Your Logic Is Impeccable

Dear Laney,

Here's the trick to the Carousel: On days when it closes at 5:30p, the key is to arrive at 5 on the dot. Parking becomes free, and since the carousel starts a new ride about every seven minutes, the maximum number of times I'll have get to ride it is 4. Then, the ride operator will announce it's the last ride, and I can innocently shrug my shoulders and say, "It's closing!"

Genius.

Well, here's how that "genius" came back to bite me on the butt: A few evenings ago, you put on nothing but a life jacket and some river shoes and went out into the front yard demanding, "Let's go to tha river." "Laney, we can't go the river right now." "Why not?" you demanded. "It's not closing."

It's a lot harder to say no when the real reason is, "'Cause I don't wanna."

Then, two nights ago, you got up from the dinner table and told me you wanted to play outside. In the rain. "No." "Whyyyy?" And honestly, I couldn't think of a good reason why not. Saying, "I don't know... It's just one of those things you're not supposed to do," isn't the kind of thing that flies with a two year-old. No thunder, no lightening, not that cold out. Hell, I don't know why not. So go.

"Is not a bumbella. Is a trumpet."

Of course, I took these photos through the windows on our french doors. No way was I going to go out there. I may be permissive, but I'm not crazy.

Love,
Mom

66.

Hey y'all -

I like to check the weather in the morning before I dress Laney for school so I can be sure I'm not sending her to school to sweat it out in a parka. Or freeze in a sundress. 

This often depresses me, because the Weather Channel's website has a personalized header that shows the temperatures of the last three places you checked. For me, that's south Florida, Vienna, GA, and our hometown of Alberton. Or, as I like to call them: 96 and sunny, 97 and sunny, and 36 and snowy. 36 and snowy: That's what the picture was for yesterday morning, June 5th. On days like that, I make up excuses to bake things (one slice of toast! a freezer-burned roast for the dogs!) so I can crank the oven up to 400 and rest my head against it. If you put on an airbrushed T-shirt and drink a Miller Lite while you do this, you can almost pretend you're in Alabama. 

Today - because summer is in full swing! - we eked up to 66. EVERYBODY OUTSIDE! Hurry, before the flurries start again and we have to chip the water out of the dogs' bowl with an ice pick. 

I'm not psychic, but I'd bet good money that no one in Dooly County, Georgia is wearing polar fleece today.

Love,

Mom

One Hairy Mother

Dear Ella,

You didn't like me very much when we met. You and Thor had your own Call of the Wild thing going on, and you didn't want me coming along and messing it up. I think you're still iffy about me most days, but since I'm the one who lets you nap all day in the house, you've learned to tolerate me.

But for almost three years now, you've loved my children. You snuggle with them, you clean up after them, and generally treat them like your own hairless, lazy puppies.

So, if every once in a while, you decide to tunnel under the garden fence, open the compost bucket with your teeth, and eat its entire contents, well... I'm willing to call it even.

Love,
Brooke

Truth In Advertising

Dear Hagen,

You rolled over for the first time about a month ago - the same day you turned four months old. Your sister rolled over the day before she turned five months, so you have her beat (thus far) in motor skills. However, as much as you try and as often as you practice, you will never ever ever be able to talk as much as she does. I think she went eight hours without inhaling yesterday. Anyway, rolling over is your favorite thing in the world, and we can no longer leave you unsupervised on a raised surface.

Yesterday, I was talking to Philip on the phone, and he said something like, "Based on the blog, it seems like Hagen is the most easygoing baby in the world. Is he really that low-maintenance?"

Yep.

Love,

Mom

Middle Of The Road

Hey y'all -

Yesterday, Missoula closed down the main drag downtown and turned it into one big pedestrian walkway for the day. Shops and organizations had set up all sorts of fun activities along the way, so this was one of those times when it really pays to live in a town of insufferably healthy, outdoorsy people. I am outdoorsy in my own way: I can really get behind the idea of drinking a cocktail in a lawn chair. I'd probably have another, but the fridge is so faaaarr.


They had tubs of sidewalk chalk, so anyone and everyone could draw on Higgins St.  Your doctor happened to stroll by as Laney was tracing my hand with blue chalk. When Laney was done, I moved my hand, leaving behind the outline of someone suffering from Elephantiasis of the fingers. Laney: "Look Mom! Is your hand!" I told Dr. Hoover, "Don't worry. I'm going to make an appointment with you to get that looked at."

There were musical instruments set up, and of course everyone wanted to play the drums. By looking at the time stamp on this photo, I can tell you exactly when Hagen decided to quit napping. It was the same moment you started banging the hell out of the cymbals like you were wrapping up "Freebird."

 

They also had a bucket of various flutes and whistles, and you had a community penny whistle in your mouth before we could stop you. I could actually hear the other assembled moms saying, "Ewww..." Grandma Sue announced, "This tent was obviously set up by men with no children." I would have said, "Now, let's not jump to conclusions and start tossing out stereotypes," had what she said not been 100% true.

At the far end of the street, Laney's former gymnastics school had set up mats and a parallel bar, and we pretty much camped there for half an hour. The very same activities Laney didn't care about when they were part of a $15/hr class were all of a sudden the most amazing fun EVER when they were free on the side of the road. 

Thanks for a great day, Missoula.

Love,
Mom

Adventures In Eating

Grabbing a bite to eat with the guys.

When in doubt - and there's never doubt - chew on it.

When the crackers run out, it's a sad state of affairs.

Your dad is umpteen times more patient than I will ever be. 

No...more...crackers...

Miss Laney's Class

Dear Laney,

You've been promoted to the 3 year-old program at school, and your first day was yesterday. Armed with a lollipop and a little brother, you hit the road at 7:30am.

According to you and the faculty, your first day was a success. This didn't surprise me, because you've really been into playing "School" around the house lately. Specifically, you want to be the teacher. A few nights ago, we sat down on your bedroom floor to play, and you said, "Mommy, please scoot up in the circle so I can see you." (Geometry 101: Two points make a line, not a circle).

Just the other day, we were playing in the yard, and I was holding some rocks we'd collected. You shook your finger at me and warned, "Don't throw those rocks, because you might hit Maya." Maya lives 40+ miles away in Missoula and I'm not known for my pitching arm, but I put my rocks down just the same.

On our way home from your first day of school, you wanted to celebrate with a stop by the river:

When we got home, you still had so much new knowledge in that brain of yours that you just had to share it with somebody, so your dad and I directed you out to the back porch. What's the point of having working dogs, if you can't put them to work?

Ella is on track to be a straight-A student, with bonus points for good conduct. Gus is just waiting for fourth period to be over, so he can go get stoned under the bleachers.

Love,
Mom