Angeles and he was living down in San Diego, by necessity we relied on the telephone to keep in touch throughout the week. It was a real uphill battle for me. Your dad likes to limit his side of any phone conversation to "yeah" (sometimes "yeah?"), "no" and monosyllabic answers to direct, specific questions.  If the NSA ever listens in on your dad's conversations, they will learn nothing.

If I'd have known then that one day I would give birth to your dad's mini-me, who would love to talk -but only on the imaginary phone, I would have gone down to San Diego and taped a spatula to your dad's cell phone and told him we were just pretending.

Love,
Mom

Father's Day

Hey y'all - 

For Father's Day, we picked out a bunch of small gift items for your dad, and then Laney hid them around the house and yard so Dad could search for them Easter egg hunt-style. To "help" him with his search, she drew him a map to all of the gift locations. What really helped him is Grandma Sue giving him subtle clues, like, "Go look in Laney's desk." Laney even hid one gift - a T-ball set - in her treehouse. 

I think between the three of us girls, we remembered where everything was hidden, but if anyone comes to visit us in the next year and finds boxer shorts in the shampoo bucket, or a coffee mug in the dog food, you'll know why. 

I was a fool for thinking that a T-ball set was a gift that you two could share with your dad, because you did not want to give him a turn. 

I had thought that Hagen would like this gift best, because he's normally such a fan of banging the snot out of things, but it turns out he wasn't the real (or only) heavy hitter in the family. 

Then we all went to Morell Falls for a hike. I had prepared for summer conditions - I put sunscreen and swimsuits in my backpack. I forgot to remind myself that I live in Montana; the trail was overcast and in the low 50s and holy moly at the mosquitos. My kingdom for a can of Off. 

The only thing that kept the swarms from eating us alive was to keep moving. Can't stop! Can't snack! Can't potty! This is an excellent exercise plan, by the way, if you like your workouts inspired by The Hunger Games. 

I gave Laney "I Never Need A Jacket" Burbach my windbreaker to wear so the skeeters couldn't get at her. It's like when I ask Hagen a million times if he wants something to eat, and he insists, "No! 'on't want to! On't want sammich! NO!" So I make myself a to-die-for ham and melted cheese on a pretzel roll. And then he looks up at me with those big eyes and asks, "I have it?" And I give him the damn sandwich. This is what parenting is, people: walking around tired and hungry with bug-bitten arms.  

Ella went with us and had a hell of a time.

I took fewer pictures than I normally would; in fact, this is almost all of them from the day, because in the 2.5 seconds it took me to meter my camera for the light, the vampiric bugs would descend. 

Still - a beautiful day with a beautiful man who proves time and time again that he's the greatest dad going. 

Love,

Mom

Our Puppy Problem

Dear Hagen, 

Lately, you have been spending about 30% of each day pretending to be a puppy. You crawl around on the ground, making "Ruff ruff," sounds and assuring us (in case we didn't pick up on the clues), "I puppy!"

I have no idea how this got started. I'm tempted to think it was Laney's idea, because she's developed a knack for talking you into things... at the age of two, you've already had your fair share of makeovers. 

She claps he hands on her knees, and sings, "C'mere puppy!" and pats you on the head when you arrive.

This was all semi-cute, semi-weird, and mostly ignorable until we went to a get-together at your school a few weeks ago. That's when you walked to the middle of a circle of moms, put your paper plate full of crackers down on the floor, got down on your knees and started to eat a half dozen Ritz without using your hands.

"He's a puppy," I explained. And sighed. 

If only I could assure myself that's the weirdest thing you're ever going to do at a party. 

Love,

Mom