Sound The Sirens*

Dear Laney,

Your school had a field trip last Thursday to tour a fire engine.

When I picked you up after school, your teacher laughingly described it like this:

"Most of the kids jumped on the fire engine, checked it out, and jumped off. Then there were some kids who didn't want anything to do with it and stayed away. Then, there was Laney. Laney got on the fire engine and would NOT get off. The fireman asked her if she wanted to come to work with them. She nodded and told him she was going to drive the fire engine. He asked if she wanted to be a fire fighter, and she asked for the keys. We had to explain to her that she couldn't really go to work with them today, and had to ask her to get off the truck."

This morning, your teacher e-mailed me these photos:

This doesn't surprise me. For months now, they've been doing construction on the road near our house. Every time we pass the steam roller, you look out your window and sigh and wistfully say, "When I get big, I'm gonna drive that." I wasn't sure how I felt about it, until I realized that if you grow up and become a steamroller operator, no man alive is going to give you any trouble. Who wants to tangle with a woman who could tun his car into a crepe?

Roll on.

Love,
Mom

* In Alabama/Georgia, this is pronounced "sy-reeen."

Salmon and Jammin'

Hey y'all - 

Last night, we went over to Cedar's house for a salmon dinner. I know Cedar has parents who also live at that address, and even has a brother who resides in the home, but to us it will always be "Cedar's house." Maybe because we've grown accustomed to Laney screaming "WANNA GO TO CEDAR'S HOUSE!!!" all the dang time.

Hagen and a Fisher got a chance to catch up with each other and compare notes on living with a crazy sister who enjoys squashing you (Laney) or wrapping her legs around your throat*, judo-style (Cedar).

Laney and Cedar shared an easel to create a masterpiece:

Cedar paint me in the eye.

We put Hagen in the pack n' play to take a nap while we ate, but his space was soon taken over by Laney and Cedar, who wanted to use it for a dance party.

SAVE ME.

The dance party was followed by the world's least challenging game of hide n' seek ever:

You know it's a good party if you end up in your host's bathtub at the end of the night.

Love,

Mom

* Thor says this move is called "San kyaku jime." 

Mom Days

Hey y'all - 

Laney goes to school three days a week, and is home the other two weekdays - she calls these "Mom days," (vs., I guess, school days). It's hard to come up with blog material at the end of a Mom day, because we've usually spent the whole day at home, just hanging out, and what could be more boring than that?

Like today, for example. 

In exchange for an Oreo and an episode of "Strawberry Shortcake," Laney sat still and let me cut her bangs. Here, she examines the results:

There's a lot of pressure involved, because I haven't been to cosmetology school and I used my kitchen scissors and the last thing I need is a quality control check from my two year-old. 

We hung out in the yard most of the afternoon, and I reminded Hagen a few dozen times not to eat the flowers, with varying degrees of success:

SUCCESSFUL

COMPLETELY UNSUCCESSFUL

I worked on teaching Laney to swing by herself, to no avail. I don't know what I would do with all my free time if Laney ever learned to swing solo. Uncle Nate was working on it last weekend, and I offered to write him a check for some serious cash money if he could teach Laney to swing. It's a non-starter. Like trying to teach me math above the 7th grade level.

Throw in some fingerpainting, a nap, some mac-wee-oni and cheese, a few tantrums, a bath, a disco party in the living room...

...four bedtime stories, and that's a Mom Day. 

Mom days are the explanation for our kitchen's boxed wine bar. 

Love,

Mom

My Super Sweet 3

Dear Laney,

There's an (awful, morally bankrupt, everything-that's-wrong-with-our-society) show on MTV these days called "My Super Sweet 16." It features teenagers whose parents plan exorbitant parties for their 16th birthdays. Limos, designer gowns, celebrity guests. It never fails that the birthday boy/girl ends up crying and throwing a tantrum because the party still isn't what they want. And I always wonder, "How to parents let this kind of thing happen? Don't they know when to draw the line?"

...And then I sewed 12 pirate vests with sashes for your pirate party next weekend.

We've got the box of invitations ready to go to your school. It's hard to think of pirate adjectives to put on preschool invitations. I've never met some of these kids, so I had to avoid "One-Eye" and "Peg-Leg," because if one of these kids showed up to the party with an actual glass eye or prosthetic leg, I would DIE.

Some people have been more help in the pirate party planning process than others. Here are "others"-

...but dang, y'all are cute. 

I sorta see how parents end up booking a herd of elephants to escort their little princess into the Beverly Hilton. 

Love,
Mom

Ponds Have More Fun

Hey y'all - 

Uncle Nate spent the night with us on Friday, and on Saturday morning we all got up and went to the Frenchtown Pond.

It was just as much fun as it looks:

"I got to rescue Uncle Nate!"

May summer and Uncle Nate never go away.

Love,
Mom

Uncle Nate Makes It All Better

Hey y'all -

Uncle Nate arrived today for a visit, and his timing couldn't have been better. Nothing can pep up a sad household like an injection of Uncle Nate.

Because he's a new audience, every sentence out of Laney's mouth begins, "Hey Uncle Nate - watch this!" The poor guy. He even got drafted into multiple readings of The Cat in the Hat.

While they were upstairs having story time, we learned that Hagen can do this:

It's been a big day, full of ups and downs. I love you all, but I'm going to bed.

Mom

Goodbye, Gus

Gus passed away this morning from what appears to be heart failure. 

Dear Gus,

In October of 2007, Thor and I found a listing online for a husky mix who needed to be adopted from a shelter. We drove to some awful industrial city in inland southern California and found the address of a mostly-chihuahua dog rescue. I had never had a dog of my own, and it was the month of my birthday, so Thor and I thought we'd see if this dog might be the right one for us. The lady at the shelter warned us that you'd been caged up in an alley and neglected.

When the woman who owned the shelter opened the front door, you came running out. You were skinny, with matted hair, and a devoted following of flies. I thought, "That is one sorry-looking dog." But when I looked at Thor's face, he looked like a 6 year-old on Christmas morning. I knew in that moment you'd be coming home with us. You, the sled dog who seemed to think he was a chihuahua.

For almost five years, you were the cuddliest member of our family. You enriched our lives,  entertained our children, and gave me a warm place to put my hands on snowy days.

It comforts me to think that there might be such a thing as Dog Heaven, with limitless treats and belly scratches. Because if there is, you're there.

Thank you for everything you did for us.

Love,
Brooke & Thor & Laney & Hagen